Chapter 120

“You mentioned an alliance between House Saxon and House Lancaster?”

The Duke of Lancaster’s office. Facing the unexpected face right there, the sword-eared Celestia spoke.

“That is correct.”

Dale nodded silently.

“Five hundred Night Crow Knights, and six black mages from the Black Tower are with them.”

He laid out the information without hiding anything from his enemy.

“For such a grand alliance, it’s a rather modest force, isn’t it?”

“Ah, war is not fought by numbers alone.”

Facing the Demon Sword, one of the Seven Swords of the Continent, the ‘Black Prince’ smiled without a trace of intimidation.

“One of the Empire’s five war heroes, the noble swordmaster Serphilia, wields her blade for the York family—separate from the imperial court’s stance, you see.”

“……That damn brat, how he dares to spout such nonsense.”

Only then did Sepheria finally twist her expression openly. Gone was any trace of the courtesy or respect she’d shown before the Heavenly Sword moments ago—her face now wore a look that was literally ‘demonic’.

“Do you need a good spanking in front of this older sister to finally come to your senses, crying and wailing?”

“Ah, I’m all grown up now. The days of getting spanked are long gone.”

Dale sneered as if it were someone else’s business.

The air stretched taut in the silence, yet the swordmaster, Sephelia, never placed her hand on her sword hilt.

“Dale of Saxony, I formally greet His Highness, the Duke of Lancaster, the Heavenly Sword.”

The man standing silently before him, crushed under the weight of the Heavenly Sword.

“…Then I shall withdraw at this point.”

The Demon Sword, Sepheria, turned her back on Lancaster and Saxon, leaving them behind.

Her sword, known as the ‘Soulbringer,’ and the eerie, unidentifiable aura that ripples around her.

“I heard news that the House of Saxony sent the Knight of the Five Hundred Night Ravens and the Black Mage.”

After Sephelia departed, the two Lancasters and the eldest Saxon son remained there.

With the enemy gone, they could finally discuss their alliance.

“But surely, with the ‘eldest son of House Saxon’ personally making the journey, they wouldn’t stop at such a meager force.”

“Your Highness is correct.”

“The enemy must know that as well.”

“Since I revealed myself personally, you should be able to predict that much without difficulty.”

Dale continued calmly, as if he had expected this reaction.

Especially since the opponents are the York family’s witches. Even without Dale revealing himself, the mere information that Mikhail had visited the Demon King’s domain in the north at this hour would make it easy for them to anticipate an ‘alliance between the two duke families’. That is their wisdom.

“But officially revealing oneself and wielding a sword from the shadows are two entirely different matters.”

“What are you hiding in the shadows?”

“An invisible sword.”

Dale answered coldly, and the Duke of Lancaster did not press further.

“Father.”

And after the silence, Mikhail spoke.

“I implore you, Prince Dale, to accept the goodwill we, the House of Lancaster, wish to extend to you.”

“Can we trust the ‘Black Prince’ of Saxony?”

Before Dale, the Heavenly Sword retorted. For he too knew well the notoriety and cruelty that accompanied Dale’s moniker.

“At the very least, there can be no doubt about the terror and cruelty the ‘Black Prince’ instills in his enemies.”

Mikhail replied.

“Even if they were the witches of York.”

“You trust that child immensely, don’t you?”

Michael Lancaster rarely trusted anyone. Or rather, he despised the nobles who bowed before the name ‘House Lancaster’ and fawned over it.

But Dale of Saxony was different. It wasn’t solely because the weight of the blood flowing through their veins was equal.

“I do not trust the young master.”

That day, in the fight club, the duel. Despite the overwhelming difference in skill, Dale had subdued Mikhail.

“Rather, I hold deep respect for you.”

“……!”

“As a wall I must overcome in the future, and simultaneously as a formidable opponent striving for greater heights.”

It wasn’t just the Duke of Lancaster who was startled by the unexpected words. Even Dale gasped at Mikhail’s unguarded display.

“That day, it was through my defeat at the hands of Prince Dale that I attained my current level.”

Mikhail flicked his hand toward the hilt of ‘Peacemaker’ hanging at his waist.

“Despite the clear disparity in skill, I was defeated before everyone’s eyes, my mind read by a child a year younger than me who called himself a mage.”

Recalling the humiliation of that day, utterly unforgettable.

“Britannia’s greatest genius, victor of the Black and White Rotation, war hero of the island of Britannia.”

Mikhail turned his head toward Dale.

“Our friendship with Saxony will be a strength beyond compare. And when it comes to showing respect to one who is ‘qualified,’ age means nothing.”

The qualified one. Saying this, Mikhail bowed his head to Dale once more.

The Duke of Lancaster remained silent, then finally spoke.

“Very well, young genius of Saxony.”

Saxony’s young genius.

“We of Lancaster will join hands with Saxony in the north and gladly seek your assistance.”

“An excellent decision.”

Dale smiled. The House of Lancaster bowed to Saxony, requesting aid, and Dale possessed the capability to willingly reciprocate their assistance.

Even in the war between the two great princes, where Seven-Sword-level powerhouses clashed, this was no exception. Dale himself did not need to become an ‘unconventional powerhouse’ capable of defeating the Seven Swords.

It was enough to simply use those extraordinary powerhouses as chess pieces, moving them across the board.

And that debt shall never be forgotten, but will shine brightly when Saxony needs it in the future.

In the name of the Heavenly Sword, Duke Lancaster, who stands at the pinnacle of the Seven Swords, the continent’s foremost swordsman.

Officially, this battle was a civil war within the House of Lancaster over succession, but strictly speaking, the eldest son, Richard, was merely a puppet of his wife’s family, the House of York.

A clash between two great lords, each bearing the emblem of a rose—the red rose and the blue rose.

Wars between lords of grand duke rank do not erupt overnight. Yet that does not mean they take a hundred or a thousand years.

The houses under the House of York steadily gathered their forces, and the House of Lancaster was no exception.

And those who claim the role of standard-bearer for the House of York are the two swords of the Seven Swords of the Continent: the Holy Sword, Count Brandenburg, and the Noble Sword, Sir Sepelia.

Moreover, since this was established as a dispute fought over ‘just cause’ among the great nobles, the battle was usually settled by a fair and square clash between the two sides’ main forces.

When wars dragged on, plunder, arson, and all manner of crimes inevitably followed, directly inflicting suffering upon the people of the fiefdom and the fiefdom itself.

Therefore, it was the ‘tradition of the empire’ to minimize the sacrifice of land and people by achieving a swift and decisive conclusion.

That is how it should have been.

But the House of York never adhered to the empire’s tradition.

Behind the pale blue rose they outwardly display, they chose the path of ‘wisdom without blood or tears’ symbolized by the dark blue rose.

Where the Duchy of Lancaster and the Marquisate of York meet, there are no natural fortresses like rivers or mountain ranges to block each other. That is why a guerrilla force, spearheaded by two exceptional warriors beyond the Seven Swords’ standards, began invading and plundering the Duchy of Lancaster.

For a noble cause claiming to defend the empire’s traditions, it was a strategy of unparalleled cunning.

After the war began, the opportunity for the gathering army of the House of Lancaster to move never came.

“The situation is dire. We’ve organized a mobile strike force to pursue York’s guerrillas, but with two Seven-Blade swordsmen guarding them, it’s not easy…”

“Damn York women, stabbing us in the back!”

“……”

The Lancaster leaders raised their voices, while the Duke of Lancaster, the Thousand Swords, remained silent.

The ‘mighty beyond measure’ are those who make chivalric literature possible. Yet in war, the value of such mighty warriors was not to inspire chivalric tales.

Battles unfold by integrating these unconventional warriors into the realm of strategy and tactics. To those who value a knight’s pride and nobility, York’s guerrilla tactics—avoiding fair combat while repeatedly resorting to plunder and arson—are never welcome actions. This held true even for sacred swords or noble blades.

But that is the nature of war. Even actions that disregard a knight’s nobility or pride in actual combat must ultimately be rationalized in the name of ‘strategy and tactics’.

That is the very essence of military strategy, and the House of York understood this point.

And the ‘Black Prince’ understood that point as well.

At that moment, leaving the sluggishly progressing meeting behind, Dale was alone in a room within Lancaster Castle.

A map depicting the entire domain lay spread out on the table. Alongside it were pieces shaped like chess pieces, each symbolizing a different type of soldier.

Following the report from the Lancaster leadership, he picks up his quill pen and marks the operational area of the guerrilla unit where the ‘Two Seven-Blade Swords’ are active.

The fertile and prosperous lands of the Duchy of Lancaster are being trampled one after another. While a counter-raid to plunder the lands of the House of York could be a tactic, there was a crucial issue holding the Duke’s hand.

Legitimacy.

Ironically, the House of York’s plundering of the Duchy of Lancaster had a just cause.

It was the justification of ‘executing the traitorous duke’s household who refuse to accept Richard, the eldest son, as the rightful heir’.

The innocent people of Yeongji, who knew nothing, were being massacred on the very charge of treason.

It was utterly absurd, yet in this world, the weight of justification was never light.

And the House of York was teetering on the very edge of that justification, toying with the House of Lancaster.

‘They’re no ordinary foes, after all.’

Nevertheless, Dale paid no heed.

For the time had finally come, as promised to the Duke of Lancaster, to wield his sword from the shadows.

“Master Barrow.”

Dale spoke from the darkness, and the wind howled. It was an eerily chilling and ominous wind.

Before long, men clad in black coats and new beak masks, led by Master Baro, had gathered there. They were the elite assassins of the ‘Shadow Court’—a knightly order nurtured by the empire’s foremost feudal lords, one that knew no shortage of prowess.

The ‘Shadow Lord’ who reigned among them spoke calmly.

“The time for departure has come.”

Victory in this battle was certainly not something Dale and his organization could achieve alone. Yet, even though Dale had volunteered to be Lancaster’s ally, he was not in a position to personally command the entire battle.

Therefore, he had to wait for the moment and seize it before it arrived.

Even if it meant the Duke of Lancaster himself, the most powerful man in the realm, would become a pawn in Dale’s chess game, forced to move as he dictated.