Sniffling dwarf
After receiving the lord's hospitality and resting for a day, the subjugation force entered the gorge immediately.
Since it was one of the continent's forbidden zones, the party was tense—and monsters soon began greeting the intruders one by one.
Kruoooh—!
"Block it!"
"Raise the barrier!"
"It's poison!"
Even as empty words, no one could call this easy.
But to Berze, the number of monsters felt small.
'Compared to last time, their numbers have decreased a lot.'
Compared to when he came to hunt Bairif, the difference was obvious.
Berze understood what that meant—it was a sign that everything was going according to plan.
'Good work.'
Following Berze's advice, they must have gathered some of the gorge's monsters to create undead.
The more undead they made, the more diluted the miasma would become, lowering its quality—but it was still better than letting monsters scattered across the gorge get picked off meaninglessly one by one.
'What kind of preparations did he make, I wonder.'
The 3rd Prince had prepared something based on Hillen Cargill's advice.
Yet even now, on the day itself and while entering the gorge, nothing in particular stood out.
'A last resort, perhaps?'
Whatever the case, success was all that mattered.
The anticipation of wondering what it might be was pleasant in its own way.
They were headed to subjugate a dark mage, so the atmosphere loosened slightly, but the tension never vanished.
Only Berze was annoyed—because of the irritating brat who stuck close to them.
Trista Jespine.
From the moment he met him, the boy had shown blatant reverence toward Hillen Cargill. And from the moment they entered the gorge, he clung to Hillen's side, chattering endlessly.
"Sir Hillen, I would like to hear more about the Tower of Beasts."
"The Tower of Beasts was much like a jungle or rainforest. Some floors were humid, with sticky marshlands, while others greeted us with dense forests."
"How I wish I could have seen it myself. Such a pity I wasn't born a Hero. Ah, were the monsters actual beasts?"
"Of course."
"And the moment you slew the Demon King—what was it like?"
"The Beast Demon King was a cunning one. Knowing that we were familiar with their rules, he left only minimal monsters in the lower floors and gathered all his forces at the summit."
"My word. And then?"
"We lost."
"…Huh?"
"We were utterly crushed and lost half our force before barely escaping. The wounds I received from the Demon King remain carved into my body even now."
Trista blinked.
"…But the Tower of Beasts did fall in the end, didn't it?"
"We destroyed it on the second attempt."
"Ah, I remember now. The forces of Acan moved—no, the royal army moved, allowing a second Heroic Expedition to happen instantly."
"Yes, good timing. A Demon King's tower cannot recover immediately. The first expedition failed, but it did heavy damage…"
Trista had been about to insult Acan but changed his wording when he noticed Rozel watching. Hillen continued speaking, and Rozel snorted while avoiding the prince's gaze.
"If someone overheard, they'd think that brat did everything. Who do you think caused the failure?"
"Hillen wasn't to blame."
"You defending him just because he's on your side?"
"He's speaking the truth."
Hillen was partially at fault.
Had he held out a little longer against Draksan, they wouldn't have lost so miserably.
But so what?
Berze found Rozel Charnt's smugness far more annoying than any factual accuracy.
"Stop."
At that moment—
The vanguard halted. A flag rose.
"What is it?"
"Something's up ahead?"
Murmurs spread. There, blocking the gorge's path, something was standing.
A knight.
A full knight order.
More than a hundred in number.
But they bore no house symbols. They had been deliberately erased.
"..."
The 3rd Prince swallowed a groan.
And it wasn't just them.
Behind the knight order, hundreds of soldiers blocked the path.
They were not wearing imperial uniforms, and every single one had their face covered.
"Who do you think they are?"
"Well… to be honest, all three of the other imperial heirs are suspects."
The 1st Prince, the 2nd Prince, and even the 1st Princess—any of them could have done this.
"If it comes to it, you move. The 3rd Prince must earn the greatest merit. We can't waste time here."
"Their level is not to be underestimated."
"Even after feeding you two Demon Kings, you're still being called weak?"
"I handled one of them myself, actually…"
"As if you took it down alone. Who did you use as a sacrifice?"
"..."
Even as Berze and Hillen whispered among themselves, the 3rd Prince's army continued advancing.
As they drew closer, the knights raised a wall of shields. The archers aimed their bows.
"State your identity."
The 3rd Prince halted his forces. From the opposing side, a knight with a fully covered visor stepped forward.
"It is an honor to meet you for the first time, Your Highness."
"For the first time, you say. With even your voice altered, I suppose it is a first. Do you not know how gravely disrespectful it is to hide your face before imperial royalty?"
"I ask for your understanding—circumstances leave me no choice."
"I'll understand. So move aside."
"I must again ask for your understanding—for I cannot comply."
The 3rd Prince glared. The knight calmly raised a hand.
"We have no intention of harming Your Highness. We simply ask for three days. Just three days of your company."
"Are you telling me not to conduct the subjugation?"
"We simply wish that you take things slowly."
Bullshit.
The gorge was vast. The paths branching out in all directions were complex.
But those gathered here were anything but ordinary.
Imperial royalty, their loyal retainers, the elite of each great house.
For them, three days was more than enough time to let the later arrivals widen the gap dramatically.
"You think I'll agree quietly?"
"In that case, we must regrettably prevent Your Highness from proceeding."
"Attacking a member of the imperial family is treason. And since we are here to carry out His Exalted Majesty's will, even exterminating your entire clan would not be punishment enough."
"There are only monsters here."
"Who are you."
"I do not understand what you mean."
"Is it my eldest brother? Or my second brother? Or perhaps my sister?"
"I still do not understand."
"So you want me to rip that helmet off myself to check."
"I sincerely hope you do not. It would not benefit either side."
"That remains to be seen."
Martin turned his horse around and returned to his camp. He immediately called for a council.
"Whose orders do you think they're following?"
"They are far too disciplined to be mercenaries. This is a well-trained regular army."
"Then it must be my eldest brother, or my sister."
Martin scowled.
He would have preferred if it were the 2nd Prince.
The 2nd Prince preferred to use mercenaries rather than act directly.
And while it was not meant to demean mercenaries, they were far easier to deal with than the elite troops of noble houses.
"Is there another route?"
"We could go around, but it would delay us significantly."
"A checkmate, then."
They had blocked the path with perfect precision. What remained was to either break through—or waste three full days.
"We need to know exactly who they are…"
"It is highly likely they're one of the Lion Knight Orders."
The lion was the emblem of the Osrian Ducal House, and the White Lion, Black Lion, and Red Lion Knight Orders all bore that symbol.
"What makes you say that?"
"We cannot gauge the limits of the knight who spoke with Your Highness."
Everyone held their breath at Baron Beirif's words.
If he was surpassing the baron who commanded Aincheil's best knight order, then the only remaining candidates were the Lion Knight Orders.
"We still have to break through."
Hillen raised his hand to speak.
"Losing three days like this would mean surrendering the entire competition."
"And how do you intend to deal with the casualties?"
"This is a dark-mage subjugation. Losses are inevitable."
"A dark mage, hah…"
"Baron Otto. This subjugation is not against some mere dark mage. If that were the case, I would have swept through alone without even informing His Highness."
"…Ahem."
"He speaks the truth."
Rozel Charnt nodded in agreement, making the baron's expression twist even further.
"Sir Hillen."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Can you defeat that knight?"
"I am Hillen Cargill."
"That is reassuring."
"I trusted you like that once—remember how that turned out?"
Rozel whispered with a wicked smile. Fortunately, no one but Hillen heard.
"Please consider the setting we're in."
"Of course. I don't like those bastards either. How dare they block our path."
She shouted at Martin.
"Your Highness the 3rd Prince? If you wish, I can melt them all down with my flames."
"My thanks."
Martin fell silent for a moment in thought, then called a noble over.
"Sub-Baron Cromwell."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"We must use what we prepared."
"…Your Highness?"
Cromwell's eyes widened.
"But that was prepared to deal with undead, was it not?"
Martin had ordered Cromwell to prepare it in secret, just in case.
"We have Sir Hillen and Lady Rozel to deal with the monsters. Better to leave undead and dark mages to Heroes than to exhaust ourselves on humans. Weakening ourselves here would be a major loss."
"…Understood. I obey."
"Your Highness, what was prepared?"
Hillen asked Trista with whom he'd built a bit of rapport. Trista smiled brightly.
"You will understand once you see it. I am eager to see their surprised faces."
The soldiers of the 3rd Prince's camp began moving in earnest.
***
"…My word. I never thought I'd see that even here."
Berze spoke in pure astonishment.
"Isn't this what Lord Pale intended?"
"Not at all. And I feel nothing from it—whatever lunatic is obsessed with that thing, it isn't me."
"That is true."
Granada nodded.
The 3rd Prince arranged his knights to block the enemy's line of sight and then pulled out something massive from behind.
Cannons.
Magic cannons—firing processed mana shells. And there were a full hundred of them.
"What do you think, Sir Hillen? A hundred magic cannons should be more than enough to wipe out their entire formation."
"That is true, but… Your Highness, why magic cannons?"
"My elder brother prepared them after hearing your advice. One of the most reliable ways to deal with undead, correct?"
"It is indeed reliable."
There were three sure methods to deal with undead:
Erase the miasma itself through dimensional interference.
Burn them completely with fire.
Or shatter them so thoroughly that no remnants remain to revive.
In that sense, magic cannons were the most effective tool—they incinerated everything in a massive explosion and left nothing behind.
It was just… unfortunate that their target this time wasn't undead, but fellow imperials.
Hillen rushed to Martin's side.
"Is this truly acceptable?"
"What do you mean?"
"They are undoubtedly the knight orders of a ducal house."
"You worry on my behalf?"
"Your Highness must survive if we are to slay the Demon King of Ergest."
"That's right. And to save Kaede."
Martin gave a short laugh.
"It is fine. These people hid their house crests. They're assassins targeting the imperial family—traitors. Even if they die, there is no one to defend them."
Their concealed identity ensured no one could argue on their behalf.
"My elder brother is not foolish enough to expose himself."
"There must still be a limit. They're fellow citizens of the Empire."
Even with imperial approval, this was crossing a line. Everyone would see it that way.
"A few years ago, I joined a monster subjugation in Arcaz. My elder siblings were with me."
The justification had been the same: noblesse oblige. And naturally, it was a competition.
"What do you think happened?"
"You succeeded."
"We did. But I lost over half the forces supporting me—thanks to my eldest brother's scheme."
He'd never had the chance to shine.
All achievements were taken by the three of them—glory too.
That moment had been the turning point where the 3rd Prince began to fall behind.
"I thought I had to respect certain boundaries. Because we were one Empire."
But he learned otherwise.
"When we returned, His Majesty summoned each of us privately. He mocked me."
Laughed at him.
"Said I lacked resolve. Said I was a fool who couldn't fight harder."
At first, Martin thought he'd been scolded simply for failing to claim enough merit.
No.
"Later, I understood. His Majesty was using the succession struggle to keep the nobility in check."
"…"
The word insane nearly slipped from Hillen's mouth.
"As with any nation, our Empire has always been rife with power struggles between the Emperor and the nobility."
"…Even so…"
"Do not forget—His Majesty is a man who killed all his siblings to take the throne. He is more wary of the power of his vassals than anyone."
"The nobles won't stay passive forever, surely?"
"That was my thought as well, but since nothing's happened until now… they must have reached their own compromise."
Whatever that meant.
"Hm."
Hillen swallowed hard.
Letting his own children plot each other's deaths, and the nobles silently accepting it…
'What a completely insane country.'
How had this Empire come to be—and how did it maintain such power?
"At any rate—once the magic cannons break their line, we'll charge in and sweep them aside. That much shouldn't be difficult for you, yes?"
"…Of course."
"I leave it to you."
"I will meet Your Highness's expectations."
Hillen gripped his sword with grim resolve.
***
The commander of the White Lion Knight Order, Calum, silently observed the 3rd Prince's forces.
From the frantic movement, it was clear they would not retreat easily.
"Prepare for battle."
"You think they'll attack us?"
"If you were the 3rd Prince, would you retreat?"
"No, I would not."
The 3rd Prince already lagged behind the others. If he achieved nothing here, even what little imperial favor he still had would likely disappear.
Whether he turned into soup or bread, the 3rd Prince had to break through.
And they, in turn, were tasked with delaying him no matter what reaction he chose.
"The White Hawk Knights, the Blue Hawk Mage Battalion, Hillen Cargill, and Rozel Charnt are all present."
"A frontal battle has no chance of victory."
The White Hawks and Blue Hawks—the forces of the Aincheil Marquisate—were not frightening.
But the two Heroes and their strike squads were never to be taken lightly.
Rozel Charnt's wide-area fire magic was renowned, and as for Hillen Cargill, who had slain two Demon Kings—no one knew the limits of his power.
"I will take Hillen Cargill myself. When they charge in, hold the line briefly and then fall back. Remember—the goal is to buy time."
"Yes, sir."
Calum felt his hands itch. He was a knight to the bone, and the prospect of facing a strong foe always made his heart race.
'There are only a handful of Heroes in history who have slain two Demon Kings. If not now, when would I ever get to fight such a man?'
He slowly drew his sword and refocused on their formation.
Then—
"They're moving."
"Prepare yourselves."
He thought the knight order would begin their charge.
But they did not charge.
Instead, the knights and soldiers at the front began to spread apart… revealing something massive behind them.
"…You've got to be kidding."
"Dear gods."
It was a cannon barrel.
A colossal cannon.
"…So they know who we are, and still intend to blast us with magic cannons?"
Countless cannon muzzles pointed toward the White Lion Knight Order and the ducal forces.
This meant they intended to settle things decisively.
This was entirely unlike the normally gentle 3rd Prince.
But there was no time to ponder.
"Mages! Raise barriers immediately! Retreat now!"
Calum shouted urgently. But before his command reached everyone—
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
The cannons unleashed fire.
"Martin, you insane bas—!"
A rain of mana shells crashed down upon the ducal soldiers.
***
Magic cannons were creations of magi-engineering.
Using mana stones as their power source, they ignited and fired shells compressed with mana.
By accelerating the shell and detonating concentrated mana, a magic cannon possessed destructive force that could not be ignored.
And yet they were rarely used—because they were notoriously unreliable.
Despite sounding like a divine weapon, magic cannons were originally invented by dwarves with extraordinary craftsmanship.
Their metallurgy, forging, and magical circuitry were so far beyond humans that they were incomparable.
What was a common, reliable weapon for dwarves was, to humans, essentially a bomb that could detonate and wipe out their own side at any moment.
And there were a full hundred of these magic cannons.
All hundred muzzles spewed fire toward the enemy formation.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM—
Explosions rang out.
The earth shook.
Horses screamed.
Soldiers were pulverized—many so thoroughly that not even bodies remained.
Listening to that brutal symphony of destruction, Berze muttered a short assessment:
"Still far inferior to the ones Logar made."
The reload speed, the destructive power, the shell velocity—everything.
"Well, Logar is one of the most exceptional craftsmen in the entire Dwarven Kingdom,"
Granada corrected him gently.
"Is that so?"
"That is so."
Then—
KWA-AANG—!
"Guaaah—!"
"Help!"
Another explosion.
But it wasn't the enemy.
It was their own lines—the soldiers manning the magic cannons were screaming.
A cannon had failed to withstand the force of its own firing and exploded.
"Oh, magnificent. Truly impressive variety."
Berze snorted.
"Still, this is a bit much. That sniffling dwarf's work never did that even once."
"Well… that's because…"
Granada sighed and gave up explaining.
Honestly, even he had to admit that based on what they saw in the Tower, Logar had been nothing more than "Deranged Dwarf No. 1."
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