The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 252

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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 (252)
As we approached the outskirts of Belikezel, the air itself seemed to shift into something altogether different.
Despite being withdrawn from the battlefield itself, the scent of carnage still lingered in this place.
Yet there was one distinction—dozens of massive carriages were arrayed just beyond Belikezel’s entrance.
Though calling them carriages hardly did them justice.
Each one stretched to lengths incomparable with ordinary conveyances, their flanks reinforced with iron rivets and layered hide plating.
The interiors were compartmentalized across multiple levels, equipped with shock-absorbing mechanisms capable of cushioning even the most violent and turbulent movements.
Before each carriage stood twelve horses in harness, and at this sight, both the Silent Spear Battalion and the Silverwolf Knight Order could not conceal their astonishment.
“What… is this?”
“It looks like… some kind of transport wagon, but I’ve never seen anything this massive before.”
And these monstrous cargo wagons were not merely one or two—they stretched endlessly in rows, dozens upon dozens.
Lucael turned his gaze toward Arteon.
“Surely… the method you mentioned… is this?”
“Yes, it appears so.”
Arteon nodded in acknowledgment.
Truthfully, even I had not known such things existed.
I had simply needed to devise some means to reach the Capital with maximum speed.
As the Silent Spear Battalion and Silverwolf Knight Order came to a complete halt at Belikezel’s entrance, the gates swung open and a contingent emerged to greet us.
“I’ve been expecting you. Come, welcome.”
Polon Dikargo, the Commander currently overseeing Belikezel, greeted Arteon and Lucael warmly.
Their exploits at Preldior had already spread throughout the entire Northern Region.
Both the emergence of a new martial deity and the Empire’s advance reaching the heart of the North.
As Polon approached with great enthusiasm, Arteon and Lucael offered him a formal salute.
Polon shook his head and spoke.
“Given our circumstances, let us dispense with formalities. But I heard through the messenger… is it truly so?”
Polon’s expression grew grave at once.
Through the messenger Arteon had dispatched earlier, he had received word of the Capital’s situation.
That Belkakrode’s army, which had marched south, was now advancing northward toward the Capital, and simultaneously, war was erupting in the Empire’s eastern reaches.
One might view these as separate incidents, yet all gathered here were veterans who had survived long in the crucible of battle.
Such weighty causal connections could not be dismissed lightly.
Arteon nodded at Polon’s question.
“Because of this, the First Prince and Supreme Commander Belkain are also moving toward the Capital. We must join them with all possible haste.”
“Hmm… I would wish to provide reinforcements from this garrison as well, but….”
Polon turned his gaze toward the opposite side of Belikezel.
Though we hold firm, should our troop strength diminish, there is no predicting when circumstances might shift.
Moreover, Belikezel’s resource supply has now stabilized, has it not?
Should we lose Belikezel now, even by the slimmest chance, all the countless merits we have accumulated could be rendered void in an instant.
Arteon nodded in understanding.
“This alone is sufficient. I am grateful for your consideration, Commander.”
“But first, allow me to introduce you. The Guild Master of the Shadowteon Merchant Guild, who has provided considerable assistance with this transport operation.”
“I am Rishiven.”
With the introduction, the figure beside him stepped forward.
Cloaked in a Robe with the hood pulled deep over their head, they wore a plain mask devoid of decoration.
Their frame was slender, their movements economical and precise.
Each time the wind caught the hem of their Robe, an impression of delicate yet unyielding strength emanated from them.
Lucael’s expression stiffened slightly upon seeing Rishiven.
‘This person… the Guild Master of the Shadowteon Merchant Guild…?’
Lucael was well acquainted with the Shadowteon Merchant Guild.
It had surged dramatically in prominence over the past few years, and now ranked among the three largest trading companies within the Empire.
Yet the master of such a colossal enterprise was a woman.
At that moment, Rishiven approached Arteon and spoke.
“I have prepared everything you requested. Please verify it, and should you require anything else, do inform me. If it is something I can arrange immediately, I shall do so at once.”
Lucael’s expression grew slightly puzzled at Rishiven’s courteous words.
He understood well how those of such standing typically elevated themselves.
No matter how involved they were in military affairs, he had not expected such deference.
But then…
“Lucael, let us load the Squad Members into the Carriages.”
“Ah, yes, of course.”
Every second counted in this urgent situation.
At Arteon’s word, Lucael hastily loaded the Silverwolf Knight Order into the massive Carriages.
Nearly a hundred Silverwolf Knights were all accommodated within just two Carriages.
And then…
“We must depart with haste!”
“Make haste!”
The Silent Spear Battalion members began boarding the Carriages urgently.
Observing this, Arteon turned to Rishiven and spoke.
“This appears sufficient. Thank you for your assistance.”
As Arteon bowed, the eyes behind the mask curved subtly.
The satisfaction of having faithfully fulfilled one’s duty seemed to shine through in that gaze.
Presently, Arteon gave a small nod.
“…Thank you.”
To this, Rishiven murmured something barely audible and bowed.
Once all the Squad Members had boarded the Carriages, Arteon turned to Rishiven and asked.
“How much time will it take for these Carriages to reach the Capital?”
“I have arranged for horse changes at villages along the route. If you travel without rest, you should arrive within a week.”
“A week?”
Lucael’s pupils trembled slightly in that instant.
Normally, even with maximum effort, the journey would require at least three weeks.
Considering not only the distance from Belikezel to the Capital, but also the terrain, it was even more so.
Yet that time had been reduced to a third.
Of course, this meant the coachmen and passengers would have no time to rest either.
But Arteon nodded as if unconcerned.
“Thank you. Then Lucael, let’s depart immediately.”
There was no time for further pleasantries in this place.
At Arteon’s words, Lucael nodded and boarded the carriage.
“Move out! Move out!”
Soon, the Coachman commanding the carriage procession shouted loudly.
Neeeeiiiigh!
Hundreds of horses whinnied and began galloping.
“Hyah!”
The heavy carriages seemed to move sluggishly at first, but soon gained momentum and raced forward swiftly.
Dozens of carriages flowed together like a single stream, departing toward the Capital.
“…Be careful, Arteon.”
Watching the departing carriages from afar, Rishiven murmured softly.
Surely, through this crisis, the Empire would enter a new phase—he was certain of it.
* * *
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!
With each footfall of iron-shod boots striking the ground, the Capital’s air trembled.
One step, another step.
It was not merely the sound of footsteps.
It was the sound of the order that had sustained the Empire crumbling, the sound of a long-maintained balance collapsing.
Clang!
Belkakrode’s soldiers who entered the Capital were silent.
Belkakrode, who led them, called this action a revolution.
But all the soldiers knew the truth.
What they were doing now was an act of treason by a Prince cast aside in the Imperial Succession War.
Most of the soldiers here had become unwitting accomplices to this rebellion.
Some frightened soldiers had attempted desertion, but the only punishment handed down to them was death.
To avoid death, they had no choice but to take this path.
And… they all knew.
From the moment they stepped onto this path, if they failed, not only they but their families and all connected to them would perish.
Perhaps because of this?
A vicious, deadly gleam flowed from the eyes of the soldiers entering the Capital.
“Move! Not a single rat must leave this place!”
“Keep the streets tightly controlled, and kill anyone who resists without discrimination!”
Death descended upon the streets.
In an instant, soldiers flooded the Capital, maintaining tight formation as they seized control of the villages and streets.
Red blood dripped from the weapons they held, and every person in the Capital held their breath, hiding themselves within their homes.
Tension settled over the Capital.
Already, not a single rat could be found on the streets, and even breathing seemed to require someone’s permission.
And the Imperial Palace was no different.
Screech!
“Aaaaaaahhhhh!”
“P-please… spare me…!”
The Elite Soldiers who entered with Belkakrode threw open the palace gates and cut down all who stood in their way.
The golden-adorned doors, once gleaming, were now defiled with blood and earth, and the palace interior filled with soldiers in an instant.
And at the center of it all, Belkakrode walked forward.
The Great Hall he passed through no longer retained its original colors.
Cloth heavy with dried blood swayed with his footsteps.
He had slaughtered every Noble who had supported Sedrian.
Among those who had merely maintained neutrality, only those with useful abilities survived.
Terror took root in the Imperial Palace in an instant, and those who remained trembled in extreme fear, uncertain when death would come for them.
“….”
Silence settled over the Imperial Palace.
As Belkakrode walked toward the highest point visible from this place, he recalled all that had transpired until now.
How much contempt and oppression had secretly compressed and tormented me all this time.
‘But….’
Because of those things, I could reach this position.
Because they served as my foundation, I was able to forge what is mine even more potent and unshakeable.
Thump, thump.
Belkakrode, standing before the Imperial Throne, turned his body and slowly took his seat.
That very seat where only the Empire’s highest—the Emperor alone—could sit.
Thud.
As Belkakrode sat, it felt as though something weighty descended upon the Great Hall.
“The seat suits you most excellently, Your Majesty.”
Count Adrian Valenluke, standing before him, was the first to bow and speak.
Following him, the other Officers continued.
“We congratulate you on ascending to the throne, Your Majesty!”
“At last, the seat has found its rightful master.”
At those words, the desire Belkakrode had suppressed was vividly etched across his face.
Belkakrode opened his mouth, gazing at Baolent standing steadfastly before him.
“Sedrian’s forces will arrive here soon.”
His voice was measured.
“Ending them will be the final act of this revolution.”
The Officers lined up in the Great Hall all nodded in unison.
Now Belkakrode was the Emperor.
With a single word from him, he could change the laws and determine the life and death of every soul in the Empire.
Soon after, Belkakrode looked down upon them and spoke.
“After this battle ends, you will gain the wealth and power you have never possessed until now.”
A moment of silence.
He rose from his seat.
“And from this moment forward, this Empire shall…!”
His shadow, cast against the Imperial Throne, stretched long across the floor of the Great Hall.
“We shall discard the shameful history of cowering in fear. The absolute majesty of the Empire will extend across the entire Continent!”
“Uaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
With Belkakrode’s words, the roar of the officers filled the Great Hall.
It was a cry of loyalty, a cheer toward their own future.
But at the very moment that cheer erupted.
Others were moving with fierce determination toward the Capital.

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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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