Chapter 19: Honor and Pride
The rows of soldiers standing firmly in their formations were spoken softly by a soft breeze that swept across the dry region known as the Katze Plains. With their unflinching gaze fixed on the horizon or the soldier in front of them, these steadfast figures resembled statues.
Farmers, blacksmiths, craftsmen, and tinkerers stood among their ranks, individuals who lacked combat training and physical prowess to contend with the imperial soldiers. Yet, the king had called upon them to take up arms, and dutifully they obeyed, knowing that defiance would lead to a lifetime behind prison bars.
Each man, whether old or young, carried thoughts of loved ones, family, or the comforts of home within their heart. Some were acutely aware of the horrors that awaited them, while others remained blissfully ignorant of the true terrors of war. The men at the forefront understood their dangers but steeled themselves against fear, gripping their spears tightly to steady their trembling hands.
At the front, many noblemen rode on horses, carrying armor made of fine silver as they galloped back and forth. Even in war, they had that smirk of superiority on their faces, as if they were more worthy than simple peasants. But no scratch marked on their armor nor any show of use. Still, their thoughts went from: 'Why am I even here? I cannot be at the front! I should be at the back, where it is safe!' to 'This Ainz Ooal Gown will pay for making the kingdom do that much!'
They lacked a lot of strategic nuance. The only order the nobles gave their soldiers was to advance and attack anyone who dared to oppose them. The new monarch had tried to introduce more complex strategies, but the nobility found the simplicity of clear instructions to be the most understandable.
Seated atop his steed, King Zanac gazed into the distance, fixating upon the enemy fortress before him. His eyelids drooped ever so slightly, conveying an air of indifference or boredom. Yet, behind this façade, he concealed a torrent of genuine emotions, a skill he had mastered at a tender age, as befitting his royal upbringing.
Unknown to anyone, he felt a slight shiver go down his spine. He tightened his grip on the leather reins to control this natural reaction. He had been observing the enemy camp for some time now.
'That bastard will make me do the first move. So be it!' He raised his sword, symbolizing the nearby troop leaders to ready their men. It was heavy, but he had trained before to hold it long enough in the air.
'Some of you will die. But bringing down Ainz Ooal Gown is more important. Then the nobles will finally be satisfied.' With that, he put down his sword, and the marching began. Men after men began moving as the commanders issued the king's order.
The troop leaders yelled, "Forward!" and the conscripted soldiers complied. While King Zanac anxiously awaited the appearance of the enemy forces, they moved toward the field's center. He retrieved his telescope and pointed it at the fortress, which was appearing unfazed by the approaching army as its gates creaked open.
"Impossible..." Zanac exclaimed, his eyes widened and his mouth agape. From the imposing fortress of Ainz Ooal Gown, a procession of knights wearing obsidian-colored full-body armor appeared. They possessed terrifying shields with dreaded spikes on each end, and their swords appeared to have been forged from the darkest abyss. Zanac sifted through their equipment and noted how similar their armor and weapons were. The knights formed a perfectly coordinated army, standing at the same height.
'Still, having such good-equipped knights under his command, who is this Ainz Ooal Gown? A mystery it is. But I don't believe he can fight my army. They seem in the hundreds. Wait, are those mounted knights?' He questioned himself as he saw cavalry exiting the enemy's fortress, all equipped to the brim. They looked similar to the other knights, only that they rode a menacing stallion with what seemed a horn on its head.
'Even cavalry, we have made quite an enemy. Even if the losses are significant, numbers should overwhelm even the best cavalry. If not, we have reinforcements coming.
The front row's ranks started to shake with fear as the knights drew closer. Fearful faces turned backward, searching for a way out, but there was none.
"Where do you think you're looking at? The enemy is right there!" The troop leader's voice thundered from atop his horse. Yet, even he felt a twinge of worry, witnessing the ominous approach of these dark knights. Uncertainty momentarily clouded his thoughts, for he had expected a mere militia or a band of low-level adversaries. This turn of events caught him off guard. Nonetheless, as a noble, he dared not reveal his fear or cowardice just from the enemy's sight.
Merely meters away, the soldiers thrust their spears toward the dark knights. In response, the knights effortlessly raised their shields, blocking the assault and causing the spears to shatter against their cursed defenses.
Swiftly, the knights retaliated, their swords cutting through the soldiers quickly, each claiming ten lives within ten seconds. Heads flew, and the knights desecrated the corpses underfoot. All that remained was a collage of crimson paste, shattered armor, and strewn organs. The scene horrified every witness, leaving the soldiers demoralized.
The mounted cavalry proved even more formidable, carving a path of destruction through the ranks of the Re-Estize army without relenting. They attempted to pierce the horses' defenses with their spears but found their efforts futile as the tips shattered upon impact. Neither the horses' armor nor the riders were even slightly affected.
To call it a massacre would be an understatement.
Yet, against all odds, the tide of battle inexplicably shifted, and the dark knights began to retreat, albeit leisurely. For the Kingdom of Re-Estize, this presented an opportunity.
"This is it! They have reached their limits! Now is the time to overpower them!" exclaimed a noble, even as his soldiers were being slaughtered like dogs.
The soldiers, too, saw this retreat as a sign of the enemy's waning strength. Forty-five thousand remained, a force thought sufficient to overwhelm the armies of Ainz Ooal Gown.
The knights charged relentlessly at the beleaguered warriors, granting them no respite. Yet, from a bird's eye, one would observe that not a single knight had fallen. They stood tall, their armor unblemished despite the onslaught of countless spears that sought to pierce their defenses.
A daring soldier attempted to strike a knight through his visor, and he was successful. To his surprise, the knight quickly pulled out the spear and hurled it back with deadly accuracy, piercing the soldier and those behind him. The unfortunate man saw a monstrous knight approaching him, crushing his skull under its weight and taking his life instantly. The knight was of colossal stature and weighed well over half a ton, making it seem like an everyday walk.
In complete disbelief, King Zanac and his men observed. Saying they were shocked wouldn't be accurate. These knights' skills far surpassed anything they had ever come across. Their footsteps left deep ruts in the ground, and their attacks easily tore through steel.
"K-King Zanac, what shall we do now?" a soldier called out, jolting the young king from his trance. Zanac turned toward the man and was met with a visage of terror mirroring his own.
He replied, his face as pale as a ghost, "I... I am unsure." Despite not having fallen ill, he experienced a severe sense of fatigue. Was he being tormented by his failure's agony? He turned his attention back to the battle and watched as his army was wiped out. Despite the retreat of the knights, he kept taking significant losses.
'I never expected this much. We need these reinforcements right now! If this continues, I might have to call for a retreat.'
Zanac felt it. The failure of his first battle would haunt him forever if he would ever come back home. He could see it etched upon the countenances of every noble present, an indelible mark that would follow him relentlessly until time deemed his failure forgotten. But that seemed impossible.
The dark knights' formation abruptly changed, opening a path as they veered to the side to make room for a mysterious entry. They positioned themselves with exacting precision, allowing a narrow path to appear.
Slowly it found its way to the end of the knight's troops, showing a shocking picture to all who gazed upon it.
A majestic mount, shrouded in darkness and endowed with six legs, exuded an eerie dread. Its obsidian-black armor concealed its features, while dark red eyes peered through the visor, emanating a sense of malice. A bone-chilling growl emanated from its mouth.
The rider atop this horse-like creature was no less fearsome, with armor covering every inch of their body. Their billowing cloak, which gave the appearance of a misty veil, along with their jet-black plate armor, created an elongated shadow. The rider's gauntlets, however, caught everyone's attention. One was as black as the abyss and conjured up images of demons, while the other embodied the pristine nature of an angel's touch.
Upon glimpsing their visage, one would encounter a visor that bore a horrifying maw reminiscent of a skull crowned with menacing spikes. Above his head floated an ominous orb of crimson color.
The terrifying figure ensnared the minds of the first witnesses who saw this mounted lord, leaving them motionless and speechless.
The figure raised its mace and urged its steed forward. The horse moved forward slowly at first, picking up pace as time passed.
It was too late for those in the front row to realize what would happen. In its wake, body parts were scattered as the mounted enigma tore through the first ten ranks. Its mace swung ruthlessly, sending powerful shockwaves across the battlefield.
As Zanac saw the figure, his jaw almost fell to the floor. 'Who is this? From the description of Ainz Ooal Gown, this person won't be him. Having such powerful subordinates under him, monsters rather that clear through armies like butter. This enemy is a bigger fish than expected.' Zanac's mind teetered on the edge of reason, overwhelmed by the sight of the mounted knight. Desperate to salvage what remained of his forces, he made the only logical choice within his grasp.
"Order a retreat!" Zanac bellowed, his command swiftly relayed by the nearby captains and then to the front lines. Yet, it would take time for the message to reach every corner of the battlefield.
The soldiers started to run in large numbers as they realized how pointless it was to fight back against the harbinger of death. Unfortunately, their efforts were in vain, and most of them were overcome by the unholy rider's persistent attack and died.
'I can feel myself gathering exp. Even if this is a brutal method, it gets the job done.' Ainz ruminated, dispatching men with a chilling nonchalance that had become second nature since assuming the mantle of an undead being.
He would continue to do so for minutes until he felt his timer running out. His watch alerted him in a sweet tone, the opposite of what he looked like.
'So it is time. Well, I had my fun and gathered some exp.'
His mount appeared to be retreating from the battle as it suddenly veered toward his fortress just as he was about to kill another escaping soldier. Ainz had had enough and did not want to weaken the kingdom's army further. For the upcoming events, they were still needed.
As Zanac saw this, he did not believe what he had seen.
'Why is he turning around? Either he is exhausted or wants to spare the rest of my army for another purpose. He is a powerful force, maybe someone from the Theocracy. But I believe Stronoff should be able to fight him properly. But that theory might not be that bad. The Theocracy has tried to weaken the kingdom for a while now. Maybe this Ainz Ooal Gown is simply an agent of theirs.' King Zanac believed firmly that the Warrior Captain would be able to defeat the mounted knight the next time they clashed. At least, he hoped so. 'It seems like a defeating retreat for now, but better having some soldiers left than none. Or I would lose my credibility completely.'
Zanac looked over the devastation and saw only 25,000 of the original 50,000 returning, exhausted, terrified, and unwilling to return to the battlefield.
Zanac clenched his teeth as he retreated to his tent, the remaining captains following behind with defeated visages.
"Your Majesty! I fear we are ill-equipped to face these knights. Their coordination, training, and sheer strength surpass our average soldiers. Pray tell, when can we expect reinforcements?" The inquirer was Baron Radford, a noble directly sworn to the king. With his pragmatic perspective and deep understanding of the direness of the situation, he was Zanac's most trusted confidant at the moment.
"Our victory lies in the combined might of the entire Re-Estize army. Together, we shall defeat the formidable knights of Ainz Ooal Gown and their commander! Though they may appear formidable, our overwhelming numbers shall surely tip the scales in our favor!" proclaimed Baron Vangraf, a noble whose words were met by Zanac's perplexed gaze. Was this noble blind to the enemy knights' devastating onslaught against our kingdom's forces? Or was it merely the arrogance of a noble at play?
"Let us not forget that the empire marches upon the Katze Plains. Time is of the essence, and we must swiftly determine our course of action," added Baron Diorque, his eyes fixed on King Zanac, seemingly awaiting the young ruler's decisive word. Zanac, deep in thought, opened his mouth but hesitated, carefully weighing his response.
"Now that we have witnessed the outcome and gauged the strength of Ainz Ooal Gown's forces, we know that a mindless assault would get us meager results. We shall allow our soldiers respite, engage in prayer, and carefully observe the enemy's movements," Zanac declared, garnering nods of approval from each noble in attendance. "Very well. Rest and ensure your loved ones are aware of your safety. You are dismissed." Zanac's parting words were met with bowed heads as the nobles departed for their respective tents. As the last one exited, Zanac's weariness overwhelmed him, and he collapsed onto his chair, drained despite his lack of direct involvement in the battle.
'So this is what it feels like. If I come out of this alive, I will try to avoid it even more.'
After allowing himself a brief respite in the chair, Zanac turned his attention to his desk, sifting through scrolls in search of a specific piece of information.
'Where is it… Ah yes. Here it is.' He put the scroll on top of his desk, reading it. '200'000 altogether… Mmh… ' He fell into deep thought as an idea took form in his mind. 'If I surrender now and give E-Rantel to Ainz Ooal Gown, the empire will step on his territory if they arrive here. Surely they cannot be informed that fast of the switch in leadership. But it would make no sense if they are already allied, and the Baharut troops would simply march through E-Rantel, mmh…' As Zanac scrutinized his grand design, flaws became increasingly apparent. Imperfect as it was, his options were limited, and he reluctantly acknowledged the constraints.
Suddenly, rising from his chair, Zanac strode out of his tent.
"You there!" He shouted at a messenger sitting on the ground, eating bread. The man stood up straight and bowed at King Zanac's voice.
"Your Majesty." He said, showing proper courtesy.
"I need you to travel to the enemy fortress." At those words, the man shivered, his whole body trembling at that remark. "You will deliver a message that I, King Zanac Valleon Igana Ryle Vaiself, am open to communicating with Ainz Ooal Gown or one of his commanders." As Zanac explained the man's next job, he could only stare into the distance until Zanac stopped issuing his command. "Do you understand?"
"O-Of course, Your Majesty!" The soldier said as he bowed again and went for his horse. He patted it on the head, a tear moving down his face as he bit his teeth and put himself together.
The soldier eventually mounted his horse and rode off toward the enemy camp, his mind filled with prayers for the safety of his loved ones and himself.
Zanac watched as the messenger made its approach to the enemy camp. To the man's luck, he was not shot or attacked on his way.
'So they are not entirely hostile.' He was impressed that the enemy managed to bring all troops back into the fortress in just that short time. But he wouldn't have expected any less since he saw how organized they were.
When the messenger arrived before the fortress, he cleared his throat and began speaking. "His Majesty, King Zanac Valleon Igana Ryle Vaiself, is ready to communicate with your leader to negotiate further terms." In response, the gates began to creak open, and the messenger found himself face-to-face with the very knights who had slain his comrades. His horse instinctively stepped back, increasing the distance between itself and the two knights. The mount sensed an unnatural aura emanating from the Dark Paladins, its instincts grappling with newfound fears.
The soldier was no different, frozen with fear, unable to move any part of his body.
"Our lord will meet with your king. Amid the Katze Plains." One of the knights spoke in a deep, dreadful voice that made the soldier gulp before answering.
"V-Very well. I will bring him this message right away." He turned his horse around with all his strength and aimed for the camp. Somehow, he felt great satisfaction at that moment. Having escaped death was a thing not happening twice. Tears streamed down his face as he galloped, eager to return to the sanctuary of the king's tent.
The resonant echo of marching troops resounded in the distance, their synchronized footsteps harmonizing as they approached their destination, the hallowed Katze Plains. A legion of Imperial Knights, trained and clad in the finest armaments the Empire could mass produce, surpassed the ordinary Re-Estize soldier in every aspect. These warriors, handpicked for their prowess, were a force to be reckoned with.
Yet, their numbers were not vast, merely 60,000. Nevertheless, they possessed a clear advantage over the Re-Estize army, which mainly consisted of levies and conscripted peasants, lacking the finesse of professional soldiers. The Empire boasted a formidable military infrastructure, maintaining a standing army that was always ready.
The Empire's military system was far more advanced, having a professional military that was always ready. Meaning their food supply wouldn't decrease by raising troops.
Amidst the convoy, a carriage bearing the insignia of the Baharut Empire stood at its heart. In it, one of the Imperial Knights, Nimble Arc Dale Anoch, a count and knight simultaneously. His appearance was that of a young fellow with short blonde hair and the familiar armor for one of the four Imperial Knights. While stylish, it delivered the best protection and mobility the empire could offer.
To describe Nimble as merely handsome would be an understatement, as he rivaled even the most renowned Imperial Knight, Baziwood Peshmel. He was the most famous womanizer in Baharut, having over 50 wives if he accepted all the offers from nobles that tried marrying him their daughters. However, Nimble's priorities lay elsewhere, his unwavering commitment solely devoted to serving the Empire and its revered Emperor.
Nimble was dozing off as he rested his head on his hand when three distinct knocks pierced the air. He yelled, "Enter," an officer entered the carriage with surprising news.
"Lord Anoch, a foreign carriage has been discovered at the head of our convoy. They claim to be emissaries of none other than Ainz Ooal Gown." The mere mention of that name caused Nimble's eyes to widen in disbelief, and he scrutinized the officer, seeking confirmation.
He asked, his voice tinged with confusion, "Are you certain they uttered that name?" Nimble was reassured of the emissaries' claim when the officer confirmed it.
"Indeed, my lord. It was an elderly gentleman, a butler, who identified himself as Sebas Tian." The soldier's words prompted Nimble to stroke his chin as he fell into thought.
'The Emperor wants Ainz Ooal Gown as an ally no matter the cost. And it seems they made the first move. I should talk with this emissary if I want to obey the Emperor's orders.' He then looked back to the soldier, his mind already set on what to do next.
"I will meet with the emissary." Nimble declared before exiting the carriage. Outside, a steed patiently awaited his arrival, accompanied by a squire ready to assist him. Setting off towards the front, Nimble noticed a figure standing in the distance, silhouetted against the horizon. Drawing nearer, the contours of the man's features became discernible, a countenance marked by silvered hair, stoic visage, and an unexpected hint of strength beneath his aging body.
'He seems like a warrior, a martial artist, maybe.' Nimble thought as he approached the man, who patiently awaited his arrival.
Ten meters away, Nimble left his horse to walk the next steps.
"Greetings, Lord Nimble Arc Dale Anoch. I am Sebas Tian, emissary of my master, Ainz Ooal Gown," the man introduced himself with a respectful bow.
"I would have preferred to receive you under more auspicious circumstances, Sir Sebas Tian. Pray forgive any deficiencies on my part." Nimble said, simply out of courtesy. Since emissaries would often be met under different circumstances, it was only right to say this, even if the emissary came unnoticed.
"No fault lies with you. Our arrival was deliberately unannounced for a good reason," the butler explained, retrieving a scroll from his jacket. "Our master has a proposition for your Emperor." With that, Sebas offered the scroll to Nimble, who accepted it with due care and attention.
As Nimble begins to read it, he quickly catches onto Ainz Ooal Gown's offer. 'Ainz Ooal Gown wants to offer a deal for an alliance. Since he wants E-Rantel, this would be a good step, or so the Emperor said.' Nimble looked back at Sebas, already knowing his answer to this. But he could not act without a word from the Emperor.
"I shall convey this message to His Imperial Highness. We shall halt our advance until an official response is received. In the meantime, we shall arrange a tent for your stay as a gesture of hospitality," Nimble proposed, his words delivered with poise and sincerity.
"We are grateful for your graciousness and accept your offer humbly," Sebas replied, his voice carrying an air of humility befitting his role as an emissary.
"Very well. I shall now deliver your message to His Imperial Highness, Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix," Nimble affirmed, briefly bowing before departing toward the griffin division. Numerous messengers stood ready, poised to journey swiftly to the capital at a moment's notice.
"Take this scroll to His Imperial Highness with utmost haste. A squadron shall accompany you to ensure your protection," Nimble commanded, his knights acknowledging his orders before departing on their griffins, wings beating rhythmically. The journey to Arwintar would be long, but it would be a matter of hours by air, with ample time for rest.
Nimble smiled when thinking of what had just happened. The very thing the Emperor had desired had presented itself, albeit under suspicious circumstances. Nevertheless, so long as the Emperor's directives were fulfilled, he deemed the early arrival of the emissaries acceptable.
'Maybe they were heading for Arwintar to speak with the Emperor himself? But instead, they met us on their way. No matter, the Emperor will receive the word and probably accept their offer.' He thought, walking to his newly constructed tent, already filled with a lovely sofa he lay upon immediately.
A dark horse, bearing two horns on its side, could be seen galloping the Katze Plains, passing by many corpses of former Re-Estize soldiers. On it was a menacing rider, clouded in a dark mist. The knight radiated a menacing aura, like the incarnation of death itself. Their swaying cloak followed after, creating an eerie trail of shadow in its wake as it danced in the wind.
On the opposing side of the desolate expanse rode two men, King Zanac and Baron Radford, the latter he deemed trustworthy enough to accompany him. But the man was afraid when he heard this, wanting to stay in the camp rather than meet with the enemy's dreadful leader. But he obeyed the king's orders like the loyal noble he was.
Both men felt their hearts race as they drew nearer to the mounted knight, yet they pressed on, their determination overcoming their innate fear.
'If I can delay the next battle long enough or even accomplish a temporary truce, my troops should be safe for now, and we could await our reinforcements without fear of an attack. We need to hold this position no matter the cost! That is why I must succeed in this short talk with their leader.' Zanac thought as he closed in on the location they had both agreed to. Many fresh bodies and others in varying decomposition stages were scattered over the middle of the field. Some dead continued to writhe in pain, potentially holding onto a shred of life. To ignore the awful circumstances around him, Zanac turned away from the gruesome scene and tried to concentrate on the matter.
As they reached the heart of the Katze Plains, Zanac and his comrade slowed their steeds, mirroring the cautious pace of the enemy commander. The knight appeared even more, imposing up close, surpassing Zanac's initial estimation. Towering over both men effortlessly, his presence sent a chill coursing through their veins as though a sudden icy gust had swept through the desolate plains.
"I presume you are the enemy commander of Ainz Ooal Gown's forces? I am King Zanac Valleon Igana Ryle Vaiself, current commander of the Re-Estize forces." Zanac declared, summoning all his courage to address the intimidating figure before them.
However, the knight remained motionless and unresponsive, as if deeming it beneath them to converse with mere mortals.
"I am indeed. I am Alucard Ooal Gown, commander of the armies of Nazarick," the armored figure finally spoke after a prolonged silence, their voice more chilling than their appearance. It resonated with an eerie authority, deep and commanding, yet infused with a subtle undertone of charisma. Though their helmet obscured their features, their words rang clear.
'So their home is called Nazarick. It must be the place from where Ainz Ooal Gown comes. And seeing that he has the same names, he must somehow be related to Ainz Ooal Gown.' Zanac deduced silently, his mind racing to make sense of the situation.
With the knight confirming his position, Zanac drew a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. "I come bearing an offer for your ruler, a proposal to stop this battle before more blood is shed. While I understand your lord's ambitions, E-Rantel is a vital city for the kingdom and cannot be surrendered so easily," Zanac spoke, hoping to sway the armored commander.
Still, it became evident that their resolve remained unswerving. Witnessing this unyielding determination, Zanac sighed, realizing what course of action he must take. A faint smirk played upon his lips. He then glanced at his bewildered Baron, who looked on in utter confusion. Then, Zanac turned his attention back to the knight. "It appears as though there is no room for negotiation. In that case, we extend an invitation to Lord Ainz Ooal Gown to visit the capital of Re-Estize, where we can discuss the terms of the city's transfer under his reign," he declared, surprising his noble companion, who stood dumbfounded, but refraining from uttering a word.
The knight remained unmoving but nodded in acknowledgment upon hearing Zanac's proposition. "Very well. The matter is settled. We will provide further details regarding our arrival in due course," the dark lord affirmed, pivoting their horse around. "Farewell, King Zanac," he uttered before departing, leaving behind a twilight trail.
Zanac felt his breath return to him as the enemy commander removed himself from their presence, slowly making him feel not so dizzy anymore.
'That was something else. I must record every interaction with them. It seems we are dealing with something big. The key to win is strategy.' Zanac pondered, motioning for his companion to accompany him back to the camp.
Upon their return, a soldier hastened to his side, clutching a scroll tightly as he approached the king.
"Your Majesty! Word has reached us from the capital! Prince Barbro Andrean Ield Ryle Vaiself has returned after his disappearance!" the soldier announced, causing Zanac to instinctively release a breath he had unknowingly been holding. The news of his brother's return baffled him, as he believed him dead. How could this be?
"Impossible! Are you sure that the message is from the capital?" Zanac inquired, seeking assurance, yet the soldier's conviction left no room for doubt.
"There is no doubt, Your Majesty. Please, take a look for yourself. It bears the seal of our late king," the soldier implored, presenting the scroll while genuflecting on one knee. Zanac accepted it eagerly, eyes scanning its contents, only to be seized by an overwhelming sense of disbelief.
"This cannot be..." His brother's reappearance would undoubtedly undermine his claim to the throne, and Zanac knew his brother would stop at nothing to secure his ascendancy. Many nobles, too, had supported Barbro, considering his seniority and martial prowess.
"Well played," Zanac conceded silently, realizing the game's depth unfolding before him.