The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 257

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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 (257)
The City Gate of the Capital swung open, and the heavy vibration shook the earth.
Military boots and hoofbeats overlapped, cleaving through the dawn fog.
Duke Carbain, standing at the vanguard, marched toward the Imperial Palace with his head held high.
His stride was unfaltering.
The soldiers before him parted to either side, beginning to follow as if escorting him.
Belkakrode had come to receive Carbain, but in truth it was to monitor and maintain vigilance.
And Carbain, too, was aware of that subtle undercurrent.
Yet he showed no sign of it, merely proceeding toward the Imperial Palace.
And when Carbain passed through the entrance of the Imperial Palace and stepped inside.
“Welcome, Duke Carbain!”
Belkakrode greeted him with a hearty laugh.
At this, Carbain halted his steps and bowed respectfully.
Belkakrode’s lips curved upward.
The very fact that he had bowed without any resistance was already a promising beginning.
Belkakrode spoke.
“Come inside. I have been waiting for you.”
Only the Emperor could address Carbain, who held the Empire’s most singular position, in such informal speech, yet Belkakrode’s tone carried no dissonance.
Carbain followed him silently toward the Great Hall.
And upon arriving at the Great Hall.
Footsteps echoed.
Belkakrode settled upon the Imperial Throne as naturally as his tone of speech had been, as if to reveal his own power.
As if displaying the full extent of his authority.
Seated upon the throne, Belkakrode looked down upon Carbain and spoke.
“You have labored greatly, Duke Carbain.”
“I have merely done what was necessary.”
A somewhat formal exchange followed. But Belkakrode soon broached the main matter, regarding Carbain.
“Then… have you made your resolve?”
A brief yet piercing question.
At this inquiry, Carbain, who had remained silent until now, drew a measured breath.
And then, slowly… he lowered his head and spoke.
“…I shall follow Your Majesty’s will.”
…
Your Majesty.
The moment that title passed from Carbain’s lips, Belkakrode’s brow twitched.
A peculiar, unsettling emotion welled up from deep within his chest, yet he maintained an impassive expression with effort.
For now was not the time to reveal such feelings.
Belkakrode immediately continued, regarding Carbain.
“Currently, hostile forces have gathered outside the Capital. They have thrown the Empire’s citizens into terror. Now is the time to restore order.”
Instead of answering, Carbain glanced sidelong at Taifren, who stood nearby.
Then he looked at Belkakrode again and spoke.
“Your words are wise, Your Majesty. However, there is one matter that must be resolved before that.”
“Speak.”
“I heard there is an agreement between you and Taifren Pauriut, the Prime Minister. I humbly request that you honor that promise first.”
That promise referred to sending out the key nobles currently in the Capital and those connected to them beyond the city walls.
In that instant, the air in the Great Hall grew taut.
Belkakrode’s brow furrowed slightly.
“That promise shall be kept, Duke. You need not worry. However….”
“No, Your Majesty.”
Carbain’s voice cut through Belkakrode’s words with unwavering resolve.
“If that promise is not fulfilled, I will not move.”
A brief silence fell.
In that moment, Belkakrode fixed his gaze upon Carbain, while Carbain kept his head bowed, avoiding his eyes.
A peculiar tension seemed to press down upon the Training Ground like a suffocating weight.
The kind of strain where blood could spill at any moment without surprise.
Belkakrode’s eyes, fixed upon Carbain, gradually darkened with fury.
“…Very well. I shall honor the promise. However, to fulfill that promise, one problem must be resolved first.”
Belkakrode’s gaze turned cold and sharp.
“Do you not understand that if we do not eliminate that rabble surrounding the Capital, their safety will be placed in greater peril?”
“That is….”
“Or perhaps.”
Belkakrode cut off Carbain’s words abruptly and continued.
“Are you conspiring with the rebels outside from the beginning?”
“….”
Belkakrode had delivered a powerful move.
He had created a situation where Carbain had to choose between two paths.
Either attack Sedrian’s forces to send out the ministers’ families beyond the city, or….
‘Or I must abandon the effort.’
If he recklessly pursued gain in this situation, he could endanger everyone present here.
If Belkakrode perceived that Carbain was conspiring with Sedrian, he would have no choice but to take the loyal subjects of the Empire and their families remaining here as hostages.
Carbain took a step backward.
“Conspiring with rebels? Such words are beneath consideration. I merely failed to comprehend Your Majesty’s greater design, being consumed with fear for those trembling in these ominous times.”
Carbain lifted his head and spoke to Belkakrode.
“I shall personally take the field and crush the army outside the Capital, opening the path.”
At those words, Belkakrode’s lips curved upward in a long smile.
“I shall trust those words.”
Carbain—the Empire’s sole 8th Star warrior.
With his very existence, Sedrian could no longer harbor ambitions for the Capital, and….
‘Even if those families depart….’
After all, ministers like Taifren remain within the Capital, do they not?
No matter how formidable Duke Carbain’s power, protecting all of them was an impossibility.
‘With this….’
All the chess pieces I could deploy were now in position.
What remained was to completely eliminate Sedrian and consolidate all the Empire’s factions under my control.
If that were to happen.
‘This Empire would… truly become mine.’
Laughter threatened to burst forth at any moment, yet the closer he drew to that precipice, the more composed Belkakrode became.
The most perilous moments always came.
‘Right before reaching the summit.’
That was why he questioned the situation, again and again.
Belkakrode spoke.
“Then let everyone prepare themselves.”
With his command, those gathered in the Great Hall rose and departed into the corridors beyond.
And the moment they left.
“Are you there.”
With Belkakrode’s voice.
“We await your command at any moment, Your Majesty.”
Nocturne’s finest high-level assassins materialized in an instant, dropping to one knee before Belkakrode and bowing their heads.
Observing them, Belkakrode spoke.
“Monitor Duke Carbain and escort any carriages departing the Capital.”
Belkakrode’s gaze sharpened upon them.
“Should there be even the slightest hesitation in Duke Carbain’s actions, or should any hidden intention reveal itself….”
The rest need not be spoken; the meaning was sufficiently clear.
The leader among the assassins, still bowing, responded.
“We shall obey your command, Your Majesty.”
As they vanished into shadow, Baolent maintained his silence, merely observing Belkakrode.
This rapidly unfolding affair had finally entered its true trajectory.
* * *
The wind of late winter brushed across the low-cut grass, and from a distance, the landscape appeared as though nothing stirred.
Yet beneath that tranquility lay the traces of tens of thousands of footsteps and a tension that could erupt into bloodshed at any moment.
The Imperial Flag hung draped along the Castle Wall, and the thick City Gate remained firmly sealed.
Standing side by side at a vantage overlooking the Plains were Sedrian and Belkain.
It was Sedrian who first broke the quiet silence.
“…What do you think will happen.”
It was a cautious question. Not merely a prediction, but rather a confirmation—whether he could bear the weight this choice would bring.
Belkain took a moment to steady his breath before answering.
“The plan itself is sound. However… it will not be easy.”
His voice was low, and his face bore a grim expression.
It was clear that Belkakrode had recklessly set the board in motion.
Yet at the same time, he was a man of meticulous temperament.
“The hostages remaining within the Capital will not be released without compensation. He will demand a price, and he will verify that it has been paid. He is not the type to trust people.”
Sedrian’s eyes narrowed.
He already understood what Belkain’s words presupposed.
“If….”
Belkain continued.
“Should Duke Carbain draw his Sword against us in the process, then we must withdraw our troops without hesitation or looking back.”
It was a resolute judgment.
There was no room for emotion to intervene.
“If we engage him in battle, casualties are inevitable. Too many eyes are watching. The moment combat erupts, Duke Carbain will be forced into a choice as well.”
And what that choice would mean was abundantly clear.
“The Sword of an 8th Star Warrior is no different from a natural disaster to soldiers. A mere graze means death.”
A brief silence.
Sedrian, weighing the gravity of those words, slowly nodded.
“If such a situation arises… then that is what we must do.”
Yet soon he turned his gaze back toward the City Gate.
“But for now, let us observe. Things may unfold more smoothly than we expect.”
His voice carried not hope, but rather a stubborn refusal to abandon possibility.
The sacrifice of the innocent must not come to pass.
Imperial Citizens drawing Swords and Spears against one another—even less so.
This matter must, in all respects,
‘hold accountable only those who set the game in motion.’
Sedrian’s expression hardened with resolve.
He gazed silently at the Capital’s City Gate.
Beyond that firmly sealed door, the fate of the Empire drew breath quietly.
And at that same moment.
“Still nothing?”
Lucael, who had been watching the City Gate, murmured softly.
Beside him stood Arteon and Svein, both maintaining silence as they waited.
Ultimately, this Operation would depend entirely on what Carbain, who had entered the Capital, would do.
“The delay in time could mean something has gone wrong.”
Arteon nodded at Lucael’s words.
One had to always think thoroughly about any variables that might arise.
However….
“Whatever situation arises, we need only ensure we handle our part decisively.”
Svein, who had remained silent until now, spoke softly.
For now, this battle is no longer a mere Imperial Succession War.
It is a battle to suppress the Rebellion that seeks to devour the Empire’s long history, and moreover, it is a war to lay the groundwork that will make that history even more solid and unshakeable.
For depending on who becomes the next Emperor, the history of the Empire that will unfold over the next fifty years will be determined.
At Svein’s words, Arteon and Lucael nodded and turned their gaze toward the Capital.
Now, in whatever manner, it would begin.
Darkness deepened its grip, and tension settled coldly upon the air.
And then.
Whoooooosh!
A crimson Signal Flare shot skyward from the opposite end of the heavens, far from where Arteon and his companions stood.
The faces of those present hardened at the sight of that Signal Flare.
The Operation… had gone awry.

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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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