The night before the siege of Saint Mathilde began.
“I became a priest because I didn’t want to fight….”
Eugene sighed as he paced around the gallery. Beyond the tall towers of the Palace Royale, the vast plains of Saint Mathilde were packed with overwhelming military encampments.
Just the thought of those people walking in this direction would overwhelm the defenses. They’ve clearly surpassed the level of forces that can be defended against.
“This is insane, seriously.”
How is this even a starting quest? Is this what first-year quests are supposed to be like? Or is it because of Ivan? Is it some kind of level scaling?
Eugene grumbled as he checked the soldiers’ armaments and inspected the gallery’s defenses. Sleep just wouldn’t come.
War is supposed to be an enjoyable event when consumed as games or movies. But when you’re in the middle of it, it feels more like horror than thrill. His hands kept trembling.
“It seems you can’t sleep.”
“Oh, Oscar.”
Eugene tried to avoid eye contact. Oscar walked from the entrance of the tower. Standing under the torchlight, his face was obscured by shadows.
Embarrassing. Eugene tried to move away with a nod. Then, Oscar’s voice came from behind him.
“Have you perhaps spoken about the impending fight?”
“…I don’t convey such things in that manner.”
“I see.”
Oscar turned his head with a deliberate motion. There was a moment of hesitation. It seemed like he wanted to say something but was reluctant to speak first.
“Perhaps….”Have you…. has the God revealed anything else to you…?”
“What do you mean?”
Oscar cautiously began to speak, then closed his eyes tightly and stepped back. After muttering a few times, he lowered his head again.
Soon, he regained his composure.
“No. Nothing. Please, try to rest even a little.”
“If what Oscar wanted to ask about is ‘that,’ then….”
“No. Please don’t say it. I’ll hear about it after today. It’s… not yet time for more… hope.”
Oscar soon turned his body and left. His heavy footsteps echoed on the solid stone floor of the gallery.
Eugene glanced at his retreating figure for a moment before turning his gaze back to the plain beyond the castle walls.
“Sigh….”
It was a problem knowing so well what he wanted to ask, what he was afraid of.
Eugene scratched his head for a moment, then slammed his head back and sighed again.
[Ivan Petrovich Yermov]
[Character: Affinity towards Jill Ber de Etarique]
[76 (Very Favorable)]
[This value is not subject to volatility due to the death of the subject.]
“This is insane, seriously.”
Eugene spent the night with wide-open eyes. At that moment, just like everyone else behind those castle walls.
Episode 155. Elegy.
It always rained at moments like this. Is this also some kind of cliché? He’d rather it wasn’t. That would be too cruel, as if the world wished for his death.
Ivan watched the procession in the rain.
“Eternal rest grant unto them.”
“And may perpetual light shine upon them.”
Behind the knights walking in the pouring rain, a massive coffin followed.
The wet armor clung to them. Etarique’s armor was quietly marching behind the coffin.
“Praise be. Praise be. Praise be.”
“To you, all flesh shall come.”
“Eternal rest grant unto them.”
“And may the everlasting light shine upon them.”
The procession leading to the Cathedral of Saint Charles in Saint Mathilde soon stopped in front of the cathedral’s atrium.
In the rain, the elderly king rose to his feet. He pushed aside the attendants holding umbrellas and gripped his cane with trembling hands.
Approaching the coffin, he quietly drew the sign of the cross and spoke softly.
“The greatest knight of Tylesse has fallen asleep. Before, now, and forever. There shall never be a knight greater than you.”
He tossed a white lily onto the coffin as tradition dictated, bowed his head, and stepped back. Soon, he sat back down, weakly, in his chair.
Attendants hurriedly approached, holding umbrellas over him. The last raindrops of autumn seemed to caress his skin.
Soon, the surviving nobles of Tylesse each stepped forward, uttering a word and tossing a lily. Jill Ber de Etarique’s coffin gleamed colorlessly, as if greeting an untimely spring.
After the nobles’ offerings, a woman emerged, embracing Oscar last.
Odelia de Etarique, the Duchess of Etarique, staggered forward, her hand holding the lily paler than the flower itself.
She scanned the gathered crowd once, then, trembling, approached with the lily in her shaking hand. Stepping onto the flower-covered hill, she reached the coffin.
“Oh… Oh…. Jill… Jill….”
Her hand, about to place the lily, faltered, and she collapsed onto the coffin. Her touch on the coffin was pale.
Her sobs continued for a long time. Everyone bowed their heads, waiting for her words.
“You fool…. Let’s run away, let’s leave everything behind…. I said that, I said that… why, why…”
“Mother.”
“Even this country, this dignity, this honor….”
Odelia clenched the broken stem of the lily and tapped the coffin twice.
“Such things were never necessary from the beginning… all I needed was you…”
“Mother. Father… would want to see you smiling as you depart.”
“Jill… How… how am I supposed to live now…?”
“Mother. It’s a miserable day. Father has been in the rain too much.”
Oscar held an umbrella over Odelia’s head. He supported the fallen woman and returned to his seat. Odelia sobbed into his chest.
Ivan sighed as he watched the scene. The deaths of all heroes come in different forms, but the mourning of those left behind always looks the same.
“Senior. Senior should also speak.”
“Yes, I should.”
Dmitri, holding an umbrella, took a step back.
“Do not mourn those who left first.”
Enrique’s voice echoed in his ears. But Ivan shook his head. He couldn’t do that, he thought.
The rain poured down his cheeks. Even the cold raindrops couldn’t cool his feverish head. He took a step forward.
Time passes. The sun sets and seasons change. And so time passes.
In the meantime, many have left and never returned.
Now, those who remember those times, even in the darkness, when they shone bright, are disappearing one by one.
“Jill Ber de Etarique. My old friend.”
He walks. Step by step through the rain.
The crowd parted. A fierce aura slowly emanated from his body. Too much for ordinary people to bear.
The aura of a superhuman can harm people. But those with special training develop even more vivid physical prowess.
Some agents, who must hide their aura even when killing someone, harbor condensed aura like a sinister poison.
And when they finally lose control, the aura revealed surpasses that of an ordinary superhuman, with a toxicity that tears people apart as they split to his sides.
The path to Jill Ber de Etarique’s coffin opened. Ivan continued his steps.
“Do not mourn those who left first. You stand among them as well.”
He thought as he looked down at the coffin covered in flowers.
Poor guy. In the end, he’s now forever unbeatable. He thought.
Approaching soldiers could be heard. Beyond the soldiers trying to stop him, Elizaveta’s voice was heard.
“Do not obstruct his rights in Tylesse!”
With Elizaveta’s cry, the soldiers of Krasilov raised their weapons. As the elderly king of Tylesse waved his hand, the soldiers bowed their heads and stepped back.
In the silence that followed, Ivan dug into his bosom and pulled out a small insignia. The symbol of the Cleanup Unit, the last remaining one. The one he couldn’t bring himself to discard after retiring.
*Clack.*
When he turned over the insignia made of steel, the engraved name appeared. [Lieutenant Ivan Petrovich]. He placed the insignia with its pin facing downwards on the coffin.
*Thud.*
He punched the insignia into the coffin with his fist. Again and again, until it was firmly embedded. *Thud, thud, thud.* Like the beating of a heart.
– In representation of the previous era, Lieutenant Ivan Petrovich Yermov. You were, and still are, a member of the hero party. (Jill Ber)
*Thud. Thud.*
Until it couldn’t be driven in any deeper. He pounded it with his fist.
– Don’t be so damn timid. Have some confidence. Otherwise, won’t you be anxious leaving the kids behind? (Jill Ber)
– The burdens of the previous era will be borne by the previous era. Stand as the vanguard of today’s heroes. (Jill Ber)
– Carry the burdens of the previous era and fulfill the duties of the previous era. (Jill Ber)
– Light the way for today’s generation. (Jill Ber)
When he finally stopped his fist, Ivan nodded as he looked down at the coffin.
“I make this promise.”
In this era, no one will mourn each other.
So, let’s finish the unfinished stories when we meet again someday.
Ivan turned and left. Dmitri smiled bitterly and held an umbrella over his head.
“Eternal rest grant unto them.”
“And may endless light shine upon them.”
“The righteous will be remembered forever.”
“The righteous will not be the subject of gossip.”
The elegy ended. The funeral of a homeland hero concluded.
In the rainy October, along with the war of Tylesse.
*
“Say it again.”
Ivan asked in a low voice in front of the soldier lying on the bed.
The soldier, dressed in the uniform of the Capital Defense Forces, hesitated with a frightened expression before tightly closing his eyes.
“Who, what, how did it?”
Izha was the only soldier who returned alive from the Bernini Mountains. Except for him, all members of the Eastern Knights and all the Capital Defense Forces who marched into the mountains at the time were consumed by the dragon’s flames.
“I… I just told you what I saw… I swear…”
“So, say it again.”
At Ivan’s question, the man shrunk into himself. It was too terrifying a gaze for an ordinary soldier to endure. He cautiously glanced around and spoke in a low voice.
“T-the hero appeared and…”
Assassinated My Lord the Grand Duke.
He said.
