Since that day.
Father immediately began preparations for war.
"We bought some time by removing the Administrative Officer Puvil, but it will not be long. Everyone, hurry."
The knights went around the territory conscripting men.
The conscription age was from 15 to 50.
In my past life, 15 might have seemed too young, but in this world, one was considered an adult from the age of 15.
Meanwhile, I continued my hellish training.
[Even if you hide behind the shield, follow the opponent with your eyes until the end! Look at the shoulders, and if that does not work, look at the toes. Never block your own line of sight!]
I struggled to catch my breath, which had risen to my chin, and raised my shield.
CLANG, CLANG!
Golgol's sword struck the shield!
[I told you not to block your view!]
Silence!
If that were easy, would I have become a Necromancer?!
How could I not block my view when defending with this large shield?
Furthermore, the conditions themselves were unfavorable for me.
Look at this.
[Golgol, you rascal. At times like this, you must push with the shield. Right, just like that!]
I only had a shield, but Golgol had a sword in his right hand and a shield in his left; did he not have two weapons(?)!
Why is a shield a weapon?
One could understand just by seeing how Golgol used the shield.
Gol! Gol!
CLANG, CLANG! THUD!
He would happily beat away with the sword, and if the defense seemed solid, he would push with the shield using all his strength!
Sometimes, if he saw an opening, he would even strike with the edge of the shield.
"Ack! Argh!"
[Right, well done! Descendant, Golgol is growing. That means you are growing as well!]
It was frustrating, but I had to admit it.
Golgol was ahead of me in terms of physical talent.
How long did we continue that sparring session, which left only wounds?
[Let us rest a little.]
'Yes.'
I sprawled out on the training ground and caught my breath.
My stiff limbs, throbbing shins, and forearms.
Even with a body strengthened by Body Modification, there was no way to endure the arduous training that continued every day.
[Still, your growth is certainly fast. It was worth making Golgol hold a shield.]
'Really? I do not really feel it.'
[Leaving swordsmanship aside for now, every time Golgol's shield technique advances, I can see your movements changing as well. It is definitely helping.]
It was the Ancestor's judgment to have Golgol hold a shield.
Since it would be rare to hold just a shield on the battlefield, he made us train in sword-and-shield techniques.
Of course, I asked if I could train in sword-and-shield techniques too, but...
'He said since the attack method would build up proficiency through Golgol anyway, I should focus on defense.'
I lay on the training ground just like that and looked up at the sky.
White clouds were floating in the blue sky.
[Endure it even if it is hard. This pain will save your life in the future.]
'Yes.'
Did they say patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet?
I always think patience seems quite bitter.
And yet, it does not always place the fruit in your hand, either.
[Let us start training again. We rested enough.]
"Ugh."
I rose from my spot and gripped the shield again.
Still, perhaps the training was not without results, as the shield that had only felt unfamiliar now clung to my arm.
[Now, this time we will practice defending within a limited radius of activity. Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, fix one foot, and draw a circle with the other. Yes, like that. You must not step out of that circle. And Golgol, you...]
Following the Ancestor's instructions, I drew a circle on the ground and took a stance.
***
CRUNCH!
A giant sword slammed into the ground.
SPLAT—!
Red blood soared into the sky.
Amidst the red spreading over the green of the leaves, Vilheim withdrew his sword with an expressionless face.
CLACK, CLATTER—!
The wide blade of the Greatsword Cracious folded with a metallic sound.
Vilheim stored Cracious, which had shrunk to the size of a standard longsword, into its scabbard.
"Certainly, that sword is fascinating every time I see it."
"...Ren."
"Anyway, did you clean everything up already?"
The man called Bioren, or 'Ren' for short, looked around with a smile on his face.
The middle of a forest thick with bushes.
The earth stained red.
And the corpses of the attackers scattered upon it.
'It is a monstrous power, no matter when I see it.'
Is this what they call the bloodline of the Greatsword and Divine Power?
For a moment, the situation of their first meeting flashed through his mind, sending a chill down his spine.
If he had not cleared up the misunderstanding right away back then, what would have happened?
He would not have died easily, but even if he survived, he would have lost a lot.
"So."
"Hm?"
At Vilheim's voice, Ren organized his thoughts.
"What about the ones who were running away?"
"I took care of them all. There were a few slightly tricky ones, but well... they were only tricky."
"I see. Then how many are left?"
"Well... about three bases that I have identified?"
"Three. Not much left. Lead the way."
Vilheim chewed over the number and began to walk.
He seemed like a person devoid of emotion, and Ren, watching him, could only feel curious.
"So, what is with the sudden change of heart?"
"What do you mean?"
"I wondered why you had a change of heart. Usually, you would not help even if I sang songs begging for it."
"Because back then, it had nothing to do with Palaon."
"But now?"
"Did I not tell you? A henchman of those guys hid in my family."
"I did hear that. When was it again?"
"The day I went to find the Necromancer."
"Ah."
It was a while ago.
He was spending the day drinking as usual when Vilheim suddenly came to find him and asked.
—Do you know anything about Necromancy?
—I know as much as others.
—Then enough to teach someone?
—Not to that extent.
—Are you not a mage as well? Can you really not teach it?
—I told you I cannot teach it.
He was dumbfounded for a moment.
What did this guy think a mage was?
Of course, a Necromancer is correct in the broad sense of being a mage, but there is a reason they are classified separately as 'Necromancers'.
But asking if he could not teach it even though he was a fellow mage?
Just as he was about to retort in disbelief, Vilheim spoke again.
—Then do you have a book?
—What book?
—A Necromancy book.
He asked him to hand over a Necromancy book.
'Anyway, he is no different from a thief.'
In any case, naturally, he did not have a Necromancy book either, so the conversation seemed to be ending there.
If only a good idea had not occurred to him just then.
—Ah, I do know a place where a Necromancer might be.
—A Necromancer?
—Yeah, it might be awkward to take him as a master, but wouldn't you be able to get a Necromancy book?
As it happened, one of 'them' who had crossed over to this vicinity a while ago was a Necromancer.
He had planned to clean them up sooner or later anyway, but to think such an opportunity would come.
—Is that Necromancer also one of 'them'? The ones chasing you.
—So, are you not going?
—No, I am going. Just tell me the location. I will be back quickly.
—Ah, then while you are going, put this in the box...
"Right, it was that day. But... hmm."
"What is the problem? If you have something to say, say it while we move."
"Shall we?"
Vilheim strode forward, pushing through the bushes.
Ren glanced at Vilheim, who was walking ahead, and thought.
'Even so, until now, he was a guy who only cared about Palaon.'
Was he not the guy who refused to step in, saying it was not Palaon's territory, even when Ren talked until his ears bled about how they needed to clean 'them' up?
Well, for Ren, Vilheim's assistance was simply welcome.
However, having grasped Vilheim's personality through their short interaction, it was inevitable that Ren would find it strange.
"By the way, since we are on the topic, did you deal with that Necromancer properly back then? If you do not deal with those guys properly, it becomes a headache later."
"I dealt with him well."
"No, I know you dealt with him just by looking at the head you brought back. You have to burn the workshop completely so there is no trouble later."
"I do not recall hearing that I should burn it."
"Geez, tsk."
"Be quiet and just guide me quickly. The atmosphere in the territory is unusual these days."
"True. What was it, I heard in the village earlier that Hadion is going to start a territory war. Will it be okay not to go see?"
Although Hadion had not officially declared war yet, it was already an established fact that a territory war would occur.
A declaration of war was merely a formality.
Naturally, for Vilheim, who cherished his territory terribly, it should have been a matter that made him anxious, but for some reason, Vilheim was only calm.
Why on earth?
"Palaon is not weak enough to collapse to the likes of Hadion. Still... it would be better to hurry."
Vilheim closed his mouth after those words.
Meanwhile, Ren thought.
'Well... from what I heard, it seems Viscount Hadion is also preparing thoroughly.'
Well, they would know once they saw.
***
A few days later.
A messenger riding a warhorse stopped in front of the Palaon territory.
NEIGH—!
At the sudden stop signal, the warhorse raised its front hooves high and cried out.
The messenger tapped the warhorse's neck to calm it down and looked straight at the Lord's Castle.
"Baron Palaon, hear this—! This is a message from Viscount Hadion!"
The residents' gazes gathered at the powerful voice spreading far and wide.
From women going to do laundry, children playing brightly, to farmers soothing the day's hard labor with rest.
Perhaps conscious of those gazes.
The messenger quickly snatched the flagpole he was holding and spread the flag wide.
When Hadion's crest engraved on that flag was revealed to the whole world, the residents gasped and inhaled sharply.
They intuitively realized that what was coming had finally come.
The messenger, seemingly satisfied inwardly with that atmosphere, scanned the residents once and opened his mouth again.
"'This Viscount has proven to you all over a long period. Among the land known as your Palaon territory, there is land that has been passed down through our Hadion ancestors for generations. The rights to that land already exist in ancient records, and this is like the principle laid down by the heavens. However, how did you, Palaon, act?'"
The messenger's solemn voice vomited out resentment.
"'You, Palaon, turned away from the truth. Despite ancient records proving it, you ignored the truth and did not let go of false rights. What a brazen and shameful behavior this is! How can you trample on Hadion's rights!'"
THUD!
The messenger planted the flagpole firmly into the ground and straightened his back. A husky sound burst out from his widely spread chest and the neck connected above it.
"'Hadion, this Viscount, has given opportunities several times for the sake of Palaon, whom we have lived as neighbors with for a long time. Thinking of the residents of Palaon who would suffer, I proposed a peaceful solution and tried to respect Palaon's pride. However, I will no longer remain silent. How can I remain silent? Reclaiming that land is our duty, and a sacred responsibility we must keep to our ancestors and descendants.'"
FLAP—!
As the messenger pulled out the flagpole stuck in the ground and raised it high, a fierce gust of wind blew and tugged at the flag.
Amidst Hadion's flag fluttering over Palaon's land.
"'Hadion formally declares. If you have even a speck of honor remaining, do not run away. We will take up arms to reclaim our legitimate rights, so if you have courage, fight against us. Palaon—! Reclaim your hono...!'"
At that moment, a giant sword flew from somewhere and embedded itself in the messenger's body.
"...Re, claim, recla, ah..."
The messenger could not finish his words in the end.
At the moment he collapsed with a 'thud', Baron Palaon, who had just thrown the sword, ordered Sir Balt.
"Retrieve the sword, cut off the messenger's head, and send it back to Hadion."
"I will do as you command."
This was Palaon's answer to Hadion's declaration of war.