Chapter 851

Chapter 851

Cypress stared toward the heavens, rubbing a hand over his coarse, stubbly chin.
“This is truly unjust.”
His dissatisfaction was evident.
Piiiiiiiiii—
A piercing monstrous wail cascaded from the clouds down to the soil.
The rushing wind whipped his crimson cloak and tossed his light-brown hair, which was already beginning to show streaks of silver.
He had imagined that once Ingis attained knighthood, he might finally enjoy a moment of peace, but then the Southern forces unleashed something utterly preposterous.
They were known as Gryphon Riders.
Soldiers perched atop gryphons soared at altitudes far beyond the reach of any arrow, raining down altered scrolls and heavy stones.
It wasn’t a threat that could truly endanger a seasoned knight. Even a mere squire wouldn’t have their head split open by a bit of falling debris.
However, for the southern defensive line, it was a death sentence.
To combat the threat, the entire Order had sacrificed sleep to hurl javelins and fire off volleys.
“We need composite bows that can withstand the raw power of a knight, and at least a three-month window.”
Those were the requirements to take down the beasts circling above—creatures with the torso of an eagle and the haunches of a lion—and the men steering them.
Cypress evaluated their circumstances with cold precision. Without the resources he just mentioned, the southern border would surely collapse. Breaches were already appearing everywhere, and several monster hordes had successfully crossed the frontier.
The South had opened these gaps with the specific intent of funneling those creatures through.
“We lack the leftover manpower to even plug those holes.”
As had occurred in the past, those strays would have to be dealt with by the local lords in their own lands. Even so, defeat felt imminent.
Gryphon Riders—they were a tactical wildcard no one had anticipated.
“Ingis.”
“I am here, Master.”
Had it not been for the newly promoted Ingis and that other knight—the one nicknamed “the knight who fights,” who typically held command over this theater of war—
“We would have been overrun by now.”
The South possessed far more hidden reserves than he had estimated. But was that a reason to tuck tail?
If they were the type to retreat, they wouldn’t have endured this struggle for so long.
“We must find a way to take the fight into the air.”
“…Understood.”
Ingis hesitated slightly before answering. Cypress was a legendary figure known for achieving the impossible.
His reputation was that of “the knight who completes any task.” This didn’t mean he actually planned to grow wings, but they required a solution of that magnitude.
“Failure means our destruction.”
Ingis could read the enemy commander’s strategy clearly. In truth, most generals share the same goals, making their intentions easy to decipher.
“Achieve victory with ease while shielding your own men from harm.”
To fulfill that goal, a commander employs every trick in the book. It is a simple concept to state, but a difficult one to execute.
The South deployed their Gryphon Riders incessantly. From the first light of dawn through the dead of night, the pressure was unrelenting.
To stall them, the Order was essential. They had to intercept falling scroll bundles in midair and keep the gryphons at bay by throwing spears into the sky.
At such heights, common infantry were useless. Consequently, the knights were being worked to the bone without rest.
“At this pace, we will be forced to duel the South’s elite knights in two weeks while completely delirious from exhaustion.”
To put it bluntly, they would be entering the decisive battle at a massive disadvantage.
“Furthermore, the mere presence of those Gryphon Riders has shattered the morale of our rank-and-file.”
The Order was denied sleep. What would happen if they had to face the South’s Guardian in this state?
The Guardian was the title held by a prominent knight of Southern Rihinstetten. He viewed himself as the ultimate protector of the realm, yet he was also a fanatic who believed the world existed solely to suit his whims.
The appearance of Gryphon Riders was truly a shock to everyone.
Rumors suggested the South employed beast tamers, but who could have guessed they could break a high-ranking creature like a gryphon?
And then to use them as platforms for aerial bombardment?
“Must we find a way to succeed regardless?”
His mentor had always been the sort of warrior who lived by that creed.
Regardless, the greatest peril the southern front had ever seen in Ingis’s lifetime was unfolding right now.

—

“There is no need for me to go. Just take the ones who are acting like restless animals because they haven’t drawn blood in a few days.”
Jaxon was the only one to voice this as he emerged. Predictably, his comment sparked an immediate row.
“Who are you calling an animal? The only beastly one here is the bear.”
“Hoho, brother. Are you referring to me?”
“Are you using my heritage as a slur? Are you looking for a scrap?”
Rem, Audin, and Dunbakel all bristled at Jaxon’s remark.
“If we are moving out, I shall take the vanguard.”
Ragna contributed his usual nonsense.
“Absolutely not. We are traveling by horse. I would offer you a carriage, Sir Ragna, but that would draw too much attention, so please just pick the calmest horse available.”
Rophod moved to keep Ragna in check.
“A conflict with the South? Excellent. It is high time I demonstrated the talents I have been refining during my downtime.”
The tireless Pell couldn’t hide his excitement, regardless of what the others thought.
The Dragonkin, the Frokk, and the fairy were the types who didn’t bother responding to such banter. The three of them simply remained close to Enkrid.
As Teresa began a soft melody—
“This is what a brigade of lunatics looks like.”
Kraiss had hit the mark. They were a pack of eccentrics.
In the center of it all, Enkrid remained poised. As one after another insisted on coming along, he simply nodded his approval. The group had grown quite large.
“Let us move.”
Enkrid took the lead. With Odd-Eye included, it was a significant party.
Everyone departed except for Esther and Jaxon.
That was how they began their trek.
Rem played a simple reed pipe and stroked his mount’s mane, while Ragna drifted off to sleep in his saddle, his head bobbing.
Enkrid noticed the dark marks and bruises across Odd-Eye’s back. He ran a hand over them and asked,
“I haven’t seen anyone lay a finger on you. Where did these come from?”
The horse, possessing an understanding of human speech, tossed his head.
Heeeing.
The sound clearly meant, “Of course not.”
“Then why is your back in this state?”
Even a light touch caused the horse’s muscles to flinch in pain.
Heeeing.
This time, the response seemed to say, “I have no idea.”
“Can you talk to horses? Do you share a talent like mine?”
The Dragonkin inquired. Being a mind-reader didn’t mean he could identify the specific powers of others.
“I do not.”
“And yet, you are having a conversation.”
They were speaking through Shinar. She addressed the Dragonkin’s observation.
“It is no different than communicating through a look, Dragonkin. Much like how my intended and I sealed our commitment with a single glance.”
The Dragonkin’s vertical pupils flickered once before he spoke.
“I was under the impression that fairies were incapable of lying. It seems the world has changed.”
Shinar’s brow twitched so faintly it was nearly invisible. Was it annoyance? That was Enkrid’s interpretation.
“What part of my statement was untruthful?”
Fairies do not utter falsehoods. They simply reshape the reality of their words.
For Shinar, the engagement wasn’t a fact yet, but in her mind, it was an inevitable future, making the term “intended” valid to her.
“Commitment and intended.”
The Dragonkin dismissed her words bluntly.
“No. You are a demon.”
At last, the fairy’s irritation surfaced. To her, being called a demon was a far greater insult than being compared to a sprouted potato.
“I am a Dragonkin.”
“It was a figure of speech. Not a lie.”
Lua Gharne stopped trying to follow their logic. Enkrid, for his part, had ignored the bickering from the start.
The entire group was mounted. Locating a horse capable of carrying Audin’s massive frame had been a chore, but the stable master in Greenperl, used to the demands of the open plains, had provided a beast that could manage the weight.
The animal had feathered hooves and a coat of mixed brown and gray—a fine specimen. Teresa was given a similar mount.
“Your name shall be Piyob.”
Audin decided on the name.
Piyob was a figure from the holy texts—a man who survived great trials, hauled heavy stones, and constructed the walls of a stronghold.
“That horse is a female,” the stable hand mentioned as he passed over the reins, but Audin didn’t budge.
“Gender is irrelevant; it is the significance of the name that matters, brother. This horse is Piyob.”
Looking at Audin’s massive build and heavy fists, coupled with his friendly grin, one tended to agree with him. The stable hand was no exception.
“Very well, Piyob. From this day on, you are Piyob.”
The man, who had been busy with a horseshoe, nodded quickly.
Following Audin’s lead, the rest of the group named their mounts.
“Pathfinder.”
That was Ragna’s choice.
“Black-Eye.”
Rem named his for the horse’s dark, ink-like eyes.
The Frokk, due to her slippery skin, had a custom saddle with high ridges to keep her secure; she named her horse “Carriage,” a name devoid of any poetry.
Temares, sensing the horse’s own thoughts, claimed the animal’s name was “Father’s Seventh.”
“Do Dragonkin tell tall tales?”
When Rem asked if the horse actually thought that, Temares gave a nod.
“Only if it is required. It hasn’t been required yet.”
It sounded arrogant, yet it fit the persona of “the one who walks alone” perfectly.
And “Father’s Seventh” was apparently the horse’s own identity. Rem laughed, finding the idea authentic.
Rophod, Pell, and Teresa chose Cream, Speckles, and Pania for their horses.
Cream and Speckles referred to their colors, while Pania was a pilgrim from the scriptures.
Dunbakel simply referred to hers as “Horse.”
The Madmen’s Order consisted of thirteen members—or fourteen, counting Odd-Eye. For a troop headed toward a bloody southern war, the mood was strangely similar to a leisurely outing.
The sky was mostly clear, the sun provided a comfortable warmth, and a refreshing breeze swept through periodically.
“It is a pleasant day.”
Enkrid enjoyed the climate. After leaving the Border Guard and traveling north along the Safe Road, they were greeted with formal salutes at various outposts.
Odd-Eye’s injured back was prominent at the front, but if Enkrid moved toward the rear, it wasn’t a distraction.
They maintained a steady trot on the flatlands and slowed to a walk whenever the animals seemed winded.
Despite the strength of the horses carrying Audin and Teresa, they weren’t bred for war, and they were also burdened with various supplies and gear.
Running them at high speeds was out of the question. They had intentionally chosen horses prized for endurance rather than raw speed.
After clearing several forests and entering wide-open plains, the air became so sharp that the horizon seemed to stretch forever.
“Edin Molsen.”
Enkrid wasn’t pondering combat; he was thinking of the person he had left behind.
“On a battlefield, Edin is a liability.”
His true worth was found in urban management and governance. And Edin wasn’t unique in that regard.
“The tillers of soil, the builders, the creators, the poets, the musicians, the painters.”
Up until now, the world had very little room for people like them.
“This land is governed by strength.”
Knights—the small, elite warrior class—were the physical manifestation of that strength.
Why had that tiny nation beyond the western territories, which Edin spoke of, managed to survive?
It was all thanks to a single elderly knight who spent his life protecting it.
Even though knighthood could prolong one’s peak years, it was unheard of for one to remain active into their nineties.
“And yet, because of him, that country held on.”
The merchant cities stayed afloat by playing powers against each other, but at their core, they were protected by mercenary groups that approached the skill level of knights.
Though they were said to “trade their souls for gold,” they never broke a contract for a higher bidder, so their reliability was respected.
“A world where those lacking martial might can still see their dreams realized.”
This wasn’t just about stopping a war—it was a philosophy that needed to be rooted.
Protecting the rear meant shielding people like that.
Then, were there no such people in the South, the very place they were riding to attack?
The thought occurred to him suddenly.
Tok.
Odd-Eye stopped in his tracks. Enkrid looked forward, his eyes narrowing as he focused on a distant shape.
A knight’s vision far exceeds that of a normal person.
Enkrid spotted a speck approaching from the distance. The speck grew larger with incredible speed.
The plain was so vast that the horizon was visible. Their current path led to Viscount Harrison’s lands, where they intended to rest.
The approaching figure was coming from the south, near the viscounty.
The dot raced across the grass, closing in. Even at a range where detail should have been impossible to see, its speed was terrifying.
At this rate, would it not zip past them in a flash?
Once the gap closed sufficiently, arrows began to arc through the air. They were made of bone, tinted a dull gray. Without needing a command, the group moved to protect their horses and drew their weapons. Odd-Eye moved to evade on his own.
Shshsh—whoosh. Tat-tat-tat.
A chaotic symphony of sounds erupted. Parried arrows fell harmlessly into the dirt.
“Bitter.”
As he swatted away the projectiles, Enkrid detected a peculiar odor. Bitter and fishy.
“Toxic.”
Rem noted.
Ragna, startled from his nap, leaped from his horse. Over a short distance, a knight’s legs are faster than any steed. His reactions were instantaneous. That was his greatest strength.
But the opponent was even faster.
“Look at these cowards.”
Pell growled.
They fired and then retreated. At a velocity that made pursuit seem futile, the attackers vanished just as they had arrived.
“Unpleasant things.”
Rophod voiced the dread prickling at his instincts. He didn’t fear for his life, but the encounter was unsettling.
Heeeing.
A few horses were spooked and tossed their heads, but they didn’t bolt. Odd-Eye had already established himself as the leader of the pack.
By simply moving through the group, he settled the other mounts.
The peace had been broken.
“Centaurs.”
Enkrid identified them. He had fought their kind before when they were at colony-level strength. However, these were different in nature.
After three days, the enemy’s strategy became obvious.
“They are waiting for us to hit our breaking point.”
Rem, a hunter by trade, stated the obvious.