Chapter 29

There had never been any intention to negotiate from the start. This was, above all, a trap aimed at Philip, the eldest son of the Count’s family.

A calculated move to see through the internal affairs of the Count’s household and the Order of Saint Magdalene like the palm of one’s hand, and to disrupt their command structure.

“I beg you, Prince Philip! Do not listen to his words and return home!”

“It’s like a dog putting a leash on its master.”

Despite the almost pleading tone of Lieutenant Milbas, Saxon’s Dale spat out a cold sneer each time. As if he couldn’t bear the absurdity.

“──Lord Veil.”

“Speak, Lord Dale!”

After letting out that sneer, Dale turned to the knight aide standing by his side.

“Step aside for a moment.”

As if to flaunt his status and trust.

“As you command!”

The moment Dale gave the order, his aide-de-camp, Sir Veil, withdrew from the table. Without a moment’s delay.

Perfect obedience to superior orders.

“Shall we speak privately for a moment?”

After pulling his men back, Dale asked.

“After all, this is a matter between the ‘highest commanders’ responsible for this battle.”

He said this without naming anyone else, merely with a meaningful smile.

“……Very well!”

“P-Prince Philip!”

At those words, Philip flushed crimson and raised his voice. As if Dale had just named him one of the two supreme commanders.

──Even if the Holy Knight unofficially entrusted this battle to his deputy knight, Sir Milbas, knowledge of this truth is restricted to only a handful of high-ranking officers within the Order of Saint Magdalene.

Externally, it is the Holy Knight’s son, the lecherous Philip, who commands them. Even if he is merely a figurehead, a front man, a puppet in this battle. Moreover, Philip’s ‘pride’ was not so low that he would readily accept that fact.

“Withdraw at once, Milbas!”

“But, but Prince Philip…!”

“Do you not hear the words of the supreme commander?!”

Philip shouted in rage.

“Dealing with that Saxon brat is my job!”

After all, Philip, the count’s spoiled brat, was ‘officially’ the supreme commander of this battle. And since that supreme commander was throwing a tantrum in front of everyone, Lord Milbas had no choice. For him, insisting any further would only backfire.

“…I will obey your orders.”

Pushing aside his burning impatience, Lord Milbas bowed his head. Reluctantly, indeed.

“As I said, I requested this meeting solely for the purpose of negotiation.”

Finally, one of the two men left at the negotiating table, Dale of Saxony, spoke up.

“Hmph. Do you have any other terms that might persuade me?”

Philip of Brandenburg asked, desperately feigning composure.

“Yes, I do.”

“Speak.”

“If the Order of Saint Magdalena withdraws from this battle and retreats its forces.”

Dale continued flatly.

“Our ducal house will provide all the provisions necessary for your return to the county.”

“What…?”

Frankly speaking, it was telling them to eat their fill and then leave. Philip couldn’t even manage a hollow laugh at the absurdity of it.

“Are you seriously trying to call those measly conditions a ‘negotiation’?”

“Yes.”

Even so, Dale answered with an extremely serious expression.

“I apologize for the earlier mockery that offended your feelings, Master.”

As if the cruel malice of moments ago had been a lie, he bowed his head respectfully.

“But please withdraw your troops and return.”

Withdraw your forces and return. It was tantamount to admitting defeat and retreating before the battle had even begun.

“At the very least, until the entire force is utterly destroyed, and hundreds of knights, the pride of the Count’s house, are killed or taken prisoner.”

Nevertheless, Dale’s warning that followed was neither mockery nor bravado.

“The reputation of the Order of Saint Magdalene will be dragged through the mud.”

His voice sounded as if he were merely stating a plain fact.

“Rather than the worst possible outcome, where even Prince Philip’s ‘value as a puppet’ would vanish.”

That was precisely why it was unbearable.

“Accepting my terms would be the ‘cleanest form’ of defeat you could possibly accept.”

The pitying gaze that a ten-year-old child sent him. That attitude, as if looking down on him one-sidedly.

“……Ah, Lord Milbas was right after all!”

For Philip, the eldest son of the count’s household, it was an unbearable humiliation and disgrace.

“From the very start, your mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of mocking and humiliating me!”

Philip leapt to his feet, as if any further conversation was pointless.

“How regrettable.”

Seeing this, Dale smiled coldly. Setting aside the sincere advice he had just offered.

“This was your last chance.”

“What…?”

The last chance.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

Dale continued.

“The one who will lose this battle and ultimately bear the blame for defeat is not ‘Commander Milbas’…”

In a voice devoid of even a trace of emotion.

“It will be the incompetent, utterly useless eldest son of the Count’s household.”

‘A worthless piece of trash, worse than a ten-year-old bloody brat.’

At Dale’s words, Philip instantly recalled his father’s icy sneer directed at him. That cold gaze, as if looking upon irredeemable waste.

In contrast, he recalled his father’s assessment of the young eldest son of the Saxon family.

‘A monster that even a dullard like you couldn’t hope to catch up to, not even in a hundred years.’

“……Don’t make me laugh.”

Philip muttered softly after a moment’s thought, forcing back the crushing weight of defeat pressing down on his chest.

“The days when a greenhorn like you can afford such arrogance are numbered.”

What the hell was so different between himself and this damn brat?

“I will prove it to everyone, right here and now!”

That Philip of Brandenburg was superior to the young eldest son of the House of Saxony.

Commanding this battle and defeating Dale will be his role, not Lord Milbas’.

He would defeat the empire’s foremost genius, the prodigy of the duke’s house… and establish military merit beyond anyone’s denial… proving himself to his father, and indeed to the entire empire.

“Well now, that sounds promising.”

Dale flashed a sly smile at Philip, who was solidifying his resolve.

The conversation ended there.

After the negotiations broke down, some time later.

Baroncy of Greenbelt.

“The forces of the Order of Saint Magdalena and Baron Pucker have begun to move.”

In a chamber within the castle walls, a strategist moved several chess pieces across a large wooden table.

“With five hundred knights and three thousand warhorses to feed, supply issues must be starting to arise.”

And in a long-range expedition undertaken by such a large force, expecting abundant supplies is simply absurd.

“Should we maintain a defensive posture until the enemy grows impatient and makes a move?”

At the staff officer’s question, the supreme commander… Dale shook his head.

“As long as the enemy is moving with full force.”

After shaking his head, Dale continued flatly.

“We too must show corresponding sincerity.”

We were no exception in keeping a close watch on the movements of the opposing domain.

“The Saxon Duke’s knights have begun to move.”

While Philip was drowning his sorrows with Baron Pucker’s courtesans, in a chamber of Baron Pucker’s castle.

“I thought they’d use our supply situation to force a protracted war.”

“The Baron of Greenbelt’s domain is not suited for a siege. The House of Saxony surely knows that fact as well.”

“Hmm…”

It wasn’t an unreasonable argument. Yet, leaving behind an inexplicable unease, ‘Lord Milbas’ turned his head. That day, recalling the Saxon family’s young eldest son, smiling coldly at the negotiation table.

He was no one to be underestimated, merely a ten-year-old child.

‘Never underestimate the Saxon family’s young eldest son.’

Like the warning of a holy knight, Saxony’s Dale was a monster that a fool like Philip could never hope to match, even in a hundred years. And he thought of the threat that monster would pose to the empire when he grew to maturity.

Having witnessed it with my own eyes, I was all the more certain.

The sight of him tearing apart Philip’s foolish pride and cooking him to his own taste. That chillingly cold sneer, like the abyss of malice itself.

This wasn’t even something that could be packaged as a child’s cruel innocence. That child was an unquestionable monster, a ‘seed of evil’. Who else could it be but the bloodline of that dark clan, the Black Duke?

“…Having come this far, I suppose I can’t refuse the challenge.”

No, rather, this is an opportunity.

The Saxon House and its eldest son will become a threat to his sovereign and the entire empire. And before the seed of evil fully blossoms into its potential, now—while this future great evil, destined to be the empire’s enemy, remains but a ‘ten-year-old child’—is precisely the moment.

‘I must cut that sprout down.’

Even considering the political backlash such an act would bring. That was the decision Lord Milbas made for his sovereign and his homeland.

──Ironically, he had forgotten that he himself was treating Dale like a child more than anyone else.

“As soon as the unit’s formation is complete, we will prepare for the entire army’s departure.”

High Knight Milbas nodded his head, his resolve firm. Leaving behind the echoing laughter of Philip and the courtesans in the distance.

The Black Prince, the Holy Knight, the Crimson Prince… and the Hero from Another World.

Even in this world of swords and magic, there were few truly powerful individuals capable of turning the tide of battle through sheer personal strength alone.

Even the mages, hailed as this world’s strategic weapons, were no exception.

In large-scale battles where mages participate, the ‘High-Altitude Magic Defense System (MDS)’ activates to intercept each other’s area-of-effect spells. Ultimately, a mage’s value shines only when functioning as part of combined arms tactics.

Needless to say, this holds even more true for ‘fair and square battles’ where mages do not participate.

Therefore, even if Dale were to obtain overwhelming military power of the caliber described above, mobilizing troops would remain absolutely essential to confront the empire that ruled the entire continent.

“Prince Dale, the enemy’s main force has begun its northern advance!”

Dale lifted his head, his thoughts concluded. Soon after, the scouting unit that had been monitoring the enemy’s movements returned to report.

“Well done.”

Dale nodded calmly, as if he had expected it.

Beneath the great banner bearing the Saxon House’s symbol, the raven, he mounted his warhorse clad in seamless horse armor. He wore custom-made armor and a black surcoat.

“Swords of the House of Saxony, the time has come.”

The Black Cavalry, known as the Destroyer of Battlefields… commanding five hundred Knights of the Night Crow.