#119. Greeting (1)
The army led by Pavel marched without rest after departing from Bellicordo Castle.
To lessen the burden of their comrades holding the front line against monsters, they had to join them as quickly as possible.
Everyone knew—even a short rest was a luxury they couldn’t afford.
But when the body hits its limit, even rational thought becomes difficult.
For the new knights, on their very first campaign, every step was a struggle.
“Haah, haah!”
“Can’t we rest just a little? Huff, I need to rest.”
“At this rate, I’ll collapse before I even see a monster.”
“I feel like I’m dying…”
Sweat dripped into their eyes beneath their helmets. Their lungs burned as if bleeding, their breath caught painfully in their throats, and their limbs felt heavy, like weighed down with sandbags.
The recruits whispered with grim faces.
But every word reached the ears of the veteran knights walking close behind.
Even for those who had survived many battles, this harsh march was hard to endure. For first-timers, it was almost unbearable.
But there was no room for leniency now.
“If you still have the strength to move your mouths, use it to march! Others are waiting for you up ahead!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Y-Yes!”
“Understood!”
The new knights quickly shut their mouths.
Not far away, Nikolai twitched his lips at the commotion. Normally, he would have laughed, but even that much strength wasn’t in him. He too felt like collapsing any moment.
“Honestly, it’s lucky you brought me home that night before we left. If I hadn’t had a proper rest instead of drinking myself senseless, I would’ve dropped out long ago. Thanks, friend.”
He tried to chat with Andrei, who marched beside him in silence.
But Andrei, teeth clenched, had no energy to spare for Nikolai’s chatter.
This was his first campaign too, and though he was far stronger than Nikolai, he too was exhausted.
Still, unlike Andrei, Nikolai always managed to keep afloat somehow.
He lowered his voice, continuing.
“The young lord—it’s his first time too, isn’t it? Yet he doesn’t waver at all.”
At that, Andrei finally glanced forward.
Like the others, Pavel was also a first-timer. But he showed no sign of weakness, leading them steadily from the front.
Unlike the others who only faced nerves, Pavel carried an even heavier burden.
He was the supreme commander of this campaign—responsible not only for many lives, but also for the safety of the North, perhaps even the Empire itself.
Andrei could hardly imagine the weight of such responsibility.
Nearly a week passed before they finally reached Igor and the knights who had set camp at the front.
Igor spotted Pavel and hurried forward.
“Young lord—no, Your Grace the Grand Duke!”
Despite his exhaustion, Igor’s face brightened at the sight.
“I’m so relieved you arrived safely!”
“…Thanks to you holding the front, the journey was not too hard.”
Pavel answered calmly.
Igor’s eyes softened with concern, but he quickly masked it and bowed.
“No, it’s nothing.”
Pavel quietly studied him.
A man he could trust more than anyone here.
“Sir Medvedev.”
“…Yes!”
“I know I am still unproven. I am young and inexperienced, and this is my first campaign. That must make you uneasy.”
“Never! Who would dare—”
“I think so myself. But I will adapt quickly. Until then, I ask for your support by my side.”
From Pavel’s steady voice came a firm will.
“…Young lord…”
Igor’s chest ached.
Though Pavel was now the Grand Duke, it was hard to change the old habit of calling him “young lord.”
Barely ten days had passed since Dmitri’s death and Pavel’s sudden rise.
Even Igor, who had never imagined serving Pavel in this way, still felt like it was all a dream.
But it was Pavel, most of all, who must be overwhelmed.
Yet the man standing before Igor now was firm and unshaken.
“If Lord Dmitri had seen this moment, how proud he would have been…”
Igor swallowed his emotion quickly. He could not afford to linger in sentiment, not in this harsh, freezing battlefield where a moment’s weakness meant death.
He set himself back to the task—helping Pavel, who was new to this place, get oriented.
When the frontline quieted somewhat, Igor spoke softly.
“Your Grace. There is somewhere you must visit first.”
Pavel already guessed where.
“I understand.”
Since he did not know the land well, Igor led the way. His swift and certain steps showed he had walked here many times before.
Following him, Pavel reached a place scarred with battle.
“Here lies the last trace of the late Grand Duke Dmitri.”
“…This is where Father fell.”
He gazed down into the foggy abyss beneath the cliff.
The mist, thick and unmoving, was like stagnant green water. Shallow, yet opaque, hiding whatever lay beneath.
Pavel leaned forward slightly, trying to see more, but only felt frustration. His breath steamed white in the freezing air.
“Father…”
He stared blankly into the depth, as if he might glimpse the man lost there.
Suddenly—
“Careful! You could fall!”
Igor gripped his shoulder hard, pulling him back.
The face Pavel turned to see was twisted with grief and fear.
This was the man who had stood by Dmitri longer than Pavel himself. Perhaps his sorrow was greater, too.
But in the grip on Pavel’s shoulder was something else—the desperate will not to lose Dmitri’s son as well.
“…I’ll be careful.”
Pavel steadied himself, then studied the battlefield traces.
If Dmitri had fallen here with a high-ranked monster… then where was that monster now?
If it still lived, it could be a disaster.
Even Dmitri had lost against it—then who could defeat it?
Not even Sergei, Pavel’s master and once-hero of the Empire, could be counted on with certainty.
“If Father was defeated… then perhaps no one can stop it.”
His fist clenched tightly.
He had too much to protect. Above all, Sasha, waiting for his safe return.
He had to destroy that monster. He had to uncover the cause of the sudden surge of monsters. He had to remove every threat—so he could return alive.
With urgency burning in him, Pavel scanned the area.
“…What is that?”
A faint, wide bloodstain on the ground.
“This is the last trace of Grand Duke Dmitri,” Igor explained.
Pavel crouched and hesitated before removing his glove. Slowly, his fingertips brushed the blood.
“Kh—!”
A searing pain split his head. Clutching his forehead, Pavel collapsed.
“Young lord!”
Igor’s cry sounded faint as Pavel’s senses spun out of control.
The world tilted, sky and ground mixed, and his body felt as if it floated.
Fighting nausea, Pavel’s consciousness slipped away.
When he came to, he saw only a thick, misty world.
