Baulder’s forces were uniquely among the powers existing in this area, as they actually had a proper stronghold.
Originally a fortress meant to be overseen by a general of the Northern Empire.
A place that once served as the front line of the ancient empire, fulfilling both the functions of a harbor and a defensive fortification.
An impregnable fortress armed with all sorts of cannons and weaponry.
Velrus Neresca was precisely that Baulder’s stronghold.
This supposedly unconquerable fortress was, paradoxically, occupied by a cluster of deserters.
The fact that these deserters managed to conquer such an impenetrable fortress was considered nothing short of Baulder’s blessing.
At least that’s what Eric claimed.
According to him, Baulder had used the cover of a moonless night to conceal himself in the shadows and leap over the walls like a deer.
Reaching from wall to wall until he ascended the tallest tower, Baulder reportedly killed the corrupt non-commissioned officer overseeing Velrus Neresca.
When the officer’s subordinates arrived at the scene, only two things were discernible:
The torn and scattered remains of the non-commissioned officer.
And a horrifying warrior gripping an axe.
Seeing him, the deserters surrendered, and Velrus Neresca became Baulder’s stronghold ever since.
As far as Aslan knew, there was a strong likelihood that this tale was true.
Given the extraordinary level of defense Velrus Neresca possessed, it seemed almost impossible to capture without such exceptional ability.
In light of this, Aslan was leading his traveling party toward the main entrance of Velrus Neresca.
Of course, Aslan’s group possessed several such extraordinary abilities.
Phey alone was proof of that. With Phey’s near-divine speed, every soldier within the fortress, including Baulder, could be struck down before they even realized their own deaths.
Moreover, with just a bit of strategy, numerous feasible plans came to mind.
However, Aslan chose not to employ them.
Even though they might have been able to overcome the fortress if they wished, Aslan decided against it from the start, choosing instead to approach directly.
Because while they might fight if necessary, there was no intention to initiate combat.
Thus, Aslan led part of the group closer to Velrus Neresca.
As they approached, the sheer magnitude of Velrus Neresca became apparent.
The towering walls.
The pervasive chill seeping through the air, and the black walls untouched by rust despite the salty sea breeze.
Countless cannons and repeating ballistae lined along its height, accompanied by numerous magical devices.
It was a fortress that could withstand the assault of thousands without easily crumbling—a declaration in itself.
A declaration that the legacy of the ancient empire still stood strong.
Unsurprisingly, Tiamat, who had been trailing behind, revealed a subtle sense of unease.
“Is this really the right move?”
An out-of-context question. Aslan glanced sideways, prompting Tiamat to mutter.
“Wouldn’t a preemptive strike be more appropriate? I believe the elder here could easily destroy those cannons above with a single shot.”
“Tiamat has a point. I think the same thing,” Richard chimed in, supporting Tiamat’s suggestion.
Unlike his usual optimistic demeanor, Richard crossed his arms and looked up at Velrus Neresca with an uneasy expression.
Aslan understood the reaction well.
The imposing presence of Velrus Neresca seemed capable of erasing their small group of four without a trace.
“It’s because it’s Velrus. There’s no other way.”
Despite this, Aslan didn’t seem overly anxious.
With a composed demeanor, Tiamat fidgeted with her bow and asked,
“Are you sure about this direct approach?”
Though she didn’t stutter, her hand remained poised to draw her bow at any moment.
Following the visible traces of her unease, Aslan nodded.
As Tiamat let out a groan and slumped her shoulders, Aslan glanced back up at the fortress and thought.
Not for the purpose of collapsing it from within.
The defensive capabilities of Velrus Neresca were excellent both inside and out.
Even if one managed to dismantle the innermost walls, they would merely become isolated. Even breaking through the intermediate walls wouldn’t prevent endless defensive battles.
Thus, engaging Velrus Neresca head-on wasn’t a good idea.
Approaching under the cover of darkness like Baulder or infiltrating stealthily with someone possessing Phey’s hiding skills and speed would have been the correct solution.
“We’re not here to fight.”
Fortunately, Aslan had no intention of fighting.
Glancing at Lumel, who appeared tense, Aslan noticed various emotions flickering in Lumel’s amber eyes as he returned the gaze.
Their eyes met briefly before Lumel hesitated, then forced a smile.
A bitter smile. Considering Aslan trusted Lumel, it was surprisingly lacking in confidence.
Nevertheless, regardless of Lumel’s lack of confidence, the situation was upon them.
“Halt!”
A commanding voice echoed from above, followed by two streaks of dazzling magical light.
Flash!
A blinding light reminiscent of modern searchlights.
Under the illumination of Geladridion’s magical searchlight, Aslan heard the sound of repeating ballistae turning to aim at the group.
Each member of the group reacted according to their abilities under that light.
Tiamat closed her eyes and placed her hand on her bow, while Richard tensed his posture with a look of readiness.
As Richard’s mana tattoos glowed red and burned, he took a deep breath, focusing on the sound of the rotating ballistae, ready to deflect any projectiles the moment they were fired.
Lumel, however, responded differently.
He relaxed his tense expression quietly, closed his eyes, and reached for his waist.
As Lumel slowly moved his hand, a voice called out from beyond the searchlight.
“Drop your weapons! Do not move!”
The command. However, ignoring it, Lumel gripped the hilt of his sword at his waist because Aslan was standing in front of him.
Squeak.
During the moment Lumel drew his sword, Aslan reached into his cloak and grabbed two feathers.
Closing his eyes, Aslan focused solely on the sound of the incoming crossbow bolts.
Whizzing through the air. The sharp sound of arrows slicing through the wind—swish, swish.
Perceiving the trajectory of the projectiles with his eyes closed, Aslan swiftly swung his dagger in a lightning-fast motion.
Clang, crack!
The severed crossbow bolt rolled across the ground, and another bolt deflected off the feather, crumpling as it bounced away.
Meanwhile, Lumel raised his sword high after drawing it from his waist.
Just as the soldiers’ crossbows tilted to aim at Lumel, they hesitated.
It was undoubtedly a unique sword.
A one-handed sword with a protruding parrying hook and a large crossguard.
Typical of the ancient empire. The blade was intricately engraved with the symbols of war and knowledge, representing the empire.
It was a strikingly captivating sword.
The strange sense of familiarity emanating from the sword also contributed to its allure.
Ultimately, the soldiers chose to focus on the sword rather than firing more crossbow bolts, and someone seized the opportunity to shout.
“The Emperor’s Sword…!”
To Aslan, it was an unexpected revelation.
What he had assumed to be a renowned sword used by northern empire generals turned out to be the Emperor’s Sword.
Fortunately, it seemed Aslan wasn’t the only one surprised, as murmurs spread among the soldiers above.
“When a general is appointed, I’ve heard the Emperor personally bestows this sword…”
‘So that’s what it was.’
As Aslan silently pondered, he felt the soldiers above looking down at Lumel with confusion and hesitation.
Had they said something, it might have been different, but their silence and rigid stance left them unsure how to respond.
This rigidity and confusion quickly spread, eventually leading to someone appearing atop the fortress wall.
That someone was a warrior.
A man with a neatly trimmed beard and tied-back chestnut hair.
Ambiguously middle-aged or youthful, clad in armor.
The moment Aslan saw him, he recognized him as Baulder.
There was something familiar about his appearance. Just as Aslan wondered about this familiarity, something unexpected happened.
Suddenly, the searchlight went out, and Baulder emitted a soft grunt before closing his mouth again.
Instead of speaking, Baulder observed Aslan’s group.
Two daggers in Aslan’s hands and two crossbow bolts lying at his feet — clear signs of a formidable fighter.
The composition: two males, one non-binary individual, and one female.
Impressed by their uniqueness and evident skill, Baulder spoke promptly.
“State your identity and purpose. What brings you to Velrus Neresca?”
His tone carried a degree of politeness.
Perhaps due to Aslan’s ability to deflect flying crossbow bolts, the unique composition of the group, and the presence of the Emperor’s Sword.
Opening his eyes, Aslan returned his daggers and nodded to Lumel for approval.
With a nod in response, Aslan stepped forward.
“The esteemed gentleman before you wields the Emperor’s Sword and has risen valiantly! Supported by the lords and people along the coast, he seeks a worthy candidate for emperor!”
Such performances were familiar to Aslan, so he spoke without hesitation.
“Therefore, I have come to meet Lord Baulder, the most powerful ruler of this coastal fortress! If you are truly fit to be emperor, surely you won’t lock your gates in fear of just four individuals!”
The provocation mixed with his stated purpose caused Baulder to furrow his brow.
He glanced around at the surrounding soldiers before meeting Aslan’s gaze.
Dark gray eyes. A hint of curiosity flickered in their locked gazes, and Baulder slightly turned his head to look at Lumel.
“Open the gates!”
After briefly observing Lumel, Baulder shouted, and soon the heavy black gates opened.
The group immediately entered.
*
By the time evening fell and the cold mist of compassion permeated the fortress, the group was guided to a dim and chilly assembly hall.
The fire had just been lit, mixing warmth with coldness in the hall. The sleepy cooks hurriedly brought out food.
Mostly warm stews and meats filled the plates set down with a clatter; vegetables were entirely absent.
Considering the North Empire’s custom of always serving vegetables during hospitality, this reception wasn’t particularly grand.
Nevertheless, the group didn’t hesitate to partake in the food.
No one in their position cared about the North Empire’s etiquette.
On the contrary, Tiamat eagerly emptied her bowl of stew, perhaps thinking it would help ward off the cold.
Finally, as the room’s chill dissipated and the plates began to empty, Baulder spoke first.
“Why have you come?”
His tone differed from the polite one he used earlier outside the fortress. Yet Aslan responded calmly.
“As I said, we seek a candidate for emperor.”
Baulder’s reaction to this explanation was cold.
“It’s best to stop lying. How can a general appear when there is no emperor? Ultimately, you’re merely claiming the title of general.”
This cold response, coupled with accurate analysis, surprised Aslan.
Primarily for two reasons.
One being the truth that there was indeed no general, and the other being that despite understanding all this, Baulder still allowed them inside.
Further remarks added to Aslan’s surprise.
“Perhaps you’ve heard my reputation. Knowing that the soldiers here aren’t my true warriors, you made statements about generals and such, using that as leverage to overthrow me if I refused. Am I right?”
It was a statement that accurately pierced through Aslan’s intentions.
Aslan barely concealed his bewilderment with a faint smile.
Baulder was much smarter than expected.
Which explained why he could capture Velrus Neresca.
So Aslan further reflected.
Hopefully, Baulder wasn’t a priest.
It would be a pity if such intelligence belonged to a priest.
Aslan glanced at Lumel to continue the act, and after Lumel nodded, he spoke again.
“Not much different from what I mentioned earlier. General Lumel genuinely aspires to become a general and understands that an emperor is necessary to create one. Thus, he is searching for the most suitable candidate for emperor.”
Baulder sneered at Aslan’s words, responding with skepticism.
“With what talents do you plan to make an emperor? How many rulers exist in this Northern Empire…?”
“A secret.”
Interrupting the skepticism before it fully formed, Aslan cut in, causing Baulder to frown and rest his chin on his hand.
“If you’re not part of our alliance, knowing this secret means you must die. It’s quite a valuable secret, after all.”
Baulder seemed more stimulated by the latter part of the statement.
“…Hah. Do you really think the four of you can kill me?”
Once again, Baulder chuckled, displaying confidence in his own strength.
Recalling the monstrous power Baulder used to capture Velrus Neresca, his confidence was understandable.
“And even if you manage to kill me, do you really think you can escape unscathed from Velrus Neresca?”
Regardless of that power, Velrus Neresca’s defensive capabilities were undeniable.
Even if Aslan’s group managed to kill Baulder, escaping intact would be extremely difficult.
“Just four of you….”
“It’s unknown.”
Leaning back in his chair, Aslan gathered his hands on the table.
“Perhaps there’s a great army waiting outside, and that army is prepared to attack simultaneously from inside and out.”
Baulder’s reaction to this threat was reasonable.
Creak…
But Aslan had the ability to convincingly stage the presence of a waiting army.
The sound and sight of trees falling unnaturally, colliding with each other in a chain reaction, and the glow of campfires visible outside the window silenced Baulder mid-sentence.
“I’ve ordered them to prepare siege weapons and attack if General doesn’t return by tomorrow.”
Of course, there was no great army.
It was merely the result of Angie’s superhuman physical abilities combined with Ereta’s flame manipulation.
Yet based on appearances alone, it was believable.
The purpose of all these actions was simple.
To uncover the source of Baulder’s displayed confidence.
Whether he was a priest or not.
All this was done solely to identify and differentiate that.
Meeting Baulder’s eyes while concealing his intent, Aslan watched as Baulder frowned irritably and muttered.
“…Hold on.”
Some image floated through Baulder’s mind.
The scene of Aslan deflecting the crossbow bolts at the fortress gate.
Focusing on that memory, Baulder looked up and met Aslan’s eyes again.
Suspicion quickly filled Baulder’s gaze.
“Turquoise eyes.”
Gradually fading, transforming into hatred.
“Black hair.”
The scraping sound of a chair as Baulder stood up.
Watching this, Aslan observed as Baulder glared and spoke.
“A swordsman who wields daggers with the force of a masterwork broadsword, capable of deflecting flying crossbow bolts—a warrior of such caliber.”
Grasping the double-handed axe hanging above the hall’s fireplace, Baulder bared his teeth.
“What’s going on here?”
“I don’t know…!”
The tension-filled voices of Tiamat fumbling with her bow and Aslan’s startled response.
As the group sprang from their seats and drew their weapons, Baulder growled.
“Aslan. General Slayer, Aslan.”
Then the mention of the name caused Aslan to flinch, and comprehension dawned in those turquoise eyes.
Recognizing this, Baulder exclaimed.
“It was you!”
A face seen somewhere, a familiar feeling.
Only now did Aslan recall, seeing the resemblance between Baulder and the general he had slain years ago while protecting a child wielding a weapon to defend their mother during a raid.
“Damn.”
With that expletive, Baulder’s body began to transform gradually.
His elongating legs resembled those of a deer, and his mutating head took on the appearance of a wolf-headed deer.
As his horns grew long and grotesquely twisted, Baulder exhaled sharply and declared.
“The chance to avenge my father has come.”
Aslan realized that the consequences of his past actions had caught up with him.
