Chapter 73

The Holy Knight had one reason for forcing his son onto the battlefield.

Military merit.

Like the ‘Black Prince’ of the Saxon Duke’s family, whose fame resounded throughout the entire empire… He sought to achieve glorious military achievements on the battlefield and make the fame of the Count’s family resound throughout the empire.

Regardless of the circumstances, Philip was the sole son of the Holy Knight and the eldest son of the count’s house. Therefore, it was necessary for the Holy Knight to produce a ‘worthy vessel’ befitting his holy sword, and for that child to grow into a pillar that would, at least formally, support the count’s house alongside him until the child came of age.

That’s how it should have been.

‘Even a dog’s pup under a noble’s roof isn’t that much of a dog, right?’

‘Even the legendary Holy Sword couldn’t help his luck with offspring, I see!’

“Hah, so this is the end for the venerable House of Brandenburg.”

‘Look at the Saxon house’s eldest son in comparison! The world is truly unfair!’

But no matter how much they tried to conceal their son’s incompetence, they couldn’t hide the truth.

He recalled the nobles whispering about his son’s incompetence—a good-for-nothing who showed no talent for the sword, only for women.

Without the ability to wield the sacred sword, it goes without saying that the fortunes of the House of Brandenburg would plummet.

Moreover, the crushing defeat in the Black and White Rotation drove a wedge into the nobles’ murmurs. They mocked him behind his back as if the ‘Fall of the House of Brandenburg’ were already a foregone conclusion. Endlessly harping on the story of the eldest son of the House of Saxony, that damned ‘Black Prince’!

Therefore, he had to prove himself.

He had to achieve a military feat so great that no one would dare insult the eldest son of the Count’s house, and he had to crush the noses of those who dared to mock the Count’s house.

In a sense, even the Holy Sword Master was no exception to being unable to escape the shadow of the ‘Black Confucius’ and being steeped in inferiority.

The Loire River. The boundary separating the self-proclaimed ‘New Britannian Kingdom’ in the north of the island of Britannia and the ‘Imperial Territories’ in the south.

For the independence army to reclaim the kingdom’s capital, they had to cross the bridges over the Loire River and advance into the Imperial Territory.

Therefore, the Imperial Army also split their main force of 40,000 men, stationing a large contingent of nearly 20,000 under the command of the Count’s spoiled son, Philip, at the key fortress ‘Bel Fort’ guarding the bridge.

“You need do nothing.”

Once again, with a warning so sharp it pierced his ears. Just twiddling your thumbs there is enough.

“Do not attempt anything.”

Even if the power of the Virgin is formidable, capturing a fortress defended by such a force is impossible. Yet without breaching this fortress, the capital of the Absolute Kingdom can never be reclaimed.

Even if Philip were a complete fool without a shred of talent, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t about trusting Philip. It was about trusting the fortress ‘Bellefort’.

After all, Bellefort wasn’t called an impregnable fortress for no reason.

After that, as ‘the eldest son of the Count’s house who risked his life defending the fortress against the rebel forces’… it would fall to his father, the Sacred Knight, to exaggerate and spread the tales of valor from the Battle of Belport.

So the entire empire would clamor about the exploits of the eldest son of the Count’s family, Philip!

It was his father’s desperate struggle to restore the honor of himself, the Count’s household, and his wayward son.

Around that time, Dale’s situation was exceedingly pitiful.

He was given a mere thousand-strong force—his own Black Armor Company of 500 men, plus another 500 Imperial soldiers who were little more than window dressing—and shoved into the farthest corner, the most remote position on the main front.

It was effectively a demotion.

Count Brandenburg, the Holy Knight, had intervened beforehand to thwart the ‘Black Prince’s exploits’. A truly despicable and utterly petty tactic.

“What? That moron wants to defend Belport?”

“That… is what they say.”

Shortly after, news arrived that the Holy Knight had appointed his son, Philip, as commander of the garrison at the crucial stronghold, ‘Bell Fort’.

“Oh my, this is something else.”

Dale burst out laughing in disbelief.

It wasn’t hard to guess the Holy Knight’s intentions. He’d likely exaggerate every detail of Philip the lecher’s brave defense of the fortress against the traitorous mob… all to bolster the prestige of the Count’s household.

All while the world-renowned ‘Black Prince’ was stuck in this backwater, twiddling his thumbs.

‘Everyone’s too busy looking out for their own interests, too busy.’

In truth, not a single soul gathered here doubted the ‘Empire’s victory’. Even if the holy maiden Aurelia had achieved a miraculous triumph, a single battle did not automatically translate to victory in the war. And the Empire was by no means an easy nation to deal with.

Therefore, what filled the minds of the Imperial soldiers was, without exception, how much of the victory pie they could claim for themselves.

‘This is the height of hypocrisy.’

In a sense, the political infighting raged even more fiercely than the war against the independence army.

“Lord Yones.”

“Speak, Your Highness!”

“Want to make a bet with me?”

Seeing Dale continue speaking so calmly, Lord Yones tilted his head in surprise for a moment.

“A bet?”

“How many days it will take for Fort Bell to fall.”

At Dale’s words, Lord Yones gasped in surprise.

“But… but there are 20,000 Imperial troops garrisoned in that fortress, aren’t there?”

Moreover, it includes mage forces capable of countering the enemy’s area-of-effect magic.

“Do you know why a genius is called a genius?”

“Well… I suppose so.”

“A talent bestowed by heaven, the ability to see the unknown—something beyond the comprehension of ordinary mortals.”

Was he suddenly trying to boast about himself?

“In that regard, Prince Philip is truly a genius sent from heaven.”

No, he wasn’t.

“Then shouldn’t that mean there’s even less need for concern?”

“No, a genius of defeat.”

“……”

Lord Yones was so dumbfounded by that remark he fell silent.

“How could ordinary mortals like us ever hope to comprehend the mind of a genius?”

Dale continued as if it were someone else’s affair.

“The power of genius lies in making the impossible possible, no matter how improbable it may seem…”

Frankly speaking, by Dale’s standards, the fall of Fort Belport was nearly impossible.

But a genius is one who makes the impossible possible. At least on that point, Dale had no doubt about ‘Philip’s genius’.

“A mere knight of the castle could never understand Prince Philip’s genius.”

That’s why Dale continues.

“So, how many days until the fortress falls?”

“It… will take a week.”

“I say three days.”

Three days later, Fort Belport.

“The traitorous scum are retreating!”

Stopping the advance of the Britannian independence army and filling the heart of Captain Philip, the garrison commander, was an overwhelming emotion.

The defense had succeeded. It was a victory.

“It is I, Philip of Brandenburg, who has won!”

Not the eldest son of the House of Saxony, but this very Philip!

He imagined the tales of valor the empire’s storytellers would spin about this victory. Just as the ‘Black Prince’ had done before. ──The eldest son of the count’s house who bravely risked his life to repel the rebels’ assault and defended the fortress!

The epic of a great victory that the people of the empire will sing of in days to come. It shall become the heroic tale that adorns the first page of that heroic biography.

‘No, this is not enough.’

Yet it was still insufficient to adorn the opening chapter of a heroic tale that would resound throughout the entire empire.

‘I cannot allow such a meager victory to adorn the first chapter of my epic.’

Once more, he recalled the young eldest son of House Saxon. The empire’s foremost genius. The countless tales of victory he had secured.

Therefore, Philip’s victory had to be more splendid, more glorious, and more magnificent than his.

A heroic victory that will never be overshadowed by the ‘Black Prince’s’ fame. A triumph so resplendent it cannot be dimmed by the exploits of the empire’s greatest genius.

“Don’t let those bastards live!”

That’s why Philip raised his voice.

“Prepare for battle! Lower the drawbridge of the fortress and pursue them!”

“But, but, Prince Philip!”

“Silence! How dare you, a mere nobody, defy the eldest son of the Count’s house!”

At those words, one of the Knights of Saint Magdalene was startled and tried to restrain Philip. But as Dale had said, the Knights of Saint Magdalene were no match for Philip’s vessel.

“Anyone who disobeys my command will be dealt with by summary execution!”

Philip shouted.

“Prepare for battle, all of you! We will wipe out every last one of those fleeing traitors!”

To escape the ‘Shadow of the Black Prince’ that haunted him like a nightmare, and finally grasp the shining victory in his hands.

“Follow me!”

Philip of Brandenburg.

“My era begins now!”

His heroic biography had only just begun.

One week later. Fort Belport fell, and Philip was captured.

The impregnable fortress, a natural barrier separating the Kingdom of Britannia and the Empire. This crucial Imperial stronghold blocking the Loire River crossing fell easily, without significant sacrifice on the part of the independence forces.

Moreover, the entire Imperial garrison defending the fortress was annihilated, and its commander, Philip, fell into the hands of the Britannian Independence Army… becoming a hostage demanded for a hefty ransom.

As a result, the prolonged siege of Fort Belport drained the strength of the Britannian independence forces. While the stalemate dragged on, the main force under the Swordmaster executed a daring flanking maneuver around the rear──.

The plan to annihilate the Britannian Independent Army in one fell swoop also vanished into thin air.

After the fall of Fort Belport.

Crossing the Loire River, the Britannian Independence Army began advancing with unstoppable momentum.

And their target… At Reims, an imperial stronghold and the former capital of the Kingdom of Britannia, the imperial command gathered once more.

All except one: the reckless scion of the count’s house, who had been captured by the enemy and made a prisoner.

“Well, well, the saying ‘no dog’s cub is born under a tiger’s father’ certainly rings true here.”

Dale, suddenly reinstated after his demotion, spat out the cold mockery.

“As if slaughtering five hundred Knights of Saint Magdalene in the Black-White Rotation wasn’t enough…”

He continued his taunts toward the Holy Knight, showing no reluctance to become part of the Konggaru organization.

“Driving nearly 20,000 sons of the Empire into a death trap…”

“……”

“They say losing is a talent too, but this isn’t something an ordinary talent could manage.”

The Holy Knight bit his lip until it bled.

I wonder what the ‘people of the empire’ will say about Prince Philip’s historic defeat.

A historic defeat. That’s exactly what it was. An indelible disgrace upon the Count’s house, a shocking defeat that would be remembered for generations to come.

Blood trickled down the paladin’s lips. As if desperately resisting the urge to swing his holy sword at any moment.

The end for those who couldn’t escape ‘Dale’s Shadow’. It was a truly laughable sight.

“Out of genuine curiosity, how exactly did you fall?”

“After the first battle began, not long after…”

Taking up Dale’s words, Lady Scarlet spoke.

“After failing to capture the fortress, the enemy fled. Prince Philip has dispatched the main force to pursue them.”

“What? He sent the main force outside the fortress?”

“Well, that’s what they say.”

“Then they’ll all be wiped out in an ambush.”

“Heh heh, Prince Dale, as always.”

Lady Scarlet smiled serenely, as if it were someone else’s affair. She paid no heed to the crushing defeat, one that was utterly impossible to laugh off. In this battle, she too was no exception to having ‘her own purpose’.

After that, the Britannian independence army disguised themselves in Imperial armor and entered bloodlessly, using the captured Prince Philip as their vanguard.

As if they had pursued the fleeing enemy to annihilation and returned in triumph.

“So they simply asked to be let into the fortress?”

“That’s what they say.”

“……”

“I hear they proclaimed victory with such a truly noble and imposing air.”

Because he valued his own life. Veins once again bulged on the paladin’s forehead.

Thus, the fortress fell, and Philip too was reduced to a prisoner. The impregnable fortress known as Belle Port had been taken, virtually bloodlessly.

There’s no denying the ingenuity of the Britannia independence army’s scheme. But before that, who would have thought we’d fall for such a transparent trick?

“I’m so flabbergasted I’m speechless.”

Not even a few weeks had passed since the Imperial Army’s large force landed on the island of Britannia, yet 40,000 troops—half of them—were annihilated… suffering a catastrophic loss by handing over the key fortress and river crossing points on the Loire to the enemy.

Philip’s exploits were nothing short of an ‘unconventional powerhouse’ that single-handedly turned the tide of the entire war.

That’s why.

“We’re screwed.”

Dale muttered as if it were someone else’s problem.