The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 283

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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 (283)
The Conference Room of the Kaerbaldt Kingdom was submerged in a peculiar, suffocating silence.
Sunlight filtered diagonally between the marble columns lining the walls, yet even that radiance appeared to have grown cold.
Those seated across the long table from one another all understood the truth.
This was no negotiation—merely a formality to confirm the position of the defeated.
Diorman, the representative of the Imperial delegation, rose slowly from his seat.
A thick bundle of documents was held in his hand.
“These are the terms the Empire demands of the Kaerbaldt Kingdom. Would you care to review them?”
His tone was courteous, yet the aura it carried was anything but polite.
The documents slid across the table with a soft sound.
That small friction seemed to scrape across the entire Conference Room.
One of the Kaerbaldt Kingdom’s ministers carefully picked up the documents.
His fingertips trembled with tension.
He hesitated for a moment, then passed them to Zerperon, who sat upon the throne.
He understood what these documents signified.
And Zerperon, having received them, gazed down at the papers in silence.
“….”
Humiliating.
This situation, this atmosphere.
All of it pressed down upon him.
Yet Zerperon soon unfolded the documents without a word.
The first page, the second, the third.
With each turn of the paper, his eyes moved faster and faster.
And then….
“…!”
A silence so profound it seemed to stop his breath.
Zerperon’s pupils dilated sharply.
His eyelids trembled faintly, and the muscles of his jaw clenched.
The fingers gripping the edge of the document gradually lost their strength, then seized it roughly once more.
His face flushed crimson as he slowly raised his head.
“This is… surely an excessive demand, is it not? Does the Empire truly wish for war with us?”
A brief silence fell.
And a faint smile crossed Diorman’s lips.
“If you desire war, then strike off my head this very moment. The instant you do, the Imperial Army stationed outside the Capital will advance upon the city.”
His tone was matter-of-fact.
As though speaking of the day’s weather—utterly indifferent. Yet his words contained not a shred of hesitation or room for negotiation.
―Go ahead and try.
That was how it sounded.
No—it was far more brazen than that.
―Do you truly possess the strength to withstand the Imperial Army?
Zerperon’s hand trembled as he gripped the documents.
The papers were already crumpled, and with each deepening wrinkle, his expression twisted further.
The demands were far more than simple reparations.
Gold Coins and Silver Coins, grain and Mines, port usage rights, troop reinforcements, and even royal hostages.
It was the kind of demand that would dismantle in a single stroke the foundation a kingdom had built over decades.
If he accepted this as written, the Kaerbaldt Kingdom’s treasury would be emptied entirely.
No—it was far worse than mere depletion.
The very finances sustaining the kingdom would crumble, triggering a cascading collapse of the nobility, fiefdoms, and taxation systems alike.
“At the very least….”
My lips trembled.
Surely some margin for recovery had to be preserved.
I wanted to voice those words.
But Zerperon understood.
“….”
Such words would fall on deaf ears in this place.
Diorman did not avert his gaze.
Rather, his eyes bore the weight of advancing another step forward.
The moment any weakness showed, it felt as though the Imperial Army’s forces would surge through that opening.
Zerperon drew in a deep breath.
And slowly exhaled.
‘Is this… a dilemma with no way out?’
The thought circled through my mind.
‘No….’
There was no path forward.
Had I not already witnessed it?
That moment on the Battlefield when we clashed with the Empire.
Collapsed Castle Walls, burning cities, memories of defeat.
All of it had consumed the kingdom without even time to shudder.
If we crossed Swords with them again.
‘This kingdom… would vanish from the Continent.’
I had to endure now.
No matter what Blood Loss, survival was what mattered in this hour.
Crunch.
My teeth ground together.
To make such demands here, at the heart of the kingdom, before the throne itself, with a Blade pressed beneath my neck.
My pride was shredded to tatters.
Humiliation rose to the very brink of my throat.
Yet Zerperon finally composed his expression.
Slowly, I lifted my head and met Diorman’s gaze directly.
And spoke my final words.
“…Accept the Empire’s demands.”
The air in the Conference Room froze.
Some closed their eyes tightly, while others hung their heads.
The Ministers’ hands trembled, yet none dared speak.
The will to resist shattered completely in that moment.
Diorman held his head high as he spoke in a low voice.
“I shall convey Your Majesty’s decision to the Empire. Thank you for making this difficult choice.”
It was a formal expression of gratitude.
Yet the victor’s composure contained within it could not be concealed.
Scrape.
As the chair slid back, he rose from his seat. The delegation followed suit, standing in unison.
“Then we shall take our leave. The Empire’s Blade must now turn toward… other targets.”
The moment those words fell, a chill ran down Zerperon’s spine.
They had barely escaped.
But that Blade would not stop. It would extend toward the next target, toward another Kingdom, toward the entire Continent.
Watching the delegation’s retreating figures, Zerperon’s vision blurred for a moment.
He could not be certain what this choice would bring, or where Kaerbaldt Kingdom would stand within that vast tempest.
Soon the door closed.
Only silence remained in the Conference Room.
Zerperon and the Ministers could not bring themselves to speak.
The weight of defeat, the sting of humiliation, and dread of the future to come crushed them.
That day, Kaerbaldt Kingdom survived.
Yet whether that survival could truly be called salvation, no one could say.
A heavy atmosphere.
The Conference Room was blanketed in a cold, desolate silence as no one dared open their mouth.
* * *
The moment the delegation passed through the Capital’s City Gate, Belkain’s gaze grew cold.
Sunlight streaming down from the Castle Wall reflected dimly off his Armor, yet even that light carried no warmth.
He knew well that the wars of politics waged within sealed Conference Rooms could be far more cruel than battlefields drenched in blood and the stench of metal.
There were things that crumbled without a Sword being drawn, things that died without Blood being shed.
Claw, standing beside him, spoke in a low voice.
“With this… it seems Kaerbaldt Kingdom will find it difficult to recover for the next twenty years or so.”
His gaze remained fixed inward along the Castle Wall, toward where the Royal Palace stood.
His eyes held the look of one gazing upon a future of the Kingdom not yet visible.
Belkain exhaled shortly.
“A wise choice. Some might say one should choose an honorable death. But when a nation’s very existence hangs in the balance… honor means nothing.”
His tone was matter-of-fact, yet it carried the weight of ancient war’s memories.
When a nation relinquishes everything, only devastation remains.
Cities may not crumble, yet the people’s lives do, and tears and hunger flow instead of Blood.
Though the Blood Loss was severe, enduring was now the only path forward.
“There you are, Commander.”
Belkain turned at the voice from behind.
Diorman, who had led the Death God unit here, was approaching on horseback.
They entered the Imperial Army Camp situated just beyond the Capital.
As I stepped into the Barracks, the fabric walls rustled in the wind with a soft, whispering sound.
Though it was a temporary command post, the interior was meticulously organized, with war maps and supply ledgers spread densely across the table.
Belkain looked at Diorman and asked.
“Has the task been completed successfully?”
“Yes, thanks to you, it concluded smoothly.”
Diorman removed his gloves as he answered.
His expression bore not fatigue, but rather an enigmatic composure.
“It seems I shall need to return after going back to the homeland. There is truly much to prepare in this place.”
He paused and turned his head.
Westward.
Toward the Ermatir Kingdom, which shared a border with the Kaerbaldt Kingdom.
Likely, that place would not differ greatly from today.
Either white flags would be raised, or blood would be spilled.
“I would prefer to wait here and proceed directly to the Ermatir Kingdom, but reporting to the Prince takes precedence, which is unfortunate.”
A faint smile played at the corners of Diorman’s mouth.
“I had wished to see with my own eyes how an 8th Star warrior performs on the Battlefield, having only heard tales of it.”
Belkain showed no particular reaction to those words.
He merely glanced toward a figure standing near the Barracks Entrance.
Arteon.
He stood without speaking, yet subtly subdued the air around him.
Diorman turned his body.
“I trust you will succeed. I pray for your safe return. Fortune in War be with you.”
“Travel safely.”
Brief farewells were exchanged.
That concluded all conversation.
Diorman and the Death God unit departed for the Empire, and the Barracks returned to the atmosphere of the military.
Belkain stepped outside immediately.
“Assemble the Officers.”
Shortly after, the key commanders gathered before the Barracks.
Belkain slowly surveyed them and opened his mouth.
“Rest is over. We move westward now.”
Once the matter with the Ermatir Kingdom was concluded, this operation’s grand arc would reach its end.
Yet those words also meant that the door to another war was opening.
Then the Supply Officer stepped forward.
“Commander, the soldiers’ rations are insufficient. Support will be needed before we move westward, but…”
The supply ledger in his hand was marked with numerous red notations.
Grain and salted meat. Along with arrows and the countless supplies needed for combat and equipment maintenance.
Everything was in short supply.
Belkain gazed silently toward the Capital of Kaerbaldt.
Beyond the towering Castle Wall lay a kingdom now burdened with the Empire’s demands.
“The Kaerbaldt Kingdom will handle additional supplies, so move without concern.”
At those words, the Supply Officer bowed his head.
The price a defeated kingdom had to pay did not end on the Battlefield alone.
Belkain then added,
“We do not pass through the Capital or cities. Move along the Outskirts as much as possible.”
It was the bare minimum of consideration toward the vanquished.
The moment twenty thousand troops cut through the city, it would feel like an overwhelming threat to them.
And shortly after.
Buuuuuuuuuuu!
A Horn announcing the Advance pierced the sky with its call.
In time with that sound, soldiers moved swiftly.
Flags were raised, Formations aligned, and the flow of troops writhed like a single massive living creature.
Arteon surveyed the Silent Spear Battalion members.
“Quickly, assume Formation. We advance at the Vanguard.”
“Yes, understood!”
Short and crisp responses burst forth.
In the eyes of the Squad Members shone anticipation rather than fatigue.
From here to the Ermatir Kingdom border was easily two weeks.
A long journey.
Arteon slowly shifted his gaze forward.
‘Is there just one left now?’
Of course, I couldn’t know if there truly was only one.
War always had a way of kindling new embers the moment you thought it was over.
‘I’ll know once I go.’
The Battlefield on this Land was still unfamiliar to me.
Different air from the Snowy Plains of the North, different scents, different tension.
Yet even that unfamiliarity sharpened my senses further.
Arteon’s gaze grew keen once more.
And the massive Imperial Army began to move.
Dust rose, Flags fluttered against the wind, and tens of thousands of footsteps thundered across the earth.
And at that same moment.
In a discreetly prepared space, figures whose names alone commanded recognition had gathered.
And at its center.
“According to the intelligence we’ve received, the Warrior leading the Empire’s Vanguard is said to be of the highest caliber of 7th Star.”
“It will not be an easy Fight.”
Yet the man who spoke opened his eyes sharply as he continued.
“…We will fight. They say he’s a 7-Star High-Level warrior… but if we can kill him, we can completely reverse this situation.”
And at those words.
Nod.
The three people seated in the room nodded simultaneously.

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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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