"Who gave you the right!"

"I have no intention of dying here! Not after everything it took to get this far!"

The nobles began shrieking again.

"What are you waiting for! Clear a path!"

They showed not the slightest hesitation about turning their blades on their allies. But there was nothing they could do.

"They're all fighting! No one can spare a moment to attend to us!"

The knights and private soldiers they had spent fortunes recruiting were locked in a desperate struggle with the Imperial Army. They could not even afford to look back, let alone turn their blades on their own side.

"Those fools! I explicitly told them to look out for themselves!"

"They should be in the rear! Why in blazes are they up front fighting the Imperial Army!"

The nobles belatedly grasped the situation and erupted in fury, but by then the Royal Knights and royal soldiers had already maneuvered their household troops to the front.

"Was this your intention from the very beginning?"

One of the nobles addressed the king, his face slack with dismay. At a tone devoid of even the barest respect for his own sovereign, the Royal Knights unleashed their killing intent. As though by agreement, the nobles fell silent in the face of that flashing murderousness.

But words once spoken could never be taken back. The Royal Knights would not let the nobles' disregard for their king go unpunished.

"Aagh!"

Struck with the flats of swords, the nobles screamed and tumbled to the ground.

Men who had balked at getting so much as mud on their leather boots even while traversing brutal battlefields were now covered in it. Not one complained. Dirty clothes were the least of their worries now. The Royal Knights beat them as if they truly meant to kill them.

"That is enough."

Had the king not intervened when he did, they really would have been beaten to death. The nobles crawled forward on their knees to thank him for his mercy.

The king merely stared at them, like a man looking at cattle about to be slaughtered. Then he turned to the Commander of the Royal Knights.

"You have endured so much in service to a foolish monarch. How could I ever put all my remorse and gratitude into words?"

His voice was warm, as though he were addressing an old friend.

"Yet even now, instead of thanking you, I intend to ask something cruel of you again. An upright man like you will find it difficult to accept, I imagine. Even knowing that, I mean to ask it of you."

Yet the substance of those words filled the old knight with despair.

"This comes both from a father's wish to leave a capable knight at his child's side and a sovereign's desire not to see a precious talent perish in vain."

The king poured out his words before the old knight could answer.

"Gather the surviving Royal Knights and troops and leave the battlefield at once. Join the Iron Lions and board the fleet without delay. Save as many as you can, and lead them home to their families at last. And..."

The king paused and sighed.

"That boy... Look after Ian for me."

As he finally spoke again, complicated emotions gathered around his eyes. They might have been regret, or pride. Perhaps they were both. Watching the king's shifting expression, the old knight gave his orders to the other Royal Knights.

"Gather the remaining troops and withdraw from the battlefield immediately."

The Royal Knights acknowledged his command without hesitation.

"Hurry."

The old knight urged them on.

In one crisp motion, the Royal Knights brought their feet together and laid their hands over their chests.

"Glory to His Majesty the King. Fortune in battle to the Silver Lion's sword."

Brief and plain though the salute was, the respect within it was genuine. Having paid their respects, the Royal Knights left the battlefield together.

The few knights who had not followed them removed their helmets. Every one was an old knight with white hair.

"Only us old has-beens left now."

"Nonsense. I've plenty of life in me yet. It'll take thirty Imperial Knights to bring me down."

"Care to wager who takes more of them along for the journey?"

"Not a bad idea."

The old knights traded their absurd remarks with serene expressions. Not one looked bewildered. Everything proceeded as naturally as flowing water, as though they had agreed on it beforehand.

"If we all leave, those men will scatter and look for ways to survive. Their sort tends to be hard to kill. Some may even escape this place alive. Others might surrender to the Empire. Someone must stay to keep them from trying anything foolish."

The Commander of the Royal Knights calmly explained to his king why they had remained.

"Do you not understand how much Ian needs fine knights like you!"

The king, who had been standing dumbfounded until then, finally recovered his wits and flared with anger.

"We are grateful that Your Majesty values us so highly, but His Highness the Crown Prince already has as many fine knights at his side as there are stars. The loss of a few old men will hardly be noticed."

These were not idle words. Wherever he had found them, the crown prince truly had an abundance of outstanding knights.

There was House Kirgayen's daughter, whose personal prowess, consideration for others, and strength of character had earned her a reputation as someone fully capable of leading a nation's knights.

There was the former maid whose talent had once so impressed Vale Ballorhard that he tried to take her as a disciple, only to be humiliated by the crown prince for it. She had finally attained mastery in her early twenties.

There was the eldest son of the Eli family, once reviled as a scoundrel, who had in truth concealed within himself the swordsmanship of the kingdom's foremost knightly house.

And though the current head of House Ballorhard and the knights of the North had yet to attain mastery, the swordsmanship and spirit they had honed against the Orcs possessed a valor rarely found in this world.

"Besides, I selected a worthy successor long ago. His swordsmanship does not yet match those I have mentioned, but judging by his diligence and talent, I can assure you he, too, will earn the title of Silver Lion before long."

With so many excellent knights beside the crown prince, surely they could remain with the sovereign they had always served, the old knight said with easy humor.

"You have already made up your mind."

The king looked resigned. He seemed to have remembered at last that once the old knight decided something, he never went back on it.

"Just as Your Majesty has resolved upon your course, so have I. I am merely an ordinary man, too small of heart to harbor a grand purpose such as yours. All I resolved to do was remain a knight and protect my sovereign to the very end."

The king clicked his tongue.

"This is troubling. If you refuse to yield, I shall inevitably be remembered as a reckless king who led his precious knights into an inferno."

"And I shall remain a witless knight who failed to serve his sovereign properly. Take what comfort you can in that."

The earnest knight's joke drew a faint laugh from the king.

"A foolish king and a witless knight..."

Apparently pleased with the words, the king repeated them several times.

All the while, the battle was drawing to its end. Few of the nobles' private soldiers, who had fought so fiercely to hold back the Imperial Army, remained. The nobles began edging backward, watching warily.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The white-haired Royal Knights blocked their way.

"Old and decrepit we may be, but we're quite capable of seeing you noble lords off on your final journey."

"Would it not be better to die gloriously fighting the enemy than perish in disgrace by an ally's sword?"

The king nocked an arrow as he spoke.

"Since coming to the Empire, I have grown quite accustomed to my bow. Of forty arrows loosed from a hundred paces away, only one misses. The rest strike squarely between the eyes. If you wish to test that, turn your backs and run, or kneel before the enemy."

His tone was composed, but the threat was unmistakable. The nobles went deathly pale.

The Imperial Army stood before them, the king and his Royal Knights behind. No phrase suited the nobles' situation better than 'caught between a rock and a hard place.'

The Commander of the Royal Knights, who had been watching quietly, gave a subtle glance. At his signal, the white-haired knights abruptly jabbed their sword tips into the nobles' backs.

"Aagh!"

The nobles immediately screamed as though they were dying.

"Oh dear. I didn't realize you hadn't even put armor on underneath."

"How many times have I told you? Swords and arrows do not discriminate. A little weight and heat are hardly what matters."

With perfectly composed faces, the Royal Knights jabbed the nobles in the back again. In moments, their backs were drenched in blood.

"Fight. Die and nourish the kingdom. Your own children will be among the mighty trees that grow from that nourishment."

The king's words were icy, but the nobles only continued screaming. They showed no inclination whatsoever to draw the treasured swords at their waists.

Just then, having finished off the nobles' private soldiers, the Imperial Army leveled swords and spears and closed around them.

"King of Leonberk, surrender!"

One of the Imperial Knights stepped forward and demanded his surrender in halting Leonberk.

The king gave no answer. He merely nocked an arrow in silence and aimed at the Imperial Knight. The knight flinched and raised his shield.

The king abruptly pivoted, swinging the arrowhead away from the Imperial Knight.

THUD!

A noble running toward the Imperial Army with both hands raised tumbled headlong with an arrow lodged in the back of his head. The other nobles, who had been stirring to move, froze where they stood.

The king looked coldly at them, then nocked another arrow. Without the slightest hesitation, he aimed at the Imperial Knight and released the string.

WHIZZ!

The arrow flew through the air. The Imperial Knight deflected it.

"...!"

The Imperial Knight shouted something, but the king ignored him and fired again.

"...!"

After deflecting the successive arrows, the knight roared in anger.

The Imperial Army, which had remained motionless around the kingdom's men until then, began advancing with swords and spears leveled. The fighting began. The nobles, who had sought a way to survive until the very end, were the first to face the Imperial Knights.

"P-please spare m—Aagh!"

"If you spare me, I am willing to pay a considerable ransom... Ghurk."

Without ever thinking to raise their swords and fight, without even a shred of pride, they met deaths less worthy than those of common soldiers.

The Royal Knights were next.

"It has been an honor to serve you, Your Majesty!"

"We shall go ahead and wait for you! There we shall accept punishment for failing to serve you properly in life!"

"Long live the Royal House of Leonberk!"

Stabbed and slashed dozens of times by swords and spears, the white-haired Royal Knights held their blades to the end. One by one they fell, until none remained. Now only the king and the Commander of the Royal Knights were left.

"Will you not reconsider, even now?"

"It is too late."

Before the old knight had finished speaking, dozens of Imperial Knights charged, scattering sword light.

"Stay behind me."

With that quiet plea, the old knight traced countless silver arcs through the air. Imperial Knights fell, spraying blood. But one hand could not stop ten. In moments, the old knight was drenched in blood.

"I am Sturmhilde Stuttgart! The kingdom's Silver Lion, and the knight of His Majesty the King!"

Ripping away his shattered pauldrons and breastplate, the old knight adjusted his grip on his sword and shouted.

Three knights with exceptionally keen auras stepped out from the rear of the Imperial Army. They were Paladins. They struck dozens of times, and the old knight answered with still more thrusts. Facing no fewer than three Paladins, he did not retreat a single step. He fought in a frenzy.

When he showed no sign of yielding, the imperial Paladins shouted something amid their exchange of blows. They intensified their auras and charged again. At that very moment, ten Imperial Knights stepped forward.

Belatedly realizing their intent, the old knight swung desperately. But the Paladins tenaciously kept him engaged. Urgency threw his swordwork into disarray. His wounds multiplied rapidly.

Wounds to his flesh were not what mattered now. Parrying the Paladins' blades, he searched for the king with his eyes. The king was loosing arrows. One knight died on the spot when an arrow pierced his helmet's eye slit.

But the remaining nine deflected the arrows and finally reached the king. He discarded his bow and drew his sword.

"I am the King of Leonberk!"

With that cry, he swung his blade fiercely.

The Imperial Knights parried it with ease. Then, as if playing with him, they thrust their swords into him. The king was covered in blood in an instant.

THUNK!

An Imperial Knight's sword pierced the king's shoulder. The king reached up and seized the blade. The knight snorted and pulled. The king's palm turned crimson, but he refused to let go.

Disconcerted, the Imperial Knight took his sword in both hands. In that instant, the king raised his lowered blade and hurled himself at the knight. The imperial sword, already halfway out, sank deep into his shoulder again. The king's blade slashed through the knight's throat.

THUD!

Clutching his throat and coughing up bloody phlegm, the Imperial Knight fell to his knees. Until then, the knights surrounding the king had been stabbing halfheartedly, as though herding prey. Now they roared in fury.

"Your Majesty!"

Seeing sword light blossom at their blade tips, the old knight shouted and swept his sword out. The Paladins thrust in answer. Rather than block those lethal strikes, he kicked off the ground and hurled himself toward his king.

Sword light struck him from behind, splitting his back and tearing open his side. Even so, he managed to swing his sword and cut down the Imperial Knights. But he felled only three. Four swords plunged into the king's body: his shoulder, thigh, belly, and side.

The king vomited blood, then raised his sword and struck the neck of the knight who had stabbed him in the belly. Alarmed, the Imperial Knights twisted their blades, wrenching his wounds open. Even in that state, the king lunged at them.

"Cough. I-I am the King of Leonberk..."

He cried out through a mouthful of blood. Another knight fell to his sword. The old knight cut down all those who remained.

THUNK!

A chilling sound reached the old knight's ears. He stared at the king, eyes wide. A cold blade protruded from the middle of the king's belly. Behind him stood a man drenched in blood.

"You have already chosen to die. Struggling will only make a sorry spectacle of you. Go peacefully now, Your Majesty."

Only then did the king look behind him.

"Of all the arrows I loosed today, the one that missed its vital mark had to be yours."

Recognizing the speaker, the king sighed.

The noble, who had lain flat among the corpses before suddenly stabbing him, sneered at the king. Then he abruptly shouted toward the Imperial Army.

"I shall bring you the king's head! Do not harm me!"

But before the man could withdraw the sword that had run the king through, the old knight reached him.

"W-wait..."

His head parted from his neck before he could offer even a pathetic excuse.

"Your Majesty!"

Having eliminated that last source of future trouble, the old knight caught the king and supported him.

"Perhaps it is a blessing. That their swords were turned on me, and not that boy."

The king laughed heartily, wholly at odds with his condition. But the laughter soon became a cough thick with bloody phlegm. He swayed, and at last his body crumpled.