7DP 186.1
186. The Pride of the Kingdom
TL: Cnine
ED/PF:
R1: [1–2], R2: [3–4]
Part 1
Defteros Kingdom, the royal capital Evaloti — a certain room in the royal castle——
This was a heavily guarded conference room. The four walls were covered with finely embroidered tapestries depicting past monarchs, and there wasn’t a single window. It was designed to defend against magic attacks from the Demon King’s army and prevent sniping from the Bow Saint.
The opulent chandelier overhead glowed with light magic, illuminating the massive glass-topped conference table inlaid with delicate woodwork. Every piece of furniture was exquisitely crafted, showcasing masterful artistry—a space that radiated the kingdom’s history and pride in its refined culture.
However, beneath all the glitter and grandeur, the room was suffused with a stifling heaviness.
The kingdom’s leading dignitaries and allied commanders were assembled, yet every face was marked with sombre grief. Most striking of all was the old man at the head of the table—his white hair dishevelled, eyes sunken, pallid and furrowed face drained of colour, while his skeletal fingers clutched the chair’s armrests as though for support.
That man was the King of Defteros Kingdom himself.
His name was Ossimayer XIII.
True to his name, he was the rightful heir of Defteros’ royal lineage, carried down unbroken from the first monarch to the thirteenth. Yet the kingdom’s proud history now flickered like a dying flame, on the verge of being extinguished.
「Unbelievable… To think we couldn’t even last a single day...」
The king’s absent-minded whisper resounded through the now utterly silent room.
Rare branches of the Great Sacred Tree, bestowed by the Great Sacred Tree Alliance, had been placed in the six fortresses surrounding the royal capital to activate a vast barrier spell. Though by no means indestructible, the city should have withstood at least a week and inflicted grievous losses upon the Demon King’s army—or so it was supposed to be.
However—
Within just a few hours of the Demon King army’s attack, Seaburn Fortress had fallen. The disappearance of the Tree of Light, a disaster whose very sight struck terror into the hearts of men, sent shockwaves through the entire army.
That was most likely the catalyst—the turning point that set everything in motion.
A few hours later, the neighbouring Goban Fortress fell, and not long after, Rockburn Fortress was lost as well. The demons forced their way into the city districts, keeping the defence forces desperately occupied. With precious troops diverted and morale shattered as the Sacred Tree barriers vanished one after another, Sunburn Fortress too was brought down.
And then, at long last, just as the first light of dawn began to break…
「So, the Ishiburn Fortress has fallen as well, alas…」
The hook-nosed Minister of the Army uttered his words in a groan.
Thus, out of the six strongholds, only Niburn Fortress at the far western edge endured the onslaught. It was nothing short of irony that the fortress predicted to be the bloodiest battlefield turned out to be the only one yet to fall…
「Surely, we owe the sage’s guidance for this...」
The High Priest of the Holy Religion took a sip of now-lukewarm tea and heaved a sigh.
The demon warriors and night-elf skirmishers retreated along with the breaking dawn, but Niburn Fortress was still besieged by the daytime legion of beastfolk, ogres, and devil soldiers. The Demon King’s daytime battalions were likewise pouring into the city, securing ground for the impending storming of the royal capital.
The fate of this kingdom—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that it would be decided tonight.
But the fact that not only the kingdom’s leading figures, but even the king himself, were utterly spent made clear that there was not one chance in ten thousand of turning the tables. Their trusted fortresses had been taken by the Demon King’s army, and in the urban warfare, even the elite forces had sustained grave casualties.
Though a fair number of common soldiers survived, the loss of upper-tier warriors such as the Sword Saint and the Hero created a massive gap in fighting power between the two sides. Should the royal castle’s outer wall—the barrier between the city and the noble quarter—be breached, those left would be none but refugees, helpless townsfolk, and the kin of the kingdom’s nobles.
Had they held out a little longer, there might have been hope of reinforcements from neighbouring countries. But now, driven to such extremity, Defteros would surely be written off as already fallen, and no nation would waste its precious resources on a lost cause.
…Just as Defteros itself had once written off another kingdom when its fate seemed all but sealed.
The kingdom’s foremost dignitaries understood this with painful clarity, and so could only remain silent.
「…So, what course of action shall we take regarding Niburn Fortress?」
Judging that silence would achieve nothing, the one to break it was a stout, muscular man. His magnificent beard made it plain that he was the representative of the dwarves.
「We cannot allow the situation to remain unattended. I, for one, would argue that the surviving troops must be withdrawn before darkness sets in.」
「My thoughts exactly.」
Facing him sat the forest elf representative of the Great Sacred Tree Union, who gave a slight nod. The very fact that forest elves and dwarves—usually sworn rivals—were of one mind without delay revealed the seriousness of the situation.
「Your Majesty, I am also in favour of them.」
A middle-aged man with imposing shoulders rose from his seat and, fixing his gaze on the king, spoke in a commanding voice that cut through the heavy mood.
His name was Ossimayer XIV.
Naturally, he was the son of Ossimayer XIII, sometimes called “Ossimayer Jr.” to distinguish him from the reigning king. Though heir to the throne, in this moment of national peril, he showed the resolve to take command at the front lines.
In fact, he was a reasonably effective commander and well-trusted by those around him.
「If it be Your Majesty’s command, I shall lead the Royal Guard and rescue the valiant defenders of the fortress.」
「…If the fortress is forsaken, what becomes of the magical barrier?」
The king stared intently at his son for a long moment before turning his gaze upon the forest elf.
「…While it would require no small effort, the act of extracting the branch and moving the barrier can be done.」
The forest elf spoke after hesitating for a while.
「However, in that case, the sage would very likely be rendered unfit for battle, and if they were already exhausted, the relocation could not be carried out at all. The branch… would, in the end, have to be abandoned along with the fortress.」
「... I see.」
Ossimayer XIII gave a small, absent nod and kept his eyes unfocused on the table before him.
―― It was a table of fine craftsmanship, upon which the lands of the Defteros Kingdom were laid out in full.
To the west stretched fertile granary plains—the kingdom’s rich breadbasket. From the north to the east, scattered mountain forests bestowed countless gifts—medicinal herbs, game, and more. The mighty river cutting through the southern border served as a channel of commerce, producing immense wealth. Drawn together, concentrated, and fostered, those profits nurtured a city of progress, where skill, artistry, and culture blossomed: the royal capital, Evaloti.
But now, the west had been utterly taken—wrested away in its entirety by the Demon King’s army.
The royal capital was turning into a heap of rubble, flames rising skyward, while in the eastern part of the kingdom, the people who had lost their homes were crammed together.
（Why... In my era...）
To think that the once-resplendent kingdom had fallen so far… I cannot face the ancestors like this— From the waxen, statue-like eyes of Ossimayer, one tear ran down his cheek.
「Your Majesty」