Chapter 28

At that moment, at Baron Pucker’s manor.

As the night deepened, the staff officers of the Order of Saint Magdalene discussed their strategy.

“Pour it on, drink it up!”

“Ha ha ha!”

The hall reverberated with shouts, laughter, and the pungent stench of alcohol.

Half-naked courtesans gathered in small groups, flirting and cooing, while among them, ‘Lecherous Philip’ flushed crimson.

“You know how to please this body quite well, don’t you!”

“Of course, my lord Philip!”

Baron Perker didn’t need much to prepare entertainment for Philip.

Wine and women. Even without Philip making an appearance, they overflow at the Baron of Pucker’s estate as usual.

“That Saxon brat and his knights will be utterly crushed by me and my men!”

Philip raised his voice in boastful bravado, gulping down wine. He was trying hard to forget that he was merely the figurehead of this battle, nothing more than a mere sidekick.

“My, my! How gallant you are, my lord!”

“How utterly dependable!”

“Indeed, who else could it be!”

The courtesans stoked Philip’s excitement with their cooing voices, and Philip, carried away by his drunkenness, raised his voice even louder.

“That very war hero of the empire, the only son of the Grand Duke of Brandenburg, the Holy Knight!”

“And his opponent is nothing but a ten-year-old brat whose blood hasn’t even dried on his head!”

“Goodness gracious, isn’t that the age when he should still be suckling at his mother’s breast?”

“It’s practically a victory before the battle even begins!”

Baron Pucker’s desperate flattery to curry favor, the courtesans’ coquetry—to Philip, it all felt like unshakable certainty.

“Indeed, exactly.”

──The young eldest son of the Saxon family is a monster that a dullard like you couldn’t hope to catch up to, even in a hundred years.

‘A monster that can’t be caught up to even after a hundred years?’

What a joke.

‘No matter how much they fuss about the Duke’s prodigy, he’s still just a ten-year-old kid.’

Father fears the Saxon family’s eldest son far more than necessary. And he fails to recognize his own true worth.

That’s why this is an opportunity. Father will be forced to see himself clearly, and the entire empire will sing of his glorious victory.

Just like they’re babbing about that damn Duke’s brat!

Philip downed another gulp of wine.

Not Saxony’s Dale, but imagining his own name echoing from the lips of the empire’s nobility.

For Philip, the eldest son of the House of Brandenburg, this was truly an ‘opportunity to prove himself’.

If a knight is the standard-bearer who plants the banner of victory in the enemy camp, the flower of war.

The mage is closer to the concept of a tactical weapon that can turn the tide of battle.

However, a territorial war is never an all-out war aimed at the annihilation of the opposing force.

Shortly after unifying the continent, the Emperor promulgated the new imperial constitution, the ‘Golden Bull,’ at the Imperial Diet.

Among these is a clause stipulating that mages of 4th circle or higher cannot participate in ‘disputes between lesser lords,’ and furthermore, cannot cast the corresponding Magics of Mass Destruction.

And as long as this battle is established as merely a ‘dispute between mere barons,’ the Saxon House cannot employ its renowned dark magic.

A restricted battle fought under countless rules and constraints.

A fair and square contest where only swords and spears clash, with no participation from mages of 4th circle or higher.

That was the Paladin’s strategy, and simultaneously, Dale’s strategy.

That dawn. A chamber within Yeongju Castle.

──Dale, a 3rd Circle mage, quietly assumed the lotus position.

Third Circle.

Though he was a magician in his own right, his skill was still insufficient to truly hold his own on the battlefield.

Yet Dale’s true terror did not stem from merely running on rails laid out by others.

The biting cold and refined dark magic intertwined and fused into a dual-chain structure.

‘It’s done.’

Dale’s own creation, born of relentless effort to fuse the dual attributes of light and shadow.

The double helix structure of genes.

In this world, magic is the projection of thought, and according to the very roots of that thought, five colors and meanings existed.

The white magic tower of light (wisdom), which assists the Sistina Goddess Cult and calls itself the ‘Maid of God’.

The black magic tower of darkness (truth), pursuing the truth beyond death.

The crimson tower of flame (power), the enforcer of the empire’s zeitgeist, wielding the continent’s mightiest authority.

The blue tower of water (harmony), maintaining an eerie silence amidst the tyranny of the red tower.

The Green Tower of Nature (Life), which rejects contact with the civilized world and values wild life and primitive traditions within the Great Forest.

Though he learned black and blue magic from Blackstone and Sepia, strictly speaking, the ‘root of thought’ within Dale did not belong to any of the five towers above.

A few steps apart, observing them coldly, magic built upon the ideology and knowledge system of a past life—a different world.

The sole mage.

On rails no one had ever walked, he envisioned the landscape that lay at the end of this path.

In a world where no one else exists, alone with myself gazing upon a landscape no one else has seen.

The dawn before the first light of day had even begun to rise.

“Gasp, huff!”

“Please! I beg you, no more…!”

A dying cry echoed from the open field before the Greenbelt Baron’s castle.

“What do you expect, collapsing like this already?”

“Get up, you weakling!”

“And you still dare to call yourself a knight of the North?!”

Alongside the five hundred knights of House Sachsen, who as always devoted themselves to training from the early dawn, came the ragtag knights of the House of Greenbelt, who were being pushed to the limit under their guidance.

‘Time is short, yet the tasks are as vast as a mountain.’

Moreover, once the sun rose, military training for the conscripts within the domain could not be neglected.

Watching the scene from afar, Dale clicked his tongue bitterly.

Even though the Order of Saint Magdalene had just completed a forced march across the continent… considering the poor supply situation during such a long expedition, they’ll launch an offensive as soon as their fatigue subsides.

‘At most, a few weeks.’

Moreover, Baron Pucker’s forces were no laughing matter either.

Baron Pucker’s cavalry force consisted of seasoned warriors who had fought alongside him since his days as a robber knight. Considering that Baron Pucker’s entire domain functioned as a single band of robbers, their military discipline alone was beyond comparison.

‘Better a villain than a fool.’

Dale clicked his tongue again and turned his head.

Toward the lieutenant and senior knight of the Night Raven Knights who served at his side.

“Sir Veil.”

“Speak, my lord!”

“I wish to give separate training instructions to the knights of the House of Baron Greenbelt.”

After explaining the training details from one to ten, Dale continued.

“Additionally, send word to the Barony of Pucker, proposing negotiations.”

“Negotiations…?”

At the unexpected words, Lord Veil blinked in surprise.

“This is not about accepting a humiliating peace.”

But Dale shook his head as if to say there was nothing to worry about.

“Before we go into battle, there’s a face I’d like to see one last time.”

Dale said after shaking his head.

It was already more than a decade ago, before he even bore the name Dale of Saxony.

He recalled the face of a pitiful child, broken by his father’s greed and obsession bordering on abuse.

Nothing in this world is easier than for parents to ruin their children.

In that regard, Count Brandenburg, the royal inspector, was the very epitome of excellence.

‘The knight mad with eugenic desires.’

──At the end of his recollection, Dale raised his head.

After sending a messenger to the Baroncy of Pucker, some time later. At Dale’s request, a venue for negotiations was prepared.

Right there, at the border between the two baronies, where knights from both sides stood lined up, each heavily armed.

Representing the Pucker Barony was the ‘eldest son of the House of Brandenburg’ and one senior knight assisting him.

The same was true for the Baron of Greenbelt.

Clear evidence that this battle was, above all, a proxy war between the Black Count and the Holy Knight, two great lords.

‘Of course.’

And upon seeing them seated at the table, Dale’s suspicion turned to certainty.

The eldest son of the count’s house is nothing more than a figurehead for appearances. The one truly overseeing this battle is that high-ranking knight over there.

‘…….’

The golden epaulettes worn over his surcoat were proof enough. The insignia of a high-ranking officer of the Order of Saint Magdalena.

“Prince Philip of Brandenburg.”

Dale turned his gaze and bowed his head in a formal salute.

“Negotiations? After coming all this way!”

Unlike the knight beside him, who carefully studied Dale’s intentions with a perpetually cautious expression, Philip, the eldest son of the count’s household, made no effort to hide his blatant sneer.

“Looks like you’ve wet your pants before the ‘real war’ starts, kid?”

Dale did not answer immediately. A brief silence settled.

“Why did you agree to my terms?”

Dale asked after the silence.

“Ha! Well now…”

Just as Philip was about to blurt out an answer to that question.

“I didn’t ask you.”

Dale cut him off.

“I’m not asking the puppet put forward as a mere figurehead in this battle, but the real ‘commander’.”

With a cold sneer.

“What… what did you say…?”

──A pawn, and the real commander.

Philip’s face twisted in humiliation at Dale’s words.

“Is that not so?”

Leaving Philip behind, his face twisted in humiliation, Dale turned his head.

“Otherwise, how could the world-renowned Sword Saint…”

Not at Philip, but at the aide standing beside him.

“There’s no way such a crucial role in a major battle would be entrusted to a dullard without a shred of talent.”

The high-ranking knight clad in pure white armor and a blood-red surcoat.

“……!”

Only then did Lieutenant Milbas, having finally grasped the intent of the negotiation, raise his voice. With a shock that made the blood in his entire body run cold.

“Prince Philip! Do not fall for his words!”

How could a noble family from the remote northern border know the inner workings of the House of Brandenburg?

For the Knight of the Holy Grail, matters concerning his son were a shameful secret he wished to conceal, and thus their family affairs were maintained in strict secrecy.

“How does it feel to be deemed unworthy of even a shred of trust by your most respected father?”

──But how, exactly?

He couldn’t tell. And that wasn’t what mattered right now.

For a fleeting moment, I foolishly thought he’d realized the unfavorable situation in the barony and offered negotiations.

“Negotiations are off immediately! Prince Philip, please return at once!”

Just as Lord Milbas abruptly rose from his seat in haste.

“Do you even need permission from your ‘subordinates’ to listen to others?”

Seeing this, Dale sneered again.

“To obey and be loyal like a slave to the orders of a subordinate you should be commanding.”

As if he couldn’t contain his amusement.

“The name of the eldest son of the great House of Brandenburg must be weeping.”

“Prince Philip, rise at once! You must not be beguiled by that wretch’s words!”

“──Shut up!”

At Lord Milbas’s urging, Philip raised his voice in fury. His face flushed crimson as he snorted defiantly.

As if he could not submit to the words of someone he should command.

As if he couldn’t let things unfold as Dale mockingly suggested.

Watching this, Dale laughed coldly, utterly unconcerned.

“This makes me wonder whose puppet to call Prince Philip.”

Pretending to be a child’s cruelly innocent malice.