Ch.688Where is Haschal?

Eastern Margrave, Ludwig Wilhelm von Landenburg.

The Empire’s bulwark.

Guardian of Wall of Berengaria.

The Imperial who had mercilessly severed the thin, fragile possibility of peace, forcing Orhan himself to distance himself from Imelia.

Orhan looked around with eyes full of killing intent, baring his fangs.

“What do you mean?”

The Eastern tongue he spat out was like a growl. Faced with the deep, profound murderous intent contained within, Ludwig swallowed dryly before managing to speak.

“It means it’s pointless to desperately search for a daughter who has left home. As I said just now, she is not here.”

“…Do you think I’ll believe that?”

Orhan shouted while swinging his crimson blade to block three men who charged at him again.

He didn’t believe Ludwig’s words. The nonsense about Haschal not being here was clearly a provocation to disturb his composure and a lie to deceive him into a trap.

“Haschal isn’t here? How ridiculous. Then how exactly do you plan to stop me? Surely you’re not relying on these mere pawns.”

If Haschal truly wasn’t present as Ludwig claimed, there was only one outcome awaiting the Imperial army.

After meaningless resistance, they would become butchered meat staining the walls red. That was their fate.

No matter what trap they had prepared, no matter how they fought, without Haschal, the Imperial army could not stop the Aishan. Not unless they had twice the military strength.

“Drop the pointless lies, Ludwig. If Haschal isn’t here, then where exactly is she?”

Thus, Orhan denied the very possibility that Haschal wasn’t present.

“Surely you’re not suggesting she abandoned all of you and fled?”

“Fled? How could that be possible? She has merely left her post for a duty more important than defending this place.”

“…What could possibly be more important?”

Orhan raised an eyebrow in question.

The idea of abandoning the final defensive line against the Aishan advance for something more important was absurd. There was no duty more important than defending this place now.

At least, that’s what Orhan thought.

“Isn’t fulfilling one’s filial duty the obligation of a child?”

Until he heard that sarcasm-laden response.

“What… did you just say?”

Bewildered, Orhan reflexively questioned. He instantly grasped the mocking meaning behind “fulfilling filial duty.”

“She went east. To lay flowers at Imelia’s grave, and to slaughter all the enemies gathered there without any interference. For her, isn’t that thousands of times more important than protecting Dane and the Empire?”

Orhan couldn’t respond. He had no words to refute or deny.

He knew.

After her exile, Haschal had devoted herself to protecting the Empire, showing exemplary knightly behavior, but her resentment, though not outwardly visible, still burned fiercely in her heart.

The heat of hatred she harbored hadn’t cooled or subsided; rather, it had festered and rotted into something too terrible to face.

Yes. While an Imperial knight should rightfully defend this place, a vengeance-obsessed Haschal would naturally target the empty Ordos while the main forces were away on campaign.

In the current Ordos, there was absolutely no one who could stop her even momentarily!

‘If what he says is true, then Ordos…!’

The image of the Aishan capital burning to ashes flashed through Orhan’s mind.

Could the forces he left there resist? No, that was nonsense. His daughter, Aishan-Gioro Haschal, was a warrior specialized in mass slaughter like no other in this world.

Even Orhan himself might match her in one-on-one combat, but when it came to the speed of slaughtering numerous soldiers, he couldn’t even keep up with her pace.

If she flew straight over the wall to Ordos and went on a rampage, casting the two types of sorcery she possessed, it wouldn’t even take two hours to massacre everyone remaining there.

And that wasn’t all. If she could reduce the Aishan capital to ashes in just two hours… where would she go next, and what would she do?

Just thinking about what she was capable of made Orhan feel a chill freezing his spine.

“Now, what will you do, Aishan-Gioro Orhan? Will you break our resistance, crush the Imperial legion, cross the border, and rush toward the Imperial capital? Are you confident? Can you conquer the triple walls of the Imperial capital Extrashafel before the Empire’s strongest sword burns the entire Great Plains?”

Ludwig declared mockingly. You should not be targeting the Imperial army now, but turning back immediately to somehow protect your homeland.

“Ludwig, how dare you…!”

Orhan ground his teeth and roared toward the sky.

The sense of helplessness from nine years ago, when he had to retreat after failing to find a way through the Empire’s human wave tactics, once again cut sharply through his heart.

‘There’s no proof his words are true. But if they are…!’

He had to retreat. Right now.

Believing that Haschal might not have reached Ordos yet, to protect the Aishan capital.

…Or to prevent Haschal, who had burned Ordos, from carrying out her declaration to slaughter all steppe people over thirty.

His clenched teeth ground audibly. He knew rationally that if Ludwig’s words were true, he had no time to waste here.

Yet his tightly clenched teeth barred his reason like iron bars, preventing him from ordering a retreat.

Should he follow reason? Or emotion?

Orhan howled like a starving beast, unable to decide.

—-

‘…Did it work?’

Ludwig stared intently at Orhan beyond the window frame, gripping it so hard it might break. He didn’t even notice the Mana Herb on his fingertip being crushed by his grip.

Ludwig had confidently delivered his threat—let’s see whether the Empire or Aishan falls first—but in truth, eighty percent of the information he provided was false.

A desperate bluff to make the Aishan army retreat. The only truth was that Haschal wasn’t present.

She had left with Knut to subdue the Dane capital and hadn’t returned yet.

‘Whether she succeeded or failed.’

Since no news had arrived yet, even Ludwig didn’t know if Haschal had succeeded in subduing Edricsa. If he didn’t know, it was only natural that Orhan wouldn’t know either.

‘The operation to subdue Edricsa is top secret. Not knowing Haschal’s whereabouts, Orhan can’t deny my words and can’t shake off his anxiety.’

Orhan’s appearance in his eyes was proof of this.

Unable to move in either direction, reflexively swinging his sword at approaching enemies while caught in doubt and conflict. It meant his lie had worked properly.

‘You must be anxious? You are anxious. You have to be.’

Ludwig found himself gritting his teeth as well. Orhan, conflicted between anxiety and lingering attachment. The fate of the Imperial army hung on his decision.

‘So please retreat. Believe your daughter is obsessed with revenge, and withdraw to protect your remaining kin and the steppe people.’

Ludwig stared at Orhan, forgetting even to breathe, and prayed.

That Orhan wouldn’t notice his desperate lie. That his anxiety would overcome his ambition and lingering attachment.

Finally, Orhan raised his head and shouted loudly.

“Warriors, listen-!”

For a moment, Ludwig felt as if he were caught in Orhan’s gaze. Despite the vast distance between them, he felt their eyes meet.

“The Khagan of the Great Plains, Aishan-Gioro Orhan, commands! Advance! Cross the moat, climb the walls, and kill all the Imperial dogs! Your enemy who has blocked you for decades is before your eyes, so fight without sparing your lives!”

Ludwig’s expression contorted. Dismay, disappointment, and a dizzying sense of falling invaded his mind.

Because his gamble had just failed.

“We will conquer this city within two hours!”

Orhan chose battle.

Not because he saw through Ludwig’s lie, but because of his obsessive grudge—even if he chose to retreat, he couldn’t go back like this.

“UOOOOOOOH!”

The warriors’ roar rose in response. The Aishan warriors who had been waiting for the Khagan’s orders from a distance all spurred their horses and charged forward.

The sound of hoofbeats like pouring rain shook the earth.

“Draw your bows!”

The knights defending the wall raised their drawn longswords high as they glared at the approaching barbarians. The odds were slim. No, they were practically nonexistent.

Still, they had to fight. The black-haired barbarians charging with fierce roars were savage murderers who would accept neither flight nor surrender.

“Fire!”

Thousands of arrows darkened the sun like a curtain.