If even a few orcs were to seize the wall, taking it back would inevitably come at a tremendous cost.
The bloody struggle that followed. In that battle, the defenders were forced to be astonished once more. The foreign mercenary had
single-handedly killed more than twenty orcs. And he had done it
with spiked gauntlets, weapons that could hardly even be called proper arms.
In this place, spiked gauntlets were nothing more than weapons used by knights
as a secondary measure. They were useful only when a knight had been unhorsed and had no choice but to fight hand-to-hand;
of course, they could be said to be weapons almost never used in a head-on confrontation. Yet that foreign
mercenary wielded those short spiked gauntlets with skill, mercilessly slaughtering
orcs one after another, piercing only the vital points of the orcs clad in rough armor.
Thus, the orc raiding party that had stormed the wall was annihilated without a single survivor. And the name of the foreign mercenary,
who could not even properly speak their language, spread silently among the wall defenders.
“Does he really fight that well?”
“He does. I saw it myself, and he was truly incredible. With those short spiked gauntlets,
he went straight for the throat or the eyes, and not once did he miss.”
Because of that performance, the garrison soldiers began to take great interest
in the foreign mercenary named Damon. Needless to say, the 57th Guard Squad to which he belonged was even more so.
At first, Soldier Damon had been somewhat avoided because of his hideous appearance. But
six months had passed, and because they had continued fighting together, Damon had become
quite close with the soldiers of the 57th Guard Squad. Needless to say, in the process he had
saved the lives of McMillan and the others several times. Because of that, the feelings McMillan had toward Damon
were distinctly different.
“It doesn’t matter where he came from. He is now a member of our 57th Guard Squad.”
By now, the members of the 57th Guard Squad had become quite close with Damon. Realizing that Damon wanted to learn
the language of this place, the squad members taught him the common tongue of Truvenia
with all their passion and sincerity. As a result, in just six months Damon became capable of basic communication.
When Damon, who had been keeping silent, stirred and raised himself, only then did McMillan
snap out of his thoughts.
“Where are you going?”
“I, I think it’s time. I’m going to relieve him……”
Gripping the ladder leading to the watchtower, Damon began to climb. Seeing that,
McMillan nodded.
“He really does carry out his duties thoroughly. Perhaps it’s true that he was a soldier.
And in a unit with strict discipline, at that.”
But McMillan never even dreamed of the fact that Damon had once been
the leader of a massive armed organization that commanded thousands of warriors.
In truth, watchtower duty was not a task the soldiers welcomed. First, if by some chance an aerial assault
began, the one there would be the first to lose his life; and second, due to the nature of the cramped space,
one had to remain there completely alone.
Once a man climbed up, he had to spend a full half day alone, so the soldiers tried
to avoid the duty by making every excuse they could.
But Damon alone was different. When his turn came, he never failed to stand watchtower duty, and often
he even stood in for others as a token of gratitude for teaching him the language.
“From my position, should I call him the most reliable member of the squad?”
A short while later, when Passat, whose duty had been relieved, climbed down the ladder, McMillan leaned his body
deep against the wall of the watch post. His next turn was coming up, so he intended
to get enough sleep while he could.
It was an extremely narrow space. The inside of the watchtower was so cramped that when one leaned back,
the rough grain of the wood dug mercilessly into one’s back. One could not even stretch out one’s legs properly.
There, Damon was silently immersed in his sentry duty. The crude armor he wore
did not suit him very well. A low voice slipped through his lips.
“I’ve learned the language here to some extent now. At least roughly, I can communicate.”
The fact that he, who had been a formidable master of murim, was now serving as a lowly guard soldier
was, in a way, absurd, but he did not care in the slightest. He had already
lost all the martial arts in his body. Now he had to begin everything again from the very beginning.
Finding himself alone for once, he unconsciously attempted to circulate his energy and regulate his breathing. It was an attempt
he had made countless times until now. But there was no way there would be any response from a dantian
that no longer even retained a trace. Since it was something he had already expected, no disappointment appeared on his face anymore.
“The martial arts have now completely left my body. In other words, the only path I can choose
is Magic.”
Now that his body had become one that could never again cultivate internal energy arts, the only path
he could choose was magic. It was the only method that could make him strong……
But how he was supposed to learn magic remained unknown. At a glance, even in this place,
Mages seemed to be rare. Judging by that, magic too did not seem to be an easy field of study.
Still, Damon decided to think of the matter simply.
“Once I’m relieved and have time, the first thing I should do is meet Benitez. By any means necessary,
I have to find a way to learn magic through him.”
But the time for his relief was still far off. Because able-bodied men were continually being conscripted and sent
to the battlefield, the guards had to live on the wall and stand duty for as long as a month.
Damon’s gaze silently turned outside the watchtower. In order to put what he had decided into practice,
he first had to carry out the duty entrusted to him thoroughly.
The 57th Guard Squad to which Damon belonged was only relieved after nearly a month. Although it was certain
that after a single day of rest they would be mobilized for duty again, the soldiers still left
the watch post in joy. Whatever tomorrow might bring, being able to fill their bellies with warm soup and sleep in a bed
was a tremendous privilege to them.
“I’m going ahead.”
Passat was the first to strut off toward his home, and the remaining soldiers began
to scatter in groups of two or three. Unlike the last time, when they had been relieved late at night,
there was still plenty of daylight now, and furthermore, the city of Feldrian was exuding a noisy,
festive atmosphere unlike usual.
Because an elite unit that had been dispatched to the front had returned for rest,
the city was extremely crowded as it welcomed them. Most of the soldiers who had gained free time
seemed to have decided to mingle with that crowd. After watching the departing soldiers for a moment,
McMillan turned his head toward Damon.
“What are you going to do?”
“W, well?”
Looking at Damon as he stammered his answer, McMillan grinned.
“You must be bored after being cooped up. Want to have a look around the city?”
“S, should I?”
Damon showed a tempted reaction. Of course, he had been feeling lonely, but he also needed
to learn in detail about the circumstances of this place. And since McMillan was offering of his own accord
to guide him, there was no reason to refuse.
“Then shall we go?”
The two changed direction and walked toward the city streets. The closer they came
to the central district, the more people there were, roaming about while talking noisily. Of course,
the number of citizens out on the streets was far greater than usual. At that sight, Damon could not help
but feel puzzled. Because he had come to know the usual atmosphere of the city while standing guard on the wall,
his doubts only grew stronger.
“Today, it’s a little strange. Is it some holiday?”
“Holiday? Hmm! It’s not a holiday. The knight order that was dispatched to the front has returned for rest. That’s why
the atmosphere in the city is completely different from usual……”
McMillan explained kindly, but Damon’s doubts did not vanish.
“Knight order?”
“Yes. The Icarotte Knight Order, the strongest on the continent of Truvenia. They are Icarotte’s proud elite unit,
possessing as many as one hundred Sword Masters. In the last battle,
they won a great victory so overwhelming it chilled the orcs to the bone.”
“A great victory? Enough to turn the tide of war?”
At Damon’s words, McMillan gave a bitter smile and explained what he presumed to be the case.
“Not that much. They merely annihilated a single orc division. Compared to the enemy’s forces,
it was an extremely small number of troops, but a victory is still a victory, so it seems they were given special leave.”
Looking across all the battlefields, they were clearly being pushed back by the orcs. In such a situation,
the knight order’s small victory had been won. Though it was certainly insignificant, Emperor Rosengart IV
of Icarotte, in order to raise the morale of the deeply depressed soldiers, had unusually granted them leave
under the outward pretext of honoring their achievement. This was precisely why the city of Feldrian
had taken on a festive mood.
“How pathetic. If they have time for that, they should keep looking for openings in the enemy instead.”
Of course, based on his experience leading the Guardian Demon King Army and continually waging guerrilla warfare,
Damon judged it to be utterly unnecessary. But he was not one of the leadership, merely a single garrison soldier,
so Damon did not voice those words. Just then, McMillan’s somewhat tense voice reached his ears.
“Well, well. Should we call this lucky? The knight order happens to be marching our way.”
Before their eyes, the ranks of citizens that filled the city split wide to the left and right.
A group of soldiers, with arrogant attitudes, continuously shouted at the citizens
and forced them back to the edges of the road.
“Move aside.”
From the sight of them perfectly equipped in heavy armor, it was not difficult to tell
that they were royal guards. Every one of them had a dignified physique and wore armor polished until it gleamed.
Their attire was as different as heaven and earth from McMillan and Damon, who wore crude, simplified armor.
With no other choice, the two were swept into the line of people and pushed to the edge of the road.
“Damn it. Those cursed bastards……”
McMillan grumbled as he watched the guards continuously shove people aside. The way his eyes glared
made it obvious that he found them extremely unpleasant. The people crowded at the edges of the road
still murmured among themselves, eagerly awaiting the procession of the knight order that would soon arrive. Tilting his head,
Damon tapped McMillan on the shoulder.
“Who are they?”
“Who else? Good-for-nothings with no ability whatsoever, who only got positions as royal guards
because they were born to the right parents. There isn’t a single one of them who isn’t a noble.”
McMillan’s grumbling attitude laid bare the feelings he had toward the guards. From that sight,
Damon was able to realize one fact: here in Truvenia, status as well as ability
played an important role.
A short while later, fully armed troops marched in formation before them. The bright sound of trumpets
rang out in every direction.
Bam-ba-ra-bam.
The first to pass were spearmen holding long, axe-bladed spears—halberds—upright.
After they passed in orderly fashion, a corps of heavy infantry followed behind them.