As morning dawned, Count Johnstein decided to depart early to relieve the burden on the barber, Morton. However, the departure was slightly delayed as they prepared a separate carriage and coachman for Latilda.
Only six of the Twelve Thorns escorted the carriage. Although all twelve didn’t always move together, Latilda found it odd that only half of them were present outside of their father’s territory and asked,
“Where are the others?”
“They were sent to the outskirts of Normant last night. They’re going to gather the remaining troops and leave right away.”
“You’re not planning on moving with an army, are you?”
Latilda frowned as she asked.
“Do you think I should go to Count Lumerier’s territory empty-handed?”
The count, not wishing to argue, spurred his horse forward, leading the group.
The carriage started, with the knights trailing on both sides. The carriage carried Latilda, Anna, and Loyal. Latilda suggested that the injured Dalmar should also ride in the carriage, but he insisted on riding a horse, becoming the seventh of the escorting knights.
“He hasn’t even healed yet. Riding a horse like that will just make his injuries worse.”
Latilda watched Dalmar, struggling to maintain his posture on the horse, with sympathy.
“He’s acting out of vain pride. Even if an injured person were to travel in a carriage, no one would say anything.”
“It’s not just about pride, Latilda. Dalmar is doing his best. Worrying about injuries is an excuse for the weak. He feels guilty for failing to protect you once, and that makes him unstoppable.”
Anna interjected.
‘Or maybe he’s pushing himself because he wants to be one of the Twelve Thorns.’
Latilda looked through the small window at Dalmar, awkwardly sitting straight on his horse like the other Thorns.
The citizens, startled by the sudden procession of knights, lined up to watch.
‘What rumors have these people heard about the Red Rose Count?’
The only certain thing was that they were now afraid. Latilda found this bitter.
‘But Dad would be proud of that fact.’
The Red Rose Count, leading the procession, came to a halt just short of the city gates. Latilda, who had been idly staring outside, stuck her head out of the window, then quickly pulled it back in surprise.
Five knights in black armor blocked the Count’s path. They were knights of the Black Lion Count. They were not the black knights from her nightmare. Yet, her heart fluttered as if she was meeting the knights from her nightmares all over again. Anna also looked outside, puzzled.
“It’s the Black Lion Knights. What’s going on?”
Even Anna, who wasn’t particularly worried, gasped as she spotted more soldiers approaching from the rear. Ten foot soldiers with shields came from each side, and five knights formed a line behind them. It was clearly a forced encirclement.
The citizens, who were watching the procession of the Red Rose Count, sensed the unusual atmosphere and fled into their houses or hid in alleys. Those who didn’t want to miss the spectacle hid their bodies and peeked out with their eyes.
Five of the Rose Knights swiftly surrounded Latilda’s carriage in a defensive formation. They didn’t seem flustered, but Dalmar, unable to properly control his horse, failed to secure a spot next to the carriage.
Linke leisurely guided his horse to stand behind the Red Rose Count. None of the Thorns drew their weapons, but their seamless defensive formation was enough to dampen the momentum of the surrounding foot soldiers.
The Black Lion Knights too maintained an unflappable encircling formation. Latilda, feeling anxious, glanced over at Loyal sitting beside her. He was just staring silently outside.
“Do you plan to amuse me with some prank or did you come here with a purpose?” her father asked with a deep voice.
“Count Varda Wig Johnstein, you are under arrest for the murder of Regeni Den Lumerier, the third son of the Black Lion Count. Disarm and submit to our custody.”
A knight of the Black Lion read from a parchment scroll and held it out to the Count. The Count neither dismounted his horse nor accepted the scroll.
“Is that an order from His Majesty the King?”
“It’s an order from Count Lumerier.”
The Red Rose Count snorted in response.
“Then I see no reason to comply. Clear the way. I shall pass.”
“That’s not possible, Count. It’s an order. If you don’t obey…”
“Who dares to command me? As if attacking my daughter wasn’t enough, they blame Regeni’s death on me, whom I haven’t even seen for half a year?”
Despite her fear, Latilda, who had lifted herself up out of curiosity and peered outside, collapsed on the spot upon hearing her father’s words. Her big eyes grew even wider.
“Re, Regeni is… de, dead?”
The situation outside was growing worse.
“I have no intention of staining this road, which bears His Majesty’s name, with blood, Count Johnstein. Disarm.”
“That’s my line. Identify yourself, knight of Count Lumerier!”
“I’m Vertin.”
“Knight Vertin, return to your lord immediately and deliver my message word for word. I had intended to suggest a discussion about the unfortunate incident that occurred recently. I never thought of yesterday’s events as my rudeness, and I had quietly intended to discuss that issue as well. I even thought I might apologize.”
Count Johnstein’s voice echoed from side to side of the main road.
“But it’s too late now. After this hour, I will not negotiate with Count Lumerier, nor will I respond to any dialogue. Also, I will not guarantee his honor, or his life. Deliver it all, Vertin.”
Vertin signaled to a rider holding a flag with the Black Lion emblem. Vertin told the rider.
“Go and deliver exactly what you just heard to Count Lumerier. Also tell him, unfortunately, I may have to take not just Count Johnstein’s body, but his head as well.”
The rider responded and turned back. Vertin said.
“Count Johnstein. I regret that it has come to this since you didn’t accept what I politely requested. I’ll give you a last chance, but you probably won’t accept it either, so what can I do. Everyone, draw your swords!”
With a voice echoing around, Vertin drew his sword, and the Black Lion Knights drew their swords simultaneously. Twenty spear soldiers stepped forward.
The Red Rose Count laughed aloud and spoke to Latilda in the carriage.
“My beloved daughter. Did you say that Count Lumerier would also respond to dialogue? But look. This is his true intention. Regeni is dead? He’s trying to pin his failed attempt to kill you, which resulted in the death of his own son, on me. He’s just the man to do it.”
He drew his sword.
“He waited for the moment I left the army and called all his subordinates. Alright, if he wants to confront me with force, I’ll show him what I’ve got.”
The swords of the Six Thorns were drawn simultaneously without a moment’s difference.
“I certainly gave you a chance.”
“You, Vertin. The knight drew his sword, and there are many things to check.”
Vertin immediately gave the order.
“Attack.”
The Black Lion Knights and spear soldiers rushed towards the carriage simultaneously. A clash of knights in heavy plate armor occurred. The sound of tangled weapons and screams spread loudly.
Latilda blocked her ears and bowed her head.
‘Regeni is dead, it’s impossible.’
She had no time to feel the sorrow. An axe spear painted black flew in through the shattered carriage window. Seeing the spear coming straight at her face, Latilda turned her head and screamed.
☆ ☆ ☆
Facing the Black Lion Knights trying to arrest him, Count Johnstein swung his sword at the very front without retreating a step. At a glance, it seemed as if the spears of the knights and soldiers were being knocked back by the invisible swordsmanship of Count Johnstein, but in reality, it was Linke who was blocking them. No matter how much the spear soldiers maintained their distance and thrust their long spears, they could not touch a single hair of the Count, blocked by Linke’s spear and armor. Linke even took a spear from a soldier barehanded and drove it into its owner’s neck.
The first Black Lion Knight to lose his head was Vertin, who had melodiously announced his intention to arrest Count Johnstein. As soon as the fight began, one of the Twelve Thorns dashed forward, and without clashing swords twice, severed Vertin’s neck. Vertin’s decapitated body thudded off his horse. Shortly after, other Black Lion Knights fell from their horses, skewered on the swords of the Twelve Thorns.
The street known as Charles’s Way overflowed with crimson blood. The screams of soldiers and the roars of knights echoed incessantly. Fragments of shattered shields flew toward the spectators, creating unexpected casualties and intensifying the battle.
Count Johnstein, who had been at the forefront of the battle, belatedly realized that the carriage carrying Latilda was poorly defended. He turned to see a Black Lion Knight smashing his giant axe into the carriage.
“Protect my daughter, protect Latilda!”
His panicked command failed to reach the carriage amidst the chaos. Count Johnstein kicked aside a spearman in front of him, turned his horse, and charged back towards the carriage. Linke also turned his horse towards the carriage, overtaking the Count.
The window of the carriage shattered, and Latilda’s scream erupted from within.
“Latilda!”
As he cried out, red blood sprayed into the sky, and a severed right arm fell to the ground along with the Knight who had been attacking the carriage. The Count, taken aback, pulled on the reins to stop.
Linke did not stop but continued his charge. After piercing the neck of the staggering, armless Knight and knocking him from his horse, he peered into the carriage. Inside the shattered carriage were Latilda, Anna, and Loyal.
“Are you okay?”
Latilda was unable to respond. No one inside the carriage was hurt. Linke signaled to the Count that everything was okay.
‘What the hell just happened?’
The Count decided to think about it later, and returned to the battlefield to command his knights. The situation did not last long. Once all ten knights fell from their horses, the remaining half dozen spearmen lost their will to fight and retreated. The area around the carriage was filled with corpses, and the ownerless horses fled.
“What are the losses?”
The Red Rose Count, his sword still bloody, asked as he sheathed it.
“None. Ah, Dalmar is dead.”
Linke pointed to Dalmar’s body lying not far away. Two spears were lodged in Dalmar’s chest. The Count groaned quietly.
“Collect Dalmar’s body. What about Latilda?”
“She’s unharmed. This guy named Loyal…”
“I saw it too.”
The Count interrupted him abruptly.
“She must be frightened.”
“She’s a tough kid. If she needs comfort for this, she’s not my daughter.”
With those words, the Count yelled to the trembling onlookers of Normant.
“Look! As you have seen and heard, this fight was started by Lumerier, the Black Lion Count. If he is in Normant, I will not spare this city, even if the King himself resides here.”
The Count turned his horse towards the castle gate. The Twelve Thorns silently followed him. As the red-armored knights drenched in blood charged through, the guards at the castle gate could not stop them.
☆ ☆ ☆
About an hour from Normant, an army led by the Red Rose Count himself was stationed. It did not even number 100 men.
‘Their numbers are fewer than expected.’
Loyal recalled the fight that had just occurred in the city.
‘But this army is definitely elite.’
The carriage passed through the middle of the camp, consisting of two large tents and ten smaller ones. The soldiers who saw the Count and the knights of the Twelve Thorns passing immediately stood at attention and formed a line. Despite being composed entirely of mercenaries, there was no semblance of a rough, undisciplined army. Despite likely having marched for at least three days, there was not a single soldier with a tired appearance or disarrayed stance. The armor was well-maintained and the tents were clean.
‘Even when resting, they’re better organized than the Wolf Knights. But I can’t really talk, being laid up myself.’
The resounding voices of soldiers saluting the Count echoed.
Latilda was staring blankly out. She wasn’t particularly looking at anything. Her eyes were full of sorrow. Loyal gently placed his hand on top of hers, which she had laid on the chair.
“Are you alright?”
She did not speak, merely nodding weakly. Loyal was troubled that he had failed to block the window that had first been shattered in the carriage, but the time to apologize for that had already passed. He pondered for a moment whether Latilda was shocked by the fight or mourning the death of Regeni, then spoke.
“His death is regrettable. He seemed to truly love you…”
“Do you think Regeni is really dead? Did he die that day when I simply sent him away?”
At Latilda’s mutterings, which sounded like self-talk, Anna immediately took her hand and shook her head.
“No. It wasn’t your fault, Latilda. This is a conspiracy and a misunderstanding. Perhaps he’s not even dead. Maybe this is a lie created by the Black Lion Count in order to capture Count Johnstein.”
“Count Lumerier wouldn’t make up such a lie.”
“Are you still defending him? Look at what happened today. He attacked Count Johnstein outright when he tried to initiate a conversation.”
Latilda just nibbled on her lips.
Loyal couldn’t find any words to comfort her, nor did he have the opportunity. One of the Twelve Thorns tapped lightly on the broken window of the carriage. The precariously hanging shards shattered further, dropping to the floor with a clatter. Latilda started at the noise.
“Did you say your name was Loyal? The Count wishes to see you.”
“I’ll stay with Latilda.”
Loyal said, glaring as if it was entirely his fault the glass had shattered.
“This isn’t a place that needs protection.”
The knight looked gruesome; he had just removed his helmet, his hair was messy, and his face was still stained with blood. He looked at Loyal with a blunt gaze, then asked Latilda.
“Do you need this guy right now, miss?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Latilda turned her blank gaze back and spoke.
“Go ahead, Loyal. I’ll be fine.”
Loyal swallowed at her words.
‘You’re not going to be fine. You’re a woman who desires someone by her side but won’t show it.’
Latilda had shown signs of wanting to dismiss Loyal many times, even though she needed him until she reached Normant. But Loyal clung on, whether she liked it or not. He knew that. The desperate wish, the frailty of not being able to express inner feelings. The more he knew, the more Loyal couldn’t get away from Latilda.
‘You won’t get your true fangs until you protect someone.’
There had been a saying that felt like a personal assignment before leaving Aranthia.
‘Maybe this situation is the key to solve that assignment.’
Even now, Loyal wanted to keep guarding Latilda. But she practically pushed him away.
“I’m really fine. See you later.”
With no other choice, Loyal disembarked from the carriage and followed the knight.
As soon as the Count came, the army immediately prepared to retreat. The atmosphere was quite different from that of a mercenary group filled with lazy fellows, those who didn’t know what to do, those who blamed others, and those who messed up and wandered around. It was a disciplined sight that only a well-trained and strictly disciplined army could show.
When the Wolf Knights started preparing for something, they wasted a tremendous amount of time exchanging opinions, as noisy as a group of seven-year-old kids arguing about who would eat the last piece of cake. But here, there was no sound except the sound of dismantling the barracks and moving the equipment. The whole army seemed to resemble the calm atmosphere of the Twelve Thorns.
‘Six out of the twelve are not visible. Didn’t they say they were already at the garrison?’
The Red Rose Count was undressing his armor with the help of a servant in a small barrack.
“Ah, you’re here. Sit down.”
Loyal had just barely managed to perch on a wooden chair. After disrobing his armor, the count dismissed his servants and knights and took a seat on a similarly uncomfortable wooden chair. He cast off his heavy chain boots and wore a pleased expression, as though relishing the liberation from the boots.
“I quite enjoy this attire, but getting in and out of it is the problem. Don’t you think so, Loyal?”
The count casually called his name.
“I have not worn such heavy attire often, but I completely agree with your sentiment.”
Loyal replied honestly.
“But that doesn’t mean I can go without wearing it. Do you know why I wear this plate armor?”
The count finally let out a sigh after discarding the chain armor he had been wearing underneath.
“Because it’s sturdy?”
“I’m in a position where I can issue orders from the very back of the army, right? There’s no need for me to be particularly sturdy. We hardly have intense fights like today in Normant.”
The count brushed off the battle from earlier as though it were a forgotten past event.
“In fact, I rarely appear on the battlefield myself. Even without my command, my army possesses enough strength to win wars without the existence of our kingdom. The reason we wage wars with Lumerier’s army, winning and losing alternately, is to avoid revealing our full power.”
Wiping his sweat, the count asked.
“Ah, the heat makes my speech disordered. Do you want something to drink?”
“No, thank you. I should be going back soon.”
“Back? Where to?”
“To my master.”
Count Johnstein laughed, slapping his knee.
“That’s a good attitude. I actually called you for that reason. I’ve always wished for a swordsman like you to appear. These days, mercenaries are only interested in money and none of them are truly dependable. No matter how much money you throw at them, it’s hard to find a competent one.”
After ordering a servant who was waiting outside to bring a glass of water, the count continued.
“Let’s have a serious discussion. It was brief, but I saw your skills earlier. Without you, my daughter could have been seriously hurt, or even worse. So, I thought of making you an offer. Come under my command.”
Loyal responded in a cool manner.
“You’re quite forward.”
“I don’t care where you’re from or where you currently belong. Just join the Rose Knights. After a period of adjustment for six months, no, three months, I’ll make you one of the Twelve Thorns.”
“Wouldn’t it be Thirteen Thorns if I join?”
“What’s in a name? It originally was the Nine Thorns. It changed when three more were added. There are two more candidates now, and even with you, it’s okay if we become Fifteen.”
“I’ve told you several times, the person who employed me is…”
“Oh, oh, that again! Don’t tell me you think I want to take away my daughter’s escort knight? If that’s the problem, it’s not a problem at all. Once you join the Rose Knights, I will promptly appoint you as my daughter’s escort knight. You’ll be doing the same job, just with a different title. You can name your price. Or maybe you’d like some land and a house. There are many beautiful women in Denmoju. As a Rose Knight, it won’t be difficult for you to win over the woman of your choosing. Oh, by the way, how old are you?”
He seemed nothing like the stern figure from last night’s party. He was talking fast, like a slick salesman.
“I’m around twenty-six. I’ve forgotten to count after fifteen, so I’m not exactly sure.”
“You’re about two years older than my daughter. A good age to settle down. And physically, you’re at your prime. So, what do you think of my offer?”
Loyal pretended to think for a moment. No, he was actually considering it.
‘Considering the conversation with Dunmel yesterday, there’s no need to outright refuse this offer.’
Just before going to the party with Latilda, Loyal had been able to get in touch with Dunmel. Seeing his colleague’s face for the first time in days made Loyal so happy he didn’t know what to do, but Dunmel threw serious information at him.
First, a captain named Kassel had appeared in his place.
Loyal had found the responsibility of being a captain burdensome and draining. He had fallen into a gloom after losing his sword, unable to free himself. But then someone found his sword, such a relief! He no longer needed to serve as the captain, even better!
It should have been a relief.
He thought he would be happy. But the person who took over as captain was not one of the White Wolves. It was someone else. Loyal found himself irate at the thought of relinquishing his captainship and the ownership of the sword.
‘I thought you’d be happy.’
Only after seeing Dunmel’s sign language did Loyal realize his expression had betrayed his feelings.
‘I thought I’d be happy too. But I’m angry. Strangely.’
Loyal found no way to explain his strange emotions.
Dunmel asked,
‘What will you do? Will you oppose?’
‘No. I don’t even know the person. If everyone else approves, I have no complaints. What is my duty?’
Dunmel informed him about the Black Lion Count and the Red Rose Count.
Loyal was taken aback by the information. As they exchanged their respective stories, Dunmel seemed even more surprised.
‘So, I should act as a spy by Latilda’s side.’
Dunmel shook his head.
‘Not necessarily. While we need to keep close communication to handle the highest power holder in this country, it’s practically difficult. So here’s the alternative. Make decisions according to your judgement, but if another member acts before you, you should immediately follow their action.’
‘So, even if it’s a wrong decision, we act together. And my role is to gather outside information while you are in the royal court?’
‘Correct. Our confirmed enemy at this point is the assassins who attacked first, and the Black Knight who reportedly attacked your employer. I suspect our true enemies are not the two Counts, but those two.’
Loyal tended not to interrupt when Dunmel was signing. Just understanding it was hard enough.
‘Finally, Loyal, you should not act as if you know us. From now on, you are not a White Wolf.’
‘Is that also an order from the new captain?’
Loyal asked in a sharp tone. Although he couldn’t understand the words, Dunmel, reading Loyal’s feelings from his expression, tilted his head and signed a question.
‘Don’t you like the new captain? He seems decent.’
‘Well, I’ll withhold judgement until I meet him.’
Accepting Count Johnstein’s proposal would benefit his spy role. But acting as a spy would be deceiving Latilda in a way. Loyal felt reluctant. So, he chose to delay the decision, as he always had in his life.
“Thank you for your offer. But I cannot make a decision before discussing it with Latilda.”
“Hmm, how long will you stay with Latilda?”
“Until she no longer has nightmares… I think.”
“Nightmares?”
“Don’t you know?”
“She is not of an age to confide all her worries to me. I liked when she used to run to me, crying from the prick of a rose thorn.”
The count looked out the window next to his tent. The soldiers who had come to dismantle the tent were standing still, following the Knight of Thorns’ orders to wait.
“Well, it’s typical of a father-daughter relationship. Take your time to consider. I’m open to negotiate about the reward anytime.”
“Understood. I should leave now.”
“To Latilda?”
“Yes.”
The count smiled faintly.
“Such a delicate girl, pretending to be strong. Take good care of her.”
Loyal nodded and left the tent.
Outside, Linke and three other Knights of the Twelve Thorns were waiting. When they first saw Loyal, they seemed as uninterested as if they were just staring at a passing tree, but now they were focusing properly. They hadn’t even cleaned the blood from the earlier battle off their armor.
“Consider the proposal carefully, Loyal. You’re always welcome.”
Linke spoke in a surprisingly amiable tone.
‘You bad-mouthed Gerald, didn’t you? Then I can’t be friends with you.’
Loyal tilted his head slightly.
“Understood.”
“Let’s have a friendly match sometime. I would very much like to cross swords with you.”
Another knight expressed his wish, his voice softening from its usual stoic tone.
‘Somehow, if one person is dislikable, it makes the others seem so too.’
Loyal didn’t wish for extended conversation and responded curtly.
“Very well.”
Loyal went straight to find Latilda. She was with Anna by the body of Dalmar. Loyal silently stood by her side. Latilda didn’t ask about the conversation he had with his father. Dalmar’s coffin was laid next to a carriage heavily laden with baggage.
“There’s one thing you need to know, Loyal.”
Latilda strived to hold back her tears, but she couldn’t stop the drops that pooled on her damp lashes and streamed down.
“All those who tried to protect me died at the hands of the Black Knight.”
Latilda told Loyal, her eyes trembling.
“Even if the Black Knight emerges from my nightmares again, you must not die.”
“I will not die.”
Loyal replied in a voice small but determined.
“Promise me.”
Latilda tightly gripped both of Loyal’s hands. Loyal emphasized once again.
“I promise.”
Loyal was never afraid of anyone in this world. But for some reason, at the moment of the promise, he felt a sudden fear.
It was the same feeling he had when he received the treasured sword of Aranthia from Master Quain and was appointed as a captain.
–TL Notes–
Hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you want to support me or give me feedback, you can do it at patreon.com/MattReading
Join my Discord! https://discord.gg/jB26ePk9