The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 249

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Mad Spearman of the Northern Front (249)
Within the thick stone walls.
In the windowless secret chamber, a single flame no larger than a fingertip flickered, casting a dim, wavering light.
Perhaps because of this?
Though the room held not a breath of wind, each tremor of the flame sent the shadows of those present dancing like phantoms across the walls.
A single table stood at the center.
Six figures sat around it.
They all knew why they had come to this place.
Being summoned here was proof of his trust in them—yet it was also like crossing a river from which there could be no return.
A gulp.
As the sound of a dry swallow shattered the silence, Belkakrode, the Second Prince of the Empire before them, spoke.
“You’re all prepared, I trust.”
His tone held nothing remarkable.
It was as if he were merely asking what one thought of a stroll.
Though I didn’t know how to respond, the answer to that question was already determined.
Then Count Adrian Valenluke carefully broke the silence.
“Your Highness.”
His voice was as composed as he could make it, yet it trembled faintly at the edges.
“What we do is against the Imperial Palace itself. Once we begin, there is no turning back.”
A truth everyone already knew.
Yet the very act of voicing it aloud revealed the magnitude of the fear he harbored.
Still, Adrian did not stop and continued speaking.
“The Imperial Guard, the Imperial Knights, even the magical barrier of the Mage Tower.”
Another minister took up the thread.
“Even if we succeed, should we fail…”
The rest of the words never came.
There was no need.
Treason.
The crime of destroying one’s own bloodline.
Belkakrode lifted his head.
The dim light of the magical lamp illuminated only half his face.
“So then.”
He spoke.
“Do you intend to simply withdraw?”
Belkakrode’s eyes gleamed with a sharp, piercing light.
“If the Imperial Succession War continues as it stands, Sedrian will ultimately ascend to the throne as Emperor.”
Belkakrode knew this well.
That he could not defeat him in fair competition.
From childhood… it had always been this way.
Such experiences and memories accumulated, layer upon layer, forging the ambition that now consumed Belkakrode.
Belkakrode spoke, looking at those gathered in the room.
“If that comes to pass, you too will find yourselves unable to maintain your current positions. You will be cast down to a far deeper abyss than where you stand now.”
Or you would lose your lives.
That much was already decided.
Preserving the station of one who sided with a rival was something that only happened in fairy tales.
Belkakrode then posed a question to them.
“Is there anyone among you with the confidence to live that way? If so, speak now. I will allow you to withdraw even at this moment.”
“….”
“….”
No one answered.
It was not from fear of Belkakrode.
They understood themselves far too well—as he had said, they were incapable of surviving at the bottom.
At that moment, a man standing nearby posed a question.
“Then… if this matter concludes successfully and His Highness the Prince ascends to the highest seat of the Empire.”
He asked the question that those gathered here most desperately wished to know.
“May I inquire what we shall receive?”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
They swallowed dryly, their eyes fixed upon Belkakrode.
“Of course. It is only natural that such matters be confirmed.”
Belkakrode glanced at Baolent standing beside him.
Baolent then placed the documents he held upon the table.
The pupils of those seated trembled at the sight.
“This, this is….”
“It is best to have certainty in all things. This is a certificate bearing my Official Seal. I shall never forget your achievements when this is over.”
The contents written upon the documents were simple, yet their weight was far from light.
It detailed precisely what rewards would be bestowed once this revolution concluded.
And as he had said, at the very end was the Official Seal—used only by Second Prince Belkakrode—impressed with unmistakable clarity.
A stout man with a heavyset frame bowed his head deeply as he spoke.
“I shall follow His Highness the Prince to the very end.”
“I too shall follow His Highness the Prince.”
And the one beside him, who wore a Robe drawn deep over his head, spoke last.
It was Jaikl Mion and Bwein, the practical leader of Nocturne.
“Nocturne has already completed its preparations. The moment you issue your command, we can move at any time.”
The instant the Second Prince’s order falls, the highest-level Assassins of Nocturne will eliminate the key figures connected to the First Prince.
When they fall, their chain of command will falter, and military authority will be shaken.
Then the soldiers waiting outside will begin their assault, and once those within the Capital open the City Gate….
“At that moment, His Highness the Prince will be able to obtain everything he desires.”
“How much time do you estimate it will take?”
“One day for preparation. If the main battle proceeds without obstruction, it too will conclude within a single night.”
From the moment it begins, it must unfold without the slightest hesitation.
Any delay whatsoever could unravel everything.
Belkakrode nodded as his subordinates delivered their reports.
And the one bearing the greatest responsibility in this revolution was none other than.
“Your resolve is firm, Baolent?”
Though he had stood by my side my entire life, protecting me, I knew this was no easy decision.
That is why I needed to confirm once more.
Where he truly stood.
And whether he could truly wield his power for my dream.
Belkakrode regarded Baolent in silence.
There was still conflict in his heart, so Baolent did not answer immediately.
But then.
At last, his resolve crystallized.
“From the moment I pledged to serve Your Highness, this life has been yours.”
Baolent spoke with finality.
“I will dedicate this one life… and serve Your Highness without fail.”
At those words, Belkakrode’s lips curved upward in a long smile.
Now… the master of the Empire would change.
* * *
Only two weeks had passed since Arteon and Lucael departed.
By now, they might have already captured Karzadin and be moving toward Rohar Gorge.
Belkain, who remained in Preldior, was preparing the next stage with Sedrian.
“Currently, supply and rations are the most critical concern. Food is one matter, but to hold the occupied territories, constructing fortresses is absolutely essential.”
“If you need anything, I will provide whatever support is necessary. I have continued to maintain contact with the Imperial Family since arriving here, so we can respond swiftly.”
Though we had crossed a great mountain, two years still remained until the Imperial Succession War concluded.
No one could predict what variables might arise, so we could not afford complacency.
But then it happened.
“Heart of Steel! I beg your pardon for this urgent intrusion.”
A soldier burst into the barracks, his voice urgent.
Belkain looked at him and spoke.
“What is the matter?”
“An urgent report from the Imperial Palace. I have orders to deliver it directly to His Highness Sedrian.”
The messenger hastily extended the letter he held.
Sedrian quickly broke the seal and examined the contents.
“…”
His eyes scanned rapidly downward across the page.
And as he read, his gaze grew sharp.
Belkain asked.
“What is it, Your Highness?”
“The Neolth Kingdom… has crossed the Eastern Border and begun war.”
“What?”
The air in the barracks froze in an instant.
Belkain could not hide his somewhat bewildered expression.
The Neolth Kingdom was one of the larger kingdoms bordering the Empire.
Its military forces were formidable, and above all, did it not possess several warriors of 7-Star caliber?
Yet despite this, they were not in a position to recklessly provoke conflict with the Empire.
The disparity in power was evident, and moreover, they too had much to protect.
“What is their justification?”
“That much I cannot determine. But if they have chosen to wage war at this particular moment, there can be only one reason.”
“They are exploiting the division of our forces caused by the Imperial Succession War. However, based on the Neolth Kingdom’s conduct thus far, their grounds appear decidedly flimsy.”
Belkain spoke.
Though he had never left the Northern Region, was he not well-versed in the affairs of the Continent?
And yet, precisely because of this, he could not fathom this war.
But it was at that moment.
“And regarding the intelligence Your Majesty instructed me to investigate separately… the whereabouts of the Second Prince’s forces currently stationed in the Southern Region have become untraceable.”
“…?”
Sedrian’s expression hardened.
“Belkakrode’s forces, which should be engaged in warfare in the south, have vanished without a trace? What do you mean by this?”
“It is… exactly as I say. At some point, they simply disappeared. We are currently investigating their direction of movement, but… we have yet to ascertain it.”
Unease flickered across both Sedrian’s and Belkain’s faces.
With this unforeseen development, the war with the Neolth Kingdom erupting in the east and the disappearance of the Second Prince’s forces from the south seemed to interlock in an unsettling manner.
Belkain spoke, looking toward Sedrian.
“Surely… the Second Prince is not harboring different intentions, is he?”
His tone was cautious, yet laden with profound suspicion.
Sedrian too gazed at the letter with a hardened expression born of anxiety.
But soon he shook his head.
“No matter how greedy that fellow may be… it cannot be. Besides, he would have no chance of success.”
The Capital, being the heart of the Empire, boasted defenses more formidable than any other place.
Even with the twenty-five thousand troops under Belkakrode’s command, they could never breach the firmly sealed gates of the Capital.
And moreover, was not ‘he’—the Empire’s greatest swordsman—stationed in the Capital?
It was utterly unthinkable.
Yet there was one thing that troubled him….
“Who is the commander that departed for the east?”
Sedrian’s pupils trembled slightly.
He naturally believed it to be otherwise, but still, there existed such a thing as contingency.
However….
“Duke Carbain Eisenhardt personally led the forces eastward.”
Thump!
It felt as though his heart plummeted with a sound that rang distinctly clear.
Belkain and Sedrian exchanged glances.
“Your Majesty.”
“…The Imperial Family likely has no intelligence on Belkakrode’s forces.”
No—even if they did, it would be too late regardless.
They cannot afford to keep constant surveillance on the Second Prince while the Imperial Succession War rages on.
‘Belkakrode… that serpentine bastard won’t leave any openings.’
A sudden, piercing headache crashed down upon me.
I truly hope it won’t come to that, but if by some chance… if even one in a million…
Sedrian clenched his lips tightly.
“We need to move our troops immediately.”
Belkain shot to his feet. He turned to the messenger before him and spoke.
“Send word at once to Major Arteon at Rohar Gorge. And Sergeant Claw!”
“Sergeant Claw!”
“Prepare the soldiers immediately. Leave only a skeleton force to defend this position—everyone else moves out!”
The atmosphere turned ominous in an instant.
With tension sharp as a blade descending upon us, Claw rushed frantically out of the Barracks.
And Sedrian, who rarely showed emotion,
crunch!
crushed the letter in his grip with brutal force.
He, too, had sensed it.
That perhaps this Imperial Succession War… might end before even three years had passed.
The night of Preldior.
An unforeseen, blade-like wind swept across the Continent, and tremors began to ripple outward.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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