The Hunter of Hawk and Wolf-Chapter 75 : Chapter 75

Near the royal capital, Jerom.
The camp of Sevha’s army.
Sevha stood before a pile of crates, their contents unknown, and watched the stars in the night sky.
I see constellations I’ve never seen before.
To see constellations not visible from Rasseu meant he was that much farther from Anse. A longing surged in Sevha’s heart.
But he did not push the feeling away. His grandfather had taught him that to suppress emotion was not restraint.
Just as Sevha was about to let himself feel the full weight of his longing, his nostalgia—
“Heh… heh heh heh, heh heh heh heh!”
The witch’s dark cackles came from beside him.
When Sevha turned, he saw Teresse tending to a small cauldron.
Vanadia, though expressionless, seemed curious and was staring intently into the pot. Legra held her back to keep her from shoving her face into the cauldron.
“I’d like to be sentimental for a moment, Magus. Would you kindly shut up?”
“Heh, heh heh heh, ha ha ha ha!”
“I was dumb to ask. What the hell are you doing?”
Sevha approached and looked inside the cauldron. A thick, crimson liquid was simmering over a low flame.
“What… is this?”
Teresse’s witch-like laughter immediately ceased. “A potion.”
“Enough nonsense.”
“An elixir.”
“Is it poison?”
Poison.
The moment the word left Sevha’s lips, they both remembered Marden’s death and fell into an awkward silence.
Seizing the opportunity, Vanadia dipped a finger into the liquid and tasted it.
“V-Vanadia! What are you doing, drinking the witch’s concoction! Spit it out! Spit it out now!”
Ignoring Legra’s fuss, Vanadia licked her lips. “It’s delicious,” she said, her face impassive.
“Really?”
When Legra looked unconvinced, Vanadia dipped her finger into the cauldron again and held it out to him.
“Try.”
Legra stared at Vanadia’s finger, kept staring, stared so hard he seemed to freeze.
“Y-y-you want me to try it? H-h-how?”
“With your mouth.”
“B-but, that’s—!”
“You don’t want to?”
“I-i-it’s not that I don’t want to…!”
Thanks to Legra and Vanadia, the awkward atmosphere with Teresse dissipated somewhat. Only then did Sevha decide he’d had enough of Teresse’s antics.
He took Vanadia’s finger and tasted it himself.
“Lord Sevha—!”
“It really is good. Is it jam? Teresse?”
Sevha rarely used her name unless the situation was urgent.
Hearing it now, Teresse understood his intent. As if to say his concern was unnecessary, she snorted. “Add a few things to it, and it becomes fake blood.”
“Fake blood? Why are you making that?”
“Magic training?” Sevha gave her a look of disbelief.
Teresse burst out as if she could bear it no longer. “You! You’ve been dismissing my magic since the moment we met!”
“I don’t just dismiss it. I don’t believe in it.”
“Anyway!”
Huffing, Teresse took out a small pouch. She sprinkled the powder inside onto the nearby pile of crates.
“Behold!”
As the powder touched a few of the crates, glimmering handprints appeared on their surfaces.
Vanadia’s mouth formed a small “o” of surprise. Legra did the same.
Pleased with their reaction, Teresse announced with confidence, “Magic!”
Sevha, looking at the glowing handprints, recalled a similar sight. “How did you recreate Fairy’s Footprints?”
Fairy’s Footprints was a phenomenon that occurred where fairies were plentiful. Glowing footprints would appear on the ground where no one was walking.
“Want to know? First, you take fairy wing dust, add Sibnosabrax palancarua, then boil it under a July moon for as long as it takes water to boil, then…”
As Teresse launched into a passionate explanation, Sevha tuned her out, regretting he’d ever asked. His eyes remained fixed on the handprints.
“Someone’s in the crate.”
“The Horn of Dulcapanong… what?”
“Those handprints… they’re the kind someone would make getting
into
the box. Judging by the size, I’d say it’s a woman.”
Teresse immediately fled behind Sevha. Legra moved to stand guard in front of Vanadia.
Sevha yanked open the suspicious crate.
“You have to be kidding me.”
Huddled inside the box was Leytia, dressed in simple clothes.
The moment her eyes met Sevha’s, she furtively averted her gaze, like a child caught in a terrible act. Then she snapped open a fan to hide her face.
“You shouldn’t open the door to a lady’s bedchamber so brazenly.”
With no patience for her games, Sevha hauled Leytia out of the box.
“Why are you here?”
Leytia scrambled to her feet and stammered an excuse. “W-well, Father and Mother have seemed so worried lately, so I wanted to come along… secretly…”
“So you’ve been in that box the whole time?”
“I’ve been sneaking in and out…”
Sevha clutched his throbbing head. If Teresse was more fragile than she appeared, Leytia was more reckless.
“You’ll k-keep it a secret from my parents, won’t you?”
“Absurd,” Sevha retorted bluntly.
Leytia scurried over and grabbed Teresse’s arm. “Big sis! Teresse! Please help me!”
“Big… sis?”
“You’re older than me and the marquis, so that makes you my elder, doesn’t it?”
Teresse’s expression became a strange mix of irritation and sadness.
Seeing this, Sevha decided he had heard enough and loudly called, “Charlotte!”
A short while later, the sound of clashing spears could be heard from a distance.
“I’m s-sorry, Mother! Please be a little gentle!”
Vanadia listened to the noise for a moment before asking Sevha, “What’s that?”
“The sound of a young lady being educated.”
“Strange. Teresse doesn’t make sounds like that when she teaches me.”
“…Now that you mention it, what
are
you learning from Teresse?”
Vanadia looked at Sevha, her face impassive. “Teresse said I shouldn’t tell.”
“When we get back to Rasseu, I’m making Hwin your tutor.”
Making that vow, Sevha looked at Duce, who was standing beside him.
“So? What are you going to do about your daughter?”
“I’d like to send her back at once, but she doesn’t know how to give up. I wonder who she gets that from.”
“She’s just like you.”
Duce smiled, pleased at the thought that his beloved daughter resembled him.
“Yes… Since she takes after me, we’ll send her back after we arrive in the royal capital.”
Having decided Leytia’s fate, Sevha and Duce looked in the same direction.
“When do you think we’ll reach Jerom?”
“We should arrive tomorrow.”
At Duce’s answer, Sevha looked at the stacks of crates.
“Then I suppose it’s time to open the rest of these boxes.”
***
Jerom, Capital of the Knight Kingdom of Jershu
The great city, situated near a river that split into numerous tributaries, had a structure that was difficult to grasp at a glance.
Centuries of additions and renovations since the Age of the Holy Emperor had left it with layers of walls that overlapped, connected, and broke off.
But one thing was certain: from the castle at its heart, great roads stretched to the cardinal points. Where each brick road met the city walls, a gate stood.
Soldiers on Jerom’s outermost wall looked upon the city within and without and marveled.
“What a sight.”
“Indeed.”
Within Jerom, people of every race and kind swarmed. Outside, the drovers—more accurately, soldiers—brought by countless nobles were encamped.
“It would have been chaos if His Majesty had permitted them to enter as well.”
For this Birthday Festival, only the royal family and the Four Knights were granted permission to bring their forces into Jerom.
As the soldiers were recalling this fact, a cry went up.
“They’re coming!”
Processions appeared to the east, west, north, and south of Jerom. Immediately, the sound of horns echoed from all corners of the city.
At the sound, pedestrians on the four great roads instinctively grew frightened and cleared the way. Soldiers holding two flagpoles each formed lines along both sides of the roads.
When the four great roads were clear, all the horns in Jerom blared one long, simultaneous note. Then all the soldiers on the great roads raised one flagpole in unison and shouted as one.
“Receive the Four Knights!”
The Eastern Road.
Flags bearing two daggers between two white horses fluttered in the wind. On a white horse, the Knight of the Dagger, Gwen, led his knights and soldiers down the road.
Watching them, the people lining the road struggled to hide their terrified expressions as they cried out.
“Protect the King, O Knight of the Dagger!”
The Northern Road.
Flags bearing a single lance between two white horses fluttered in the wind. On a white horse, the Knight of the Lance, Michel, led his knights and soldiers down the road.
“Protect honor, O Knight of the Lance!”
The Western Road.
Flags bearing a single longsword between two white horses fluttered in the wind. On a white horse, the Knight of the Sword, Angke, led his knights and soldiers down the road.
“Protect God, O Knight of the Sword!”
Finally, the Southern Road.
Flags bearing a shield between two white horses fluttered in the wind. And on a white Toto, the Knight of the Shield, Sevha, marched.
Watching the procession, everyone lining the path cried out just as the others on the other roads had.
“Protect the people, O Knight of the Shield!”
But after the cry ended, no cheers followed. The people lining the path, and the soldiers holding flags on either side, could only stare dumbfounded at Sevha’s marching army.
Behind Sevha at the head of the column, the Blanc Knights marched in full plate armor. Duce’s knights, adorned as splendidly as knights in a play, followed, guarding the wagons.
But behind them…
Members of the Broken Tusk Tribe marched, mounted on growling werewolves and draped in the hides of beasts.
Hunters in Anse Hunter Garb followed like ghosts, their footsteps nearly silent.
The onlookers grew even more terrified at the sight of soldiers in attire and bearing unseen in Jershu, their gazes fixed upon the strange procession.
I don’t know why they were already scared before we arrived, but the result is just as the magus predicted.
To capture the people’s attention with the strange and unfamiliar dress of another culture. This was Teresse’s first proposal.
And the reason for capturing their attention was this:
“Sing!”
At Sevha’s command, the Tusks beat small drums from atop their werewolves. Sevha and all who marched with him repeated the same words in time with the drums, in time with their steps.
Advance, and advance again.
Conquer, and conquer again.
Advance, and advance again.
Conquer, and conquer again.
They marched on like this for a time, the chant repeating like a steady heartbeat. Then Duce’s knights began to play trumpets, cymbals, and other instruments one might only see at a noble’s ball.
The moment the sound, the harmony, exploded—Sevha’s army sang as one, at the top of their lungs.
Advance, advance, and advance again!
From east to west! To the continent’s end!
The white horse’s leap will not cease!
The enemy’s heart will be stopped!
Struck by the blood-stirring lyrics and majestic harmony, the onlookers remembered the song’s title. The March of the White Horse, the marching song used by the White Horse Knights during the Age of the Holy Emperor.
Conquer, conquer, and conquer again!
From south to north! To the continent’s end!
The white horse’s hooves will not wear!
The enemy’s head will touch the ground!
Their eyes, stolen by the foreign attire. The splendid pageantry of instruments that filled their vision. The majestic and blood-stirring march that erupted from it.
The fear slowly vanished from the onlookers’ faces. As if bewitched, as if venting the heat that surged from their hearts, they began to sing along with Sevha’s army.
The marching song filled all of Jerom.
Immediately, Michel to the north seethed. “Is Blanc showing off to Jerom that they haven’t weakened? How dare they…
flaunt
themselves before
me
?”
Gwen to the east scowled. “I don’t know how they restored the half-lost melody of the March of the White Horse, but this is a nuisance.”
And Angke to the west grinned. “Fun! This is fun! Let’s do it! We’ll do it too!”
Despite their differing thoughts, all shouted the same word.
“Sing!”
So, the March of the White Horse echoed throughout Jerom.
Advance, advance, and advance again!
From west to east! To the continent’s end!
The Four Knights advanced in time to the march.
Conquer, conquer, and conquer again!
From north to south! To the continent’s end!
As the Four Knights reached the gates of the innermost wall protecting the royal palace:
Advance, advance, and advance again!
Conquer, conquer, and conquer again!
We who ride the white horse
Are closest to the Holy Emperor!
On the highest terrace of the royal palace, Barsh II, the current Barsh, appeared.
We are the knights of the Holy Emperor!
The march ended, and the procession halted.
The soldiers guarding the four great roads raised new flags in unison: flags bearing a crown between two white horses. Upon seeing them, all the soldiers of the Four Knights cried out as one, with all their might.
Protect the knights, O Knight King!
All of Jerom was filled with a thunderous roar.
Sevha listened as he watched the distant Barsh.
Barsh turned his head sharply toward Sevha. The moment Sevha thought their eyes had met, Toto, its gaze fixed in the same direction, let out a low whinny, then lowered its head and began to tremble.
A moment later, Barsh returned inside the palace.
“Easy, Toto. I know.”
Sevha soothed his mount, then wiped the cold sweat trickling down his neck.
He murmured, “I’ve never seen a man who has killed more people than I have.”