The 9th Class Swordmaster: Blade of Truth-Chapter 353: The Battle of Fonein (1)

“As my brother said, you have nothing to worry about, Sir Hendt. War is not just a simple battle. I myself know little of swordsmanship, and yet even I have seen your wisdom as an instructor and realized it makes you the perfect leader,” Martte added as the door to the barracks opened.

“Tiren,” Kuwell called out softly, recognizing the figure standing at the entrance.

“It’s been a while, Father.”

“I hear it was you who recommended Paul Hendt to His Majesty. You’ve certainly grown into your role as a noble of the empire. You’ve always been more suited to the capital than anyone else.”

“You flatter me,” Tiren replied with a modest bow.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been well. I’m glad to see you’re looking healthy, too, Brother,” Tiren replied, though Martte merely offered a faint, bitter smile in response.

“It’s a bit late, but I’ve received an imperial decree. Bran Gamunt, the tactician of the marquisate, is dead, and His Majesty has appointed me as the new strategic commander. I’ll be joining you on the battlefield, Father.”

Kuwell nodded solemnly at Tiren’s words.

“I’m sorry. It’s unfortunate that both of you must fight on the same battlefield.”

“There’s no need to apologize.”

Though not much time had passed since they were last together, Kuwell couldn’t shake the feeling that Tiren had become distant, as if decades had gone by since they had last seen each other.

“Father, I’ve come at this hour because there’s something else I need to discuss.”

“What is it?”

“I know you’ve been investigating the Wooden Cloud.”

Kuwell’s expression stiffened at the mention of those words.

“The three relics of the Church... You wouldn’t happen to be looking for them, would you?"

“How do you know about that?”

“Randol visited me some time ago. There were old tomes scattered across his desk, filled with information about those relics. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, they’d appear to be nothing more than dusty old books.”

Tiren’s voice lowered as he continued, “Yet, for some reason, he seemed very interested in them. It wasn’t mere curiosity, but as if he was actively searching for something.”

“So, you tested your brother on purpose,” Kuwell muttered.

Tiren shrugged indifferently, as though it was of little consequence. “I was simply curious. Why is it that both you, Father, and my older brothers hesitate to kill Karyl?"

Martte’s expression stiffened at Tiren’s words.

Hmm... Tiren didn’t miss the change. So, it’s not Martte, he thought, realizing that the intrigues within the family seemed to revolve around everyone but Martte, the only legitimate son.

“What could be the reason for that hesitation?”

“...Have you discovered the reason?”

“I have not.” Tiren’s response came immediately and without hesitation

Kuwell stared at his son, studying him.

“But I do believe, Father, that questioning His Majesty’s loyalty to the empire because of his dealings with the Wooden Cloud is unjust."

“What do you mean by that?”

“The late emperor also sought the Church’s aid to solidify the empire’s position. How is this any different? I would rather ask, what makes it wrong?”

“The Church and the Wooden Cloud are not the same. The Church of Yula exists to protect the people, while the Wooden Cloud comes from the principality. Even if their founder had ties to the Church, they are distinct.”

“No, they are the same.”

“And how can you be so certain?"

“You will see for yourself on the battlefield. The Church will support us in this war.” Tiren lowered his head slightly and took his leave. “Father, I know it has been many years since you became a knight and perhaps you’ve forgotten.”

Kuwell looked at Tiren with a puzzled expression.

“I swear by Yula, I will fight only to uphold the honor granted by the true will of the gods.”

“...”

It was a knight’s oath. Martte, standing behind Kuwell, froze and cast a glance at his father. He had never imagined he would hear that solemn pledge from both of his younger brothers at the imperial palace.

Even though the words were the same, the meaning behind each oath was entirely different.

“How dare you...! You’re not even a knight, yet you dare to speak such an oath in front of Father!”

“Indeed, Martte, I am not a knight. But my loyalty to the empire and His Majesty is no less than that of any knight.”

For some reason, at that moment, Kuwell saw his son not as a tactician of the empire, but as if he were cloaked in the robes of the Church itself.

“I have no doubt in your loyalty, Father. I’ll see you on the battlefield.”

That was the moment Kuwell realized his son no longer belonged to him. Now, Tiren stood at a higher and far more dangerous peak, beyond his reach.

“On the battlefield...” Kuwell let out a low sigh, unable to escape the harsh reality he had been hoping to avoid.

Gordon... Perhaps my life will end on this battlefield. I cannot shake the feeling that my future lies there. If that’s the case, I shall entrust everything to you.

As dawn began to break, Kuwell opened the barracks door and, with a voice imbued with mana, issued his command. “Prepare for battle!”

His words, carried by the wind, echoed like a trumpet across the camp, reaching the ears of hundreds of thousands of soldiers as the first light of dawn illuminated the sky.

“Alright, get ready for battle! You in the battle stations! Why are you standing around? Move like your life depends on it!”

“Yes, sir!”

Kamma wiped the sweat from his brow and watched the commanders scatter to prepare. He then sank back into his sofa, letting out a long, weary sigh.

“Haaah... What a mess this is...”

“Have you checked the supplies?”

“Everything’s accounted for. We’ve equipped the soldiers with the gear sent from Azor.”

“And Thompson’s magic battalion?”

“They’re deployed on the ships. No matter how strong the imperial army is, they won’t cross the Fonein easily. If Karl Mack is commanding the Mana Battleship, they’ll tear through them.”

“You’ve worked hard.”

“Wow, Dushala, I never thought I’d live to receive actual praise from you. I suppose sticking around for this long has paid off...

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Dushala chuckled.

Despite their lighthearted exchange, an intense tension filled the room. They had received reports from their spies within the empire that a force of 500,000 soldiers was marching south. Everyone in Tatur knew where the imperial army was heading.

“I may have grown up in the slums, but I’ve lived longer here than anywhere else. This place is my home. I won’t let those bastards take it while our lord is away.”

Kamma, usually nonchalant, was now fired up with a rare intensity. Dushala smiled faintly, recognizing that, for once, he was dead serious.

“What are our forces?”

“We have 100,000 Free Army troops left in Tatur and 5,000 sorcerers from the Ulkas Guild who joined us from Azor. That’s it.”

“A fight against five times our numbers, then.”

“We don’t have a choice. Tatur’s just one city. Its military was never large to begin with. The Free Army’s growth is thanks to the strength of the barbarian tribes.”

Dushala sighed as she looked at the map of their troop deployments. The Digon tribe in the south was already engaged with Jarvant’s forces, while the troops at the northern fortress were tied up by Enuma Elashi, the Golden Dragon.

The plan was to have the tribes push south and cut through the imperial army’s middle. But with dragons involved, things just got much harder.

“This won’t be an easy battle,” Dushala muttered to herself.

“Hah! When have we ever had it easy? We’ve lived in the mud our whole lives. This is nothing,” Kamma said with forced bravado, though he failed to completely suppress the quaver in his voice.

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Just then, a soldier burst into the room. “Report! Sir Marze and Lord Aben of the Ranion Alliance are on their way with 50,000 troops and will arrive in Tatur soon!”

“...!!”

Kamma clapped his hands together in joy.

“Marze? Isn’t he the old general known as the Shield of Istan? With him here, our chances of holding the city just shot up!”

But the commotion didn’t end there.

“Urgent report! The Immortal Council has dispatched 5,000 dark sorcerers to support us! They’ll arrive within two days via Magic Circle!”

“Oh...!”

“Additionally, Mikhail, Serica Lauren, and Nain Darhon will also arrive in two days from the Ivory Tower of Dawn to lead the magic battalion!”

“Haha... ha...!”

Hearing this news, Kamma trembled with joy, barely able to contain his excitement.

At that moment, another soldier rushed in, out of breath.

“Report in!”

“What is it now?”

“A wyvern unit has been spotted overhead! Leading them is Ganeth Avelant! The unit numbers around 1,000! The entire wyvern unit from the former Lurein Principality is heading straight for Tatur!”

“A thousand wyverns? That’s as good as tens of thousands of troops! Hah, holy hell! Dushala, we’ve basically struck gold! This is nothing short of divine intervention!” Kamma exclaimed, on the verge of tears.

“And that’s not all. Our lord, who has taken control of the Marquisate of Vestal, is on his way here with the Spear family,” the last soldier reported.

“...!!!”

Both Kamma and Dushala clenched their fists.

“Our lord... is finally...” Dushala repeated the soldier’s words in a quiet voice. “This isn’t luck. The gods have done nothing for us,” she said.

“What?”

“This is all our lord’s doing. We’ll hold Tatur, no matter what, until he arrives.”

Kamma felt a shiver run down his spine. The sharp edge in Dushala’s voice reminded him of the formidable administrator who had once ruled over Tatur with ruthless precision.

“This battle... We can win.”

Dushala’s eyes blazed with determination.