Chapter 72 - 68: A Knight’s Glory?
Chapter 72: Chapter 68: A Knight’s Glory?
The sky had just begun to show the pale light of dawn when Ola Stonebeard was roused by the commotion in his camp.
The air was thick with the sour stench of fermenting cheap ale and the burnt smell of porridge.
’What a bunch of rabble.’
Ola irritably tugged at his large, braided beard.
An army of three hundred men sounded impressive, but he knew the truth. Aside from his thirty brothers-in-arms from the Rock Breaker Knight Order, the remaining two hundred-plus conscripts were little more than farmers and local thugs, just there to pad the numbers.
They were good enough for waving banners and cheering, or for hauling loot after a victory.
Expecting them to fight?
Ola would sooner believe his battle-axe could start singing on its own.
"Lord Baron!"
A Scout scrambled into his tent, a look of pure terror on his face as if he had just seen a ghost.
"What is it? Did that pretty boy get scared and run off in the night?" Ola asked impatiently.
"N-No!" The Scout’s voice trembled. "He... They... They’re out!"
Ola’s brow furrowed into a knot.
’Out?’
’What the hell...?’
He shoved the Scout aside and strode out of the tent.
The camp was in utter chaos.
The conscripts were scattering like ants from a disturbed nest, running around like headless chickens as panicked shouts erupted all around.
"Quiet!"
Ola let out a thunderous roar, his voice drowning out all the other noise.
He grabbed a fleeing conscript, lifting him clean off the ground with one massive hand.
"What are you screaming about! Run again, and I’ll cleave you in two myself!"
The man was scared witless, and a warm stream soaked his trousers.
Ola tossed him to the ground in disgust, his gaze turning toward Newly Town.
And then, he saw it.
On the horizon, a black phalanx was slowly advancing.
Leading them was a young man on a tall warhorse—that must be the pretty boy, Velin.
Behind him followed a moving expanse of... black carapaces.
’What in the hell are those things?’
Ola narrowed the eyes he’d inherited from his human mother, trying to get a better look.
There were dozens of... monsters.
They were larger and more robust than warhorses, their entire bodies covered in gleaming black carapaces. Vicious barbs sprouted from their joints and spines, and the single horns on their heads glinted like metal in the morning light.
The strangest thing was their advance.
There was no chaotic scramble, no roaring of Magical Beasts—only the perfectly synchronized SHH-SHH-SHH of countless limbs upon the earth.
They formed a perfect phalanx, like a precisely cut black block, "gliding" this way smoothly and silently.
They had no mouths, only pairs of emotionless compound eyes, which, like countless black mirrors, reflected the terror-stricken land.
Ola had lived for thirty-eight years. He had slain countless Magical Beasts on the battlefields of the mainland, from Earth Dragons to Ogres. What hadn’t he seen?
But he had never seen a creature so... bizarre.
"Devils! They’re devils from hell!"
It’s unknown who shouted it first, but the conscripts’ line completely collapsed.
They dropped their weapons and fled, wailing and screaming for their mothers.
"Useless!"
Ola’s eyes turned Crimson Red with rage. He drew his battle-axe and, with one swing, split a nearby hay-filled cart in two.
"Rock Breakers! Hold the line!"
"Yes, my lord!"
Thirty heavily armored Knights responded in unison. Spurring their warhorses forward, they formed a steel barricade, forcibly blocking the routing crowd.
A few who were running too fast were knocked to the ground by the shafts of the Knights’ lances.
It took Ola a full quarter of an hour of kicking and cursing to finally rally the terrified conscripts.
As he was reforming the ranks, his most trusted deputy, an old Knight, rode up beside him. His voice was low. "My lord, those... insects. There’s something uncanny about them."
Ola glanced at him, then grinned, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow by ale.
"Uncanny? Were the Necromancer’s flesh puppets not uncanny back in the day? Didn’t stop me from cleaving his head off with one swing! No matter how uncanny something is, it’ll still bleed when my axe hits it!"
He clapped the old Knight on the shoulder, the iron armor making a dull CLANG.
"What’s there to be afraid of! Look at that pretty boy. What does he think this is? A picnic?"
During this time, Velin’s troops did not press their advantage.
Just beyond bowshot, the young man and his army of monsters had simply stopped, calmly watching as Ola reorganized his chaotic troops.
He did not attack.
An indescribable sense of astonishment welled up in Ola.
’Didn’t Glenn say he was just a pretty boy who only knew how to use schemes and tricks?’
’This kind of behavior... was clearly the sort of battlefield courtesy only the most traditional of Knights would display.’
Waiting for your opponent to form up, then engaging in a fair and honorable fight to the finish.
An absurd thought flashed through Ola’s mind.
’Could this kid actually be an honorable man?’
No.
That’s not right.
Ola quickly dismissed the idea.
’This wasn’t some knightly spirit.’
’This was arrogance!’
’The blind confidence of a young noble who has never experienced a true, bloody battle.’
’Does he think his dozens of scary-looking insects can defeat my battle-hardened Rock Breaker Knight Order?’
’Naive!’
A cold sneer appeared on Ola’s lips.
He looked at the thirty brothers beside him. Every single one of them had crawled their way out of a pile of corpses.
Every scar on their bodies, every dent in their armor, was a medal of honor.
Back in the day, he himself was just a destitute Pioneer Knight. It was by forming this very Knight Order, following the great Marquis Minas Hill on campaign, and earning glorious distinction in the bloody wars against the Beastman tribes that he had won his current title of Baron and this land.
Of his Knights, the weakest was a Peak Level 2 Knight, and half of them were powerful Tier Three Peak experts!
And he himself had stepped into the Extraordinary realm—a true-blue Level 4 Knight!
’These insects look tall and mighty, their carapaces thick.’
’But under the axes and iron hooves of his Rock Breaker Knight Order, they would crumble like overripe pudding at the slightest touch!’
Ola’s heart swelled with heroic pride.
He even felt a little appreciation for the young man named Velin.
’He was foolish, but at least he had guts.’
’Since you’re so "chivalrously" waiting for me to get ready...’
’Then in a moment, I will give you a chance to surrender, one befitting your noble status.’
’Assuming you can survive the first charge of my Knight Order.’
"Rock Breakers!"
Ola hoisted his massive battle-axe onto his shoulder, its blade giving off a bloodthirsty glint in the morning light.
"Target! The enemy formation! Prepare to charge!"
The thirty Knights silently raised their battle-axes and lances. Beneath them, their warhorses pawed restlessly at the ground, snorting jets of hot air.
A murderous aura, one belonging only to true, blood-soaked Warriors, surged into the sky.
Ola pointed his battle-axe toward the distant figure on horseback.
"Kid, let me teach you what war is really all about!"