Chapter 51: Tale of the Prairie (1)

It was Sven’s first time on a military campaign.

There were many discomforts. From the moment he woke up to when he tried to fall asleep, everything was different from his life in the fief.

But the worst part was that he couldn’t even rest properly once he lay down.

Ding, ding, ding!

The deafening sound of the bell echoed throughout the area.

Sven, who had been dreaming of playing hide and seek with a beautiful unknown maiden from Abra, instinctively shot up.

The hazy image of the dream vanished, and suddenly, he was in front of the old tent and the armor he had prepared the night before.

Still recalling the maiden’s face and body, Sven grabbed the sword he had placed beside him.

From outside, someone shouted:

“Night attack!”

Sven jumped down from his cot.

Blood rushed through his body, and his mind and body shifted into combat mode. There was no time to gear up properly.

He opened the tent flap and ran out. And there it was—the battlefield.

The ominous atmosphere of death and war completely enveloped him.

“Young master!”

His lieutenant rushed toward him, hair completely disheveled from getting up in a hurry.

“What happened to your hair?”

“This is no time to worry about that.”

“You look hilarious, though.”

“Also no time for laughing.”

“When is it ever time, then? Damn it. What were the sentries doing? They should’ve woken us up to prepare.”

When they attacked and destroyed Kurui’s settlement, everything had gone smoothly. The allied army had celebrated the victory and resumed its march.

The next target was Okuá, the new leader who had unified the orcs.

But the moment they set out, hell began.

“Damn bastards…”

The orcs gave them no respite.

They launched ambushes several times a day—sometimes in small groups, sometimes in massive hordes.

With both types of attacks combined, the response became chaotic.

The exhaustion from constant mental strain piled up, and the allied army’s advance slowed.

“What the hell is the Empire even doing?”

Sven cursed habitually as he ran, sword in hand.

“If they summoned an allied army, the least they could do was prepare properly. And aren’t the Ten Greats with us? What about the Supreme Commander’s favorite, that…?”

He recalled the prince of Briol and trailed off.

That brat had exposed his weakness—and then beaten him soundly in a duel.

Still, he was just a boy of eighteen, younger than Sven.

“What the hell is that sinister brat doing?!”

Sven arrived at the supply zone, still muttering. There, the battle was already underway.

“Hey!”

Sven shouted, and an orc lunged at him. His body tensed instantly.

The first time he’d faced an orc, he couldn’t move out of fear. They were hideously ugly, incredibly strong, and fought with a style completely unlike humans. Several knights beside him had died screaming.

Sven survived thanks to those around him.

And because his father was Wolf Gein.

“Damn it…”

Bit by bit, he had adjusted to war. He learned the enemy’s patterns and understood what he had to do.

Now he could swing his sword without freezing up when facing an orc.

If only he had reached that point sooner.

“Ukuru durutiti akumekum!”

“Shut that damn mouth!”

Sven deflected the orc’s axe and slashed at its abdomen. The orc dodged, but Sven used the momentum to chain his attacks. Wounds piled up on the orc’s body.

The orc retreated.

Sven, as if waiting for that moment, readied himself for the finishing blow.

‘Don’t always charge straight in. Try to keep your center of gravity back.’

That guy’s voice crossed his mind. Sven hesitated for a second.

And in that instant, the orc, who seemed to be waiting for just that, launched a fierce strike forward. The blow was so strong that the wind from it slashed the bridge of his nose.

Had he moved forward, his skull would have been split.

“Damn…”

Yuri’s advice kept piling up in his head, like a growing debt.

“That bastard…”

And to top it off, Yuri had sent him someone named Laurent.

Sven had thought there couldn’t be another like that prince, but he lost even more miserably.

Laurent, unlike Yuri, didn’t beat him directly—instead, he toyed with him throughout the duel.

Laurent, who followed his prince like a loyal dog, had said he was only training him because Yuri had ordered it.

It was humiliating. But what infuriated him most was that, thanks to those two damn Briolites, he had actually improved.

Look at him now.

After finishing off an orc, Sven helped a knight of Liberta who was struggling.

“Thank you, Sir Sven!”

“Don’t mention it.”

He was no longer the novice who struggled with a single orc. Now he was a more seasoned, bolder knight, forged by war.

“Damn it… damn it…”

And then, he came face-to-face with an orc bearing a flag on its back. Like a knight among orcs. They called him Orkval, if he remembered correctly.

Sven was used to fighting regular orcs, but Orkval wasn’t easy.

Tension filled the air.

Orkval wasn’t even gripping his weapon properly. He just smiled disdainfully as he slowly approached.

Taking advantage of the distraction, a knight tried to attack him from behind.

“Akuak!”

Orkval roared something, twisted his waist, and brought down his axe with all his weight.

The knight’s skull shattered, and its contents splattered into the air.

Blood splashed across Sven’s face. Death had been instant.

They hadn’t been close, but having fought together in the allied army, they at least knew each other.

In an expedition of this scale, comrades only dwindled. The longer the war lasted, the more they came to know each other—and the deeper the grief.

“Son of a… bitch…”

Sven took a step forward without thinking.

But he stopped.

Every time his emotions tried to guide his steps, the voice of the prince of Briol stopped him.

“Okudoku, kemetetur.”

Orkval made a gesture with his hand, as if inviting him in.

Everything around him was orc territory. If he entered carelessly, he’d end up like the previous knight—taken down, with blood splashing into the eyes of his comrades.

He stepped back and looked around.

It wasn’t just Liberda; the entire allied army camp was lit up.

“Is this a large-scale attack?”

“Yes. Everyone’s fighting.”

“No reinforcements yet?”

“Not yet…”

His lieutenant moved to his side.

He wasn’t highly skilled, but competent enough to stand with Sven against ordinary orcs.

“What about the Empire?”

“No word yet.”

“Those bastards… If they recruited us, they should take responsibility. Those coal miner-looking bastards in black armor are only good for showing off…”

The number of Orkval continued to grow.

They were just unlucky.

This time, it seemed the orcs’ main force had chosen Liberda as their target. A country directly attacked typically suffered severe damage.

Wouldn’t it be better to run?

But his feet didn’t move.

In the distance, he saw his father fighting bravely. He wasn’t a righteous man, but Sven wasn’t such trash that he could abandon and run from him.

Sven tightened his grip on his sword and said to his lieutenant:

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve suffered a lot because of me.”

“Pardon?”

Sven bent slightly.

“So if I die, tell the Empire exactly what I said—that all this suffering is their fault, may they choke on their tongues, damn bastards. May their cursed bloodline die out, sons of bitches…”

“Your tongue is really sharp.”

“You just say it…”

Sven stopped abruptly.

The voice was different.

He turned to see his lieutenant completely frozen. Next to him stood a knight he didn’t recognize.

“Just as I heard.”

“Who are you…?”

Briol knights didn’t wear matching armor. That’s why, at first, Sven doubted his affiliation.

But when he saw the emblem engraved on his chest, he understood.

“You’re from Briol?”

“Yes. My name is Jared.”

Jared stepped forward.

He showed no hesitation or fear. He acted as if this were routine.

“The enemy is—”

It was an Orkval.

But before he could finish the sentence, Jared had already rushed in. Axe and sword clashed multiple times, throwing sparks.

The fight was so fast, it was hard to follow with the eyes.

Sven clenched his teeth. In Liberda, only a few veteran knights with experience could go toe-to-toe with an Orkval.

But in Briol… something strange was going on. Young men his own age fought Orkval without any issues.

“Damn it…”

Sven raised his sword again. He couldn’t just stand there watching.

The moment he turned to act—

“Prince! Reinforcements have arrived!”

Knights in all sorts of armor poured into Liberda’s defense line.

At first glance, they looked like a group of mercenaries rather than a cavalry unit—but that’s exactly what showed they were from Briol.

And at the front was a familiar face.

A black-haired boy walking casually with a sword larger than he was slung over his shoulder.

“Yuri Briol.”

He said it without thinking, aloud. Yuri quickly turned his head toward him.

Feeling awkward, Sven added formally:

“Prince.”

Yuri gave him a wide grin.

“Oh, Sven. My dear friend!”

He pointed at him.

“When a friend is in trouble, you don’t abandon him. That’s what it means to be from Briol!”

He was mimicking the exaggerated tone of Brusen, which had become popular among allied soldiers. Even in a situation like this, he was completely relaxed.

The worst part was everyone’s reaction.

“Did you hear that? He called him friend.”

“Knight Sven, friend of the third prince of Briol…?”

“No wonder he’s the heir to the Count of Abra!”

The fact that everyone looked at him with awe only made it more irritating.

That guy was always messing with him.

“Let’s go!”

Yuri shouted, lowering the sword from his shoulder. That was the signal for the Briol knights to spread out.

Though they wore varied uniforms, they moved with coordination equal to that of the imperial knights. Furthermore, Briol’s aggressive, freestyle combat made them more effective than any other cavalry order.

“Sven.”

Suddenly, Yuri was beside him, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

His sword was stained with blood—likely from cutting down several orcs.

“Were you waiting for me? Glad I showed up?”

“…”

He had been humiliated, struck with a practice saber, and endured humiliating training. At first, it stung, but by now he was used to disgrace.

Constant worry wasn’t his thing.

Sven returned the gesture, placing his arm around Yuri’s shoulder.

“Yes. I’m really glad to see you, Prince Yuri, my dear friend.”

“Ohhh…”

Yuri’s eyes widened in surprise before he burst into laughter.

“That’s right, my friend Sven!”

Sven laughed too, albeit a bit forced, mimicking Yuri.

If someone saw them up close, they might sense something was off. But to Wolf Gain, watching from afar, the scene was deeply touching.

His troublesome son was finally coming around after befriending the third prince of Briol.

Seeing their friendship bloom on the battlefield stirred memories of his youth, and his chest burned with emotion.

Thinking he should visit Briol after the war, Wolf turned his gaze back to the Orkval in front of him.

When his aura changed completely, the Orkval scowled and stepped back.

“For Liberda!”

Wolf’s sword moved ten times with such speed that the eye couldn’t follow.

It was a secret sword technique passed down in the Gain family.

The Orkval, initially unaware of what was happening, collapsed with blood gushing from every part of his body.

Wolf spoke.

“No matter how much you pester us, it won’t work. The allied army will kill your leader, Okua. Filthy scum.”

Perhaps he understood the word “Okua,” because the Orkval muttered something:

“Okua… ganir jogo verate…”

Before he could finish, Wolf drove his sword through his head and killed him instantly.

Then he looked up.

With Briol’s reinforcements, the tide of battle had completely turned.

Liberda, which had been at a disadvantage just moments ago, began to push back the orc attack with overwhelming force. Orc screams echoed everywhere.

Wolf approached Prince Yuri.

Yuri and Sven had just slain an orc in a combined attack.

They were talking to each other.

“…Yes.”

“…Do it.”

“Ugh…”

Wolf stepped closer.

“This debt… I’ll repay it without fail.”

“I look forward to it. You’d better.”

“Prepare yourself.”

Prince Yuri and his son continued their friendship to the very end.

Of course, the reality of their relationship was quite different from what Wolf imagined, but from the outside, the scene couldn’t have been more heartwarming.

Wolf clapped.

“Bravo!”