# Enhanced Translation
The soldiers poured through the wide-open city gates like a flood. San Matilenne was a major city known for its well-maintained roads. Befitting its reputation as a trade hub, the main boulevard was broad enough to accommodate the massive influx of troops with room to spare.
"Waaaaaah—!!"
The soldiers ran with eyes wild with excitement. Even the most disciplined army transforms into looters in an instant once city walls fall.
A city of this size would contain tremendous spoils waiting to be claimed, even if most citizens had evacuated.
Moreover, Count Grandmartel's legion consisted primarily of private soldiers belonging to various lords, except for the main force. Strictly speaking, looting was almost an economic activity to offset the enormous costs of military supplies.
No matter how much one might desire an intact throne, prohibiting looting entirely was impossible. That would immediately cause the barons under his command to turn against him.
Thus, the soldiers charged forward with eyes reddened at the virtually unlimited targets for plunder. Civilian homes burned, hidden citizens were dragged out, and furniture was thrown from windows.
The chaos continued.
"Where? Where is he?"
"Wait, just wait. There are too many people for information to..."
Yu-jin frowned as he rode his horse forward. The infantry didn't stop them. Their primary objective was looting, and their secondary goal was capturing the inner citadel.
In truth, no one seemed to expect that a commander would personally charge on horseback from the inner citadel. It would be common sense. If someone was riding a horse here, it was right to assume they were nobility.
This was due to poorly established military discipline. Soldiers couldn't be expected to recognize nobles from other territories.
"I saw him! There, that white horse! The armor! Right?"
"That's right!!"
The group spurred their horses forward, moving against the flow of soldiers. The soldiers merely grumbled as they dodged the passing horses, apparently not daring to think they might be enemies.
This was common in battlefields where front lines weren't clearly established. In this case, it was fortunate. Yu-jin secretly sighed as he looked at the soldiers' stupid faces.
Who would have thought such a reckless charge would actually work?
He wasn't sure whether to be grateful that the situation was more chaotic than expected or to admire Oskar's cleverness in deliberately creating this chaos.
Well, as long as the outcome is good, it's fine, Yu-jin thought as he rode after Oskar.
The group of knights that Elfihera had spotted soon appeared before them.
"Etoile—!!"
A harsh shout erupted from Oskar's mouth. As if only fury remained after overcoming fear, violently.
"Look at what you've done! A city that stood for a thousand years is burning!!"
Oskar shouted as he drew his sword. The knights approaching from the end of the street stopped and began to look at them.
A knight with an imposing build wearing snow-white armor stood at the forefront, blocking the road. Behind him stood an attendant holding the commander's banner.
It was the armor of Etoile de Grandmartel. It seemed as though his eyes flashed beneath the luxurious helmet.
"Etoile de Grandmartel!! Come! If you want this country, you'll have to step over the corpses of the patriots who remain in it!"
"Oskar!! Wait!!"
The warhorse charged forward. A warhorse at full speed cannot stop by itself at this distance. Yu-jin screamed from beneath his helmet.
"That man is not Count Grandmartel—!!"
Yu-jin's words didn't reach Oskar's ears. The confusion caused by Oskar's appearance and the noise of the crumbling city from all directions was too overwhelming.
His heartbeat pounded loudly. Not from fear, but from anger.
Yu-jin gritted his teeth and raised his sword. Following him, everyone in the group held their weapons straight.
'Level... 63!!'
Considering the average level of the Hero Party, this opponent was overwhelmingly powerful. If this were Etoile, he would still be someone worth risking their lives to fight, but—.
"Indeed."
The knight's voice resonated deeply. Piercing through the noise and drilling precisely into their ears.
"So it was a trap after all. What a cute little scheme."
*Clank.*
The knight's gauntlet pulled out a spear resting on his saddle. An enormous axe-spear, the kind infantry might carry, rose unsteadily.
It was too massive a weapon to handle on horseback with upper body strength alone.
*CRASH—!!*
Oskar barely managed to duck his head to avoid the axe blade. His helmet was roughly scraped off and sent flying. The axe-spear, still with momentum to spare, demolished the wall at the end of the road.
"Oskar!!"
Elfihera screamed as she formed hand seals. Magic power gathered and lightning formed. With crackling sounds that destroyed the air, blue-white lightning bolts rushed toward the knight.
"An elf?"
The knight responded to the lightning that struck his head precisely by merely turning his head. The helmet straps, scorched by the lightning, fell limply, and the visor rolled on the ground.
The face revealed beneath was not Etoile's. It belonged to a much older, yet still powerful man. A man like a rock.
"Jean Gerard de Lamond!?"
"Do you know him?"
"Of course I do! The Red Baron Lamond...! Why on earth is he—?!"
Isabelle screamed as she calmed her horse. The cavalry charge finally stopped. The group stood rigidly before Baron Lamond, gripping their weapons tightly.
Soldiers who heard the commotion gathered around. They held their spears firmly, aiming at the group.
The knights in front didn't seem inclined to move. Because they trusted the knight at the forefront. The name of the Red Baron Lamond.
Baron Lamond laughed as he removed his helmet, which still crackled with electricity, and threw it to the ground.
"Isabelle. Have you been well?"
"Shut up! You traitor—!!"
"Traitor? Haha. What a hurtful thing to say."
Lamond loosened his shoulders and rode his horse forward. Clop, clop. The closer his horse came, the more intense the pressure became.
Among soldiers aiming crossbows and lances, Lamond waved his hand to restrain them and took the lead.
"Show some respect. Hasn't the defeated commander come personally to sign the surrender document?"
"Who—!"
"If not, did you implement this as a strategy? The son of the Guardian Lord, the son of the Hero, and... well. Foreigners. Little bloodlings gathered together, risking their lives and charging forward, thinking they might achieve victory?"
Lamond burst into laughter as he looked at Oskar.
"Leaving the city gates open means surrender, but you locked the inner citadel and chose to hold out. You even sent the nobles' heads packaged to the Count. After such provocation, inviting us to enter immediately, wouldn't it be normal to have some trick up your sleeve?"
"I should have killed you long ago, Baron Lamond."
"Your skills are far from sufficient."
"My father should never have trusted you."
"It was easy. Earning the Grand Duke's trust, that is."
Oskar gripped his sword with a hand so tense that veins bulged as if about to burst.
A knight of the Eastern Knight Order. The man who was the first to step forward when the Dragon of the Bernini Mountains was initially reported, and then went missing.
This man's disappearance gave the Eastern Knight Order justification to mobilize troops directly. Apart from the First Prince's orders, such justification was necessary to bring the entire Eastern Knight Order.
"From the beginning, was everything planned? From the dragon's appearance to this situation now...? How, how many years have you been preparing this...?"
"At least longer than your age."
Lamond swung the axe-spear around and rested it on his shoulder. He wiggled his gauntlet and said:
"No one is to interfere in this fight. The honor of taking the Guardian Lord's head belongs to me."
"Everyone. I'm sorry."
Oskar spoke in a low voice, suppressing his anger.
This was a death trap.
Even if they could cut down Baron Lamond, there was no visible escape route. If Etoile had been there, they could have fought risking their lives, perhaps taken hostages and retreated to the castle.
Baron Lamond's neck wasn't worth that much. Even if they defeated him, Etoile was the type of man who would order his men to kill the hostages without hesitation.
'Ivan was right.'
The most important thing in formulating a strategy is information.
And traps are always the best effort of those who set them.
If you have enough confidence, walk into the trap yourself. Even more boldly after recognizing the trap's existence and reviewing all information and possibilities.
Ivan's teaching was the foundation of tactics. Conversely, when setting a trap, one should do their absolute best. One should be prepared for everything to collapse if the trap fails.
He believed his resolve was sufficient. But it wasn't.
At Oskar's words, Isabelle raised her sword.
"The Hero Party is in danger!!"
"...What?"
"They've fallen into danger due to the scheming of nobles blinded by ambition and corrupt knights!"
Isabelle was smiling. But her eyes were not. Like a blazing star, she glared at Lamond with burning eyes.
"But a hero is always one who walks ahead. It's a title given not to the strongest, but to the most courageous! Oskar, son of Gil Ber. Step back if you're afraid!"
"Miss Isabelle...."
"But if not—."
Isabelle raised her sword and pointed it at Lamond.
*Click.*
*Shing.*
*Crackle...!*
Simultaneously, everyone in the group prepared for battle.
After all, this operation was undertaken by everyone together. There was no need for one person to bear the burden of failure alone, nor any reason to die without displaying their full abilities due to premature self-blame.
In that sense. With actions that conveyed their sincerity without any words.
"The path to survival is always ahead, not behind!"
Just as the old man taught.
Survival, infiltration, assassination, and.
Pioneering.
Isabelle shouted loudly and rode her horse forward. Though they had never practiced together, the entire group naturally formed a wedge formation centered around Isabelle and began to charge.
*BOOOOOOM—!!*
"We're too late...! We're too late! Lord Yeremov. What... what should we do about this!"
San Matilenne was burning. Countless soldiers had already opened the city gates wide and were marching in.
All kinds of noises could be heard throughout the city. But they weren't the sounds of battle. They were the sounds of destruction and looting.
He knew this kind of commotion well. It was a familiar battlefield environment.
"Not yet."
Ivan's gaze fell on the center of the city. The Palais de Royal. The royal castle of this city and a solid fortress beyond the deep moat.
And above it, the royal emblem of Tilles was still flying. Along with the flag of Etakrih.
Ivan's gaze returned to the city gates and outer walls. There were no signs of battle anywhere. Not even traces of the gates being destroyed. This meant they had been open from the beginning.
'They tried to defend from the inner citadel.'
If that were all, it would be mere desperation. Given the difference in military strength, they couldn't withstand such a disparity with just the inner citadel's defenses. The supply capacity alone was clearly different.
So if the group had calculated—.
'They set a trap.'
Open the outer walls and lure in the enemy. If they were defending from the inner citadel, the enemy's leader would surely enter the city for negotiation, mockery, or triumph. Whatever the attempt might be.
But...
'They were naive. Too easy to predict.'
Ivan sighed. A good strategy should not rely on the enemy's actions. It should force the enemy's actions.
If it had been him, he would have opened not just the outer walls but the inner citadel as well.
With Yu-jin present, he would have eliminated all the Count's henchmen, placed a body double on the throne, and spirited away the royal family.
He would have opened the inner citadel and waited for the enemy's victory ceremony. With patience, lurking somewhere in this vast city.
And finally, when the most opportune moment came, perhaps like a banquet after the victory ceremony. At that moment when vigilance inevitably wanes after all warfare has ended.
That's when he would assassinate Count Etoile. And leave traces of his close associates at the scene. To incite internal strife and make the ambitious leaders, having lost their leadership, start a civil war again.
Then he would close the city gates. That would be enough. The inside of the castle would become a realm of hungry ghosts killing each other.
After sufficient time had passed, he could enter with soldiers summoned in the king's name and recapture San Matilenne.
This was a strategy he would have implemented if time and conditions were sufficient. A grand strategy he wouldn't have even hesitated to use if the Count organizing the rebellion had been the only one.
'This isn't something that can be taught.'
This has to be honed through actual combat.
Ivan spurred his horse forward. If they were still alive, they might grow even more from today's experience. With that thought.
"Where, where are you going?"
"Do you remember what I told you?"
"Pardon?"
"The words I spoke about giving your lives for a better cause. Do you remember?"
"...Yes."
Ivan rode his horse without looking back. Quickly descending the hill, toward San Matilenne.
"This is the moment. Give me your lives. I will return your homeland to you."
"B-but how...? We're barely over sixty!"
"Breakthrough."
Ivan raised his sword toward the front. He could see a cavalry unit that had detected their protrusion and was circling toward them.
Their number reached about two hundred. Every single one was a knight.
Even if they broke through them, they would have to pierce through a curtain of infantry. And after that? They would have to break through cavalry again and advance.
This is not an annihilation operation. This is a deep strike through a single point breakthrough. A charge solely to assassinate the command.
Penetrating the center of enemy territory, minimizing engagement with enemy forces, and finally eliminating the enemy leader—a decapitation operation.
"Victory is not behind us. It is only ahead. I will do my best. Are you willing to die?"
"Damn it, this is crazy!"
The barons grumbled once and then kissed their sword blades.
Click, click. All the barons' knights simultaneously pressed their helmet visors down deeply. Beneath them, it seemed as if blue light shone through.
"You better keep that promise!"
"Absolutely."
The 60 riders began to charge down the hill.
Staring directly at the cavalry approaching them. Their numbers were already four times greater, and the forces behind them were so numerous that even calculating the difference would be ridiculous—literally like a tidal wave.
They charged toward that gap. With horses and bodies already fatigued from long battles and marches. In a condition where it wouldn't be surprising if they collapsed immediately. But nevertheless.
If the enemies were a tidal wave, that was quite appropriate.
For everyone here had sworn to be a breakwater for the kingdom.
So, 60 cavalry charged. Toward a force exceeding 30,000.
Toward San Matilenne. With their backs to the dawn.