"Your Majesty!"

The old knight caught the king as he collapsed.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"

"Hrk."

The king coughed up a gush of blood.

"Struck down by a man who once served me, reduced to this... A fitting end for a foolish king."

"No one could ever call you foolish or cowardly, Your Majesty. You fought well. More bravely than any knight."

"I have no taste for flattery, but now I wish to believe you. If I have but one wish, it is that my son should think so too. That his inept father was, at least in his final moments, a true king."

Watching this rare display of the king's feelings, the old knight clenched his teeth.

"His Highness the Crown Prince will be prouder of you than anyone."

He forced himself to speak as though nothing were wrong.

The king suddenly looked up at the sky.

"I miss her."

"The queen will be proud of you too," the old knight said, watching that wan smile.

"I would not even hope for that. I shall count myself fortunate if she does not scold me for neglecting my archery and ending up like this."

The deeper the emotion in his voice grew, the fainter it became, until it could no longer be heard.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"

Startled, the old knight called to him. The king's drifting eyelids snapped open.

"Help me up. I have no wish to meet my end lying pitifully in another man's arms."

With those words, the king staggered to his feet. With the old knight's help, he straightened his back, then raised his sword and pointed it at the Imperial Army.

"I shall stand with you."

The old knight took his place beside him.

The imperial Paladins faltered before his wounded-beast stare. Cunningly, instead of stepping forward themselves, they motioned others into action. Behind them, the imperial archers raised their bows as one.

"Forgive me. Had you served a capable sovereign, your valor would have been renowned throughout the world."

"Please do not say that. I found a king I could follow with all my heart, spent decades at his side, and have been permitted to remain with him to the end. I can proudly say that, as a knight, I have lived a life I would trade for no other's."

Shedding a single tear, the old knight stepped in front of the king. Blood ran down his back, along his thighs, and onto the ground.

SPLASH, SPLASH.

He planted his feet in the pool of blood and raised his sword.

TWANG-TWANG-TWANG.

The imperial archers released their bowstrings. Watching the black rain of arrows hurtle toward him, the old knight poured his soul into his sword's tip. Then he swung with every last ounce of strength.

Sword light tore through the air, snapping dozens of arrows. But hundreds still filled the sky.

"Your Majesty. I shall go ahead and await you."

Sensing his end approaching, the old knight wrapped himself around the king. His eyes wide, he stared straight into the falling rain of arrows.

At that very moment—

WHOOOOSH!

A furious gale swept through. Hundreds of arrows lost their course in that savage wind and scattered in every direction.

Then—

BOOOOM!

Something enormous plunged into the imperial ranks with a thunderous crash. Like a savage bolt of lightning. Like a sharp spear.

Dust billowed upward. The old knight strained his eyes at the sudden turn of events.

GRRRRR.

Beyond the dust, something rumbled low in its throat.

"Aaaagh!"

A horrible scream followed.

WHOOOSH.

A wind blew, sweeping the thick dust far away. The old knight's eyes widened. Before him lay a sight he could scarcely believe even as he saw it.

One of the Empire's vaunted Paladins dangled in the air, impaled on a spear.

GRRRR.

An enormous beast rumbled, an imperial soldier clamped in its jaws. A wyvern—the largest and fiercest of all Dotrin's wyverns.

"Tsk. I knew I had a bad feeling."

The wyvern's master, the King of Dotrin, clicked his tongue.

Belatedly recovering from the Dotrin sovereign's sudden appearance, the imperial troops leveled their spears and swords. The two Paladins fortunate enough to escape the diving assault raised their blades and circled the wyvern.

But the King of Dotrin seemed to pay them no mind at all.

"...!"

Their pride apparently wounded, the Paladins charged with furious shouts. Yet they had to halt before taking even five steps. A deep line had been gouged into the earth at their feet, though no one had seen it appear.

"Come any closer, and I guarantee something very exciting will happen."

There was nothing excited about his voice. It was a more unmistakable warning than any threat.

Having pinned the Paladins in place, the King of Dotrin smiled at the old knight.

"The warlocks are coming. Just hold on a little longer. They're utterly hopeless at healing magic, but they won't be entirely useless."

He waved his spear, the imperial Paladin skewered on its tip like meat on a spit.

"Have you come to rescue us? His Majesty's wounds are grave. Have your mages not come with you? Where are the other reinforcements?"

Coming to his senses, the old knight poured out his questions.

"I thought you were a man of few words. Apparently not."

The King of Dotrin frowned, muttering that Doris alone was more than enough of a chatterbox.

"Let me answer first. I had a bad feeling, so I hurried over just in case. Our mages are on their way. The warlocks are hopeless at healing magic, but they should at least be able to provide immediate first aid."

"Where are the reinforcements? Surely you haven't come alone?"

At the old knight's repeated question, the King of Dotrin grinned, baring his teeth.

"Of course I have company."

He tucked the spear under his arm and rummaged inside his clothes with his free hand. His leisurely searching soon became frantic. The eyes that had looked down upon the world from his wyvern darted about.

The hand feeling around his chest slid back to grip the spear.

"This fellow is my companion."

He evidently meant to sound manly, but to the old knight it was unmistakably the feeble excuse of a man who had left something important behind.

Avoiding the old knight's gaze, the King of Dotrin shouted at the imperial knights in fluent Imperial.

"...!"

Several knights snorted.

"As I thought. No use."

"What in the world do you mean?"

"Actually, I had something important that would end this battle. Without it, these imperial bastards won't believe me."

The old knight asked what it was. The King of Dotrin replied offhandedly.

"The war is over. The Empire has admitted defeat, promised enormous reparations, and ceded territory along the border to your kingdom."

The old knight's eyes opened so wide they seemed about to split.

"I hear your crown prince pressured the Third Imperial Prince into signing a humiliating treaty to end the war. One of our wyvern riders borrowed that treaty for a while and brought it to me. The forces of the Imperial House of Bourgogne that had set out to attack your fleet turned back when they saw the seal upon it, so there's no question of its authenticity."

The King of Dotrin smacked his lips.

"The trouble we're facing is that I left it with someone else and came in such a hurry that I forgot to bring it."

"What on earth are you saying..."

"Well, it's not really much of a problem."

The old knight gave a disbelieving laugh, and the King of Dotrin answered with a smirk.

"I simply have to hold them off myself until that sluggish subordinate of mine brings the treaty."

At that moment, the imperial troops, who had been watching for an opening, charged with a roar.

"Stay right there. If you get caught up in this, someone with a very nasty temper will try to bite my head off."

The King of Dotrin gave a mischievous smile, but the old knight could find nothing amusing in it. An overwhelming force burst forth from him. That force became a current, and the current became wind.

WHOOOOSH.

The swirling wind became a gale, then a storm.

"I'll be back."

His voice rang remarkably clear even amid the howling wind.

In that instant, the storm swept through the Imperial Army.

WHOOOOSH.

Screams and cries drifted on the wind. Amid them came the sound of someone laughing madly.

There was no time to wonder what it was. The old knight desperately wrung out his remaining strength to keep from being swept into the raging storm, both arms wrapped around the king, who had gone limp.

CRRRASH.

The storm that had seemed endless slowly began to subside. The screams, cries, and laughter fell silent.

When at last it was over, the old knight saw a superhuman standing proudly amid flesh and steel torn into dozens, hundreds of pieces.

He looked like a beast that had eaten its fill.

The satisfaction on his face was enough to raise a natural suspicion: had he deliberately left the treaty behind?

The surviving imperial troops backed away in terror. The King of Dotrin cast them a disinterested glance, as though his business with them was done.

"The warlocks we've been waiting for have arrived."

He suddenly pointed his bloodied spear at the sky. The old knight tilted his head back and looked. One hundred wyverns circled above the battlefield.

RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE.

A moment later came the earthshaking thunder of hooves. The old knight turned his eyes toward the sound. In the distance, hundreds of horsemen and thousands of infantry were rushing toward them, the black lion banners of the Iron Lions streaming overhead.

* * *

"Dotrin's warlocks could give His Majesty the breath of life he urgently needed, but they could not heal his wounds completely."

The old knight sighed, saying that the abdominal wound inflicted by the damned turncoat had festered in the end.

"His Majesty remained unconscious for a long time. The sovereign of Dotrin said the wounds were not the problem. His Majesty had no will to go on living."

I squeezed my eyes shut. Old memories flashed through my mind, surfacing and vanishing in rapid succession.

The king had begun aging rapidly several years ago. Everyone had worried, but his tireless activity soon dispelled their concern.

I had been no different. I had thought it rather good to see him burning so fiercely, with none of the weakness or incompetence he had shown when I first met him.

Yet that flame had been fueled by the last of his life and soul.

Perhaps he had lived awaiting the moment he would die fighting the Empire, taking the nobles with him. The day he would burn himself as kindling in the fire the queen had lit.

And when that purpose was finally fulfilled, nothing would have remained. Neither the will that sustained his life nor any attachment to living.

"Damn it."

The curse escaped of its own accord.

["From here on, this is the knight Vale's fight."]

["Someone must remain to deal with the aftermath. I mean to leave that burden to you."]

My final conversation with my uncle flashed through my mind.

Merely recalling how helpless I had been then made my insides boil. The memory of my uncle calmly seeing me off was so vivid that it felt as though my heart would fall out.

Over those painful memories appeared the image of the king, swathed in bandages. The deep, dark shadow of death that had lingered around the aging king's eyes swam before me.

If he died, that too would likely become a burden I carried. Like my uncle's death. Like the queen's. Like the deaths of the Sword Maidens.

"Everyone just does as they please. Never a thought for me, just desperate to dump their burdens on me."

The old knight continued as though he had not heard my irritable remark.

"In any case, we owe Dotrin a great debt. We escaped the Imperial Army thanks to its sovereign, and it was thanks to him that His Majesty regained consciousness as well."

"Escaping the Imperial Army I understand. But how did he bring His Majesty back to consciousness?"

I could not begin to imagine. A few simple words could not rekindle a candle that had burned itself out, its very wick consumed.

"I do not know the details myself. His Majesty awoke after the sovereign of Dotrin whispered something in his ear. That is all I have to base my assumption on."

Unfortunately, the old knight said he knew nothing more.

I forced the question aside. What the descendant of the Marquis of the Azure Sky had said to the king was not important now.

"How much time does His Majesty have left?"

The old knight fell silent, his face stricken. He seemed unable to speak of his sovereign's end.

I persuaded him that I needed to know how much time remained to prepare for the future. Only after a long while did he tell me that the king had no more than four months at most.

"All right. I understand."

Having heard the broad outline of what had happened, I told the old knight he could leave.

Instead, he knelt before me and begged me to punish him for failing to protect his master.

I asked why he was seeking punishment from the wrong person when the king was still very much alive.

His shoulders drooping, the old knight bade me farewell and left my room.

Watching him go, I thought that, though I could not know for certain, if the king died now, the old knight would surely be unable to bear his guilt.

That was not what I wanted. As the king had said, he was a valuable man who still had much to give the kingdom.

I did not want to see such a man break his sword after watching his master die. Nor did I want a member of the Leonberk family to die at the hands of imperial rank-and-file soldiers.

When the kingdom finally regained its former glory, I wanted both men to be there, whole and well.

It was not because of my promise to my friend. My heart simply wanted it that way. What had given rise to that feeling did not matter in the slightest.

What mattered was that I had the means to make it happen.

"Gunne."

At my quiet call, the half-elf appeared out of nowhere.

"The elven Sword-singers are staying in the outer ward of Iron Lion Fortress."

Gunne looked steadily at me.

"Go there and find the High Elf."

Her delicate brows drew together. Then her lips moved slightly.

[High Elves never speak with half-elves.]

I told her that if she identified herself as my messenger, that dim-witted High Elf would not dare put on airs.

The abrupt end of the war had kept him from achieving even his modest aim of winning my favor and putting me in his debt. By now, he would be desperate for any way to establish contact with me.

"We don't have much time, so please leave right away."

As Gunne was about to go, I stopped her with a reminder.

"Don't let their ridiculous bloodline intimidate you."

Then I added one more thing.

"Never forget that I'm always behind you."

Gunne stared at me with round eyes. Then she bowed her head and swiftly left the room.

Alone, I glared toward the king's bedchamber and snorted.

"You think you can just leave everything to me and go?"

I had absolutely no intention of allowing it. I would save him, no matter what, and make that irresponsible king fulfill his responsibilities to the very end.

First, though, the High Elf had to arrive.

To be precise, what I was waiting for was not some arrogant High Elf who was not even fully grown.

It was a treasure among treasures, of which even the noblest elves were permitted only one.

Nectar.

That miraculous elixir could turn back the footsteps of death itself at the very threshold, so long as a single breath of life remained. That was what I awaited so eagerly.

"High Elves usually receive their Nectar when they first venture out into the world."

And this was that naive High Elf man's first journey as well.

What a convenient coincidence.

Grinning to myself, I drew my own conclusion. Perhaps the Nectar Arnand carried had been included all along among the gifts sent by the High Elves who wished to improve their relationship with me.

Of course, that High Elf, who knew only elven superiority and nothing of the world's dangers, would not agree with me in the slightest.