Victor Mort (10)

The Mort Knights continued wandering across the orange-hued plains, passing the peculiar trees of the Black Mountains and castle walls built of copper-colored bricks.

They never lost. The Grand Duke’s sword cut through even magic. Even their allies clicked their tongues in amazement at the skill with which he cut down magically enhanced knights several times stronger than ordinary people in a single stroke.

Stories even more exaggerated than those from the Southern Kingdom were created and spread. Stories about the bloodthirsty Grand Duke in the black cloak.

As the knight order’s fame became known throughout the continent, wandering knights began arriving one by one. Ordinary knight orders only accepted the children of nobles, but the Mort Knights were famous for welcoming anyone who was qualified. The knights tested their skill through brief sparring matches and accepted those who were strong enough as comrades.

Skilled members of the knight order, such as Raul of Radan and Jane of Chivalry, joined around this time. Everyone was pleased that their number of companions continued to grow even amid the war. Victor’s heart also eased, if only slightly.

But his nightmares did not stop. No, they only grew worse.

He could no longer sleep outdoors at all, and the amount of time he slept gradually shortened. Even the military physicians did not know why. Perhaps it was because he had returned to the battlefield, because he continued fighting mages, or because of both.

In any case, Victor’s insomnia steadily worsened until it gradually became another illness.

At first, it was not so severe. He would suddenly draw his sword in his sleep or wake at dawn and pace around inside his tent.

But as the war continued, the illness rapidly deteriorated.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw that sweltering island. The suffocating, humid southern air, the terror of losing his hearing and sight at the same time, and the killing intent he had felt from every direction. The night he had blindly swung his sword while feeling as though he were about to die.

And the people he had failed to protect despite everything.

And his brother. Morteon’s face, always smiling, frozen stiff.

“……Your Highness, Your Highness! Victor!”

Victor barely opened his eyes at the shout.

For a moment, he could not understand the situation.

He had surely made plans for the next day’s operation, entered his tent, and lain down for a short nap. Yet somehow he was outside the tent with his sword drawn, while a deathly pale Leonard blocked his blade.

He withdrew his sword with difficulty.

“Your Highness, have you come to your senses?”

“Leonard, what…… happened?”

“Your Highness…… You attacked them while you were asleep. They somehow managed to evade you, but they couldn’t fight back, so they shouted……”

Victor looked around with rigid eyes.

Only then did he notice several knights sitting collapsed nearby. The other knights who had drawn their swords were also visibly shocked. It seemed they had rescued their comrades, while Leonard, who could oppose Victor to some extent, had stepped forward to stop him.

The Grand Duke quickly asked,

“Is anyone injured?”

“We’re fine, Your Highness.”

The seated knights forced smiles. But they could not hide their trembling hands. Victor’s face twisted. He felt as though he were being strangled.

He knew his own abilities extremely well. His sword was completely different from that of ordinary people. It was a sword that easily split rock and steel, a sword that even made people whisper that he might be one of the sword masters said to have vanished from ancient tales.

Killing someone was extremely easy for him. It did not matter whether his opponent was a high-ranking knight or a peasant who had never learned swordsmanship. His sword always took another person’s life in an instant.

The moment that realization ended, a chill ran down his spine.

He had nearly killed his own knights. Just as the rumors claimed, he had gone mad and nearly killed his knights with his own hands……

“Get a hold of yourself.”

Leonard gripped his liege’s shoulder tightly.

“I know little about illnesses, but this is the first time something like this has happened, is it not? You’ll be all right.”

His vice commander spoke with certainty. His voice carried so much friendship that it was difficult to believe he had been avoiding conversation with Victor.

But Victor instinctively knew.

There was no possibility that he would be all right.

The Imperial Army’s military physicians did their best. They explained that there was an illness in which people occasionally behaved strangely while asleep, and they prescribed various medicines so he could sleep deeply without symptoms.

But the medicine had no effect whatsoever. It was because of the terrible nightmares and the tension of the battlefield.

So Victor simply began avoiding sleep. Even at night, he forced his eyes open and endured through sheer stamina and willpower.

The knights worried greatly and told him to sleep, saying they would somehow handle him.

But as the symptoms worsened, they could no longer say that. Perhaps because he had continued going without proper sleep, the sleeping Grand Duke began awakening more quickly and becoming stronger each time. It reached the point where not only Leonard but several other knights had to rush him together.

Whenever Victor went to sleep after several days, more than ten knights took turns standing guard before his tent. Kaltz discreetly moved the knight order to an isolated location far from the rest of their allies. It was in case Victor harmed other friendly soldiers.

They usually operated independently anyway, so that was not much of an issue, but the problem was rations.

“Our army’s food depot is half a day away from here. We won’t be able to receive rations on time.”

“For now, we’ll endure mainly on dried provisions. After that, we can receive separate support─”

“We’re the unit deepest inside the Eastern Kingdom right now. Who could transport supplies this far?”

The knights fell silent. Victor grimaced painfully. Exhaustion and guilt weighed him down.

His knights had no reason to suffer through this. Because of his weakness, they had lost their comrades and their former liege, and now they were even taking unnecessary risks. No one blamed him, but Victor was deeply tormented.

At that moment, Kaltz spoke.

“There is actually a nobleman who offered to help us.”

“Who?”

“Duke Welch. He said his knight order would help distribute supplies midway.”

Victor furrowed his brow.

House Welch was their ally, but they were not close enough for the duke to readily involve himself in something like this. House Welch was based in the capital, while House Mort had not participated in the capital’s social circles for quite some time. Moreover, Duke Welch was surely a calculating man who only moved when there was something to gain.

“What did he demand?”

Kaltz answered simply.

“Your marriage to his only daughter.”

Only then did Victor remember that the family had a daughter. Was her name Nanael? It was a name he had heard while they were choosing candidates for a political marriage. He could not even remember her portrait.

Victor gave a twisted smile.

“How ridiculous. He claims to cherish his daughter so much, yet he proposes without even knowing what condition her prospective husband is in.”

“…….”

“Very well. Tell him I accept. And tell him that if he changes his mind later, I’ll compensate him with gold instead.”

“Understood, Your Highness.”

Kaltz bowed his head.

That night, Victor sat before the campfire and thought.

Over the past few years, life had clawed its way across him like the talons of a chimera. His once-pale skin had turned bronze, and countless people had left his side like sand swept away by waves. The helplessness and sense of loss from losing his brother continued eating away at him.

Every day, someone whispered inside his exhausted, sleepless mind. Telling him to stop. To let go of everything and finally be at peace.

Victor casually spoke to the knight beside him.

“Leonard.”

“Yes.”

“If I truly end up hurting someone, then……”

Leonard immediately understood what he meant. He cut him off firmly.

“Do not entertain such thoughts, Your Highness. A knight does not abandon his comrades, and you……”

“─Account for eighty percent of our military strength. Without Your Highness, we’ll have to fight this war for another five years.”

“Kaltz!”

Leonard shot him a reproachful look, but Kaltz, sitting across from them, merely shrugged. His attitude asked what exactly had been wrong with what he said. The chief of staff, who spent more time at Command than at the knight order’s encampment, continued,

“Do you know what people have been calling Your Highness lately? ‘Walking Death.’”

“…….”

“No one can kill death. So finish the war and think about receiving proper treatment.”

After blurting that out, he took out a strip of dried meat and chewed it. Leonard closed his mouth. He knew that was Kaltz’s way of offering comfort.

Victor knew as well. His friends and comrades wanted him to be happy. None of them wanted him to die or be hurt.

But deep down, he wished for something else.

Someone who could end all of this. Someone who could put him to sleep, or even kill him. Someone incomparably strong, who could hold even death in their hands and grant him true rest.

Victor wanted someone like that.