Chapter 200

Translator: Willia

Gambling could never be recommended, yet there were people who staked their lives upon it. Gamblers, or professional gamblers, as they were called.

Where ordinary people merely hoped for a stroke of luck, they glimpsed the slimmest possibility and placed their bets.

They suppressed the excitement, resentment, sorrow, and impulse surging within their hearts and wagered with cold judgment. The result was simply victory or defeat, winning or losing.

Among those who lived such lives, there was a saying: the finest gambler was one who knew when the moment had come and staked everything without even turning over his cards. Not merely his money, but his life, his family, and his past, present, and future.

Ricardt’s decision resembled that of the ultimate gambler. At the most crucial moment, he had let go completely. That required cool judgment, but faith mattered even more.

“There will be no support from Adeloron. The king said the preparations were complete and that you should be more than capable of holding them off. He said that raising an army and expending supplies and lives unnecessarily would not benefit the kingdom’s future......”

Kaspar spoke. He was a swordsman of the Viola Clan who had once been one of Bori’s direct disciples.

Kaspar had risked his life and endured every hardship to break through the cordon, travel to Adeloron, and return. He was in a terrible state.

His light armor was torn and frayed all over, and an empty scabbard hung forlornly from his waist.

Yet the people present appeared more stunned by what he had just said than by his appearance.

Bori and Ice, Marie, Roy and Beka, and Ricardt’s father, Abelich.

Bori stared wide-eyed in disbelief before finally managing to speak.

“Ricky really said that?”

“Yes...... Master.”

“If Ricky said so, he must have a reason.”

Ice spoke. Unlike the others, he and Abelich had remained composed.

“I’m sure he does. I just don’t understand. You and I will be fine, but Marie......”

Bori glanced cautiously at Marie. Her pregnancy had reached full term, her belly swelling like a hill, and she seemed so shaken that she could only blink, unable to speak.

What puzzled Bori was Ricardt’s decision, given the baby in her womb. He had naturally expected Ricardt to muster his forces and rush straight to them, but he had not.

Everyone else had thought much the same.

After considering the matter as calmly as he could, Ice added,

“I’ll say it again. If Ricky can’t move, there must be a reason. He must be in no position to send his forces out right now. Who knows? The Second Prince may be the Fifth Prince’s enemy, but nothing is certain at the moment. There’s no guarantee the Second Prince won’t attack the kingdom once Ricky leaves it undefended.”

This differed from Ricardt’s interpretation, but the broad conclusion was similar: the very act of getting Ricardt to move was what his enemies intended.

There were times when something could be understood rationally yet remained difficult to accept emotionally.

Bori and the others could accept it well enough. The person they worried about most, and whose reaction they watched most carefully, was Marie. She was, after all, both the current head of the Alliance and Ricardt’s wife.

Roy and Beka lacked the standing to speak carelessly in a gathering like this, so they merely fidgeted.

Abelich remained taciturn, his head slightly bowed. Marie had been sitting in a daze, but her gaze suddenly hardened and she spoke.

“Father, I’m sorry. I was so certain when I promised you.”

It seemed that when she had left the Alliance headquarters and sought refuge at Stormhertz Castle, she had assured him that Ricardt would send aid.

“No. I am all right. I understand the king’s decision as well. I only fear that even giving my life may not be enough to see us through this. That is truly all, my child.”

“......”

Strangely, Marie seemed more apologetic toward Abelich than hurt or resentful toward Ricardt.

She had only been shocked because it was unexpected. Once she gathered her wits, she felt she could begin to understand.

Marie looked around at everyone and spoke clearly.

“I’m responsible for what’s happening. I’m the one who made that promise. I’m sorry, everyone. But in another sense, I think this is a trial we would have had to face someday. I’m going to become emperor. Was that something I had secretly wanted all along? Or did carrying this baby make me want it? I don’t know myself. I’m sorry for that too. And what makes me even sorrier is that I can’t see through everything like Ricky or devise a plan certain to bring us victory. I’m sorry. But, you know......”

Marie trailed off, and everyone watched and listened intently. She rose from her seat. She had gained some weight, but her distinctive eyes were as raptor-like as ever.

“That’s the last time I’ll apologize. I will fight to the end, and I want you to stand with me. I won’t resent anyone who leaves. But if you fight beside me to the end, then whether I become emperor or not, I will always consider you one of mine and look after you, whatever happens. Until death. No, beyond death. For generations to come.”

Marie’s charisma differed somewhat from Ricardt’s, but it was no less remarkable. In some ways, her display of determination while heavily pregnant made her seem even more impressive.

Bori listened quietly with his arms folded, glanced left and right, and said,

“But it’s not like we have a choice, is it?”

Everyone seemed to agree. Their response had none of the grim solemnity of a vow to fight and die for the queen.

They might usually joke around and speak lightly, but that did not mean their affection ran shallow.

The Alliance swordsmen in particular all liked Marie. Her generous pay certainly mattered, but money alone did not make anyone pledge their life to a superior.

People were creatures who needed genuine human affection before they would risk their lives out of loyalty.

Ricardt maintained a rather closed circle of acquaintances, but Marie was different. If anything distinguished the two, it was that. Everyone loved Marie.

That was why, even without any contact from her, the Alliance swordsmen were working hard to conduct sabotage behind enemy lines. Ordinarily, people in such circumstances would pretend ignorance or flee.

This was why events were not unfolding as Fifth Prince Bellator had expected. By now, they should have fled and scattered, yet nothing of the sort had happened.

Marie’s strength was not Ricardt’s ability to devise and execute wildly unconventional plans, nor his combat power or offensive strength. It was the firm cohesion she fostered within an organization.

“As Ice said, if Ricky thinks we can do this, then we can. And I won’t stand idly by just because I’m a woman, or pregnant, or his wife. I said I would become emperor, so I will bear the consequences.”

With that, Marie picked up her sword and waddled out of the council chamber. Everyone’s eyes widened, even more astonished than when they had heard the news from Ricardt.

When she left the council chamber and descended to the lower floor, she found it crowded. Once she stepped out of the inner keep, she saw even more people living in tents pitched throughout the courtyard. Every villager had been summoned inside.

The people had been going about their wartime routines, hanging laundry, lighting fires, setting cauldrons over them, and cooking porridge. When Marie appeared, they all turned to look.

She could not wear armor at full term, yet the sight of her striding proudly in loose clothing with a sword in hand was striking indeed.

Marie had little interest in adorning herself, and her long golden hair streamed behind her like a banner in the wind.

When she climbed onto the palisade, she could see the enemy encamped below the hill. The village had been reduced to ruins, not by the enemy, but by the villagers themselves, who had demolished their homes and burned every field as part of their scorched earth tactics.

They had not forgotten to pour feces and urine into the wells to keep them from being used for drinking water.

There were roughly two thousand enemy soldiers. That was fewer than expected, because Fifth Prince Bellator could not mobilize his entire army.

He commanded some eight to ten thousand soldiers. His main force remained in the capital, while the rest had been deployed to form a cordon across a broad region, and only a portion of those troops were surrounding Stormhertz Castle.

In truth, rather than surrounding it, they were simply camped below it. They had neither the craftsmen nor the means to construct siege engines, the castle stood on a hill that prevented them from committing all their forces at once, and above all, the Fifth Prince had ordered them only to encircle it, not attack.

Bellator’s strategic objective had always been to draw Ricardt out and drive Marie back to Adeloron.

No one currently in Marie’s camp possessed Ricardt’s insight into the entire situation. They understood it only vaguely and could do no more than judge what they saw with their own eyes.

Ricardt had judged that even this much would be enough for them to hold the enemy off.

The first thing Marie noticed was the absence of a purple banner among the enemy standards. That meant this was not a besieging force under the Fifth Prince’s personal command.

“Roy, bring me my banner. Bring it here and raise it.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The banner was quite large and heavy, so Marie sent Roy rather than Beka. The tiny fellow was tremendously strong.

Moreover, he was now serving as royal attendant to Marie rather than Ricardt. A lord’s banner was properly carried by a specially appointed standard-bearer or an attendant.

Roy descended the stairs again and returned with the purple banner that had been planted atop the inner keep. The pole alone was immensely thick and sturdy, and the banner was large enough to be seen from far away.

Its embroidered arms combined the oak tree of the Nibelinger Family with Adeloron’s symbol, the golden eagle.

Women of the lesser nobility often took their husbands’ family names when they married. Daughters of prominent families, however, commonly retained their own family names even after marriage. Marie was therefore still a Nibelinger, not a Ricarn.

Only when Roy raised the banner did the enemies below the hill lift their heads and look up at the castle. Purple, an oak tree, a golden eagle, and beneath that banner, a woman with golden hair streaming in the wind.

The banner alone conveyed her meaning without a word. Do you truly dare attack me?

The previous emperor’s authority might have crumbled during his reign, and the imperial throne might now stand vacant in an interregnum, but the Imperial Family remained the Imperial Family.

Anyone without comparable status, such as that of a king, duke, or fellow member of the Imperial Family, would naturally hesitate to attack someone of imperial blood. This was still a society of rigid ranks, and such attitudes were deeply rooted.

The army currently surrounding Stormhertz Castle was led by a man named Gustred, a count whose status was decidedly beneath that of the Imperial Family.

He too understood the meaning when the purple banner was raised, and his expression hardened considerably.

Events did not appear likely to unfold as the Fifth Prince intended, and if matters went wrong, Gustred looked certain to be saddled with the blame.

The most important factor deciding victory or defeat in siege warfare was not the size of the armies or how well supplied they were. What mattered most was resolve.

The resolve to defend, or the resolve to break through. Whichever side lost heart first would lose, and whichever endured to the end would win.

Stormhertz Castle might have been small, but with Marie defending it, its defenders’ resolve seemed no less formidable than that of Sinatria’s ancient fortress.

The imperial capital, Nibelungen, was neither the oldest nor the most advanced city, but it was the most exceptional because the emperor resided there.

Now, however, that distinction was gone. There was no emperor.

The emperor’s palace, set harmoniously amid a meticulously tended forest, was at once tranquil and splendid.

Yet now it was too quiet. There was no shortage of servants or officials, but everyone seemed afraid even to let their footsteps be heard.

The emperor’s audience chamber was quieter still. Though sound carried loudly through the space, only voices that seemed little more than whispers could be heard.

Then again, only two people occupied the vast chamber, which made it seem especially empty.

Bellator sat on the emperor’s throne, listening as a trusted retainer whispered a report into his ear. He might have considered strict security essential, but his precautions seemed somewhat excessive.

“......Prince Harbich is presently staying in a place called Adelivari, where he is enjoying the hot springs. The king of Adeloron continues to promise a favorable response, but it has already been a week. I believe we now have ample cause to question his true intentions.”

After offering that brief opinion, the spymaster drew away from Bellator’s ear. Bellator slowly leaned the other way, propped his chin on a loosely curled hand, and sank into thought.

“So he did see through my intentions......”

Bellator murmured under his breath. The spymaster, who had been standing quietly, cautiously spoke again.

“What if we prod Duke Frederia into action? Two thousand men are insufficient to conduct a siege, and there is also the disparity in rank. Casualties will be unavoidable, and the foolish Second Prince is hardly likely to sit idle. All things considered, I believe drawing Duke Frederia into this would be best. The husband and wife both screwed him over, so he can hardly harbor warm feelings toward them.”

Ricardt had secretly seized a gold mine, while Marie had exposed the duke’s illegal activities. Naturally, Duke Frederia could not help disliking them both.

The spymaster had been chosen purely for his abilities, and perhaps because of his low birth, his choice of words was somewhat inappropriate. Screwed him over? Was that any way to speak to an imperial prince?

Sure enough, Bellator glanced up at the spymaster. He did not exactly frown, but his eyes seemed to warn the man to watch his tongue.

“My apologies.”

“Go.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The spymaster bowed his head and withdrew.

The door closed with a faint sound, leaving Bellator alone in the audience chamber. He considered the matter in silence, but no particularly good solution came to mind.

In truth, the spymaster’s suggestion appealed to him, but Bellator disliked revealing his thoughts, so he gave no indication of it.

Bellator was the sort of ruler who made every judgment and decision alone, then abruptly issued his orders. He detested others reading his mind or anticipating him, and at times even had them secretly killed when there was no need.

The present result was only natural. He sat alone in this vast, splendid chamber, with no one beside him. Unlike Marie. History would reveal which of them was better suited to the imperial throne.

After long deliberation, Bellator finally issued a single order: commit every soldier, take Stormhertz Castle as quickly as possible, and kill Marie.

He understood that when his opponent placed a wager, he had to wager as well. Bellator was cautious by nature, but for some reason, his desire to win had been roused this time.

You think you can brazen it out, Ricardt? Then I’ll do the same.

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