Chapter 188: Mourning Is for the Sake of Moving Forward
Less than two li northeast of Coldsteel City stood what had once been a barren hill, later designated by Haus as the city cemetery. Under Haus’ brutal rule, new victims appeared every few days. When his private soldiers were in a good mood, they would drag the bodies here and burn them in a heap; when they were not, they simply tossed them aside to rot. Over time, the cemetery became increasingly grim and decrepit, blackened scorch marks covering the ground while the stench of corpses hung permanently in the air. Unclaimed bones piled up like mountains, and even the victims’ families refused to approach what should have been a place of remembrance for the dead.
After Nolan took control of the city, one of the first decrees he issued was a sweeping restoration of the cemetery. Funeral rites were a deeply valued tradition among the Elfinians, and he did this both out of respect for the deceased and to comfort a city that had only recently emerged from turmoil.
The craftsmen had done excellent work.
Now the cemetery rested atop a gentle hill, rows of newly carved gravestones lined up in perfect order. White lilies of the valley had been transplanted along the stone-paved paths. In Elfin tradition, the flower’s meaning was “hope to meet again.” For the departed, perhaps that was the most beautiful wish their loved ones still living could offer them.
The scenery softened much of the cemetery’s original gloom and sorrow, replacing it with an atmosphere of quiet solemnity.
It did not take Nolan long to spot the familiar figure.
A somewhat worn black longcoat, a round black hat with faded edges. Even dressed in plain clothes, the man’s posture remained perfectly straight, every bit the soldier he had always been.
Who else could it be but Hank?
“So you really are here.” Nolan walked over and folded his arms, glancing at him. “Rare to see you take leave. Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve seen you without armor or a uniform.”
Hank turned around. His weathered face showed little emotion as he gave a slight bow. “My apologies, Lord Nolan. I was being selfish. Little Donnie and Rehanna are overseeing training. Nothing will go wrong.”
Nolan waved him off. “Why apologize? I’m not here to inspect the camp.”
His gaze shifted past Hank’s shoulder to the gravestone before him.
“That was fast.”
“Indeed. The stonemasons and blacksmiths of Coldsteel City never disappoint.”
Hank stepped aside, revealing the modest square gravestone. The lettering had only recently been carved, traces of stone dust still clinging to it.
Pascal Dres (216–270)
A knight whose merits and faults were equally divided.
A friend.
May he rest here in peace.
Two items had been placed before the grave. Nolan recognized them immediately: an old Southern Legion senior service medal, its edges worn smooth with time, and a plump golden Elfin citrus fruit.
For a while, neither man spoke.
The morning breeze drifted through the cemetery, carrying the faint fragrance of lilies of the valley.
In the end, Hank was the one to break the silence, bringing up the battle that had only recently ended.
“You went easy on him during the duel at the Somme River. I knew Pascal’s strength. With your swordsmanship, my lord, you could have taken his head in a single strike. But you didn’t.”
Nolan shook his head. “That wasn’t mercy. It was respect for the duel itself. He made mistakes, but not enough to deserve a death without dignity.”
As he looked at the name on the gravestone, what came to mind instead were the countless people from his previous life. Some died bitter and disillusioned. Some abandoned their original ideals. Some fell on the road of resistance before ever seeing dawn.
In the end, even the entire Elfin Kingdom had splintered apart, becoming nothing more than a minor footnote in the expansion of the Shiva Undead Empire, swallowed mercilessly by the tide of fate.
“Hank, there are many people like this in the kingdom. They’re dissatisfied with the status quo, but powerless to change it. After years of grinding themselves down, they realize they no longer have any control over their own lives and can only survive by deceiving themselves. I don’t condemn them. Not everyone has the strength or conviction to do what we’re doing.”
Nolan turned to look at Hank and noticed that although the man’s expression remained calm, his fist had clenched tightly.
“Remember what I said? Whether we succeed or fail, I want my appearance to at least inspire them—to rekindle the courage called ‘resistance.’ Elfin has never lacked heroes. They only lack an example to follow.”
Hank laughed. It was a smile mixed with relief, gratification, and a trace of self-mockery. Hadn’t he himself—gradually worn down by the years—been moved by the hope Nolan represented? “Of course I remember. How could I forget?” He looked at Nolan, his eyes brighter than ever before. “My lord, you’re always this naïve, and always this gentle. When I was young, the education I received taught me that people like you could never accomplish great things. Looking at it now, Elfin’s foundational education still has a very long way to go.”
Nolan actually looked a little embarrassed by such straightforward praise. Shrugging, he joked, “Flattering me won’t get you a raise, you know. Anna’s already complained to me several times that the territory’s finances are getting tighter and tighter…”
“Hahahahaha!”
Hank burst into hearty laughter, the sound echoing through the empty cemetery, utterly out of place with its solemn atmosphere. It had been a very long time since he had laughed so freely. He pulled out a cigar and a box of matches, lit it with practiced ease, and took a deep drag.
“I don’t care about that.”
He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.
“I already got the highest salary possible from you. A promise for the future.”
Hank rolled the cigar between his fingers before crushing it out firmly against the nearby stone railing.
“Come on. Time to head back to camp.”
“Oh? That early?”
Seeing Nolan’s surprise, Hank added, “I only requested one hour of leave.”
***
By the time the two returned to the camp outside the city, morning training had already ended.
Nolan had not come specifically to chat with Hank. The real reason he had visited the Black Armored Legion’s encampment today was to deal with something else entirely.
“Do we have spare weapons?” he asked.
“Plenty,” Hank answered without hesitation. “The warehouse is overflowing. We seized a huge amount of weapons and supplies from the allied forces this time, and most of it’s in pretty good condition. Just transporting everything back is going to take quite a while. Even the city guard has been mobilized.”
Nolan nodded. “Prepare enough for me. We’re going to meet Pascal’s personal guards.”
Something flickered in Hank’s eyes as understanding dawned on him. He did not ask questions. Instead, he simply turned around and efficiently ordered the preparations.
The work was completed quickly.
Escorted by twenty fully armed members of the Black Armored Legion, Nolan and Hank arrived at a corner of the camp. What had originally been an unused warehouse was now being used to temporarily hold Pascal’s personal guard.
All of them were Silver-rank knights. Even disarmed, they still represented a considerable force and required special supervision, which was why they had not been imprisoned together with the other captives.
Four Black Armored Legion soldiers stood rigidly at the warehouse entrance, guarding the place with unwavering vigilance.
When they saw Nolan and Hank approaching with their escort, they immediately struck their right fists against their chests in a standard military salute.
“Lord Nolan! Captain Hank!”
Nolan nodded. “You’ve worked hard. I want to see the people inside.”
“Yes, sir!”
The leading soldier responded immediately and walked to the heavy wooden door. From the large ring of keys hanging at his waist, he selected one and inserted it into the massive iron lock.
Clank.
With the sound of metal scraping, the lock clicked open.
Looking at the dispirited knights inside, Nolan stepped through the doorway and said, “How long has it even been? And you already look like this? Stand up straight!”