Chapter Sixty-Nine: Emerging

After that day of conflict, within the Brook City-State, the feud between the two princes finally erupted. Whether they wished it or not, once their previous disputes were laid bare, both sides tore off all pretense.

The eldest prince, on that very day, retreated directly to his own territory. Around him gathered Commander Coris and many other military forces formerly loyal to the crown, rallying their old followers. Meanwhile, after seizing the royal palace, the second prince called upon the nobles who supported him, assembling them in the city to confront the eldest prince.

Both sides had their supporters, each branding the other as rebels. On the eldest prince's side, he was endorsed by Coris and a host of former close confidants of the king; while the second prince, Kezel, controlled the royal palace and, backed by numerous lords, was in no way inferior to his rival. Each faction occupied certain regions of the city-state, restraining and watching each other warily.

At first, the two princes still tried to restrain their armies, but as frequent clashes broke out, control slipped away. The city itself rippled with unrest.

"What? Father has passed away?" Prince Kezel stared at the attendant before him, disbelief in his eyes.

"Didn't Father just meet with Coris two days ago? How could he die so suddenly today?"

After a while, having worked to calm his agitation, he looked ahead and asked calmly, "After the conflict between Your Highness and the eldest prince, His Majesty fell into a coma, his life hanging by a thread, and today he passed away completely," the attendant replied.

"Damn it!" Kezel cursed inwardly, unable to suppress his frustration. Originally, if he had succeeded in killing the eldest prince that day, the king’s death would have mattered little. But since his rival escaped, the king suddenly became important.

He had just seized the royal palace, and now the king was dead. If word got out, he might well be branded a patricide. The thought filled him with unease, and a vague sense of something sinister crept over him.

From the king’s order to transfer the throne, to his ambush in the palace, and finally the strange failure at the brink of success... this string of events gave him the uncanny feeling that someone was deliberately inciting conflict between him and the eldest prince.

Suddenly alarmed, he looked down at a knight. "Gedir, have there been any unusual happenings at the border lately?"

This man was his chief knight and a formidable earth knight.

"No anomalies have been detected," Gedir replied, meeting Kezel’s gaze. "Aside from occasional banditry, the border lords have reported nothing out of the ordinary."

Hearing this, Kezel steadied himself and breathed a sigh of relief. "It seems I was overthinking..."

He dismissed his unease, thinking thus. "Seal the palace—no one is to enter. Also, suppress the news of Father’s death. By royal decree, summon the lords’ soldiers."

With this order, the struggle, once in the open, grew all the more intense.

Within Brook, many lords responded to Prince Kezel’s call and raised their armies. Faced with this, the eldest prince’s faction refused to stand idle and launched their own attack. Backed by the elite royal forces, they surged forward at first, defeating each lord who answered Kezel’s summons. Seeing this, Kezel gathered his forces within Brook City, and the two sides became locked in stalemate.

Yet as their conflict escalated, the merchant caravans and small lords within the Duchy of Brook suffered greatly. Armies roamed, pillaging at will; lords supporting each prince fought fiercely within their territories, plunging all into chaos.

Meanwhile, as the two princes clashed beneath Brook City’s walls, far to the west of the duchy, in a desolate mountain region long devoid of human presence, small groups began to appear.

At their head strode a burly man in leather armor, his face weathered, gazing ahead. "At last, we’ve arrived!" he sighed, looking toward the gradually flattening land.

"Nearly two months on the road—thankfully, we made it out before the food ran out," another voice echoed in lament.

Nadir turned to see a handsome youth catching up from behind—it was Athis.

After nearly two months of arduous travel, often losing their way, Athis and his companions had finally emerged.

"Marching through the mountains—if not for the priests and guides, we’d have been lost long ago," Athis murmured, glancing at the line behind him.

Though he had anticipated hardship, the wilds of this world proved harsher than he’d imagined. The roads were barely worth mentioning; the wilderness here teemed with magical beasts and elemental spirits, and strange dangers abounded. Ordinary folk entering would soon become corpses.

Fortunately, with the spread of divine arts and battle energy in the army, their overall combat strength had greatly improved. Otherwise, this detour would have cost the lives of many among their thousands.

"But precisely because this journey is so perilous and difficult, it will take others by surprise," he thought, looking behind him.

Warriors clad in vine armor trudged along the mountain path under their officers' guidance. Their progress was slow and disordered, but a newfound coordination could be discerned.

On some of their vine armor, flecks of dried black blood remained—the blood of magical beasts slain on the journey over the past two months.

"Sir, according to our priests’ scouting, there are several villages not far ahead," said Bill, approaching Athis.

Athis nodded, "Bazel!"

"Here!" Bazel answered, kneeling at Athis’s call, his leather armor stained with blood.

Compared to several months prior, he now wore leather armor imbued with divine arts, his battle energy pulsing quietly, giving him a gravitas as if he were a changed man.

Looking at Bazel, Athis nodded inwardly. "Take a hundred men and scout ahead. We’ll find a village to rest."

"Yes, sir!" Bazel replied and departed.

With his movement, a hundred men split off to follow. Though they were only a hundred—and weary from the journey—as Athis’s guard, bolstered by the priests, their fighting spirit remained fierce.

However, due to the harsh environment, villages here were sparse and populations small. Bazel had little trouble taking control of a village. When he arrived, the locals had no inkling that this was a foreign army and offered no resistance, saving him effort.

This was only natural; communication in this world was slow, especially for those living on the frontier, who knew nothing of outside events.

Moreover, Athis’s troops were orderly, well-armed, and appeared formidable; to the locals, only noble knights could show such strength.

It wasn’t until Athis’s thousands arrived in force that the villagers sensed something amiss, but there was nothing they could do.

In the afternoon, within a makeshift tent, Athis frowned at the provisions before him.

On a rough wooden table lay several black breads, still intact, alongside some hunted meat—the best the village chief could muster, yet still miserably meager to Athis and his men.

He shook his head. "I had planned to requisition some grain from nearby villages, but given the poverty here, even forced collection would yield little."

"Bill, where is the nearest lord?" he asked the man before him.

"In a nearby town—a baron’s estate. There should be some grain reserves," Bill answered, bowing slightly.

"Good," Athis nodded.

"We’ll rest here for a day, then depart tomorrow."

"Yes, sir!" Bill and the others replied.