Sheyden raced down the straight road that stretched towards the cathedral. The Black Knight with the horn was still atop the cathedral’s spire.
The street, always bustling with activity, was eerily deserted now. There were no citizens of Normant to be seen. When the evacuation order was first given, there were people who had come out with old swords, claiming they would protect their homes themselves. But those people had been terrified by the eerie sound of the horn and had gone into hiding.
This was a relief to Sheyden. In the current situation, he did not feel confident in protecting someone while fighting.
He could not be sure that the Black Knight with the horn was the leader of the others. But the horn was undoubtedly summoning the Black Knights outside the city. Even the Black Knight who had lost an arm while fighting Gerald had retreated at the sound of the horn.
‘But why Normant of all places? To aid Count Johnstein?’
There would be no reason to kill one’s own side to do such a thing. Moreover, they had attempted to kill Johnstein’s daughter.
‘To aid Count Lumerier?’
If so, it would be right to attack the Red Rose Count’s army in Leang. And they had assassinated Lumerier’s son.
‘Then, the king?’
If chaos in Camort was the goal, everything added up. There might be a final step of assassinating the king. Considering that the young king had no heir, it was a possibility.
‘Or us?’
There was no reason to target the White Wolves at this moment.
Blackfoot was rather clear-cut. One of the two Counts was the client. In contrast, the Black Knights’ purpose was too unclear. Therefore, he couldn’t even guess who was behind it. Who could benefit from causing chaos in Camort?
Sheyden pulled on his horse’s reins and asked,
“Who are you?”
Although he didn’t say it for an answer, as if understanding his words, the Black Knight high up on the spire looked down at him. The sight of him staring through an empty helmet was ominous.
Azwin’s words suddenly came to mind.
‘The most vivid memory surfaces the moment you confront them.’
It was the same for Sheyden. In those eyes staring down, he saw the piles of freshly dead bodies. Memories buried deep resurfaced, along with the sins he had committed.
Sheyden had become a royal knight of Irophis without even undergoing the training. He didn’t need personal training as a clerk. He knew knightly theories better than anyone in the royal family, and his skills surpassed the existing royal knights within half a year. With a family of clerks for generations, there was no one to question his origin. He was even mentioned as the next captain.
During his first mission as a knight, Sheyden alone slaughtered nearly a hundred enemies. Without hesitation, he slashed and stabbed at those deserving death. The sight of a blood-soaked Sheyden not only scared the bandits but his fellow knights as well. His fierce appearance made them recoil. Sheyden himself was scared too.
He had no problem slashing a living enemy. But the moment the enemy turned into a corpse, he was seized by an indescribable revulsion, and he wanted to vomit. So he didn’t look back at the dead and kept advancing, not wanting to see the pile of corpses he left behind.
After suffering from nightmares for days, Sheyden gave up his knighthood. He didn’t want to kill people.
‘Then go to the Wolf Knights.’
It was Captain Irophis’s advice. Sheyden followed his words.
He stood in this place to become a knight who didn’t kill.
“I’m not afraid of someone like you who won’t become a corpse.”
Sheyden raised his lance towards the cathedral.
“Come down!”
The Black Knight put away his horn and drew the long sword at his waist. His sword was almost as long as Sheyden’s lance. The approaching darkness from the eastern sky was enveloping the Black Knight.
Sheyden’s horse began to back away in fear. Sheyden struggled to calm it down, but it didn’t work. Barely yanking on the reins to stop the horse, he looked up at the spire again, but the Black Knight was nowhere to be seen.
The Black Knight had already descended beneath the cathedral. Neither the jump nor the landing made a noise, not even enough to cause discomfort.
A suffocating feeling weighed on his chest. Breathing became difficult. Sheyden expanded his chest, forced in a breath, and spoke.
“What’s your purpose?”
He didn’t expect an answer. Instead of responding, the Black Knight extended its long sword, adopting a posture mirroring Sheyden’s stance with his spear. It was a notably large and heavy sword, yet its tip was so firmly fixed that it didn’t waver.
A cold breeze brushed Sheyden’s face as it followed the direction of the blade. It felt chilly, though for all he knew, it might have been hot. It was as unpleasant as a puff of breath in front of his face.
The horse Sheyden rode on froze in terror, ignoring even the tug of its reins.
“This complicates things.”
Sheyden dismounted and stood beside his horse. The Black Knight slowly watched his movements and then raised his sword.
The black steed, armored like a wild beast, snorted heavily and pawed at the ground. The animal had more vitality than its master, and without any command, it bent its hind legs and leaped high into the air, landing in a single stride before Sheyden. It was as sudden and swift as magic.
The head of the black-armored steed lunged forward. Sheyden quickly turned to avoid it, but the following slash from the Black Knight’s sword didn’t entirely miss, and he lost his grip on his spear. The horse twisted itself to catch up with Sheyden, while the Black Knight swung down his sword at the stumbling Sheyden. Avoiding it by rolling aside, the attacks continued to follow, and the massive blade struck the hard stone floor like an ax.
If he dodged the sword, a hoof would fall right after. Barely rolling to where his spear had fallen, Sheyden grabbed it just as the Black Knight drove his sword down at his turned back. Simultaneously, Sheyden also thrust his spear.
The two weapons aimed at each other’s necks, grazing past. The blade nicked Sheyden’s nape, hitting the ground, while the spear pierced the Black Knight’s throat.
‘I’ve done it.’
With his throat impaled, the Black Knight swung his blade aside. Had Sheyden frozen in relief, his head would have been sent flying like it had been on the block. But in a split second, he caught the enemy’s shoulder movement and ducked, the blade just cutting his hair.
The Black Knight tried to pull out the spear impaling his throat with one hand, but Sheyden lifted him off the horse and slammed him to the ground, spear still skewered.
With a loud crash, the armor shattered, and the Black Knight’s arm fell off, black smoke pouring from the broken part, filling the floor like water. The Black Knight rose, holding the impaled spear with one hand, and Sheyden held his ground, his body shaking but not letting go of the spear.
The Black Knight seemed about to remove his hand from the spear but instead struck the spear’s shaft with a clenched fist. As if it were made with magical power, the spear didn’t break, but the strong vibration made Sheyden lose his grip.
The Black Knight wasted no time pulling out the spear. He simply retreated, picked up his broken arm and fallen sword with his other hand. Sheyden didn’t back off either, even after momentarily losing the spear, and rushed at the Black Knight.
With one hand, the Black Knight swung his sword at Sheyden’s throat as he leaped into his arms. Fast and precise, yet less powerful with the broken shoulder, Sheyden barely dodged and pushed the impaled spear hard. It went completely through the Black Knight’s throat.
The Black Knight struck Sheyden’s back with the sword’s hilt. It felt like his spine was breaking, but Sheyden threw him aside. The heavy armor crashed into the stone floor, breaking it, yet the Black Knight rose as if unhurt. He looked at his empty right hand, then around. His sword was in Sheyden’s hand.
The Black Knight pulled out the iron spear that had pierced his throat without a hint of dismay. Having exchanged weapons, the two rushed at each other without hesitation. Sheyden feigned an attack on the villain’s head, then struck his iron spear. The Black Knight staggered backward, losing his grip on the spear.
“I see you still won’t die.”
With Sheyden’s massive sword, the Black Knight’s head fell off with a dull thud. At that moment, the black horse that had been watching for an opportunity to intervene in its master’s battle charged at Sheyden. Sheyden swung back his large sword without looking back, striking the black horse’s neck. However, the momentum of the charge was still alive, and the headless horse fell on top of Sheyden.
The horse only spewed black smoke and did not die. In the meantime, the headless Black Knight staggered and leaned against the wall. He crumbled slowly, letting out a clamorous scream like steam escaping a boiling pot.
For a brief moment, silence enveloped the area around the cathedral. The stagnant air slowly dissipated without a stir.
Sheyden pushed aside the headless horse’s massive body with his foot and got up. His own horse, which had been frozen with fear earlier, approached, neighing. Sheyden picked up the iron spear on the ground and mounted his horse.
The pain arrived belatedly. Blood oozed from a place near his neck, and his left hand stung sharply. It didn’t feel like he’d injured a joint, but it seemed like it would be difficult to move properly for a while.
‘Considering I was trampled by the horse, it’s a minor injury.’
Sheyden ripped a small piece of his outer garment to wrap around his left hand. It wasn’t over. There would be more of them, and they would gather in one place. It was difficult to handle that many by himself. Sheyden needed to get to where his comrades were.
‘Where will they gather?’
Sheyden headed towards the castle. It wasn’t something he calculated. There was simply no other place that came to mind.
☆ ☆ ☆
The sound of hooves clattered loudly behind Kassel, but he did not look back, urging his horse forward. He had decided to think only of reaching the castle quickly. That was the only place he could seek help.
After the Black Knight’s horn sounded, not a single person remained on the streets. There were no heads peering out from windows. The empty streets and unobstructed roads were as barren as a desert. A terrible fear had settled over all of Normant.
The sound of hooves grew louder. Still, Kassel could not look back. He tried to concentrate only on running. Otherwise, he could not endure the terror. The horse carrying him, frothing at the mouth, was sprinting to escape what was chasing from behind as well.
‘I mustn’t look back.’
Despite thinking this, Kassel could not overcome his fear and looked back. A knight in black armor, wielding a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, was following, staining everything around him with blackness.
‘Is that armor like Excelon’s knights?! Stupid Blackfoot, what’s the same? Nothing’s the same!’
Kassel unknowingly tightened his grip on the reins. The horse, rushing forward in a panic, jerked its neck, and its body tilted, causing Kassel to slide off. The Black Knight, who had been close behind, swung his sword without delay.
A sharp pain sliced across his cheek. The Black Knight’s wet, sticky wind grazed his face as it sped by like an arrow. Kassel lost his balance and tumbled from the horse. The horse, running haphazardly, could not recover and crashed headfirst into the ground.
Kassel rolled a few times, hitting his face, twisting his shoulder, and cracking his knee, all with a dull sound. Without balance or reason, and without a moment to recover, he stood up from the spot. Staggering and leaning against the wall for support, he found the Black Knight turning his horse around, having passed him some time ago. Seeing him approach, Kassel couldn’t move.
His legs wouldn’t move.
‘I’m going to die.’
Kassel felt it.
He would die here, unable to escape or dodge.
Captain Wolf would die, without resisting, at the hands of this monstrous knight.
Knowing all that, he could do nothing.
Nothing!
Like an arrow, the Black Knight rushed forward.
‘Would Sheyden have been this foolish? Or Gerald? Or Azwin? Or Dunmel?’
Dunmel leaped off the roof, hurling himself at the Black Knight. To Kassel’s eyes, it seemed as though a ghost had appeared behind the Black Knight’s back.
Dunmel thrust his dagger into the area near the knight’s armored neck. Then, he placed his hand on the helm, spinning in the air, and slithered into his opponent’s embrace, striking the horse’s neck like a snake. The Black Knight fell, tumbling loudly. The horse, confused by the shock delivered by Dunmel, smashed its head against a stone wall.
The Black Knight, seemingly unscathed by the fall, immediately readied his shield and sword, rushing at Dunmel. Dunmel flattened himself like a frog, springing up and slashing with his dagger. Another blade found its mark in the Black Knight’s neck. The knight swung his shield and sword several times but never touched Dunmel. Yet another blade was lodged in the Black Knight’s abdomen. Daggers were stuck in every joint of his plate armor. It looked as if a snake was coiling around a large trunk, tormenting a bear.
Dunmel also had his arm slashed deeply. The Black Knight, from where the daggers were embedded, began to emit black smoke, gradually losing strength. Dunmel managed to cut off the wrist holding the shield, seizing the moment to slice through the seam in the right knee.
The Black Knight was slowly dismantled, and disintegrated. Yet, he swung his sword to the very end, and Dunmel gripped his opponent’s neck at the angle opposite the swinging sword.
The swirling air movement around Dunmel ceased. His knee struck the Black Knight’s back, snapping the neck and knocking off the helmet. It was a blow that would have broken the neck and spine if he had been a person.
Black smoke poured out from the broken part. Only then did the Black Knight’s movement stop.
Despite having shattered the armor into dozens of pieces, Dunmel stood on guard for quite a while. It was the first time Kassel saw Dunmel gasping, tired. Only after being sure of the enemy’s death, he signaled with his fingers, saying in sign language, ‘I thought I was late. Let’s return to the castle quickly.’
Kassel stumbled toward the horse. The horse, which had fallen forcefully earlier, was up on its feet, waiting for its master, tired and injured, but still able to carry a person.
Kassel mounted first, and Dunmel lightly jumped, grabbing Kassel’s back and climbed onto the horse. Kassel urged the horse forward again.
Again, from afar, the sound of horse hooves was heard. This time there were two, then quickly three. As Kassel startled, Dunmel firmly grasped his shoulder, meaning to ease the tension on the reins. He had been gripping so hard that his wrist had grown numb.
The drawbridge of the castle was down, and Azwin was waiting there.
“Kassel. Go inside.”
Conscious of the ears of other soldiers guarding the door, she added,
“And guard His Majesty the King.”
The words stabbed Kassel’s heart. They meant he had nothing to do here, and should keep out of the way. It was a fair point, and a considerate one. Yet Kassel was consumed with guilt.
Dunmel jumped off the horse, landing next to Azwin, while Kassel went past them and inside. Looking back, he saw Azwin and Dunmel blocking the path of the three incoming Black Knights. They were not afraid. At least they weren’t trembling and helpless like Kassel.
Kassel barely held back his tears.
The illusion of truly becoming a White Wolf was sweet and exhilarating. Everyone called him Captain. The nobles and knights of Camort looked up to him with awe. But the fake was fake. He could never become a real hero, like those great knights in fairy tales.
“Shall I raise the bridge, Captain?” asked the gatekeeper hurriedly. Kassel shook his head.
“Leave it be. They can jump over the walls anyway.”
Kassel’s expression showed no belief in what was said, but he was so exhausted that he had no energy to explain further.
‘I have to go to the king to continue Azwin’s lie, right? I must not get caught. I can’t let them find out that I’m not the captain, that I’m a coward who can’t use a sword!’
Kassel’s steps back from the battlefield and into the safety of the walls were unbearably heavy.
‘Let’s just stop.’
It didn’t matter if this was yet another facet of the terror that the Black Knight had instilled in him.
‘I don’t want to run away.’
☆ ☆ ☆
“One-armed fool.”
Azwin tapped Dunmel’s shoulder and said.
‘That’s the one Gerald cut the arm off.’
Dunmel, having identified one of the three Black Knights missing an arm, communicated this through hand signals.
Azwin took a deep breath, holding a shield and sword.
“I’ll only cover. You fight in front. Basic formation number 3.”
Acknowledging her poor condition, Azwin positioned Dunmel ahead of her.
In the Wolf Knights, the captaincy was still undecided, so the command was always in flux. But as a rule, they followed the leadership of the White Wolves, and particularly Azwin’s orders if she was present.
It wasn’t out of reverence that the prideful Wolf Knights followed the White Wolves; it was a matter of efficiency. Azwin’s judgment in small-scale combat was swift, and her commands were bold. Among the Wolf Knights, many considered Azwin as the de facto captain.
Dunmel held a sword in each hand, assuming a low stance. The three Black Knights were armed with long weapons like spears and halberds, and the horses they rode were twice the size of ordinary ones. The two people on the ground were at a distinct disadvantage.
Azwin slapped Dunmel’s back, and he charged, with Azwin right behind him.
The Black Knights, despite their heavy plate armor, responded instantly, swinging their swords. Dunmel leaped up, dodging all of their attacks, slashing between two knights. His double-bladed attack sliced off pieces of the Black Knights’ helmets. Had they been human, the blows would have been lethal, but to them, it was nothing more than a scratch. Dunmel had hoped to at least cut one of their necks, but both managed to dodge.
When Dunmel’s attack failed, Azwin, running as backup, found herself trapped among the three knights. Normally, she would have escaped at the failure of the attack or retreated. If she had been her usual self, she might have cut down one of the Black Knights, distracted by Dunmel. But she did none of these and found herself trapped in the net they had woven.
Three weapons descended upon Azwin with tremendous force. Even if they missed, the ground would have been gouged. She blocked with her shield and dodged, rolling her body, but there was a limit. Eventually, she was slashed across the back by a halberd, and a chunk of flesh was torn from her shoulder.
Azwin let out a brief scream and froze. Three massive weapons aimed for her head and heart. She dodged two but could not avoid the third, blocking it with her shield. She knew she shouldn’t take such a heavy attack head-on but had no choice. A clash of metal echoed as her body was sent flying through the air, and a splash of blood erupted from her back where she fell.
While Azwin drew the attention of the three until the end, Dunmel leaped from behind and aimed again for the neck of the Black Knight he had targeted earlier. Two black helmets rolled off their mounts, ownerless.
The one remaining attacking knight and the two headless knights hurled their weapons at Dunmel as they landed. Despite lacking heads, their timing and direction were precise. Dunmel narrowly avoided being impaled or losing a leg.
Dunmel rolled twice to the side to avoid the attack and rose in front of the fallen Azwin.
Azwin, kneeling on one knee, did not let out a single moan, but red blood was streaming down her lips. The shield, which never left her side once the battle began, lay beside her, and her hand trembling as she supported herself on the ground. Blood from wounds on her back and shoulder spread across her torn clothing and dripped to the floor. Her face was pale with exhaustion.
After a considerable time, two headless knights fell from their horses. Only one remained, now missing an arm. He seemed not particularly disturbed by his comrades’ deaths. He did not even seem alive.
The remaining one did not attack rashly. He simply retrieved his spear stuck in the ground. Dunmel pondered whether to finish him off. Though injured himself, he knew he could take down one more, even without Azwin’s help. But he hesitated. It did not feel like it would be over after killing just one more.
Fortunately, Sheyden was running from afar. Almost simultaneously, Gerald was also riding towards them from another road. The one-armed black knight immediately turned around and thrust his spear towards the two. But neither Sheyden’s long spear nor Gerald’s axe was blocked. The black knight’s armor, now in three pieces from Sheyden’s spear slicing through his neck and Gerald’s axe splitting his body, clanged loudly as it rolled on the ground. The black helmet spewing black smoke rolled right next to Azwin.
Dunmel saw Azwin flinch in surprise. He couldn’t understand why she was so startled by a mere rolling helmet when she had cut down countless enemies and seen beheaded corpses during her mercenary days.
Gerald and Sheyden dismounted and approached Azwin. Gerald couldn’t say a word upon seeing her grievous wounds.
“Are you okay?” Sheyden asked, gripping her shoulder.
“It hurts a bit.”
“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”
As Gerald reached to wipe the blood from her lips, Azwin consciously pulled her head back.
“I must have bitten my tongue when I fell. It’s fine. I’m okay.”
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, spat out a clot of blood, and then groaned in pain.
“It seems like you’ve done more than just bite your tongue?” Gerald asked.
Azwin slowly rose to her feet and asked, “How many are left?”
“The one with the horn has been taken care of,” Sheyden answered.
“I got two. The ones attacking the castle,” Gerald said. Dunmel held up one finger. Azwin nodded.
“So that makes three here. Seven in total?”
Sheyden pointed his spear at a nearby location. “There’s one more.”
There was another black knight standing on the roof, riding a horse.
It was evening, with the sun barely clinging to the west. Suddenly, a feeling of darkness overwhelmed them as if a shadow had swept in. Azwin stumbled back, pressing her forehead as if feeling dizzy.
“That one’s different,” Sheyden noted.
Strange, unreadable characters were inscribed on the last black knight’s armor. An unsettling black light was emanating from the letters. It was not light but darkness, swallowing all radiance. The black horse he was riding spread its bat-like wings. It soared silently, then gently landed on the ground with a powerful flap.
“Wasn’t the one with the horn the leader?” Gerald muttered.
The winged-horse-riding black knight stood at the edge of the broken drawbridge. The White Wolves in the middle of the bridge readied their weapons in unison. But the figure did not draw his weapon. He simply stretched out his arm slowly. The darkness that swallowed light flowed along his arm. A dense black fog filled the ground, and a damp, uncomfortable air hindered their breathing.
“It’s magic. Stop him.”
Caught for a moment in a strange spectacle, Sheyden quickly yelled out. Azwin was the first to regain her senses at his voice and immediately slapped Dunmel’s back. Only then did Dunmel shake his head, picking up one of the two daggers he was holding and threw it. The blade spun at high speed, flying directly towards the man’s head. However, the black knight caught Dunmel’s dagger with ease, as if a child had playfully thrown a ball at him.
From the knight’s hand, a dark energy that had been flowing now began to be drawn into the dagger Dunmel had thrown. After a brief moment, the blade, now imbued with a dark color, turned to dust without a sound, like a rotten piece of wood.
Now Sheyden and Gerald simultaneously tried to throw their spear and axe. But Azwin stopped them.
“Wait.”
Both of them hesitated, looking back at Azwin.
“Look at the ground.”
There was a black mist rippling on the floor. There lay the broken gauntlet of the black knight, shattered by Dunmel’s attack. The moment Azwin pointed it out, it clenched into a fist, as if alive. Other broken fragments also writhed and moved. Moments later, the knight, whose neck had been severed by Dunmel, silently rose from his spot.
Somewhere, a hollow sound echoed, like an empty can being knocked about. Turning, they saw the severed head of the black knight, which had rolled next to Azwin earlier, now rolling back. It passed the four White Wolves and returned to its owner, attaching itself above the neck. The severed arm did the same, rolling a few times on the ground before reattaching itself.
Every separated part was returning to its original place.
In no time at all, except for one who initially lacked an arm, all had returned to their original state. They picked up their weapons as if nothing had happened.
Four black knights stood before four White Wolves.
☆ ☆ ☆
Soldiers and ministers atop the castle walls trembled in fear, letting out thin moans. The sound, escaping through tightly clenched lips as they tried not to vocalize their terror, was all the more agonizing to hear.
Even Luror, who normally wouldn’t blink an eye at most things, found his legs trembling uncontrollably. He had stood strong with his arms crossed, feigning composure when the ghostly black knights appeared, but the sight of the last knight on a winged horse broke him, making him shudder like a child.
Not a single person dared to speak. Though it was a slightly warm day in early summer, some clattered their teeth and hugged their arms, feeling a chilling cold. Even Dunathan felt a chill, a suffocating sensation in his chest that made breathing difficult.
Fear had paralyzed the entire castle. Archers, who had prepared to help the White Wolves, didn’t even realize they had dropped their arrows, and soldiers holding spears had lowered their weapons’ tips. Somewhere, the sound of crying could be heard, not from frail maids or children, but from strong soldiers.
“Ca-Captain. What, what are those?”
King Charles, barely clinging to the parapet as though he might collapse, finally managed to speak. Kassel stared blankly at the bridge below, replying,
“I don’t know.”
Kassel had been observing the situation both inside and outside the castle from the beginning to the end. He was no less terrified than anyone else. Perhaps in the past, he would have buried his head in his bed covers, refusing to come out.
“Wh-what should we do? Is Normant…”
The king couldn’t finish his sentence. Perhaps he wanted to ask what would become of Normant’s fate if the White Wolves were defeated by the black knights.
“We have nothing to do.”
This was a battle of another realm. Not a fight between humans but a struggle between monsters. Kassel had stealthily backed out of that arena, watching from a distance, waiting to see the outcome.
Sheyden would say so. A captain is someone who stands back and commands.
Azwin and Gerald would say the same. Leave this to us.
But if Loyal had been the captain, would he have stayed back? Would the terrifying knight, acknowledged by all four White Wolves, have stood by the king’s side without lifting a finger, simply watching to see what the result would be?
The moment the Black Knights appeared, everyone who encountered them seemed to recall a childhood fear. Those who feared the dark saw darkness through the Black Knights, those who were afraid of ghosts saw ghosts, and the king, who had always worried about the kingdom, saw the future of a destroyed realm. For Kassel, the very moment of retreating from drawbridge approached like terror itself.
‘I was useless.’
Kassel was briefly brought to his senses by the stinging pain in his palm. Unclenching his fist, which he had been holding tightly enough to numb it, he noticed that blood was flowing from his palm.
It was where he had held his sword, muttering like a hypnotized person, calling himself the captain of the White Wolves, just before entering Normant. The wound that had started to heal was torn again, and light blood oozed out.
‘I am not the captain of the White Wolves.’
Knowing he was unworthy, he had struggled with all his might. Kassel had no memory of more than three hours after entering Normant. He had read books until the veins in his eyes were about to burst under the dim candlelight, masquerading as a foreign captain who wanted to learn the etiquette of Camort, so he knew the royal laws inside and out. He knew everyone in the royal family. Due to constantly asking so many maids, they even fought amongst themselves, believing Captain Wolf was interested in them. He had tasted every dish in the kitchen and every wine he could pour. As long as his head would allow, he memorized everything.
He would not refuse anything that might help him appear like Captain Wolf. He didn’t want to do anything that would harm the reputation of the Wolf Knights, not even a tiny bit. And he believed that doing so would bring him a little closer to the White Wolves.
That dream was shattered.
Kassel could not become a White Wolf. Reading books and expanding royal connections did not give him the “White Wolf’s Fang” that his friends spoke of.
It was all futile. Kassel felt the strength leave his legs. The more he stubbornly exerted himself, the less his legs obeyed.
‘A fake White Wolf. A fake captain. A fraud. A liar.’
His own voice became a blade that slashed at him.
‘So I should run away. If I come forward, I’ll only tarnish the real Captain Wolf’s reputation.’
Kassel yelled. At the same time, another voice inside him yelled back at him.
‘Don’t start looking for an excuse to run away before starting the work!’
‘Your name is taken from that adventurer’s name, Kassel.’
‘I am now the temporary captain of the White Wolves, Kassel Wolf. I will not violate this decision on my own initiative until I am deposed with everyone’s agreement…’
Kassel drew his sword and cut his wounded palm once more. Red blood spurted from the X-shaped wound and splashed down.
“Wh-What are you doing, Captain?” the king, standing next to him, asked, his eyes wide with shock. But Kassel neither responded nor apologized for startling him.
Kassel turned and retraced his steps.
☆ ☆ ☆
The White Wolves blocked the path, unmoving, before the Black Knights. Azwin, wiping the cold sweat from her brow, spoke in a small voice.
“I don’t think I can handle my share. I’m sorry.”
Sheyden laughed, tapping his throat with the shaft of his spear.
“Women are supposed to become more open when abroad, but in Azwin’s case, it seems she has become more conservative. You’ve apologized a lot, haven’t you?”
“Don’t tease me. I’m serious,” Azwin snapped back, visibly irritated, to which Gerald interjected.
“Being serious doesn’t suit you. If it were the usual you, you’d have ordered them to fight amongst themselves since it’s annoying, wouldn’t you?”
Azwin chuckled.
“Damn, you guys won’t even listen to the last words of a dying comrade. Fine, I’ll stop whining.”
“Don’t think too poorly of us. Fighting ghost-like knights will be quite an experience.”
As Gerald spoke, the sound of hooves cutting through the fog-laden darkness reached them. It was a Black Knight with a trumpet, the one Sheyden had decapitated.
From another direction, a Black Knight who did not ride but walked toward them still had a few of Dunmel’s daggers lodged in his body.
A gigantic horse without a rider leaped between houses, smashing every roof in its path, until it reached the gathering of the Black Knight Knights. The Black Knight, pierced by Dunmel’s dagger, hastily mounted the horse that had come looking for him alone.
Another Black Knight, bearing a broken lance, also appeared on horseback. It was the one Gerald had split in two. He too raced over the black mist as if sliding, stopping in front of the drawbridge.
Including their leader, there were seven who had arrived one by one at the castle. Gerald stroked his unshaven chin beard and continued what he had been about to say.
“The Master said that as long as we are White Wolves, we would sometimes have to fight non-humans. It seems now is that time.”
Sheyden held up his lance and examined it with renewed interest.
“Remember what Master Lergo said about the Wolf Knights’ swords having magic imbued in them? He said the weapons to be wielded by the White Wolves would be granted even more powerful magic, and they are being crafted right now. I wondered why he would go through such trouble, but now I understand.”
Sheyden twirled his lance a few times with only his right hand, his left hand folded due to an injury. The black aura surrounding the White Wolves retreated under the wind pressure he created. The white light reflecting off the lance’s tip was more vivid in the surrounding darkness.
Gerald slowly extended the axe he had been carrying on his shoulder. It was a rough-hewn axe, nicked and slightly dulled from breaking armor, but like Sheyden’s lance blade, it was pushing back the darkness.
Dunmel grasped a shorter sword to replace his shattered blade. Blood flowed down his forearm, soaking his sleeve, but he seemed to have forgotten the wound altogether.
“Sheyden, take the front; Gerald, right; Dunmel, left. Formation number 9.”
Azwin extended her shield and drew her sword back. Looking at the dependable backs of her comrades, she was able to forget her pain momentarily. Everyone prepared to move at her signal. Even discounting her diminished fighting ability due to her injuries, Azwin’s role was still vital.
Though the Black Knights outnumbered them, they could not easily enter the diamond formation the four White Wolves had taken. Even when one lost an arm, they kept fighting, but now they were very cautious. Their leader, who had revived its broken subordinates with a strange power, did not urge them either.
A lengthy standoff ensued.
‘Everyone’s injured. I can barely use half of my strength, and Dunmel and Sheyden are struggling with one arm.‘
Azwin blinked her dimming eyes several times, calculating a way to fight with Gerald, who was in the best condition, at the center. Therefore, they intentionally went with the formation where Gerald pulled back. If the enemy attacked first, they would be destroyed by Gerald’s axe while distracted by Sheyden’s lance.
But the enemies did not attack first. Normally, they would not move first once they decided on formation number 9. However, it was difficult to hold and wait when their physical conditions were deteriorating from bleeding wounds.
‘I don’t like it. But if we continue like this, we’ll be at a disadvantage. We must start the fight ourselves.’
Gerald marked three on the left, and Dunmel aimed at the Black Knights’ leader. Sheyden, in the middle, served as a massive dam blocking all the Black Knights. Azwin clung tenaciously to the balance that was barely maintained, fearing she might tip it.
Just as Azwin was about to give up and issue the attack command, someone approached from behind. She heard footsteps but was afraid to turn her head easily, fearing it would break the delicate balance. Only when the person came right beside her did she realize that it was Kassel.
Everyone was startled by Kassel’s appearance, but no one could stop him.
Kassel passed Dunmel and Gerald, and stepped in front of Sheyden, who held a lance. In an instant, the tense standoff that had been maintained shattered.
The Black Knights took a step forward. Azwin was on the verge of ordering Sheyden to advance, but she knew what would happen next without having to see it. Sheyden would brandish his spear at the three Black Knights in front of him. Dunmel would prepare to leap out, watching for an opportunity to attack the leader of the Black Knights. Gerald would stick to the plan and annihilate the ones distracted by Sheyden.
In the meantime, Kassel would be torn apart without a chance to cry out. That’s why Azwin couldn’t give the attack order. She simply hoped that the Black Knights would not hastily attack, startled by Kassel’s appearance.
Kassel stood in the center of drawbridge, where seven Black Knights and four White Wolves were facing off. The eyes of the scattered Black Knights focused on Kassel. With a pressure dreadful enough to paralyze an ordinary person, Kassel slowly lifted his bowed head. Then, he brazenly put one hand on his hip and threw something with his other hand.
It was the arm of a Black Knight, severed in a battle before coming to Normant.
It was a piece of metal that Kassel wouldn’t discard even when asked to. It touched the bridge’s surface once and then clung to the armless Black Knight. Instead of being pleased at having his arm back, the knight staggered back as if he had been attacked.
Kassel scanned the Black Knights and leaned back slightly, placing his left hand on the hilt of his sword. His right hand hung down gently.
It was the sword stance Loyal had taught him. That awkward stance he had practiced desperately before coming to Normant now looked quite graceful.
‘He has been practicing continuously.’
Azwin was surprised, but she couldn’t understand Kassel’s actions.
‘What are you trying to do, Kassel? Because of you, we can’t move…’
Suddenly, cheers burst from the castle. Soldiers, previously paralyzed with fear, chanted the name of the White Wolves as if in support. At first scattered and indistinguishable, the cries soon merged into one.
“Wolf!”
“Wolf!”
“Wolf!”
Some soldiers bravely revealed themselves, waving spears and flags. Though it might have been just a feeling, the surrounding dark energy seemed to lighten. Kassel, transcending the cheering and the Black Knights’ reactions, watched the front with an emotionless face.
“This is…”
Gerald, who had been crouching, straightened and spoke. The other White Wolves noticed it too. To them, Kassel’s appearance had seemed like an obstruction, but to others, it was different.
It was a scene of the White Wolves’ power rapidly increasing from four to five members, with the addition of Captain Wolf. An enormous force was added, possibly several times stronger than Azwin or Gerald, who had shown overwhelming strength.
Above all, Captain Wolf did not flinch in the face of the Black Knights, who terrified everyone else.
“Wolf!”
“Wolf!”
“Wolf!”
We have the White Wolves! That’s how the soldiers’ cries sounded.
A Black Knight riding a winged horse turned its head. The black horse spread its wings, soared to the roof once, and used it as a launching pad to fly into the sky. By the time it landed on the next roof, it was hidden by dark energy. The other Black Knights quietly followed.
Only their broken weapons remained in the place they left.
The soldiers who had been chanting “Wolf” neither cheered nor rejoiced after the Black Knights disappeared. They had been so terrified that they had forced themselves to shout to somehow support the White Wolves fighting alone. No one considered it a victory, even though the situation had ended.
Gradually regaining their composure, they began to move busily to deal with the aftermath.
Sheyden was still staring at Kassel’s back, who stood maintaining his stance. It was not a situation to fight while protecting Kassel. Kassel had simply acted first, and the rest followed the rule he initially set. But it was overly dangerous. A battle could have erupted at any moment. It was a great relief that they had retreated.
“What are you doing?”
Sheyden yelled, grabbing Kassel’s shoulder. At that, Kassel collapsed forward as if struck by a blow. Kassel panted as he slumped to the ground, his breath ragged. Sheyden, who had just touched his shoulder, looked down at his own hand, soaked as if he had touched someone who’d just taken a shower fully clothed.
Kassel, slumped on the ground, dripped cold sweat, his arms trembling as he propped himself up.
“Pl-please, take me away.”
Kassel pleaded.
“Are you alright?”
Sheyden, restraining his anger, placed a hand on Kassel’s pale, clammy cheek. It looked as white as that of a patient who had been sick with a fever for about ten days.
“They… mustn’t see me like this. So, please hide me.”
Kassel managed to say.
“You right now…”
Sheyden lost his words.
“That was the most perfect stance you’ve practiced so far. I should commend you.”
Gerald approached with a smile, unaware of the situation. But upon seeing Kassel’s face, he closed his mouth. Dunmel wiped Kassel’s face with a handkerchief and helped him up, while Kassel weakly tried to resist.
“No. They cannot see me weak…”
“Quiet!”
Sheyden yelled, and spoke in an almost growling voice.
“There’s nobody in this castle who talks this way or that way while being supported like you! Except for a fool like you!”
Kassel nodded, his eyes trembling.
“I understand. I’m sorry. But how’s Azwin?”
Only then did the three men turn to look at Azwin. She was standing with one hand on her waist, smiling broadly. Her thigh and calf were stained red, and drops of blood fell from the hem of her dress, pooling on the floor.
“The only one who recognizes me is the Captain.”
She sighed and joked.
“Can someone hold me too? Ah, not in any other sense.”
Azwin, who had been standing so far, slumped down weakly. Sheyden rushed to catch her falling head just in time. Then he yelled loud enough to leave the castle.
“Someone get a doctor. Hurry!”
The expression of Gerald, who was at ease praising Kassel’s stance just moments ago, disappeared at the sight of Azwin in that condition. He exhaled sharply and prepared to mount his horse.
Sheyden stopped him.
“Where are you going?”
“They can’t have gone far.”
“They’ve gone far. You know how fast their horses are.”
Gerald smiled coldly.
“So? Are we to let the ones who did this to Azwin go quietly?”
“Do so for now.”
Sheyden emphasized the word ‘now.’
“They’ll certainly come again.”
As Sheyden moved to lift Azwin, Gerald roughly pushed him aside.
“Move. I’ll do it.”
Gerald carried Azwin like a person handling the world’s most fragile object and slowly walked away.
☆ ☆ ☆
The situation became more complex, and matters worsened. Sheyden suggested that during times like these, everyone should take care of eating and resting. But since they couldn’t trust the doctor, Gerald treated Azwin’s injuries himself, and everyone gathered in that room worrying about her, ending up staying in the same room.
Azwin had a wound torn a full inch along her shoulder blade. Gerald ripped her top and stitched the wound. Kassel felt a pain in his heart as if her injury was his fault, just as much as her physical wound. Azwin, who had been as if dead, regained consciousness quickly and started joking.
“What are you guys doing, gathered around a naked woman?”
Azwin’s laugh was brief. With each entry of the needle, she bit her lip and endured the pain, but she did not groan. Each time she writhed in pain, Kassel felt the same agony and clenched his fist. The wound in his palm burned as though touched by fire.
“Azwin’s fine, so go rest, Kassel,” Sheyden ordered.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine!”
“I’m fine.”
Kassel stubbornly insisted.
“It’s just a headache. It’s nothing serious.”
Sheyden said no more, but his anger did not subside.
“The wound is deep, and the bone is injured. It will take a while,” Gerald commented, stitching the wound and preparing a bandage.
“I have another ugly scar. You won’t hate it, will you?” Azwin asked Gerald, smiling brightly.
“How dare you talk like that in front of me, one who’s back is like a plowed field?” Gerald retorted, caressing her face.
Despite the circumstances, the two laughed as usual.
Silently, Sheyden finally spoke, “I don’t know why those bastards attacked or why they retreated, but they’ll be back soon. With our current strength, we can’t stop them or Count Johnstein’s army. We must do something before that. Speak up, Kassel.”
Kassel hesitated to answer, suddenly realizing that Sheyden did not address him as Captain. Maybe it wasn’t for any special reason; it had happened before. But it felt different now. Kassel spoke weakly.
“I don’t really have anything planned.”
Sheyden responded firmly, “Kassel, what you did earlier was unnecessary. They retreated, so in the end, it may be fortunate, but it was wrong. It’s not your job. You’ve broken our pact.”
For the first time since their initial encounter in Koholrun, everyone’s gaze was piercing. Kassel, with nowhere to look, stared at the floor as if being scolded by his father.
“Kassel, your job is to lead us, not to fight for us. You say you have no plan? Are you now going to forget your duty as well?”
“I suggested allying with Count Lumerier instead of Luror.”
Kassel barely managed to say, but he hadn’t put much thought into it.
“General Jean Seigey will somehow hold on with these troops. But since Captain Jarlan’s death, he’s been very downcast. The newly-formed royal knight squad has been heavily defeated by the Black Knights. The king is only worried, and Dunathan is sending crows here and there, but it seems there’s little result.”
“What do you think, then?” Sheyden asked again.
“We need reinforcements,” Kassel hesitated before speaking.
“Didn’t you say the reinforcements wouldn’t come?”
“So we need to see Count Enoa.”
“In Ambrue? What if contact isn’t made?”
“We have to go and find out ourselves. There must be a reason.”
Kassel added quickly before anyone else could speak.
“I’ll go.”
Kassel raised his bowed head to speak. Sheyden’s brow furrowed at the last words.
“You intend to act personally again?”
“Don’t you remember? When we requested reinforcements, Count Enoa didn’t fully agree. What if he suddenly changed his mind and didn’t send the army? Then the messenger is just wasting time to say there are no reinforcements. What do we do next? Send another messenger and wait? If Count Enoa is ignoring us, I have to go and persuade him myself.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to go. Someone else could go instead…”
“Who could persuade him if he’s changed his mind? Luror? Dunathan?”
“Or one of us could go.”
“You all have to defend this castle. It’s better if I go.”
Sheyden looked at him fiercely.
“You’re not trying to escape this situation, are you?”
Kassel cried out defiantly, “I will not prepare a place to flee and then run! If I was the one who persuaded Count Enoa at first, then I must be the one to persuade him again.”
A brief silence followed before Gerald stepped in to mediate.
“In my opinion, it’s not a great idea either. In Normant, perhaps we need the existence of Captain Wolf more than the reinforcement of Count Enoa. Even earlier when we were facing the Black Knights, the terrified soldiers regained their spirits as soon as you stepped in. You are already the spiritual pillar here. Even the king relies on you.”
“In reality, I did nothing. It would have been better for me to die than be helpless at that moment…”
Kassel closed his mouth, then shook his head vigorously before speaking again.
“Anyway, I believe this is something I must do. Please let me.”
Gerald looked alternately at Sheyden and Kassel, rolling his eyes.
Sheyden soon spoke with a cold expression.
“Right. We don’t need a captain who can do nothing.”
“Hey, Sheyden!”
As Gerald interjected in a quarreling tone, Sheyden held out his hand.
“Be quiet. Kassel just gave us an order as a captain. He will handle this himself. It might be the last order from our temporary captain…”
At Sheyden’s last words, Kassel took a deep breath.
“Leave it as you please.”
Both Gerald and Dunmel were surprised, but Sheyden coolly continued.
“The sword of Aranthia will remain with you for now. It may be needed to persuade Count Enoa. But if you fail the mission, I would like it returned. Don’t worry though. There will be plenty of reward as promised in Koholrun.”
Kassel’s lips trembled at Sheyden’s suddenly altered demeanor. Even Gerald, who had initially tried to dissuade him, said nothing now, and Azwin, perhaps from the pain of her wound, merely bowed her head. Dunmel leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
‘No one can violate this decision until we collectively change our minds.’
It was a promise they had made to each other in Koholrun.
Kassel simply nodded.
“Yes. I look forward to the substantial reward.”
With a strained voice, Kassel managed to speak, and Sheyden quickly gave instructions.
“Dunmel, you will leave with Kassel. We need to bring Loyal. Two days to Ambrue by horse. If Kassel can get the reinforcements, he can come directly to Normant with them. From there, it’s another two days to Denmoju. Dunmel, going directly to Denmoju to bring Loyal will save time. Dunmel’s absence will be significant, but we need Loyal now more than ever. A total of four to five days is not that long to leave vacant for reinforcements.”
The part about bringing Loyal might have been a separate matter, but to Kassel, it sounded like Sheyden was telling him to leave so Loyal could return to his original place.
‘Yes. If Loyal had been in my place today, there would have been a real battle between the five White Wolves and seven Black Knights. Another legend would have been born, and the reputation of the Wolf Knights would have soared even higher. I ruined that.’
Dunmel left to prepare, and Gerald and Sheyden went out to eat. Kassel slowly rose from his seat. Azwin, lying down, called him over.
“Kassel, sit here for a moment.”
Her strangely authoritarian tone left Kassel no choice but to comply. Azwin, still lying down, extended her hand.
“Give me your hand.”
Kassel did as he was told, and Azwin held it warmly.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Excuse me?”
“Whatever happened, it’s not your fault. You don’t have to feel guilty.”
“It’s not that. I just…”
Kassel couldn’t finish his words. Tears were threatening to spill.
“I just…”
He tried to speak several times, but the tears were so close he couldn’t open his mouth.
“It’s okay. You can cry.”
“I can’t!”
Kassel shot up from his seat.
“The captain of the Wolf Knights doesn’t shed tears like that. Right? So, I…”
“Who says? Captain Wolf doesn’t cry?”
“Who says? Well, that…”
Kassel was once again at a loss for words. He was tongue-tied, frustrated, and angry. But Azwin still spoke with a smiling face.
“If it’s hard, I’ll let you go. But no one is abandoning you. At some point, we began to see you as our real captain. It’s you who’s driving yourself into a corner.”
Azwin spoke with an insinuating tone.
“Only a white wolf can survive the sight of a white wolf’s fangs.”
Kassel stared blankly, blinking in confusion at what she meant. The tear that had barely clung to his eyelash dropped sharply.
“Repeat after me.”
“What?”
“Repeat what I just said.”
“But that saying…”
“Hurry!”
Azwin said, in a feigned angry voice. With no other choice, Kassel spoke.
“Only a white wolf can survive the sight of a white wolf’s fangs.”
“You did well.”
Kassel, not understanding the meaning, waited for further explanation.
“Soon, you’ll know what your fangs are. I believe so.”
Kassel nodded silently in acknowledgment and left the room.
He knew that her words were nothing more than consolation. He understood that they were only meant to foster a vain sense of hope. So, Kassel hastened.
He wanted to leave before his heart weakened.
☆ ☆ ☆
The next morning, Dunmel and Kassel left quietly without bidding farewell or notifying anyone. Only Sheyden and Gerald watched the two horses gallop away through the morning mist.
“Let’s let him go.”
Gerald, with his arms folded, spoke.
“I don’t want to see Kassel struggling. You acted angrily on purpose for the same reason, didn’t you?”
Sheyden scowled, feeling that his emotions had been too easily read.
Gerald spat resentfully, speaking in an unwilling voice.
“That guy stood at the drawbridge, ready to die. He charged in thinking he had to do something, even though he must have been terrified. You want to see that again? Enough. Let’s let him go.”
“I refuse.”
Sheyden cut him off sharply.
Gerald glared at him.
“Are you really doing that?”
“Shut up! I don’t have the slightest intention of letting him go.”
“Then why did you drive him away like that?”
Kassel and Dunmel’s figures had completely disappeared into the fog. The retreating Red Rose Army was also obscured by the mist.
“I’ve seen enough.”
“What, can you explain in terms that are easy to understand?”
“The reason we could face the Black Knight yesterday was because we had an absurdly overconfident belief in our abilities. We believed that we could fight somehow, as long as the opponent was not a god. That’s why we resolved to fight even when heads were being reattached, and we didn’t tremble with fear. But look at Kassel.”
Sheyden pointed to the castle, shrouded in ominous morning fog, as if the terror of the previous day still lingered.
“He must have been terrified. He got involved knowing that he might not survive. When he stood before me, barely able to breathe, I looked at his back… and I saw it.”
Gerald’s eyebrows twitched.
“So, what did you see?”
“The fangs of a white wolf.”
“Kassel?”
“I’ve been placing my hopes on Kassel all along. An uncertain hope, like expecting a chick to become an eagle. But yesterday, I saw that peeping chick’s beak grow, and its talons emerge. How can I endure seeing that?”
Sheyden’s eyes sparkled like a pirate captain who had discovered treasure.
“Sheyden, you bastard, so you snatched the captain’s position from Kassel?”
“Yes. If he comes back as captain again, even after what I did…”
Sheyden trailed off with a meaningful smile. Gerald glared at him, filled with discontent.
“You didn’t just do this to satisfy your expectations, did you? If Kassel doesn’t come back as he was, you’ll die by my hand.”
“If he comes back as he was, you’ll apologize to me for what you just said.”
“That’s enough, I’ll give you that.”
The two bickered and then looked up at the sky together. A single crow was flying towards the castle’s tower. It seemed to be carrying a letter from Dunatan.
The two had returned to the castle on horseback. Dunathan, not properly dressed, rushed toward them. In his hand, he held a letter.
“You’re here. I heard you went patrolling to the outer fortress, so I came right…”
Dunathan couldn’t finish his sentence, gasping for breath.
“Calm down, catch your breath, and then speak.”
Sheyden said. Dunathan looked back and forth between Gerald and Sheyden, panting.
“Why just the two of you? Where is the Captain?”
Sheyden’s lips trembled before he replied.
“First, tell us what’s happening.”
“My spy in Denmoju has sent news. It appears the place is now surrounded by the Black Lion Count’s army. Judging by the time, they might already be under attack.”
Sheyden listened impassively and looked toward the fog.
“The garrison not being visible in the fog wasn’t them hiding; they truly have retreated.”
Gerald, crossing his arms, nodded.
“Indeed, that good-voiced gentleman isn’t the type to be foolishly caught.”
“I don’t know about that gentleman, but Bading, that friend of ours, was a bit different.”
Sheyden roughly guessed how things had turned out.
“But now that the situation has come to this, was it good or bad that the two of you left?”
Gerald asked.
“Do you know, Dunathan?”
Dunathan couldn’t understand their conversation and waited for an explanation. But they didn’t answer, and Dunathan, frustrated, yelled out.
“What are you talking about? The Red Rose’s army has retreated? The two of you leaving? Where is Captain Kassel?”
–TL Notes–
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