by Y. R. Shin
Reuyen’s clear, dark-red eyes looked into his black ones. Paseid could easily read the anxiety revealed in them.
“I do not think this is a matter we can suddenly decide upon after a discussion, Sir Ratte,” said one of the knights. “No one can take the responsibility of the results if the situation does not turn out as expected.”
“This seems to be a waste of time as well,” said another. “Why don’t we just proceed as planned…”
Reuyen calmed her throat, which was boiling as if she’d just swallowed a flame.
Those country bumpkins.
The discussion that kept digressing continued endlessly. They were trying to spare themselves from the punishment that would follow if the plan failed; it was so plain that it didn’t even make Reuyen burst into laughter. If they had brains, they would know how effective giving the fort unredeemable damage at this point would be, and yet they were cowering.
Reuyen started to struggle to hide her anxiety. Why did Paseid remain silent? Even Jacalrin, who was strongly arguing his point, shut his mouth at Evinbur’s stern reproach, leaving Reuyen even more nervous.
She’d already done all she could do. She’d run, risking her life, and led them here. And now she was waiting for their decision.
Her eyes landed on Paseid. She did recall Belbarote at the sight of him, but if she actually thought about it, she did not know the nature of that man with the same black hair. She simply assumed he would have the mind and clear vision befitting a man who became a commander-in-chief at such a young age. Hearing that he was Brionake’s blood might have heightened her expectation of him as well.
What could she do if he cared about sparing himself like the others? She couldn’t read anything in those enigmatic, pitch-black eyes, a still gaze where acceptance, denial, and even flaming fury faded away.
Soon, he averted his eyes from her. Her heart skipped a beat at the anxiety rooted in a clear cause. Reuyen opened her mouth for a moment, feeling a strong urge to say something, anything.
Then, Paseid, who had remained silent all along, opened his mouth first. “Your words bear truth in them, sirs.”
It was an unwavering voice, like the anchor of a ship.
Her expectations and wishes shattered to pieces under the weight of his words. What to do now? She dropped her head at last like a reed bent at its waist.
“But…this is also worth attempting.”
Reuyen pulled her head up.
“All retreat with the rear as the front.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Paseid’s order was absolute.
The knights shut their mouths and ordered the men to retreat. Naturally, a small battle ensued between the fraction of the Olzorean army standing by in defense formation in front of the valley and the Rarkian army. They fought back the Rarkians coming back out for a short while, then ran off toward the hill, and the Rarkian army stopped the march and assembled where they were stationed.
At last, the sun set when they were at the entrance to the valley. The knights, who were furtively skeptical of Paseid’s decision, took off their helmets and gazed at the fort glistening in the last sunlight.
This was irrevocable.
“Predicted duration?” asked Paseid.
“Sir Chesa says he can finish all preparations before midnight, sir.”
The air surrounding the fort was quite uneasy as well. Their enemy’s wondering made sense, since the Rarkian army that had suddenly backed out of the valley were neither pursuing the Morganaan army nor invading the fort, but remaining still. The Rarkians shooed away the fort’s scouts a couple times by threatening to shoot.
Paseid stood in the middle of the field blanketed with dry air and gazed at the flag fluttering in the valley’s wind, which was starting to change direction.
The dark night crept over the horizon. Confirming that Jacalrin, who was in charge of gunpowder and other military supplies, had evacuated the valley, Paseid ordered the knight standing next to him. “Send a messenger to the general of the fort to come out if he wishes to avoid meaningless losses.”
The knight of Rarke ran over to the fort’s hill. But the fort sneered at their mercy.
When the moon hung high up in the sky, Paseid’s last orders were made.
“Sir Ratte and Sir Evinbur will protect the rear. When the third beacon lights up, they will return. We will not miss that chance and will block their way. Sir Chesa, stand by at the following corps.”
The commanders of each corps moved to their posts at once. Then, they relayed the changed plans: the commanders to the colonels, the colonels to the captains, and the captains to the hundreds and thousands of infantrymen. In the situation where the initial plan was stopped, the newly relayed order shook the Rarkian army with clear anxiety and distrust.
Even Jacalrin, who strongly argued his point while not considering failure as an option, swallowed with tension.
“Shall we begin, sir?”
Paseid looked around. “The woman?”
“Over there.”
Due to the concern that she would do something unexpected again if she were left with Den, Reuyen was standing at the front of the corps stationed on the field, tied up and looking up at the fort.
The dark and damp entrance to the valley that had held up the fort for hundreds of years threatened them with its chasm darker than ever. The stars and the moon shed pieces of their light onto the night. Like a painting frozen in time, she took the valley and the fort into sight.
“Sound the signal.”
The atmosphere, spotted with the suffocating silence and anxiety, tore with a fierce roar at Paseid’s gesture.
The blow of the horn went through the field and valley at a chilling speed, like it was going to pierce through the entire world. When tens of trumpets started to sing at the same time, the fort lit up even more intensely.
Olzore sent out soldiers to the front and the rear of the fort in an effort to prepare for the Rarkians’ infiltration, and stationed archers to defend themselves with belligerence. But the Rarkian soldiers did not move. Not long after, a gong started to ring out from inside the valley. The knights who were assigned the final duty of installing and lighting the gunpowder ran out with the gong signaling retreat. The Rarkian soldiers held their breaths.
As the wind slid across the field toward the valley, the night filled with an unidentifiable anxiety. The moment of time when the white flag of the Royal House Brionake fluttered and reflected the starlight. The time when the nearing sound of drums and hooves started to sound of reality.
The valley cried with the tearing wind.
The sound of the creased skies crushing the stones and rocks overwhelmed them.
It was much like the sound of the earth splitting apart, its axis shattering. The pandemonium of the ground sinking down intensified and echoed throughout the valley like the scream of the devil. They couldn’t see a single flicker of light or smell a hint of gunpowder, but everyone in the Rarkian army knew.
The carriages and the gunpowder contained in them must have blasted some corner in the valley into bits. That was the reason they’d overturned the entire operation to its core.
Everyone fixed their eyes on the entrance of the valley, where not even the rays of light shining from the dark night sky above, clear without a single cloud, could infiltrate, all thinking the same thing. Paseid sat on Rotsa and waited in silence. Evinbur tightly shut his eyes, and Jacalrin gulped and took in the view that could very well be their last.
Amidst all the stillness, Reuyen slowly stepped forward. Forward, forward, so she could see even the tiniest bit closer. She was stopped by the guards watching her before she could take another step, but even one step felt significant to her.
The gong stopped ringing and the knights stopped galloping to look back. Dearly waiting for the arrogant men looking over them while sitting atop that fort to run out, screaming. Not showing their hearts losing their strength and trembling just from looking at it. Boo-boom. The c
lamor of the valley’s body writhing resounded.
Fall. Fall, Reuyen invoked, as the fierce cry of the earth pierced her ears.
But the echo of the explosion disappeared into the night wind. Smoke rose from afar, and flames blazed and faded.
The fort stood as before.
A long time passed, to the point of boredom. Jacalrin’s face slowly stiffened at the unchanged majesty of the steadfast valley. Even Evinbur, who did in fact have some expectations, looked around, unable to hide his perplexity.
Did it fail? What happens now?
The soldiers’ sharp shock and anxiety became apparent enough to prick one’s skin. Evinbur looked back at the valley once more, at a loss for words, and approached Paseid. “Sir Calandok, now what should we do?”
They couldn’t go back to the initial operation now, either. There wasn’t enough time, and the gunpowder that was to be used as a signal was now all gone.
Paseid cut off the confusion, still standing motionlessly. “We wait.”
Even so, the knights started to reveal their frustration. Eighteen carriages of gunpowder. As Jacalrin had so confidently guaranteed, that was enough explosives to shatter a small mansion to bits. Their ears remembered the great, thundering roar that had pierced the valley, and their feet recalled the tremble of the earth.
But at last, the valley boasting its solidity impaled their hearts. Several faces displayed signs of extreme regret as they witnessed this tragic event, but they dared not speak to Paseid and just stomped the ground where they stood.
“Now what do we…”
Stunned, Reuyen tightened her fists and simply watched.
Did something go wrong? Did they not properly carry out their duties? Everything froze like it was turning into stone except her panting lungs.
Indistinct remorse surged.
Alas, was it not meant to be? She had forced hundreds of her people to their deaths, inflicted pain on thousands of them, and devoted years of time only to tear down that one thing. Was her purpose never attainable? Her unending obsession added yet another weight of sin to her shoulders.
Once again, this fool of a woman…
The moonlight cast long shadows beneath her eyelashes, and in those, her bloodshot eyes were looking up at the fort like it had stolen her soul.
The lights on the fort shone brightly as if to mock them.
When the moon started to wane at last, even Jacalrin started to bounce around anxiously. He rebuked and threatened the knights who were assigned the duty of lighting the gunpowder. But before the moon completely disappeared into the horizon, even Jacalrin, who had strongly supported Reuyen, threw in the towel.
It had failed.
Negative sentiment smeared the bitter silence. At last, a knight carefully approached and spoke. “Sir Calandok…it seems as though the best thing to do next is to forego the fort and turn the army back to destroy the Olzorean army heading to the main camp, sir—”
“We wait.” Paseid cut him off at once. Then he looked back at the woman standing weakly, like she could crumble away at any second under the moonlight. She was as pale as the skin of a corpse. Her eyes were fixed on the top of the fort, not even moving an inch. Her scrunched-up face seemed to threaten to burst into tears at any moment.
Moments of silence worse than the stench of death passed. The weight of failure, the confusion of the operation that now was all befuddled, and the anxiety that they did not know what was to come in the future overwhelmed the Rarkians to the tips of their hands and feet. But their commander-in-chief ordered silence, so they hid all their emotions inside and dropped their heads.
And when the sun colored the edge of the sky touching the horizon into red, soaring up into the sky once more after going around the earth…
Crack.
A strange sound started to ring from afar. It was a noise like a thick sledge breaking into two.
The Rarkians, feeling miserable as the red light touched their cheeks, raised their tired heads. Jacalrin’s voice, spitting out mutters of curses at Olzore, dispirited like a beaten dog, stopped.
And.
It began with a small rock rolling off the edge of the valley holding up the fort.
With a racket of rocks breaking, down came the small debris like waves of sand, then larger rocks tumbled down with the landslide, causing a great tumult.
While everyone held their breaths with shock and expectation, two more beacons suddenly lit up in bright red on top of the fort. The unprecedented, spine-chilling commotion broke the valley in half. Then a massive stone that broke off got trapped between the narrow cliffs of the valley and weighed down the soft stone wall with another great clamor.
The fort tilted like it was being sliced out of the scenery. Soon, parts of the impregnable walls built sturdily around the fort broke off like pieces of paper. The beacon that fell with the walls poured out flames like a waterfall, sending sparks everywhere. Fire started to light up here and there.
The plain red flag signaling an emergency soared up to the tip of the fort, and the gates opened. The people gushing out of them were easily over a thousand. But they were mostly unarmed civilians, for they had sent out most of their soldiers already.
One of the people who ran out, startled by the shaking nest, was the general of the fort.
The Rarkians could neither cheer nor relax. They simply engraved the hundreds of years of history crumbling down like a sandcastle in their trembling hearts. Paseid let out a dry sigh, clamped his lips, and then, with Rionac tightly held in his hands, gave his order.
“Sir Chesa, take Sir Eden and stand by below the hill. Ready for combat to overcome the remaining defense force of Olzore and capture the general of the fort alive.”
Jacalrin, who had been as dispirited as a dead weed, ran off in ineffable delight, crying out something unintelligible.
Two hundred years’ worth of tears welled up in Reuyen’s eyes, reddened with the faint light of dusk.
That day, around sunbreak, Fort Olzore split in half with the collapse of the valley. Without even a proper battle, the Rarkian army captured the general and the high officials of the fort, as well as about five hundred of Morgana’s civilian prisoners. But the general of Olzore, who became the last symbol of hundreds of years of history, came down the hill and honorably took his own life.
Fort Olzore.
The unconquerable legend thus met its end.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Most of the soldiers still could not believe even after witnessing with their own eyes the walls of the impregnable fort bending, snapping, and covering the area with their debris. One of those who quickly came back to his senses cried, deeply affected by seeing the historic event take place before his eyes, and another just rubbed his eyes at this preposterous situation, dumbstruck.
The eminence of the fort that stood strong for over seven hundred and fifty years without even a single crack crumbled like a sandcastle because of a couple carriages of gunpowder. Buzzing engulfed the army. The Rarkian soldiers dared not even move a single step toward the valley as it dropped pieces of its flesh, but merely glanced around.
And time began moving again.
“Do not delay.”
At their commander’s orders, the soldiers spent the whole day capturing or watching the people of Olzore and organizing all the documents they confiscated from the boxes and shelves in the fort, as well as the top secret Morganaan documents of the high officials of the fort.
“We just sent a second messenger to the main camp, sir.”
“We have confiscated the letters to and from the imperial family of Morgana, sir. They are in code, so immediate decrypting seems impossible.”
A series of reports from those who had not calmed their excitement yet ensued. There was no sign of fatigue in the faces of those who did not sleep a wink last night. It seemed as though the commanders and the lowest soldiers alike had surrendered themselves to utter delight and excitement. Moreover, they could not even attempt to hi
de the infinite respect and admiration they had for their commander’s wisdom that toppled down the fort without shedding a single drop of blood.
One of them became rather smug at all this. It was Jacalrin. He ran about like a flying squirrel and puffed his chest whenever he locked eyes with another knight, saying, “See? What did I tell you!” Evinbur just smiled awkwardly at him. The old knight hadn’t even expected to see such a sight in his life, so he was quite moved as well.
Paseid, on the other hand, looked disgruntled. “Do not relieve yet. Send scouts to the road leading to the main camp and report the enemy’s movement.”
Many wondered about Paseid not even seeming to take pleasure in this much of a victory, but no one dared to ask aloud.
“The body of the general?”
“I have rested it in the regular army tent with the other bodies. Would you like to see it, sir?”
“Later.”
“Sir Calandok, the scouts have returned, sir. They say they just verified the Olzorean army’s return. It seems like they will arrive here again by tomorrow at noon.”
“Let them know of the general’s death and prepare for battle. We will ambush them from three points with the lightly armed cavalry in the front, surround them, and overpower them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Most of the issues came to a close after sundown.
The busy footsteps and the sound of metal clanging still resounded everywhere, but at least the excited shouts, happy screams, and questioning of their own eyes had ceased. Feeding the tired Rotsa some hay in the little time he had made, Paseid looked once again at the unbelievable sight.
Morganaan prisoners locked up in their camps scattered around the area, terrified. The entrance to the valley was covered with mounds of debris. He had undertaken a risky attempt relying on an uncertain possibility and succeeded. The collapse of Olzore. This was an utter blessing for Rarke. With this, the predicted path of the Great Battle against Morgana would change drastically. They might even have to redraw the map.