Chapter 199

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 199
Chapter Title: Unbreakable (2)
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The scorching sun was intense, and the prince's knights were valiant.

In the beginning, despite being outnumbered, they cut down the infidels like reeds.

There was a vast difference in both skill and arms between the elite knights, meticulously trained by the royal family for over a decade, and the light infantry, who had been pushed onto the battlefield with little training after recruitment.

But in the end, it was a battle fought by men, and men were bound to tire. After about an hour, the situation had grown desperate.

“Dino—!!”

Alfonso’s scream echoed through the air.

An infidel’s scimitar struck the back of Sir Bernardino’s neck.

Already swarmed by three enemies clinging to him like barnacles, Sir Bernardino sank silently to the ground.

Alfonso looked around in a daze.

Sir Manfredi, who had been swinging his sword just a stone’s throw away while holding off five or six men by himself, was also nowhere to be seen.

The silver armor of his allies was visible from time to time, but his vision was mostly filled with the red sashes and dark scimitars of the infidels.

*I’m the only one who can save Sir Dino.*

“Aaaaaah—!”

*Clang!*

The prince’s sword parried the infidel’s blade. He had blocked a two-handed sword with a single hand.

As the infidel lost his balance, Alfonso’s sword struck again, aiming for the enemy’s torso.

*Splurt—!*

A fountain of blood erupted and the infidel fell, but from the space right behind him, an unfamiliar scimitar shot forward.

He couldn’t muster any strength in the muscles of his right arm, which he had swung with all his might. There was no end to them.

*Crack!*

The dark blade drove into Alfonso’s side. He felt the joint of his armor break as a searing heat spread through his flank.

Alfonso closed his eyes and opened them again. It was a surprisingly slow movement, considering he was in the middle of a battlefield.

‘…Is this the end?’

He couldn’t feel any strength in his limbs.

His muscles, strained to their limit, felt like a room where the lights had suddenly gone out, like waterlogged cotton. His body didn’t feel like his own.

Perhaps he had been dreaming all this time.

The days he had lived as a prince of a kingdom, born into a happy family with a strong body, cared for by his mother.

The days he had met the woman he loved, held her hand, and resolved to have children with her.

Now, he was exchanging blows with foreign infidels under a sun so hot it felt like his armor would cook him.

He was about to be slammed into this alien earth. An unfamiliar powerlessness had conquered his entire being.

“Your Highness—!!”

A familiar voice called out from a distance. Was that Sir Manfredi? Blood flowed from his forehead, a wound he hadn't even noticed receiving, and trickled into his eyes.

With no time to open his helmet and wipe it away, Alfonso blinked again a few times.

*Thwack!*

“Ugh!”

He heard Sir Manfredi’s scream. Through his blood-tinted vision, he saw Manfredi collapsing.

His helmet was long gone, and his shoulder-length black hair followed the belated fall of his collapsing body.

He had seen that before. When he had rescued Ariadne from Duke Mireille’s clutches, her black hair had flown just like that.

He had to raise his sword and go save Sir Manfredi—no, his friend, Antonio. But he couldn’t move an inch.

Then, and now, he was so powerless.

—‘Daily perseverance builds eternity.’

A passage from the Book of Proverbs faintly echoed in Prince Alfonso’s ears. It was his mother’s voice.

—‘The unbreakable spirit of man is what is truly noble.’

His mother had always fought. Even in places he knew nothing about, Queen Marguerite had fought, coughing up blood, to protect her son.

Ariadne’s sparkling green eyes also flashed through his mind.

Her life was a battle every single day, and in the end, she was a victor.

Who was I to boast that I would protect them? Who was I to stand so proudly before those two?

‘You can do it, my son.’

He suddenly heard a voice. Was it a hallucination? Had his mother descended to watch over him?

‘Believe.’

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah—!!!!”

Alfonso summoned his last ounce of strength and swung his sword.

He had discarded his shield and now held his one-handed sword with both trembling hands.

*Clang!*

The black scimitar in front of him flew into the air. He then ruthlessly grabbed the enemy’s neck with his bare hands and twisted.

“Heuk!”

His opponent let out a groan. Alfonso threw him to the ground with one hand and ran toward Sir Manfredi.

“Antonio—!!”

Behind him, he heard the jubilant shouts of his allies.

“They’re coming, Your Highness!”

Alfonso had no time to answer, striking down another infidel who had set upon Sir Manfredi.

His allies shouted once more.

“Reinforcements are coming!!”

It was cavalry.

Just behind the vanguard, Sir Elko was gripping the reins with one hand, charging toward the rocky hill where the group had made their stand.

They were a mere handful of about fifty horsemen, but at this moment, they were more precious than an army of thousands.

“Hyaaaaaaah!”

Alfonso parried one more scimitar that blocked his path. Suddenly, the world before him brightened.

* * *

“What is the meaning of this?”

Inside the tent where the command meeting was held, Prince Alfonso sat with his eyes closed, wrapped in bandages.

The seat beside him, which should have been occupied by Sir Bernardino, was now filled by Sir Manfredi.

Sir Manfredi glared at Sir Albrecht of the County of Achenbach, the man who had sent them to the rocky hill, and demanded an explanation.

For a subordinate to challenge a commander’s strategic decision was almost unthinkable, but this situation was unique.

The Third Crusade had been organized under the command of Grand Duke Uldenburg of the Duchy of Sternheim, but the forces under him were a cobbled-together army from over ten nations.

The command structure was not unified, and everything had to be decided by consensus.

“You explicitly stated it was a rear support mission! That’s why we dispatched only the personnel appropriate for it!”

Sir Manfredi slammed his fist on the small chair he was sitting on.

“The man who should be sitting here is on the verge of death!”

Sir Bernardino had been rescued from the battlefield unconscious.

He was still battling a high fever, hovering between life and death.

“And that’s not all! Prince Alfonso almost died! He is the sole legitimate heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Etruscan! How will you take responsibility if the royal line is broken?”

In response, a knight from the County of Achenbach answered bluntly.

“On the battlefield, life and death are in the hands of heaven.”

The County of Achenbach was a small, weak state bordering the Duchy of Sternheim, but they had dispatched over a thousand infantrymen and several commanders to this holy war.

For them, it was a great sacrifice.

It was on a different level from the Kingdom of Etruscan, which had sent a mere dozen men, mostly royalty and high nobility.

“If you were just going to play at war, carrying flags, you shouldn’t have volunteered in the first place.”

“What did you say?!”

As Sir Manfredi flared up, another knight beside him added his own words.

“You seem pretty cocky now that you’ve earned a little glory, but you shouldn’t act like this in a strategy meeting just because you got lucky.”

“What? Got lucky?! Can you people win against ten-to-one odds with just luck?!”

Sir Manfredi looked ready to cause a scene.

It was only after the battle that they learned they, a group of just eleven, had fought against a total of one hundred enemy soldiers, killing or capturing sixty of them.

Moreover, the commander of the light infantry was the son of a locally renowned infidel religious leader.

They had captured a prisoner with a handsome ransom.

“You son of a…!”

Prince Alfonso spoke.

“Sir Manfredi. That’s enough.”

At his words, Sir Manfredi whipped his head around, an aggrieved look on his face.

But Prince Alfonso had not spoken to make him back down.

“They are right. One must risk one’s life on the battlefield.”

He glared at the commander from Achenbach, a fire burning in his blue eyes.

“I will not hold back from now on. Deploy me to the front lines. I refuse any half-hearted rear-echelon unit.”

“But to deploy you to the front, the state of your arms…”

A cavalry unit with no horses, and a force of just over ten men. It was indeed a problematic unit to deploy to the front.

“I demand my rightful share of the ransom from this prisoner. I will procure the necessary arms.”

This time, a baron dispatched from the Birkenbaum domain stepped forward to object.

“How selfish! Do you have any idea how much the allied forces have supported you for free until now?”

The allied forces divided the spoils of war based on contribution.

But he was implying that since Prince Alfonso’s party had been indebted to them so far, they should concede their rightful share.

It was a statement that could only come from a structure where one person taking less meant another got more.

“You should be grateful for the free meals you’ve been getting…!”

Rage flashed across Prince Alfonso’s face. He shot up from his seat.

*Clatter!*

The chair the prince had been sitting on toppled over and rolled across the tent floor.

Only then did Grand Duke Uldenburg, who had been observing the situation, finally speak.

“Everyone has a valid point.”

He brought the situation under control.

“Prince Alfonso, please calm yourself. Although Sir Albrecht was the one to assign the duties, the decision for your men to take on that mission was ultimately mine, as the commander-in-chief.”

He looked at Sir Manfredi with a deep gaze.

“I expect you to follow the command of headquarters.”

Sir Manfredi, lost for words, lowered his head.

Prince Alfonso also quelled his urge to grab the Birkenbaum commander by the throat and drag him down.

“And to everyone in this tent.”

He scanned the assembly with his thoughtful gray eyes.

“Do not belittle the great contribution our friends from Etruscan made in this battle.”

Someone voiced their complaint once more.

“Why are you defending them so much over one prisoner? How much could the ransom possibly be?”

The prisoner was worth about thirty ducats. A large sum, but also a small one, depending on one’s perspective.

“The spoils are not the issue.”

Grand Duke Uldenburg replied calmly.

“That unit was on its way to burn a village that had been cooperating with us from the rear. Ransom aside, Prince Alfonso and the Etruscan forces saved many lives. Do not forget the purpose of this campaign.”

A Holy War. A pilgrimage of war, where the faithful servants of God volunteered to journey to the Holy Land to exalt His name and reclaim the holy city of Yesak.

“If we cannot win the hearts of the locals, even taking the walls of Yesak will be but a fleeting victory. We must win them over.”

Though he couldn’t quell every insolent glare, the voices of protest subsided.

Grand Duke Uldenburg seized the opportunity to settle the matter of money as well.

“The distribution of spoils will proceed according to principle.”

Alfonso gave a short nod to the Grand Duke as a sign of gratitude. But there was more that he wanted.

“I will abide by the Commander-in-Chief’s judgment. However, my desire to stand at the vanguard in the next battle remains unchanged.”

“I will take it into consideration during deployment. Let me know when your arms have been improved.”

The military achievement of Prince Alfonso, who had held off an entire company with a handful of men and even secured a victory, could only be described as brilliant.

Though small in scale, it was a qualitatively difficult feat to accomplish.

The strategy meeting for the day ended there. It was a day that was both unsettling and, at the same time, refreshing.

After the meeting was dismissed, as they walked back to their respective quarters in the encampment, the eyes of the knights and common soldiers who could not attend the meeting were fixed on Alfonso and his party.

Some looked on with curiosity, some with admiration, while others looked down on them or sized them up.

“Your Highness, don’t the looks we’re getting seem a little different?”

Sir Manfredi asked cheekily. Prince Alfonso brushed back his blood-stained golden hair and answered languidly.

“This is hardly enough to turn heads yet.”

The prince was looking at a much bigger future.