The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 254

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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 (254)
The great army descending from the Northern Region had set foot upon the Outer Plains that encircled the Capital.
Across the plains where ashen dust lay low, only the sound of soldiers’ footsteps echoed softly.
Despite tens of thousands of troops in motion, the surroundings possessed an eerie quietude.
As if the very wind held its breath, silence had descended upon the fields.
The village remained unchanged.
As though nothing had transpired, the ordinary rhythms of daily life persisted like a gossamer veil.
The City Gate stood open, the marketplace lay arranged as always, and the farmers had not abandoned their fields.
The sound of spades cleaving earth and the cries of livestock felt strangely foreign.
No evacuation processions appeared, no citizens murmured with excitement born of rumor.
It was unnatural.
“…There are not even whispers of what has transpired in the Capital.”
The Officer’s voice carried an unmistakable note of caution.
He too sensed that this silence was far from ordinary.
Sedrian surveyed his surroundings slowly from atop his horse.
The horse’s breath rose gently, drifting across his field of vision.
At this distance, some fragment of what had unfolded in the Capital should have leaked outward.
Yet nothing had.
The silence only bred greater unease.
Then Belkain spoke in a low voice.
“It means the occupation was conducted with such stealth and speed.”
Sedrian’s brow furrowed deeply.
His gaze gradually dimmed.
He had never underestimated his younger brother Belkakrode.
He knew of his hunger for power, knew that given the opportunity, he would seize it without hesitation.
But….
‘Surely not to this extent.’
What that man had accomplished could not be dismissed merely as ‘exceptional.’
Every movement had been calculated with excessive precision.
Despite having been executed in so brief a span, he had seized the Capital as though sealing it, and had perfectly blocked any information from leaking to the outside world.
As if he had been preparing for this all along.
‘Have I truly known so little of that child?’
Days past swept through Sedrian’s mind.
Hours spent with their backs turned to one another, consumed entirely by politics and war.
What force had driven him to this point?
Who, when, and what choice had birthed this catastrophe?
Sedrian condemned himself.
Not as a rival for the throne of Emperor, but as the elder brother to Belkakrode.
Then Belkain spoke quietly from beside him.
“Do not harbor such thoughts, Your Highness.”
His voice was resolute.
“This is not Your Majesty’s fault. It is the Second Prince’s choice.”
Sedrian fell silent for a moment.
He tightened his grip on the reins, then slowly nodded.
There was no time to be lost in emotion now.
The Capital lay ahead.
And before it, a scene of unprecedented horror—one never recorded in the Empire’s history—might be waiting.
Imperial soldiers turning their spears and swords upon one another.
The moment that possibility crossed his mind, Sedrian spoke.
“I will meet with Belkakrode first. By any means necessary… we must avoid a situation where Imperial Citizens are forced to draw blades against each other.”
Belkain called out to him.
“…Your Majesty.”
The meaning behind those words was unmistakable.
Did he refuse to accept that Belkakrode had already crossed a river from which there was no return?
Svein, standing beside him, spoke softly in response to Belkain’s worried gaze.
“I will accompany you, so do not worry.”
It was a brief statement, yet one brimming with unwavering resolve.
Belkain nodded at this.
“Very well… I understand.”
With Svein at his side, at least minimal safety was assured.
Yet Belkain drove home his final point like a nail.
“You must not place yourself in danger, Your Majesty. Should anything happen to you… all of this will come to naught.”
Sedrian nodded wordlessly.
Not long after, the Capital came into view.
The massive Castle Wall revealed itself beneath the low morning light.
Thirty thousand troops from the Northern Region encircled the Capital, taking their positions.
The soldiers’ breathing layered upon itself.
They all understood what this moment meant.
But then it came.
Buuuuuuuuuuuu!
A long, harsh Horn cry echoed from the Castle Wall.
It was like a roar tearing through the silence itself.
Immediately after, soldiers took their positions along the top of the Castle Wall in unison, and iron Shields clanged against the stone with a metallic ring.
Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang.
Thousands of Archers then formed their Formation and drew their bowstrings taut.
Arrowheads caught the sunlight, gleaming coldly.
The moment Sedrian witnessed this sight, his expression hardened.
This was no mere warning gesture.
Belkakrode had already resolved to wage war against him.
Seeing this, Sedrian spoke in a low voice.
“…Send a messenger. We must avoid a full-scale battle between Imperial Citizens at all costs.”
I straightened in my saddle as I spoke.
“I will meet Belkakrode myself and settle this once and for all.”
Belkain hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
He summoned a Soldier and dispatched him as a messenger.
Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud!
The horse bearing the messenger galloped away swiftly.
Dust trailed in a long plume behind it.
But not long after, something strange caught our eyes.
The horse the messenger had ridden was returning. The problem was.
“…?”
“What?”
There was no one on the horse.
The Officers standing nearby furrowed their brows as they stared at the animal.
As the messenger’s horse drew closer, the Officers’ expressions twisted with growing dread.
And when the horse arrived completely.
“…!”
“Mad…!”
Belkain and the Officers’ faces contorted in unison.
Dangling from the saddle was the messenger’s head.
His eyes were still wide open, his mouth frozen in the shape of words left unspoken.
Upon that neck lay a single, cleanly severed wound.
That was Belkakrode’s answer.
I said nothing for a long time.
Time seemed to have stopped.
I simply stared at that head and drew a deep breath.
‘Is this….’
That child’s decision.
My eyes darkened with despair.
There was no opportunity left to narrow the distance between us.
“…Your Majesty.”
“Wait… Just wait a moment.”
I lowered my head and spoke softly.
My reason had already made its decision, but my heart could not follow.
Why… How could this be….
Confusion weighed upon my shoulders, driving me relentlessly forward.
But soon I slowly raised my head.
Though the situation remained dire, I was still the Commander leading these tens of thousands of troops.
I gazed toward the Capital ahead and spoke quietly.
“…All troops, shift to battle-ready formation.”
In this moment, the Empire had crossed an irreversible turning point.
* * *
Fifteen thousand troops stretched in a long column, advancing toward the Capital.
The marching formation extended far, accompanied by the low, continuous sound of metal equipment clashing.
The march proceeded in perfect order, yet the air hung heavy and oppressive.
The soldiers themselves spoke little, their gazes fixed only ahead.
Carbain kept his eyes forward from atop his horse, never wavering.
His horse’s breath came rough and labored, but his expression remained rigid.
“….”
The distance to the Capital now was not far. Yet the distance in my heart felt greater than any battlefield I had ever crossed.
On every battlefield, there had been a clear enemy. But this time, there was none.
‘Belkakrode… a traitor.’
The words echoed through my mind again and again.
The more I thought about it, the less real it felt, and I could not even muster a laugh.
It was a choice no one had anticipated.
I had thought him ambitious, but I never imagined he would move with such boldness, such precision… and such speed.
It was as though he had drawn the entire conclusion long ago.
Yet there was no point in dwelling on what had already come to pass.
What mattered was how to proceed from here.
But as I rode toward the Capital, I could not find that answer.
I could only feel my grip tighten on the reins.
Then it happened.
In the distance, a lone rider bearing a flag inscribed with the Pattern that symbolized the Empire came galloping urgently toward us.
A column of dust announced their presence.
It was a Messenger from the Imperial Palace.
“Whoa!”
Carbain pulled hard on the reins, bringing his horse to a halt.
The hooves scraped against the ground as the beast stopped.
The troops naturally slowed their pace in response.
The flow of the march gradually came to a standstill.
As Carbain stopped, the approaching Messenger tumbled from his horse, dropped to one knee, and thrust a Letter forward.
The Messenger spoke, breathing heavily.
“A Letter from Prime Minister Taifren.”
Carbain’s hand froze momentarily.
That name hung in the air.
Taifren.
That name alone revealed how deep the situation had descended.
As I broke the Seal and read through the Letter, my expression grew increasingly rigid.
A subtle tremor became visible in my eyes.
“…Are you certain the Prime Minister sent this Letter?”
“I received the Letter directly from Taifren.”
At the Messenger’s words, Carbain’s pupils trembled.
The Letter contained word that Taifren had sided with Belkakrode.
Each character pressed heavily upon my chest.
The Letter bore the tone of reluctant necessity given the current circumstances.
“….”
Carbain’s silence spoke volumes far beyond words.
Soon his grip tightened.
The Paper nearly crumpled in his grasp.
“…Damn it.”
The curse that escaped his lips carried despair more than anger.
Carbain understood why Taifren had sent such a Letter.
He knew what calculations and resolve had driven this choice.
He even understood the reasoning behind Taifren’s support of Belkakrode.
If I were to make an enemy of Belkakrode now, an enormous amount of blood would spill.
The weight of that bloodshed painted itself vividly in my mind.
Moreover, if Sedrian’s Army and the troops occupying the Capital under Belkakrode’s control were to wage war….
‘In that moment, the Empire would fall….’
A despairing sigh escaped Carbain’s lips.
It was inevitable.
Though we had retreated, the Neolth Kingdom still watched for opportunity in the East, while the Kaerbaldt Kingdom and Ermatir Kingdom faced off in the South.
Tension remained taut at every border.
If civil war were to break out within the Empire, there would be no way to contain it.
Those Guys would surely advance like starving beasts, baring their fangs at the Empire.
And with internal conflict, the borders would lie defenseless, allowing the ravenous kingdoms’ armies to devour the Empire’s territories with abandon.
Before Carbain’s eyes, burning Castle Walls and crumbling cities overlapped into view.
Smoke and screams drifted like phantoms.
Centuries of history.
Hegemony built with blood and steel.
All of it could vanish with a single choice.
Cold sweat trickled down my spine in that instant.
‘That above all else….’
Must be prevented absolutely.
One could discern it simply from the characters pressed firmly into the Paper.
Taifren’s urgency and resolve were etched into every stroke.
Taifren too was merely ‘pretending’ to side with Belkakrode from the same understanding.
A choice to buy time.
For now, the Empire’s collapse had to be prevented by any means necessary.
“Haaah….”
Carbain exhaled a long breath.
Air descended deep into my chest.
I had endured countless battlefields, yet never had I felt such compression as this.
A fight that could not be resolved by sword and blood.
But a decision had to be made.
Duke Carbain grasped the reins once more.
His grip tightened.
“Return and tell Chancellor Taifren that I have received his Letter.”
It was not a clear answer, yet this response alone would convey its meaning.
A gray answer—neither refusal nor consent.
Soon after the Messenger departed.
“…We advance.”
The troops under Carbain’s command turned toward the Capital once more.
Now… it was time to make a decision.

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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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