As the sunset faded and dusk settled over the land, the previously languid military camp began to stir with activity.
Soldiers and knights who had been resting gathered their weapons and assembled in formation. Ivan and his companions followed behind Gil Bert.
Step, step, step. The footsteps of soldiers gathering in small groups soon blended into a single unified sound. Their discipline and training were impeccable.
The knights naturally dispersed, riding horses around the perimeter of the troops. Their light trotting and defensive maneuvers on the flanks flowed like water.
Their high morale was perhaps only natural. After all, their commander was Gil Bert de Etakrich.
He was the strongest man in this land aside from Maximillian, standing at the pinnacle of all knights. Such was the weight carried by the title of Guardian Duke.
"Not bad, right?"
Gil Bert looked at Ivan with a smirk. Though his smugness was somewhat irritating, Ivan had to acknowledge it this time. It was impressive.
Especially when compared to battlefields from times when high-quality troops didn't exist.
Recalling the frontlines on the brink of destruction, when there had been no time to train and deploy soldiers, this could be seen as a change brought about by peace.
These weren't elites forged through combat experience, but rather through systematic training and military doctrine.
"That must have taken a lot of effort."
"It had to be done."
Gil Bert smiled with satisfaction. He swept his gaze over the troops following him with what seemed like genuine affection.
"The First Corps on the eastern front doesn't have time for thorough training. We can't leave the border unguarded. And as for the other forces..."
"Right, the private armies of the nobles."
"Exactly."
Tilles was an old-fashioned nation that maintained a feudal system. Forces nearly equal in number to the king's army were being raised in various territories, at the discretion of different nobles.
These would naturally become the nation's soldiers if the king issued a call to arms. However, this was ultimately nothing more than a hodgepodge of disorganized troops with different formations and specialties.
In the midst of this, Gil Bert had to focus on developing the capital's defense forces. This corps, which he had been preparing since before the Demon King's death, had only now reached this scale.
Securing resources for them had required tremendous effort. After all, armies consumed money simply by existing.
"What about Krasilov? Surely the situation is better there than here?"
"Are you trying to extract information about my country from an intelligence agent?"
"Hahaha!! You've developed quite a sense of humor while you were dead!"
Gil Bert laughed heartily. Isabelle, who had ridden her horse closer to him, asked quietly.
"Um, Your Grace..."
"Uncle."
"But, but there are too many people around..."
"Uncle."
"Uncle Gil Bert..."
"What is it, my dear Bella?"
"This is ridiculous."
Isabelle clutched her forehead and groaned before finally speaking in a barely audible voice.
"You're leading such a large force, so, um, aren't you going to give some kind of deployment speech?"
"Deployment speech?"
Gil Bert burst into laughter again. Soon, he wiped the smile from his face and answered solemnly.
"That's only necessary when deploying for war."
"What?"
"This is just a hunt."
His face was overflowing with confidence, which was quite annoying.
Ivan sighed softly and turned around.
The army following them gleamed under the torches they carried. Their well-maintained armor glowed red in the torchlight. Step, step, step. They marched in unison, eyes fixed forward.
There was no sign of worry or doubt among them. Despite being ordinary infantry who could disappear by the hundreds with a single breath from a dragon.
The saying that three to four thousand infantry are needed when a dragon rampages means exactly that. A single dragon can wipe out that many troops. No matter what preparations humans make.
Yet there was no fear in their eyes. Even though they weren't safely hunting deer or wild boar.
Gil Bert walks.
The Grand Duke of Etakrich leads the way.
The Guardian Duke protects this country, so every step taken following him is naturally for the protection of this nation.
These soldiers marched forward as if simply doing what was expected of them. With unwavering posture and disciplined steps.
Yes, impressive. Ivan nodded. The fact that Gil Bert had cultivated such elite forces in such a short time spoke volumes about his abilities.
"Ah, I wonder if the others are the same?"
"Others?"
"You know, those assassins your country produced. The ones Enrique raised... Hah, do you know how terrified our country's elders were back then?"
"Hmph."
Ivan turned his head away, clearly not wanting to answer.
Gil Bert, facing forward, didn't notice his expression. He continued speaking with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Then why haven't you married yet? What was her name again? That girl with the pretty name... Ra... Rachel?"
"Raella."
"Ah, right! That girl you liked."
At his words, everyone in the group froze.
Uncle liked someone?
Ivan turned to Gil Bert with a stony expression. Gil Bert finally noticed the situation and flinched.
"She's dead."
"I'm... sorry. I thought... you were all hiding your survival and operating in secret..."
"They're dead, Gil Bert. All of them, everyone."
"...I apologize, Ivan. That was thoughtless of me."
Ivan's words brought silence to the group. Clop, clop. Only the sound of horses' hooves striking the ground continued.
In the silence that finally fell, Ivan quietly sighed.
All wounds eventually become scars with time. If a wound isn't fatal, it will surely heal someday.
Scars, however, never disappear.
Therefore, Kim Seon-woo couldn't control himself whenever he recalled that time. Ivan understood his feelings.
Raella Cherenovika, the woman who loved roses, was Kim Seon-woo's first love.
Not anymore. She was dead, could never return, and he was no longer Kim Seon-woo.
So it was fine. He already had enough scars on his body. This kind of wound wasn't a big deal. The memories brought by old scars were nothing more than numb records of the past.
So...
Ivan suddenly noticed that the hand gripping his horse's reins had turned white and was trembling. He quietly relaxed his grip. A grinding sound of bones realigning was heard.
He flexed his stiff hand and gripped the reins again. Now there was no trembling.
The corps entered the Bernini Mountains.
As if this wasn't their first time, the soldiers naturally dispersed at the foothills of the Bernina Mountains. Each unit of about a hundred men headed toward different faces of the mountain.
"We'll move separately."
"Ah, is that so? Hmm... then take this."
At Gil Bert's nod, an aide approached and handed over a cylindrical rod. A flare. Sticking to traditional methods, I see. Ivan silently tucked it into his clothes.
"You know how to use it, right? Just shoot it into the sky when you spot the dragon. All forces will gather within 30 minutes."
"Understood."
"And about earlier..."
"Enough."
Ivan shook his head. It was meaningless. The words weren't intentional, and there was no need to harbor resentment before battle.
Instead, he quietly extended his arm. Seeing this, Gil Bert smiled broadly and extended his arm in return.
The two men gripped each other's forearms firmly before parting.
"Good luck."
Ivan nodded and gestured toward his companions. With their expressions hardened, the group silently followed Ivan up the mountain ridge.
Thanks to these usually talkative youngsters maintaining silence, Ivan was able to begin his search with ease.
It wasn't a search for the dragon's location. Dragons were fundamentally massive creatures, so they would inevitably be discovered by the numerous searchers in the wide encirclement.
Until now, it had merely been due to Gil Bert's lack of motivation, but today was different. With a reason to finish the hunt quickly, Gil Bert would no longer delay.
The statement that all forces would gather within 30 minutes was meaningless. Within 10 minutes of firing the flare, Gil Bert would come running, and with one swing of his sword, it would be over.
It was like picking up a coin from the ground. With the Capital Defense Force and the Eastern Knight Order together, Gil Bert could be considered invincible.
So.
'Find the count's spy.'
If driving the dragon into these mountains was part of the counts' scheme, there must be surveillance on Gil Bert.
And in a situation where the counts' plans would completely collapse the moment Gil Bert left these mountains alive, that observer would very likely possess some means of assassination.
Ivan felt a kind of satisfying anticipation.
By what means, in what unimaginable way, did they plan to deal with Gil Bert?
What made them think it was possible? And who had devised the plan? Perhaps, and with high probability, it could have been Alexandr's machination.
Allying with demons and inciting nobles to revolt was exactly his style.
Perhaps this thread could lead to tracking down Alexandr.
Perhaps he could do something utterly meaningless.
Revenge, that meaningless act. Something more worthless and lighter than placing a flower on the graves of the dead.
Ivan surveyed his surroundings with satisfaction as he climbed the mountainside.
Uncle had someone he liked?
Isabelle sat lost in thought on her horse. She bit her lip as she swayed slowly to the rhythm of the clopping hooves.
Elfihera and Asidis beside her looked no better. The three stared blankly at Ivan's back as if their souls had left their bodies.
Separation by death is unfair.
It's an existence that can never be forgotten or erased. A presence that never fades. No matter how hard you try, even if you could win a place by that man's side. A rival you can never defeat in your lifetime.
Was that why? The reason he never looked their way despite all their efforts?
While the three were dejectedly downcast, Oskar was quietly watching with gleaming eyes.
'A model of chivalry.'
Fidelity to a deceased lover. Despite his abilities and the aggressive advances of so many women who could clearly see his worth, he remained unmoved.
The evangelical virtues of obedience, chastity, and poverty aren't exclusive to priests. Knights on quests are a kind of ascetic, not much different from priests.
This was especially true for the Eastern Knight Order, which pursued old-fashioned chivalry. Their structure required vows of loyalty, duty, chastity, and poverty before admission was granted.
As a decorated knight of the Eastern Knight Order, Oskar looked at Ivan with fresh eyes.
'Girls, this isn't the time to worry about that.'
Yu-jin sighed as he looked at them.
They really did look like 20-year-olds, which was nice to see, but at this rate, they had no chance. To be by his brother's side, one surprisingly had to prove their "usefulness."
He didn't understand what kind of person thought that way, but for now...
'I need to be useful.'
Yu-jin sighed deeply as he opened his status window. He adjusted it so that profiles of all approaching individuals could pop up at any time. He'd give these kids some tips later, but for now, he needed to focus on the task at hand.
As his brother had said, if a spy or observer approached, the status window would find them faster than the human eye could.
As he had reflected before, Yu-jin's status window was nothing short of the best early warning system.