Chapter 875

Chapter 875

## Taking Flight

“Pegasus!”

“Whoa!”

Odd-Eye, the winged companion, flapped its powerful pinions, relishing the roaring approval of the nearby troops.

“Aurelia.”

Cypress acted without hesitation. He summoned Aurelia, commanding her to gather basic rations and the essential gear for aerial travel. His orders were sharp and certain, reflecting the seasoned leadership of a veteran knight commander.

“What sort of equipment is required?”

Aurelia was understandably at a loss; she had never been tasked with preparing for a flight through the clouds.

“Use that sharp mind of yours,” Cypress replied.

“Understood. First, I will seal the water skins and ensure they are full.”

Essentially, Enkrid’s role mirrored that of a high-priority messenger carrying vital commands. Such riders ate and drank while mounted, timing their own physical recovery to match the stamina of their beasts. Every professional courier operated this way. As a knight, Enkrid wouldn’t require specialized intervals for rest; he would manage his own endurance.

‘The priority is sustaining his energy.’

A knight’s appetite rivaled that of a titan. A single knight required as much sustenance as ten regular infantrymen. Consequently, she needed to pack dense, high-energy provisions—specifically fatty, seasoned dried meats suitable for the field. Furthermore, he would have to consume these while soaring through high-altitude winds.

‘I should slice them small for easier consumption.’

Aurelia found herself assuming the role of a provisioner, a task that felt foreign to her. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned shredding the jerky into thin, finger-length strips and shaping them into manageable sticks.

Shinar, observing Enkrid as he prepared to leave, silently offered him a small satchel. While fairies typically consumed less than mortals, a warrior of Enkrid’s caliber required significant fuel, even by fairy standards. The pouch she provided contained the traditional wisdom of her people and was entirely vegetarian. Inside were sixteen bite-sized morsels, perfectly shaped to be eaten in one go.

These treats were a blend of pine nuts, walnuts, raisins, dried figs, and pitted dates, all finely minced and bound with sweet honey. Despite the lack of meat, they were packed with concentrated nutrition.

“These are known as the Fruit of Life.”

They didn’t actually sprout from a branch; they were crafted through hidden fairy alchemy, though they resembled natural produce. The name was a whimsical choice of her kind, harboring their ancient culinary secrets.

“My thanks.”

“They will be exceptionally tasty. Truly. I poured my heart into making them.”

“Did you include a dash of toxin?”

“Your sense of humor is sharpening, fiancé.”

Whether by accident or design, they held this exchange right in Aurelia’s vicinity. Shinar gave a nod and suddenly reaffirmed:

“Yes, fiancé.”

Enkrid chose not to challenge the label. He knew that offering any rebuttal would only encourage the fairy to escalate her boisterous teasing. Instead of engaging in wordplay, Enkrid focused on his final instructions.

“Ensure he is well-fed. Squire.”

He addressed Aurelia. The stunning young woman—a squire and the granddaughter of the most legendary knight in the realm—gaped at Enkrid and stammered:

“…Me?”

She was so caught off guard that she neglected the proper formal address for a superior officer. Enkrid, however, remained entirely composed, showing no hint of social awkwardness.

“Odd-Eye.”

He gestured toward the Pegasus, who had returned to his side after a joyful lap around the camp.

“Ah, the mount. Understood, Sir.”

Enkrid noted her rigid posture. He identified several areas where she could improve—flaws that were obvious to him without much effort. The perspective he had gained from defeating numerous knights served him well here. If he took charge of her regimen, her progress would far exceed its current pace. However, now was not the moment to interfere.

‘Aurelia, I see.’

Enkrid perceived the underlying issues that had eluded both Rem and Ragna. His insight came from a life spent not at the summit, but dragging himself up from the depths, analyzing every ridge and the very texture of the path as he ascended.

‘She possesses both the gift and the dedication.’

But she was too inflexible.

Cypress had always pushed for his granddaughter to develop a more adaptable mindset. As the leader of the Red Cloak Order of Knights, he possessed vast experience in molding warriors. He understood the solution. Yet, the success of his teaching depended on the recipient. For someone like Aurelia, his traditional methods would take years to bear fruit. Enkrid saw a different way.

‘I know exactly how to fix it.’

Setting aside raw martial skill, there were few who understood the nuances of training better than Enkrid.

“We will have a discussion upon my return.”

His words carried the weight of that promise.

“Without me?” Shinar chimed in playfully.

“You should watch. Fairy training techniques would be a valuable addition.”

Aurelia signaled her agreement with a nod.

By the time the final preparations were made and Enkrid climbed into the saddle, the sun was dipping low toward the horizon. Odd-Eye was buzzing with restless energy.

*Hiiiiing!*

The creature’s whinny was melodic and sharp, its hooves dancing against the earth with a spirited rhythm. Despite having served as a war mount all day and engaging in an aerial skirmish, the beast showed no weariness. The same was true for the rider. Enkrid’s expression was fresh and alert; he had even taken the time to wash away the grime of battle.

“I am departing.”

He spoke with a casual air, as if leaving for a minor errand. Temares briefly considered following, but even with his Dragonkin heritage, he could not hope to keep pace with the velocity of a Pegasus.

“I shall await your return.”

Temares’ intent was focused: he would observe Enkrid. He possessed an unusual detachment regarding the whims of fate. He felt no lingering anxiety and would never display it. He was Dragonkin. While Enkrid intrigued him, if the man were to fall, Temares would simply accept the reality and move toward his next objective. If not for Enkrid, he would have already vanished into the Demon-lands, slaughtering or bypassing any beast or foe that stood in his path. This internal calculation remained hidden from the others.

“There might be more than one enemy knight.”

Crang spoke up. They lacked a complete picture of the opposition’s strength. On the surface, it was nearly impossible to count the number of high-tier warriors. How could scouts expect to identify and retreat from beings with senses far superior to their own before being detected? Even the most elite scout could only provide an estimate of troop numbers. Furthermore, even if they had spotted the enemy knights, there was no way to relay that data instantly. Magical communication crystals existed but required specific setups; they weren’t practical for real-time updates in the chaos of a campaign.

Consequently, they relied on messenger crows, recently receiving a dispatch from Marcus.

*The groundwork is set. We shall claim victory and reunite with you shortly.*

Did the kingdom’s survival hinge on Marcus’s engagement? Not entirely. Even if the Rihinstetten forces marched on the capital, defenses were ready. This was all in service to the King’s command. Despite facing a looming catastrophe, Marcus had sounded almost cheerful. He noted that his path was the right one, his words serving as a testament to his life’s mission and principles.

“If my death can ensure the safety of thousands of our citizens, isn’t that a worthy end?”

He had once remarked that while his father died peacefully in bed, he expected no such luxury for himself.

“When you see that Enki boy, give him a message for me. Tell him this is how men fight without the aid of knights.”

Crang delivered those words faithfully. Now, Enkrid was heading out to witness that reality for himself.

The setting sun cast elongated shadows, painting the left side of Enkrid’s face in deep amber. As the evening chill set in, his cloak draped down to his lower legs. He pulled the garment tight and fastened the clasp, preparing for the drop in temperature. The sky was cold, and the wind chill during a long flight would be biting.

It was twilight—the hour when the sun that had ruled the day began to fade. The softening light suggested its departure was merely a pause. Even if it vanished, it was no tragedy; its death was fleeting. By morning, it would rise again to bathe the world in light.

“Well then.”

*Clack.*

Odd-Eye surged forward, galloping down the path that split the center of their temporary encampment. The sun seemed to accelerate its descent as the brightness waned. Cutting through the gathering gloom, the Pegasus took to the air. Enkrid felt the familiar pull of gravity in his stomach. He gritted his teeth and held his breath, having learned the trick of it from his previous flights.

“Hey! Leave a few for me to deal with and bring them back!”

Below, a boisterous barbarian bellowed. Looking down, Enkrid saw him already engaged in a lively chat with Ragna and their respective weapons.

“You’ve had your fun. It’s my turn.”

That sounded exactly like something Ragna would say. Though Enkrid couldn’t hear the specific words, the sentiment was clear. With these fleeting thoughts, he flew on. The sky was cloudless. As he ascended, it felt as though the orange glow of the sunset, bleeding over the distant mountain range, had expanded to fill the entire firmament.

Odd-Eye, fueled by excitement, flapped its wings a few times before catching a steady thermal. From that point on, the journey became smoother than anticipated. The force of the wind against his face made it impossible to sit upright, forcing him into a somewhat cramped position. However, it was a far more pleasant trip than he had braced for. Enkrid pressed his chest low against the beast’s neck, much like a knight charging on a stallion, and remained in that prone position for the duration of the flight.

—

Rihinstetten had deployed gryphons in the southern theater to fix the Red Cloak Order of Knights in place. They exploited the knights’ sense of duty, knowing they wouldn’t abandon their foot soldiers. Meanwhile, the primary Rihinstetten force—knights included—had split into two wings to perform a pincer movement.

Predicting this from inside Naurillia was nearly impossible. They had even failed to guess the path of the Rihinstetten advance. The primary reason for this strategic blindness was the absence of Balrog.

‘Balrog is no longer there.’

Initially, the High Pontiff had been skeptical. Wasn’t that creature a wandering demon of legend? While he maintained his caution, a denizen of the Demon-lands confirmed the rumor. Balrog was dead. For years, that name had been a heavy shadow over one of Rihinstetten’s borders, acting as a natural barrier. The beast killed anything that crossed into its designated territory, which touched both Rihinstetten and Naurillia.

To be precise, it was closer to Rihinstetten, effectively blocking a highly efficient march route. Naurillia had always found the route puzzling, as it required traversing the Demon-lands. It was only a viable path because the High Pontiff had secured a pact with a demon of that realm. Thus, Balrog’s passing had cleared the way for Rihinstetten’s expansion.

Naturally, Enkrid and his allies were unaware, but the death of Balrog was the catalyst that set the southern front in motion.

‘The way is clear.’

The High Pontiff divided his strength into four major divisions. One, which he led personally, served as the central hub. Another consisted of the Gryphon Riders and four elite knights from the Amethyst Order, tasked with neutralizing the Red Cloak Order.

The remaining two divisions had distinct targets. One marched toward Nauril. The other took a wider detour, racing along the paved highway constructed by Naurillia. At the terminus of that road sat a city that had recently gained notoriety.

“Where did they say we were heading?”

“Border Guard.”

The commander and his accompanying knight conversed. Rihinstetten was well aware of the Mad Order of Knights. It was impossible to ignore them, given the commotion they had caused. They had quelled a civil war, uprooted a continent-wide heresy, and crushed numerous outlaw bands. Reports of their actions in Oara had filtered out as well.

Awareness demanded preparation. To that, the High Pontiff applied a simple strategic truth: if you wish to break a unified front, you attack their foundations. He viewed it as a basic yet effective maneuver. By seizing, destroying, and looting Nauril and Border Guard, they would shatter the enemy’s spirit and cripple their logistics. The High Pontiff imagined his forces closing a net around the entire kingdom of Naurillia.

‘A protracted conflict is unnecessary.’

The High Pontiff reached the same conclusion as Crang, though their methods differed. While one side chose to stand openly and challenge the enemy to a direct confrontation, the other sought to force multiple desperate battles by striking at the heart of the enemy’s territory. However, the High Pontiff had missed one detail: he had failed to anticipate Crang’s true plan.

—

Marcus Baisar had been raised to recognize the threat from the south.

“If I had to identify the deadliest blade pointed at our throats, it would be them.”

This was a lesson from his father. Born as a high-ranking noble who could have lived in leisure, Marcus chose instead to study history and strategy. His father had tracked the southern movements for over a decade. Later, Marcus used that data to predict enemy movements and draft potential defensive maneuvers. He had carried this focus from his youth into his current prime. One might say his father’s long-term influence had finally come to fruition.

Marcus frequently contemplated what a true war with the south would look like.

“The worst possible strategy is simply hoping the enemy attacks where you’ve prepared. The second worst is trying to guard every single point because you’re unsure of their target.”

Those were the words of Kraiss, a member of the Mad Order of Knights. Marcus had picked up a great deal from that man. It was impossible to spend time with Enkrid and not learn something; Enkrid’s insatiable desire for knowledge had rubbed off on those around him.

“And the superior strategy?”

He had absorbed what he could from Kraiss, that bold entrepreneur. In exchange, Marcus had pledged to support some of Kraiss’s commercial ventures. Energized by the partnership, Kraiss had helped Marcus refine his strategic habits.

“You lead them. You bait the hook and guide them exactly where you want them to be.”

If Rihinstetten moved, what would be their logic? Where would they strike? Since one cannot be strong everywhere, the solution was to concentrate power and funnel the enemy into a specific trap.

‘Ideally, without them realizing they are being led.’

Marcus had developed a vision. Once he gained access to royal authority, he diverted portions of the military budget to employ woodcutters and engineers. For the past several years, Marcus’s primary project had been secret environmental engineering. He had leveled ground, moved massive boulders, and created artificial ridges. Every modification was a setup for this specific day.

“Baisar’s secret art: Swallowing the Terrain.”

Marcus whispered the name. It was a strategy years in the making—the way for common men to overcome the extraordinary.