Chapter 143

Chapter 143

***

Leonia Fortress looked as if it was carved out of a cliff. A sheer cliff existed between the high ground and the fortress, and it couldn't be crossed without the drawbridge lowered from the fortress.

The ancient Empire people first established a foundation and built up the castle walls, and after that the Sinatria people, especially those living in the Leonia region, expanded it little by little like a daily routine, reaching its current state.

Since that time exceeded a thousand years, the majesty and solidity of the fortress looked like it was built by giants in the distant past rather than humans.

Yet it had fallen. By a single person. Even if recorded in history, would descendants believe it?

The people of the same era witnessed that unbelievable event directly with their own two eyes. Thus, the gazes of the people directed towards Rickart seemed not to see a fellow human.

A god, or someone inheriting that bloodline. They could only think of him overbearingly so. From a bluffer, they had come to consider him as someone with divine blood flowing in his veins.

Well, it was fine even if he didn't necessarily have a divine bloodline among his ancestors. Because the person Rickart himself was divine.

And being divine meant he possessed something that would soon make him a King. Called the Divine Right of Kings, meaning the right to rule and govern people bestowed by God.

It was an era where that was more important than whether a monarch had ability or not. Since no matter how outstanding the ability, it was meaningless if people didn't follow.

That divine right was inherited solely through bloodline, and therefore the children of the King inherited that right to govern the people.

Occasionally, monarchs obsessing over legitimacy were all due to that reason. Of course, even for a legitimate King, there was a world full of lords who wouldn't listen to his words at all, but without even legitimacy it was truly tantamount to the end.

But did Rickart truly have such a divine something?

Raimund stood on the drawbridge of Leonia Citadel and looked down the cliff.

As if connected to hell, the cliff was pitch-black from a certain point so the end couldn't be seen. And the wind starting from the underground continuously blew upwards.

Killing the Green Dragon brothers was one thing, but leaping across here while the drawbridge was rising truly felt like a miracle.

Just standing still and looking down made one's legs tremble, yet to leap over it on horseback.

"One thing is certain, his courage is unparalleled in the world."

And such courage was impossible to explain unless bestowed by God. At least from the perspective of a commonsensical person.

Therefore, since he made the fortress fall through nonsensical actions transcending common sense, it could be said divine power dwelled within him.

Raimund retracted his gaze looking down the cliff and entered Leonia Fortress. Inside, soldiers had already stormed in and it was chaotic.

They barged into perfectly fine homes and were bringing out anything that could be turned into money. Cast-iron pots, usable furniture, everything down to the last piece.

"A very generous measure."

One of his fellow knights said.

It was understandable, because it didn't go to the extent of dragging out men to kill them, raping women, and setting fires everywhere.

There were types of plundering, and their natures were all different, but in today's world this level was practically at the level of not plundering.

Actually, the people whose assets were taken also breathed sighs of relief being able to sustain their lives, and praised the King's generosity.

Instead, the influential people of the city were all killed and their heads displayed near the castle walls. Of course, their wealth entirely entered the King's pockets.

Raimund grabbed a soldier who was running somewhere grinning holding plundered junk, and asked.

"Hey, where is Sir Rickart?"

"Who is that?"

"......I mean El Cid."

"Ah, he should be up that incline over there, sir."

The soldier looked up somewhere and answered.

Although not entirely, because Leonia Fortress was made by carving the terrain, it wasn't flat. Some places were high, and some places were low.

Raimund went up the incline as the soldier said. There was a large tree there, and Rickart was resting sitting under that tree with his red horse standing next to him. Beside him, no one dared to approach.

Rickart was looking down at the somewhat peaceful sight, if it could be called peaceful, inside the fortress. In the eyes of someone who knew what happened during a proper massacre, this level was very peaceful.

Looking at Rickart, Raimund felt he was unexpectedly a very calm person usually for someone who engaged in such fierce fighting.

"Will the King keep his promise?"

Rickart asked.

"King Santonio's nickname is 'The Bold'. If his personality is truly such to earn that nickname, he will keep his promise."

"Will he not feel threatened?"

All powerful people in the world were suspicious and fickle. Just as the feeling of entering a latrine and coming out was different, no matter how much a promise was made, supporting a war was a burdensome matter.

"Still, perhaps it might be a relief that you, and we, are outsiders. If we were his knights, his thoughts might have been different."

A highly capable vassal had to manage his own conduct well, because if the monarch felt the monarch felt the vassal was a threat to him, being highly capable could rather act as a poison.

What Rickart did, what he accomplished, was to that extent. It was an activity surpassing the King's authority.

However, neither Rickart nor the Flame Knights were King Santonio's vassals. Just as the ignorant soldiers considered them as merely mercenaries, actually that was correct.

But as if he had something to say, Raimund hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"......I confess, I did not trust you, Rickart. Forgive me. Now truly, I am certain there is no man like you in this world."

At Raimund's honest words, Rickart merely smiled and threw a joke.

"Confession you say? I don't have such tastes though?"

"What does that? Ah, my. Hahahaha. How embarrassing."

"By the way, where are you from, Sir Raimund?"

"I am from the northern part of the Empire. There is a small manor called Arendel in Sigpringer. I joined the knighthood 10 years ago."

If he joined 10 years ago, it meant he joined 2 years earlier than Vilter. Then it meant his age was no more than moving past his 20s, similar in age to the 18-year-old Rickart.

"Do you not miss your family?"

"Well, I am not so sure. My memory is faint now. In the beginning every single day was painful and I wanted to return to my hometown. But after about 2 years I didn't even think of them. Everyone is like that. Integrating into the knighthood without even knowing it oneself. Would your brother not be the same? Do not feel too sorrowful."

"......"

Rickart closed his mouth for a moment. He must have said it to comfort him, but he couldn't help but be sad. Because to Rickart, family was more precious than the whole world.

Compared to his past life where he lived like a demon, being able to live a completely drastically changed life was all thanks to his family. Because he came to know there was love, there was happiness in the world.

But just because of that, Rickart didn't needlessly get depressed alone and such. Although he couldn't shake it off, he knew how to quietly bury it.

"What did your family call you? I mean you, Sir Raimund. It doesn't seem like you wouldn't remember this too."

"......"

At Rickart's question, this time conversely Raimund closed his mouth. As the weathered and faint memory seemed to slightly revive, he felt unknowingly melancholic and his heart ached.

No one asked such questions in the knighthood. Only duty, courage, and brothers. That was all.

"......Ray."

"Then I will call you Ray from now on. You may also call me Ricky."

"......Hearing the name Ray makes me feel strange. I feel like I am breaking down. I do not know if this is okay."

"Having your heart shaken is not becoming weak. If you are anxious, trust and follow me. I have never broken a promise. Let's go to Adelorn."

Rickart didn't command. Even though he possessed near-miraculous courage and unrivaled skills, he didn't pressure or suppress people.

To him, who had lived a strictly controlled and restrained knighthood life under the oath of chastity like a monk, this method of treatment was unfamiliar and awkward.

"I understand."

Still, Raimund nodded his head and answered. Although still awkward, he decided to follow the path Rickart guided. Escaping the shackles of duty bestowed by the Empire long ago, that is.

In a way, perhaps because Rickart had experienced it first, it wasn't known if he could suggest something like this.

While Rickart and the Flame Knights were under the large tree like that, King Santonio's knight came up slowly. He took off his helmet, courteously paid his respects to Rickart, and said.

"Señor El Cid, the King summons you."

'Señor' was a word used here in Sinatria to elevate a man. But El Cid was also a term the Salaman people used to elevate a man, so it became a sort of 'Sir Sir', which was a bit awkward.

However, since Rickart wasn't a knight nor a lord with a separate territory, to them, having no proper title to call him, they seemed to just call him that.

Rickart, who was sitting in the shade of the tree, stood up and followed him. The King's knight headed towards the inner keep of the fortress.

As they approached the inner keep, the knights and soldiers of Sinatria stared at Rickart, their gazes completely different from before. They were gazes filled with respect and awe.

Among them, there were people who lightly grabbed their helmets or bowed slightly to show respect, and everyone willingly stepped aside to make way.

Upon entering the inner keep the enemies had used, vassals and knights under the King were swarming in the hall. However, when Rickart arrived, it suddenly became completely quiet.

From here and there, words like Señor, Señor, or El Cid, directed at Rickart, could be heard.

The King's knight guided him through the hall to the room where the King was staying. Climbing the stairs, they reached the 4th floor. Reaching the door, the knight said.

"My King, Señor El Cid has been brought."

"Let him in."

At King Santonio's permission, when Rickart entered the room, the King could be seen looking out the window.

The wind blowing in from outside was truly intense that one would think it might be better to close the cover-like window, but he merely faced that wind and looked out the window.

When Rickart followed his gaze out the window, an unbelievably wide open view towards the west caught his eye. From the perspective of crossing the drawbridge he didn't know, but it seemed to connect to the other side of the mountain.

"From my younger brother's standpoint, if he cannot use this path he must go around the distant mountain range. I have gone around the distant mountain range to settle the score with him a few times, but I wonder if he has the guts to do the same?"

Ignoring this fortress and taking an army on a long detour meant the rear was dangerous. And yet, King Santonio was saying he had taken such risks to carry out such military operations a few times.

Of course, unable to be completely relieved, even though he won a few battles he ultimately had to turn his army back. Still, conducting such an operation itself was an example sufficiently showing his boldness.

"Well, I haven't seen him, so."

"Even though I can't even see him from afar, war is like having a conversation. Whether you truly have the ability to break me, whether you have the leadership to encourage soldiers on a forced march, whether you are prepared to kill me. What kind of conversation are you having with your brother?"

"I am not the type to use words. I merely show it through action."

"Is that so? Yes, that seems like you. But surely you are not without the sorrow of men born from the same womb pointing swords at each other?"

"Of course. But that is exactly why I act even more."

"Are you prepared?"

"......I don't know about being prepared. If I thoroughly crush his army, he won't be able to budge."

"I hope so. But, while doing it, I want you to do it properly. I don't want to support you lukewarmly and clumsily. If I have to make an enemy of the Red Reaper anyway, I want to finish him off."

"I will do so."

"I will dispatch my army. Go to Valensha. The Amir there said he would surrender to me along with converting. Actually it's something that has been talked about since long ago, but due to the long war with my younger brother I had no time to spare to pay attention. If you take over Valensha, it will threaten your brother's lifeline. Since they're cast out from the Empire, the only places where supplies can come from the outside are port cities. If you take over Valensha, you can force a decisive battle as you wish."

King Santonio was someone with extremely outstanding strategic insight. Ironically, much like the Sultan of Mayun, chaotic and brutal worlds gave birth to such preeminent figures.

Because those relying solely on bloodline and with clumsy abilities would have long since dropped out or failed to preserve their lives.

To put it badly, it was practically a hellish world where demons competed against each other and the final victor rose to be King. King Santonio was such a person.

"By the way, I have killed the knights of Valensha. Won't the Amir there dislike it?"

"No. It's the opposite. The Amir has already lost the trust of the Salaman people a long time ago. The loose discipline of the knights there is all for that reason. But if there is something outstanding about him, it's that he knows himself to be incompetent and weak. In difficult times, surrendering early isn't also one of the ways to survive."

"Then I will lead the army and go there."

"Good. But, it's truly fortunate that you are not my vassal."

"Is it okay to dispatch an army even though I am not a vassal?"

"You have already staked your life and fought, making the fortress fall. Is it not my turn to keep my promise now? It doesn't matter that you are an outsider. A King's word must be heavy."

King Santonio had good eyes, good finesse in working people, outstanding strategic insight, and was even imposing and bold to boot.

That's probably why he was playing King in such a chaotic land where races and religions were mixed.

What should I say, among the lords, Kings, and Emperors Rickart had seen so far, he seemed the most fitting to be a monarch.

"I will be going, Your Majesty."

"Call me Sancho."

"Pardon?"

"The next time we meet, call me Sancho. Not King or Your Majesty and the like."

Rickart was slightly flustered, then soon smiled and said.

"The next time, call me Ricky."

Then King Santonio, who was looking at the vast land outside the window, also formed a deep smile.

Rickart came out of the castle, reorganized with Raimund and the knights, and left Leonia Fortress three days later.

The land of Sinatria was mostly high plateaus except for the coastline. And uncommonly strong winds blew on those plateaus. Accordingly, flags also fluttered forcefully.

Unlike when he came here, behind Rickart riding the red horse, hundreds of such flags were fluttering in the wind.

Adding all the knights and soldiers gathered under each of those flags, it easily surpassed 5,000. They marched, looking at the hero's back.