I Refuse This Life, Your Highness! - Chapter 100

The first army to arrive belonged to the northern border of the Empire, the private troops of Margrave Remas. Although they were the last to mobilize, their proximity to Iser allowed them to cross the forest between the two territories and reach the western gate of the outer walls in just one day.

Our defensive lines were perfectly arranged. The soldiers of Remas, who had likely gathered every available fighter, foolishly began their assault on the outer walls without waiting for reinforcements. Perhaps they assumed that without the Duke and with their focus on the outer walls, they could claim an easy victory.

But the Duke’s soldiers were far from weak. The Remas troops, who began their assault at dawn, were thoroughly defeated before the day was over, and Margrave Luches Berlen was captured.

He and the other prisoners were paraded before the residents of Iser the next morning, bound and humiliated, as they were brought into Iser Castle.

“What do you think, Count?” I asked.

“It won’t take long to undo. As expected, trying to cast it on multiple people in succession left too many flaws.”

I nodded. The Emperor’s mind-control magic seemed insurmountable at first glance, but it was riddled with weaknesses. For example, it couldn’t implant specific and detailed instructions. It also couldn’t be cast on multiple people at once, and consecutive uses weakened its effectiveness. When channeled through a medium like a crystal orb, the limitations were even greater.

I hadn’t heard of Margrave Remas visiting the Imperial Palace recently, so it was clear he had been controlled through a crystal orb. Remas was a relatively secure territory compared to Iser. Despite its location on the northern border, the Marcnas Kingdom beyond was constantly preoccupied with fighting off monsters.

The land itself was also wealthy in minerals and other resources, providing ample tax revenue. Thus, there was little reason for the Margrave to provoke civil unrest or attempt to curry more favor with the Emperor by attacking Iser. However, as a lord of a border territory, it was only natural for him to harbor some desire for Iser’s fertile lands. The Emperor’s magic had likely exploited that.

But the risk of attacking Iser far outweighed the potential gains. It was like throwing an egg against a rock, and the Margrave must have known that. This doubtless made the magic’s influence easier to break.

Leaving the Margrave in the Count’s custody, I ascended to my study. The room was heavily guarded, with knights stationed at every entrance. Inside, reports delivered by messenger birds piled high, detailing the movements of troops in various regions.

I read each report carefully, cross-referencing them with the map. The troop movements were unusual. Two or three forces appeared to be heading directly toward Iser, but most seemed to be taking roundabout routes. After reviewing all the reports, I marked the map with red ink. Though their paths seemed to lead to different places, their true destination was clear.

The Great Ruins of Nartala.

The forces from Lenawi, appearing to head along the coastline in the opposite direction of Iser, could easily board ships at the Molben harbor, which connected to canals leading directly to the ruins. From the end of the canal, it was only a short walk to Nartala’s entrance. Recently, shipping from Molben had significantly decreased—likely because large vessels were requisitioned for troop transport.

The soldiers from Silman, ostensibly heading west, could cross a small mountain to reach Nartala. Silman’s soldiers, skilled in mountain warfare, would find the terrain no obstacle.

Meanwhile, Ilroa, where carriage rentals for trips to Nartala were a primary industry, showed signs of unusual activity. Even in the off-season for tourism, tickets for the fastest ships from the western harbor to Nartala were completely sold out.

The Great Ruins of Nartala, a remnant of an ancient dynasty, was little more than an expansive open field marked by scattered columns and paving stones. Located a half-day’s ride south of Iser’s outer walls, the ruins were close enough that if the southern gate fell, the inner walls could be breached swiftly.

It was evident that the enemy intended to gather at Nartala before launching a direct assault on Iser. And their forces were larger than anticipated. Judging by the increased size of the units, reinforcements had joined them en route.

I prepared for the possibility of ceding the southern gate of the outer walls. The residents living outside the inner walls had already been evacuated into the city, and livestock from nearby farms were moved to safer locations. Thankfully, it was winter, so there was little grain or fruit left for the enemy to seize.

Even if the outer walls were breached, Iser would have the upper hand in a prolonged siege. My goal was to ensure they never set foot inside the inner walls. Ideally, I wanted to maintain the proud history of Iser’s impenetrable outer defenses, but with half the knights and soldiers accompanying the Duke to the capital, that would be challenging.

Messenger birds arrived constantly—almost hourly. The Rubes Trading Company, with its vast network spanning the continent, provided an overwhelming amount of intelligence.

The enemy’s movements were crafty, appearing to target the east, west, and south gates of the castle simultaneously. But I quietly concentrated our forces on the south, convinced that Nartala was their true objective.

“Dispatch scouts to Nartala. Have them report on the enemy’s situation there in detail.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The scouts reported back three times daily, using owls and falcons. Every night, troops from various territories moved under the cover of foliage, merging with the forces that had arrived earlier.

On the third day, the first wave of cavalry mounted their horses. They were the fastest riders, but even faster was the falcon that soared above, beyond the reach of arrows, and landed on my wrist with its message. The cavalry would reach the southern gate of the outer walls by the next day.

The tension made my mouth dry. As I flexed my hands to ease the nervous energy, Lyol approached me.

“You seem tense, Your Highness.”

“…”

I didn’t respond. The truth was, I was nervous. The news I most wanted to hear was delayed. War. An overwhelming force closing in. Even though the Duke had personally trained and led our knights and soldiers, I couldn’t help but wonder—would I be able to handle this?

“Honestly… I am a bit uneasy,” I admitted.

“Don’t worry too much,” Lyol said casually.

“You sound awfully calm… Your life is on the line too, you know.”

At first, I had considered crafting a story that Lyol had returned to his homeland as soon as the military started moving. But he didn’t leave, and the fact that the prince of Hasein was in Iser Castle gave the lords leading the rebellion a convenient excuse: Iser has joined hands with Hasein in rebellion.

Hasein, for its part, coldly disowned Lyol, citing his failure to fulfill his role as a prince and his tendency to wander. To avoid further complications involving Hasein, Lyol had sent a letter requesting official proof that he was no longer a prince of the kingdom.

So far, there had been no official response.

That was fortunate. Later, when Lyol’s true identity would inevitably be revealed, testimony from the King of Hasein would serve as vital evidence. Furthermore, there would undoubtedly be traces of the First Prince within the royal palace. However, if I failed to protect the castle and enemy forces broke through, Lyol would lose his life as well. And yet, even in the face of such danger, Lyol seemed utterly at ease.

“Hmm, well… After what happened when I was a child, I haven’t been afraid of much. If I die, I die. My only regret would be not killing the Emperor. But if that happens, I’ll just curse him to death as a vengeful spirit.”

“A vengeful spirit… not a bad plan,” I replied.

Would that really happen? …And what about the Duke? No, stop thinking about it. I shook my head, pushing the thought away as I returned to the study from the balcony.

Click.

“…?”

Did I just hear something?

“Did you hear that sound just now?” I asked.

Apparently not. Lyol and I glanced around. Then, click—the sound came again. This time, the bookshelf quivered slightly.

At dawn.

The enemy cavalry stood in imposing ranks. Flags bearing the emblems of different lords and plumes atop their helmets fluttered in the cold morning wind. Siege engines, sturdy horses, and a vast force stretched as far as the eye could see. The warm breaths of their mounts hung visibly in the frigid air.

The tension was palpable, freezing the already cold air. Frost clung to the soldiers’ armor, and the ends of their cloaks had stiffened. As the sun began to rise, burning away the morning mist, the leader of the enemy’s vanguard raised his hand.

At his signal, horns sounded from both the enemy ranks and our own. The low, ominous notes reverberated through the air like a grim warning. As the echoes faded, the enemy soldiers nocked arrows to their bows. The arrowheads, sharpened for the hunt, now aimed at us.

“Fire!”

The enemy’s volley came first. Our soldiers raised their shields in unison. Not a single man fell in the initial rain of arrows. However, the arrows fired from our side were far more effective, striking true and piercing the enemy lines. Despite their shields, the angle of attack from above left them vulnerable—each shield covering too little against the downward trajectory.

Cries and screams filled the air, mingling with the pounding of hooves, the twang of bowstrings, and the thuds of arrows against shields. Amidst the chaos, not one of Isser’s soldiers on the wall had fallen, and the enemy had yet to draw close to the fortifications.

Then.

A different horn blast resounded across the battlefield.

The sound echoed three times in quick succession, visibly unsettling the enemy forces. Our gates creaked open with a heavy groan. From the gates emerged…

A figure clad in black armor, a helmet, and a sword at his waist.

Flanking him were banners bearing the black dragon emblem, fluttering dramatically in the wind.

The enemy’s unrest grew palpable.

He removed his helmet slowly.

It was the Duke of Isser.

Support