Chapter 151

Translator: Willia

Anyone can talk a big game. But tell them to do it themselves, and almost no one can.

It's easy to mock and ridicule someone else's failure. But the one who has failed goes on to succeed, while the one who did nothing but mock dies having lived a wretched life, mocking others till the very end.

So in the end, when it came to success, perhaps what mattered more than being clever or not was whether one had the guts to go all in.

Ricardt had that kind of guts. King Leonard did not. That was the biggest difference between them, if it could be called a difference, and the biggest tragedy, if it could be called a tragedy.

Crossing the empire from east to west was something that had never been done before. Doing it while marching an army was, by any common sense, impossible.

This wasn't some pleasure trip. It wasn't as though they could simply follow the shortest route and arrive.

Supplies were virtually nonexistent, places for the army to rest were limited, and on top of all that, the various lords of the empire were hostile to the Order.

The Order of the Steel Knights had a total force of six thousand men. Assuming two meals a day, that meant twelve thousand meals needed daily. The provisions purchased by liquidating the Order's assets had already been consumed.

They had raided breweries in the Maraeng region to replenish their food stores, but a single failure in securing provisions could plunge them into a life-or-death crisis.

Each soldier could carry roughly four or five meals' worth of food. They could ration it, but doing so sapped their stamina. And that meant their combat effectiveness would drop.

In the end, there was no choice but to forage locally, which was to say, plunder. But for Ricardt, the cardinal rule was that he would sooner die than starve innocent civilians or slaughter them.

So what was he supposed to do? There was only one answer. Rob the kings blind.

Justification was easy enough. He would raise the banner of vengeance. In truth, he had no real desire for revenge, but the intent was to deliberately project that image to the outside world.

Using vengeance as a pretext served two purposes. One was that it concealed their true strategic objective. The other was that it made it easy to identify who was an enemy.

From the empire's perspective, it was hard to imagine that Ricardt was trying to reach Adeloron. Because the very idea was absurd.

Second, from Ricardt's standpoint, sneaking an army this large across the empire was impossible anyway. In that case, it was better to make their presence unmistakably felt from the very start. To show what happened to anyone who dared challenge them.

Those kings or lords who still chose to stand against them were enemies, and those who were too frightened to move could simply be passed through quickly.

Therefore, King Leonard of the Basque Kingdom was a sacrificial offering. The unacceptable demand that he come outside the Royal Road, kneel, and apologize had been entirely deliberate.

Of course, whether someone in the royal court had the insight to see through that intent, whether that person had the courage to voice it, and whether the king had the capacity to hear and accept such counsel, well, that was their problem.

King Leonard sat pressing his hand to his forehead, his face twisted into a pained grimace, looking as though a light touch would topple him.

"It is not too late, even now. The enemy lacks the forces to encircle the entire Royal Road. Send word and issue a Call to Arms."

The Master of Arms spoke. But evidently he and the Treasurer were not on good terms, because the Treasurer scowled and shot back.

"The Master of Arms seems to have a rather flexible definition of 'too late'. One moment you're telling us it's already too late and we should do this, and the next you're saying it's not too late at all. It's difficult to take seriously."

"So what are you proposing? You want to shove His Majesty right into the enemy's jaws?"

"That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying it's too late to issue a Call to Arms to the Vassals. We'd be better off requesting aid from the Cape Kingdom."

"Have you lost your mind!?"

At the Treasurer's words, the Master of Arms widened his eyes and bellowed.

The Basque Kingdom and the Cape Kingdom had been bitter enemies since their very inception. Yet at the same time, both were cadet branches that had split off from the same family.

Long ago, the Basque Kingdom and the Cape Kingdom had been a single nation under a house called Robert, but after splitting in two and many long years passing, the division had simply hardened into permanence.

"I haven't lost my mind. I'm saying we need to look at the situation we're in. Like it or not, the King of Cape is a distant relative of His Majesty, and if we fall, they'll be in danger too. When blood ties exist and interests align, what's so difficult about joining hands?"

"Traitor!"

The Master of Arms shot to his feet and pointed at the Treasurer. But not a single member of the Advisory Council sided with him. The situation was dire; it was only natural for various opinions to emerge.

"Lower your voice, Master of Arms."

The Chancellor, who had remained silent all this time, spoke to the Master of Arms. As if only just remembering he was in the king's presence, the Master of Arms cleared his throat and sat back down. But the glare he leveled at the Treasurer remained unchanged.

King Leonard let out a low groan, then raised his head and spoke.

"It is too late to issue a Call to Arms to the Vassals. But if we were to approach the King of Cape, what demands would he make?"

"Could we not negotiate by offering to subsidize his war expenses and sending Her Highness the princess as a bride? And once the matter is settled, we can muster our own forces and feign ignorance. We might even be able to use the enemy's hand to strike the enemy."

It was nonsense. Well, it sounded plausible enough on the surface, but it was utterly impractical.

"What does the Chancellor think?"

the king asked. The aged Chancellor slowly opened his mouth.

"Would it not be proper to first ascertain their true intentions? Let us send someone to hear what the Knight Commander has to say."

"True intentions?"

"Is he truly doing this out of vengeance? The fact that he made unreasonable demands from the outset may suggest a different motive. I hear he is incomparably valiant, and valiant men tend to be driven by ambition and fond of women."

Every last one of them was hopelessly ignorant about Ricardt. They had gathered bits and pieces of information, but had a tendency to interpret it however they pleased.

They had managed to see through the fact that this probably wasn't about vengeance, but beyond that, they were grasping at the wrong threads.

"What do you mean?"

"He is valiant and skilled, but from what I've learned, the Caldebern Family is a rather modest house. They don't seem to have much renown. Present him with a marriage proposal. If you send your youngest princess in person, it will demonstrate sincerity. If we use that as a pretext to buy time, what then? Besides, a man of his ability would not be a poor choice for a son-in-law. What I'm suggesting, Your Majesty, is that we gather forces on one hand, and on the other, watch how things develop and potentially accept him as a son-in-law."

When laid out that way, it sounded like a plausible plan. Thinking it quite the masterstroke, King Leonard's eyes lit up.

"Indeed, you are the Chancellor. Why did you wait until now to share such wisdom?"

"You flatter me."

"But isn't sending a princess a bit much, right from the start?"

King Leonard said, sounding slightly reluctant. This was precisely the problem. Right or wrong, he could never make a decisive call at the critical moment. He simply didn't have the nerve for it.

Despite having had several opportunities, the situation had deteriorated to this point because of his indecisiveness.

The Chancellor looked at the king as if he were hopeless, then tucked that expression away and spoke calmly.

"It needs to be a bit much, or the other side won't be tempted, wouldn't you agree?"

"Ah, I see. So the idea is to test the waters first. I'll send my youngest daughter. At the same time, Treasurer, you go to the Cape Kingdom and make an opening bid for negotiations."

"Pardon? Me?"

"You were the one who suggested it."

"......"

The Treasurer was flustered, and the Master of Arms watched him with a smirk of pure satisfaction, as if to say, serves you right. Such was the caliber of the Advisory Council.

The Chancellor addressed the king.

"Do not worry yourself too greatly, Your Majesty. With their numbers, they cannot breach the walls. There will be some hardship, but if we drag things out, the advantage will certainly be ours. Isn't that so, Master of Arms?"

"Yes, that is correct."

Under normal circumstances that would be true, but the Chancellor's overreliance on the walls was a problem in itself. The fortresses of Sinatria were of a scale beyond imagination, and the Order was an army that had waged siege warfare even there.

No matter how brilliant a person may be, their thinking only extends as far as the world they have lived in.

In any case, King Leonard, believing that a plausible plan had taken a weight off his shoulders, immediately ordered preparations for his youngest daughter's departure.

Ricardt was surveying the farmland around the Royal Road. The green wheat was ripening to gold, and he could tell that a bit further north, it would be harvest season right about now.

What mattered was the right timing. If the timing was right, things could unfold smoothly. If not, the road ahead would be grueling.

Ricardt's intermediate goal was to rattle the King of Cape into hastily mustering his army.

In that gap, he would sweep through the fertile domains, secure a massive store of provisions, and use the paved roads to push far to the east in one great march.

And so, timing was truly everything. When and how much of the wheat ripened held the fate of Ricardt and the Order in the balance.

A wind blew, and the wheat fields rippled. The army had encamped north of the Royal Road, and the farmers watched with curiosity while continuing to work their fields.

It was all strangely surreal. Any other army would have long since plundered the place and turned it into chaos.

The Order maintained ironclad discipline, and the biggest difference from any other army was that when Ricardt gave an order, it was obeyed without question. Unlike other commanders, who had to beat obedience into their men through sheer misery first.

The world had few competent military commanders to begin with, but gaining true control over an army was itself no easy feat.

"Commander. An envoy has arrived."

Raimund spoke to Ricardt as he gazed out over the wheat fields.

"Didn't I say to kill any envoys and hang their heads on pikes?"

"Well, the thing is, it's a princess, so......"

"A princess?"

"Yes. Should I hang her head up?"

"......No. Bring her here."

He was trying to play the part of a ruthless avenger, but even so, there were limits.

Ricardt had no desire to go that far at the cost of losing the people's goodwill. To the common folk, killing a princess could be more shocking than killing a king.

It wasn't simply that he wanted to look good out of some sense of morality. Without the cooperation of the local population, traveling such a long road would be difficult. So he had to manage his reputation, in his own way.

Armies fight armies, and quarrels are with kings and lords, not commoners. Sparing the people from harm was how Ricardt conducted war, and no one in history had ever done it this way. Ricardt was walking a path no one had walked before.

Noble and principled, but without the ability to back it up, it would have been sheer madness.

At any rate, as Ricardt stood gazing beyond the wheat fields, the princess approached, attended by her ladies-in-waiting. The knights nearby watched with curiosity but made no particularly menacing show of vigilance.

Still, their physiques were so imposing and their gazes so sharp that simply standing there and looking was intimidating enough.

The princess was small in stature, her face mostly hidden behind a veil. Two ladies-in-waiting accompanied her at her sides, both of them trembling. In truth, it was not at all customary for a princess to come as an envoy.

"Welcome, Princess. I'm Ricardt."

Ricardt spoke deliberately, brief and stiff. They were enemies, after all; there was no need for pleasantries. He was simply observing a bare minimum of courtesy.

When Ricardt greeted her first, the princess removed her veil. As her face was revealed, Ricardt was startled. What the... she's a child?

The princess was not short; she was actually rather tall for her age. What that meant was that she looked to be around ten years old.

"I am so very pleased to meet you, Knight Commander. I am Ainea, the Fifth Princess of the Basque Kingdom. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

"......The king sent a princess?"

"Yes."

"What message are you here to deliver?"

At Ricardt's question, Princess Ainea briefly cleared her throat, then spoke.

"I have been in good health since birth and have never suffered any ailments of note. My teeth are straight and none of them are decayed. Furthermore, among the women on both my father's side and my mother's side, there is not a single one who has failed to bear sons. This is a blessing from God, a sign that the family line shall flourish. I have inherited only the finest bloodlines from my parents. If you and I, Knight Commander, were to be joined in engagement, and if you would but wait a little, once I have come of age, I will most certainly produce many, many healthy sons for you."

"......"

Ricardt was struck speechless, his face contorting into something grotesque. What is she even saying?

Blindsided by a situation he had never imagined, Ricardt stood there at a loss for words, while the princess turned to her ladies-in-waiting and asked, I did well, right? Didn't I do well?

Ricardt snapped back to his senses. Ah, so that's their game. They're trying to buy time with an engagement. But the fact that they'd sent a child to do this was a little revolting. Even a prince would have been given a proper reception.

Looking back on it, what the princess had said was not something she had wanted to say herself. It was closer to something she had memorized and recited from start to finish. And she herself didn't seem to understand what the words she'd spoken actually meant.

In noble families, marriages were of course decided by the head of the house, and the same was true for royal families. Had she simply accepted it without question?

"There will be no engagement, Princess. Please return."

"Huh? Why?"

"There is no 'why'. Please return."

"But why?"

"......Do you truly wish to know the answer?"

"If you would tell me, I shall listen most carefully."

Ricardt regarded the princess for a moment, a girl of high birth but still just a child, and tossed out a single blunt remark.

"Because I intend to kill your father."

"......Huh? K-kings don't die. Not unless God takes them."

"Unfortunately, it seems God intends to."

"How come?"

Ricardt let out a sigh before answering.

"Hoo...... I received God's word recently. God has commanded me to kill the King of Basque. Go and deliver that message."

At that, Princess Ainea's expression crumbled into one of deep shock, her lips quivering and trembling, until finally she burst into tears.

"Waaaaaah!"

Ricardt glared at the ladies-in-waiting and said,

"If you don't want to die, take the princess and go. Now."

The ladies-in-waiting scrambled to scoop up the princess, tucked her under their arms, and bolted. The sight was rather comical.

Watching them flee, Raimund approached and said,

"Would've been nice to take her hostage."

"No. No need. Now I know for certain. Just what level these people are at."

Having crossed so many lands and civilizations, having faced all manner of formidable enemies and seen a number of kings who served as fine examples, Ricardt felt somewhat deflated.

He found himself thinking of King Sancho and the Sultan of Mayub. They were men of keen insight and bold nerve. Ruthless when ruthlessness was called for, merciful when mercy was due, and generous in spirit.

He also thought of the Green Dragon brothers, Tausso and Tiuso, of Sultan Yusuf's army, and of Vilter.

In the end, there was something Ricardt himself had overlooked. Not every king in the world was like those men.

Right or wrong, they harbored ambition, honed themselves, were valiant on the battlefield, and staked their lives on what they set out to accomplish.

But the men of the Basque Kingdom had no ambition, did not hone themselves, were not valiant, and did not stake their lives on anything.

Just as the other side knew little about Ricardt, Ricardt had known little about them. The realization came late. Ah, so this is all they amount to.

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