TOPWL 198

The one who covered Edmond’s mouth was a man with a long vertical scar on his cheek. His appearance was so scary that no ordinary person would dare pick a fight with him. At the killing intent radiating from him, Edmond shook his head violently. Garen, you say something too! At Edmond’s look, Garen waved his hand and said.

“Absolutely not.”

That makes us look even more suspicious! When Edmond glared at him fiercely, Garen’s face crumpled.

“Hey, they’re not spies.”

“You know them?”

“They’re… Prince Yudit’s attendants.”

“Ah. And what business brought you here?”

At the man’s question, Edmond pointed to his own mouth. The man gave him an annoyed look, then said.

“If you make a sound, I’ll kill you.”

Edmond nodded furiously. The man took his hand away.

“So then, why did you come?”

At that moment Edmond’s head spun quickly.

“Th-the Prince told us to come and receive training.”

“You two?”

“Yes. He said if we trained well, he would take us with him to the war.”

“How old are you?”

“Sev-seventeen.”

Though it had only been last month, there was no need to add unnecessary detail. The man scratched the back of his neck and muttered.

“Good grief, does the Prince think the battlefield is a game? To bring such kids…”

“What’s wrong with seventeen? I joined a mercenary band when I was fourteen.”

“Do you really think they’re like you, hyung-nim? Anyone can see they’re pampered noble brats who’ve done nothing but run errands their whole lives.”

“N-no. We’re capable.”

Flustered, Edmond tried to assert his ability.

“You two?”

But the eyes of the soldiers who looked at them were cold. Edmond felt a lump rise in his throat. He too had been born the son of a knight and trained to become a knight. He had even beaten a knight in sparring before. Especially with Garen, he had never once lost in their duels.

“If you don’t believe it, why don’t you spar with me?”

At Edmond’s provocation, the man snorted. Garen tugged on his sleeve and shook his head, but once excited, Edmond could not be stopped.

“Fine. Just don’t end up crying after a beating.”

Edmond’s hand went to his sword hilt as if he might draw it right away. But the others stopped him.

“What are you doing? Even if it’s only a mock battle, do you think this is a game?”

Only then did Edmond realize why they hadn’t been at the training ground. He had wondered why they had come all the way to the hill when they had a good training ground, and it was because they were here for a mock battle. One of the knights, who looked to hold high rank, spoke while looking at Garen and Edmond.

“Even if you’re the Prince’s attendants, we can’t let you go right now. If we send you back, our position will be exposed.”

“Th-then what should we do?”

Garen, who had been silent until now, rolled his eyes and asked. The man sighed and took two palm-sized red cloths from his pocket.

“For now, tie these to your heads. When the battle starts, let your opponent take them and then go out.”

It seemed the mock battle’s rule was to snatch the cloths.

“But we can fight too. We even have swords.”

“We don’t use real blades here. Out on the battlefield you’ll shed blood more than enough, so why use them here?”

Now that he thought of it, what the man was holding was a wooden sword. Being intruders, they couldn’t ask for real swords, so Edmond obediently tied the cloth at his waist.

“Kid, don’t forget the promise. Afterward, you’re getting that beating.”

The man with the scar on his cheek spoke in warning. Edmond snapped back at him, boiling over.

“You’d better not lose and end up crying yourself.”

At Edmond’s words, the surrounding soldiers let out dry laughs. Looking around, the scarred man gestured to them.

“From now on, not a sound. Just follow.”

Edmond and the others trailed after him in silence. The man led them to the foot of the hill. Edmond glanced around. At the very top of the hill, archers and soldiers were arrayed. When he saw an archer aiming his bow, ready to shoot at any moment, Edmond spoke with a slightly frightened look.

“Are those real arrows?”

“What, are you scared?”

The man with the scar on his cheek grinned at Edmond like he was a child. Edmond bristled and shook his head.

“No, I’m not scared.”

“Your legs are shaking.”

The man chuckled and pointed at Edmond’s legs. As Edmond fumed, another soldier at his side explained.

“They replaced the real arrowheads with dye pouches. If the cloth on you gets stained with the dye, you’re out. So be careful.”

“Ah–. Why’d you tell him. Now they’ll be desperate to stain the cloth.”

“That’s not true.”

Edmond flared up. In his seventeen years of life, it was the first time anyone had treated him so rudely. Even knights had shown him respect. He thought that later he would definitely beat this man soundly in a sparring match.

The man who seemed to be the commander looked up at the hill with a cautious expression. Just then, from behind the hill came a loud roar of voices. It seemed the people on the opposite side had started running up toward the top. The archers who had been watching this side all turned toward the back at the commotion. Watching the scene, the man spoke.

“All units, crawl forward. Approach quietly.”

Edmond was horrified. The ground was still damp from yesterday’s drizzle. It’s only practice, do we really have to do this just to get dirty? While Edmond pulled a miserable face, the soldiers said nothing and simply dropped to the ground and crawled forward. When even Garen lay down, Edmond had no choice but to do the same.

“Huff, huff…”

Unlike running or swordplay, crawling forward in that posture was more difficult than expected. It must have used different muscles. Edmond’s gasping was so loud that people shot him looks. Garen, whom he had always thought less skilled, blended in well and kept up. Not wanting to lose, Edmond lowered his breathing and kept crawling.

The brush was fairly thick, and since their armor was leather and not polished silver, they managed to approach close to the hill without being noticed. But when they were halfway up, one of the soldiers above, who now had time to check the rear since the front was mostly taken care of, spotted them. The commander spat a curse, rose to his feet, and charged up the slope with his shield raised.

“There are enemies at the rear!”

“All units rise, shields up, advance!”

Some men rushed forward with shields as tall as children. Above them, a volley of arrows rained down. Seeing the sky filled with arrows, Edmond quickly ducked beside a soldier holding a shield. Thump! Blue dye pouches burst against the shield, filling the air with a thick haze. The soldiers coughed but did not stop moving forward.

“Anyone whose cloth is stained, withdraw on your own. The rest keep advancing!”

Can’t they just ignore it? Edmond thought, but the soldiers checked each other’s cloths carefully. It seemed there was another penalty if someone advanced while stained. A few who had not hidden well behind the shields pulled back. Edmond stealthily snatched two wooden swords from them. Before long, he spotted Garen hiding under a shield. Edmond tossed him one of the swords and asked.

“My cloth’s still okay?”

“It’s fine. What about mine?”

Edmond didn’t answer and instead ran forward. The enemy was right in front of him. Now it was time to show his true skill.

Not only from the front and back but also from the sides, enemies surged in, and the soldiers on the hill were in confusion. Edmond charged at them, swinging the wooden sword. An archer who failed to escape in time was struck on the back by his swing and fell.

Edmond stepped on his back to keep him from getting up and tore off his cloth. With a rip, the green cloth strip came free. Shoving it into his pocket, Edmond began rampaging again. Not far away he saw Garen. Garen had crept behind an enemy fighting their allies and plucked the cloth strip from his head. It was sneaky but effective. Realizing his cloth was gone, the enemy glared furiously at Garen, then withdrew.

Not to be outdone, Edmond swung his sword at another enemy nearby, just then an arrow struck him square in the collarbone.

“Ugh…!”

Edmond dropped his sword and collapsed. He had thought it wouldn’t hurt since they were dye pouches, but it felt like being hit on the bone with an iron ball. Looking at the arrow that had struck him, he saw the head was made of a rounded lead tip. The unfamiliar pain made him feel like he might cry. At that moment someone’s wooden sword slashed down at him. Edmond barely grabbed the spare sword beside him to block. With a crack, pain shot from his hand through his wrist and arm.

“Not bad for a brat.”

A spark lit in the soldier’s eyes. Then he raised his sword upright and began driving Edmond back in earnest.