Chapter 53: Tale of the Prairie (2)

Ragnar was studying the map hanging in his tent.

“Hmm…”

In the upcoming war, traditional military strategies didn’t make much sense.

A vast plain stretched endlessly. There, Okua was waiting. Ragnar reviewed the emblems of the thirteen kingdoms entrusted to him one by one.

The roaring lion of the Empire always held the highest position. Below it, the other kingdoms were aligned. In terms of sheer military might, the Holy Kingdom or Brusen probably ranked just after the Empire. But what caught his attention was Briol.

“Yuri…”

Just thinking about that boy made Ragnar’s lips curl into a smile. He liked Yuri.

That boy knew exactly what needed to be done and executed it with precision.

He was so complete that there was nothing left to teach him. Even his occasional boldness seemed more like a sign of confidence.

“He reminds me of myself when I was young.”

Though, of course, Yuri was already stronger than he had been at that age. If he kept growing like this, he’d truly become a monster.

Watching him made Ragnar regret not having children. That was why he was considering pairing him with his niece.

Yuri could handle her. They seemed like an impossible match, but together, they surprisingly fit.

“They look good together… oddly enough.”

In any case, that was something to consider only after killing Okua and returning alive.

Ragnar hardened his expression and looked at the map again.

Despite being wiped out repeatedly, orc troops kept coming without pause. Because of that, the army’s advance was constantly delayed. But that also meant the orcs were taking immense losses.

What was Okua trying to accomplish with black magic? Ragnar clapped his hands once.

The tent flap opened and an aide poked his head inside.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Bring me Eisen.”

“Understood.”

Eisen was a mage brought from the Empire. He entered shortly after being summoned by the aide.

His neat appearance beneath his robe didn’t fit the typical image of a mage. He was a specialist in dispelling spells.

“Your Highness. You summoned me?”

Ragnar got straight to the point.

“What’s the most dreadful black magic you know of?”

“Let’s see…”

Eisen tilted his head, thinking.

“I don’t have concrete knowledge of the black magic Your Highness refers to. I’ve heard of some things, but I always considered them absurd…”

“And among those ‘absurd’ ones?”

“As you may know, reviving the dead.”

Gert was a target under imperial surveillance.

After it became known he was a product of black magic, the Empire had sent research teams periodically to the old lands of Adelvain.

The results were horrific. Gert left no visitors alive.

“Then why would Okua be stalling for time?”

“If he’s really using black magic, it’s hard to imagine… but…”

Eisen closed his eyes, deep in thought.

“Could he be trying to summon something?”

“A summoning?”

“There are spells that take time, but if it’s something useful for war, that comes to mind. It’s just a possibility, though.”

“I see. And besides that?”

“Well…”

Ragnar continued talking with Eisen. The latter held a negative view of black magic.

“If it’s true he’s using it, he must’ve obtained magical knowledge from somewhere. Maybe a grimoire or an artifact. That plain was once the territory of an ancient kingdom, so perhaps he found a dungeon.”

“So the situation is serious?”

“I don’t think we need to worry too much. Personally, I believe Okua is making a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“Even if he uses black magic, the Alliance’s magical capability is superior.”

Eisen spoke confidently.

“Not just the Empire—other countries have sent high-level mages too. We won’t lose to mere shamans. It’s not just me; other mages would say the same.”

“I understand.”

Ragnar nodded. The continent’s magic had evolved significantly.

In contrast, while the orcs had shamans, they weren’t on the same level as mages. Shamanism was more of a primitive form of magic.

“Is this about the surprise attacks?”

“Something like that.”

“I know I shouldn’t speak on strategy, but… don’t you think there’s no need to rush so much? It seems like Okua is falling into his own trap, exhausting his troops.”

It made sense. The battlefield was a place of mutual deception.

Maybe this sense of urgency Ragnar felt was exactly what Okua wanted to provoke. Ragnar nodded.

“Thank you for your insight.”

“My honor. I’m glad I could help.”

“You did.”

“It’s an honor.”

Eisen bowed and left the tent.

Now alone, Ragnar leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. If he rushed too much, he could fall into a trap. But if he moved too slowly, the orcs might be plotting something.

He concluded that he should maintain a balanced pace while fending off enemy attacks.

“In the end, not much changes.”

That was exactly what he had been doing. Ragnar murmured the name of the new force that had been assigned to him.

“The Outsider.”

His presence was what allowed Ragnar to stay calm. He didn’t know what kind of deal Yuri had made, but he had managed to get the Outsider to join the Alliance.

Since he was someone who rarely associated with others, it was an exceptional situation.

The Outsider would be a great asset. Practically the most powerful weapon they had to face Okua.

Suddenly, Ragnar felt the urge to see him.

“Maybe I should go visit.”

Ragnar left the tent. His aide followed immediately. It was a moonlit night.

As he made his way to Briol’s camp, Ragnar heard the sound of weapons clashing.

“What’s going on?”

“The knight squad is training.”

“At this hour?”

“Yes.”

The aide nodded and added,

“It seems they were motivated by the third prince of Briol.”

Ragnar chuckled.

Imperial knights in black armor were feared for both their strength and their brutality. Sometimes people said they seemed more like machines than humans.

But once they removed their helmets, they were just like anyone else. They too felt the urge to compete when they saw other knights.

Though, who would believe their rival was an eighteen-year-old boy?

“I was surprised too, back then.”

The aide cleared his throat and spoke.

“He killed three orcs with immaculate precision. In an instant.”

“He did.”

“At just eighteen… incredible.”

“A gem, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want to dress him in the Empire’s black armor.”

“Haha…”

Having revealed his intentions, Ragnar went to the training field. The knights, sparring with wooden swords in light clothing, stopped when they noticed his presence.

“Looks like I interrupted you.”

“Not at all!”

The knights, their helmets off, had ordinary faces.

From inexperienced youths to wrinkled veterans, they were faces you could see anywhere.

Only through skill had they earned the right to wear imperial black armor. Ragnar picked up a wooden sword from a pile in a box.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Your Highness, that…”

“Just for a bit.”

Ragnar gestured to the squad captain.

He nodded and stepped forward. The others resumed their training.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ragnar raised his wooden sword and recalled the scene in his mind. When Yuri followed the orc diplomatic group, he killed three of them with precision.

Ragnar could also take on three. But he wasn’t sure he could do it as cleanly and quickly as Yuri.

Every one of his movements flowed with such harmony, it seemed rehearsed.

Surely the knights had sensed it too. That’s why they trained so intensely.

“Don’t hold back.”

The captain nodded. He was a man of few words, but his skill was assured.

Ragnar and he exchanged several blows.

“Yuri Briol. You saw him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you think of him?”

After a brief silence, he answered.

“He’s very well trained. So much that his age seems doubtful.”

Ragnar nodded. Yuri was surprisingly mature for his age.

And not just in swordsmanship. He made decisions quickly and, once decided, acted without hesitation.

Who would have imagined he’d decapitate an orc and plant a flag in its neck? It was brutal, but also effective.

Perhaps his style was close to the Empire’s. That brief incident completely changed the imperial squad captain’s view of Yuri.

“When he grows older, he’ll be dangerous.”

The captain, who rarely said much, added that observation. Ragnar chuckled softly.

“If he were an enemy, yes, he would.”

“…”

The captain, understanding what he meant, nodded slightly.

“Let’s go!”

Ragnar pressed the captain with the wooden sword. He seemed about to overpower him, but the captain slipped away skillfully and appeared behind Ragnar. He moved like a snake—fluid and flexible.

He was undoubtedly highly skilled.

Ragnar shrugged.

“That’s enough for now.”

“Yes.”

The captain gave a brief response and bowed.

That was all.

Ragnar muttered in irritation.

“Truly, what an unsociable man.”

Then he praised the squad’s efforts and resumed his march. To reach Briol’s camp, he had to pass through the areas of other nations.

Ragnar walked with his hands behind his back, moving through the ranks.

Everyone who saw his red cloak paid their respects.

“This is Brusen’s sector.”

“Yes.”

The knights named Jonathan and Jose seemed worthy of attention. Brusen would probably increase its influence in the future.

He passed through other camps.

Observing them one by one, he saw many young and talented knights. Some were clearly destined to leave their mark on history.

Once the Alliance’s campaign ended, all of them would return stronger. That’s when Ragnar had a thought.

What if the Alliance failed?

Each nation would lose its young, promising knights all at once. It would be a loss of those meant to carry the future.

A tremendous loss. And who would benefit from that?

The answer was obvious.

He recalled the letter the orcs had brought. When he first read it, he had thought it wasn’t as far-fetched as it seemed.

“Hmm…”

Without realizing it, he had started smiling.

“So that’s why you did it. That brat…”

“Pardon?”

“No, I was just talking to myself.”

The fact that even he had doubted for a moment was enough to show that if other nations began to suspect the Empire, the Alliance would fracture.

The harder the situation became, the easier that would happen. But then Yuri killed the orc emissaries and publicly humiliated them.

He removed all remaining options. Only one path remained.

Regardless of what hidden circumstances there were, or whether it was all part of a conspiracy to trap him and the Alliance, he just had to crush Okua and his orcs.

With that conclusion, Ragnar stopped in front of Briol’s camp. But something struck him as odd.

“What’s that?”

A crowd had gathered. He thought they might be training, as in other nations, but that wasn’t the case.

“What are they doing over there?”

“I’m not sure, it looks like…”

The aide frowned and crouched slightly. Laughter and shouting could be heard from time to time.

“Hmm…”

As they got closer, familiar voices could be heard.

“Did you just cheat me? You had a card underneath, didn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know all your tricks, and just now…”

“I knew you knew my tricks. That’s why I used it to my advantage.”

“And I knew you knew I knew, so I tricked you on purpose!”

“And I knew that you knew that I knew you knew!”

As Ragnar approached, the gathered soldiers and knights jumped up and stepped aside. He made his way through.

At a large table sat the Prince of Briol, his mage, and a few knights and soldiers. Cards and silver and gold coins were scattered everywhere.

“Search his clothes! He definitely hid something!”

“What! Do you have proof? No? Then watch what you say!”

“Yeah, go ahead, break my wrist if you can.”

And Yuri and his mage were grabbing each other by the collar.

“Bastard!”

“Being a prince doesn’t give you the right to everything!”

Ragnar cleared his throat.

At last, Yuri and Hernando turned to look at him.

The knights and soldiers who had been sitting jumped to their feet, pale as paper.

“Y-your Highness…”

“W-we were just…”

Each nation in the Alliance managed its own troops autonomously. The Empire strictly prohibited alcohol and gambling.

“This is…”

Yuri let go of Hernando’s collar and smiled awkwardly.

“Well, this…”

Ragnar raised a hand, cutting him off.

“Briol has its own rules, doesn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“Basregas.”

“Excuse me?”

“They used to call me ‘the whale’ back there.”

Ragnar sat down in an empty chair and continued.

“I used to swallow little fish like you without leaving a single one.”

“Oh…?”

Yuri’s expression changed completely. Hernando let go of his collar too and began to shuffle the cards.

The other two players were eyeing him sharply.

“I’m curious about the smell of imperial money… hehehe…”

“It’s stronger and more fragrant than you’d expect.”

Ragnar cracked a joke as he got comfortable. Coincidentally, the Outsider was seated right beside him.

Ragnar gave him a smile.

“Sorry for trying to take your money, guest from the East.”

“That was actually my plan all along.”