Treatise Of A Failed Knight-Chapter 232: War Commences

"Chief! Chief! The borders!"

Soldiers rush into the quarters of the Great Tribe Chief, their faces filled with sweat as they tell him the grim news.

"W-what?!" He gasps, spitting out his meal and jumping to his feet. "T-that can’t be!"

Receiving the information with wide open eyes, he feels beads of sweat trickling down his face.

For a moment, he is paralyzed.

He tries to process the information with as much composure as he can. After all, he is the Chief of the Great Northern Tribe.

But his facade quickly crumbles when he thinks about their predicament for more than two seconds.

He knows...

’This... this is very bad!’

"Inform all the Ministers! We are having an emergency meeting!"

"Yes, Chief!"

While the warriors leave his residence, he hurriedly gets dressed and departs from his room. He barks a few more orders before finally completing his dress-up and leaving for the Grand Dome.

Upon entering the grand meeting hall, he already finds the other Ministers present.

It has become abundantly clear that they understand just how severe the current situation is.

"Kalakuta’s forces are nearing our shores as we speak. They’ll be within our borders any moment now. We don’t have much time." He informs them of this with a grim frown and a deeply unsettling voice.

Everyone looks worried and shaken to their core.

Even the Minister of Combat, a notorious battle fiend, shows several signs of hesitation.

If this were a normal war, she wouldn’t be so queasy. In fact, she would be feeling rather elated with the news.

But... There is something different about the imminent battle this time.

For one, it is impromptu.

They had all reasoned that Kalakuta would attack either the Eastern Sect or Western Alliance.

They never expected to be the target.

However, this is the least egregious thing about the advancement of the Freedom Fighters.

There is still the frightening fact that the enemy is utilizing a deadly force.

—Magivores.

"When did they learn to harness that power...?" The Chief mutters dumbfoundedly.

"Isn’t it obvious at this point?!"

At this point, someone slams their hands on the table and rises with a frustrated demeanor.

It’s none other than Geralt.

"Judging from how quickly they are advancing and how they weren’t spotted until they reached this far, they must have come from No Man’s Land." This Minister of Internal Affairs astutely deduces everything, but there is no look of satisfaction on his face.

Instead, it grows even more dreary.

His colleagues join him in his grim reaction upon realizing what this means.

"The Northern Empire is in on this. Did they collude with the Freedom Fighters? Were they always on his side or did Kalakuta’s Force capture them after they made their proposal?"

"It’s possible that they were attacked by Kalakuta, but why wouldn’t they send us a warning if that were the case?"

"Precisely!"

Everyone can’t help but wonder about this.

While this question remains in the air, the door to the meeting area opens, and someone is thrust into the room.

"Gahh!" The young, partially naked man groans as he falls flat on his face, pathetically lying before the crowd of unsettled people.

He has a rather plump body, short and round like a ball.

It’s none other than the First Prince of the Empire.

Normally, he would have a luxurious attire on his body, but due to the urgency of the situation and how desperate they were for answers, they had demanded his presence and ordered the soldiers to bring him to them immediately.

As a result, his obese body is open for all to see. This immediately causes his plump face to turn tomato red as he screeches in rage.

"H-how dare you do this to me? Do you think you’ll get away with trearing—!"

WHAP!

Geralt immediately slaps the First Prince, causing him to cry out in pain.

He recoils in shock and stares at everyone in disbelief. This is when he notices their anxious expressions and how a portion of their rising rage seems to be directed at him.

It doesn’t take him a minute to realize his circumstances.

"W-why... are you doing this?"

After mellowing out considerably, he asks this question with a shaky voice.

This doesn’t, however, prevent him from receiving yet another slap to the face, which causes him to cry at this point.

Fear and Pain are two things he isn’t used to.

But, under the gazes of these people, he is bombarded with these sensations.

"Thr Freedom Fighters are invading the Central Plains through No Man’s Land. Your Northern Empire is meant to be occupying that territory, yet this has happened. Not just that, but Kalakuta is marching here with thousands of Magivores at his disposal. This is something that should only be possible with the power of the Imperial Family. There are too many confusing elements in this matter, so you’re going to tell us all you know about the current situation."

"I-I don’t know anything!" The First Prince whimpers, trying his hardest to resist the pain.

"I was hoping you’d say that..."

After Geralt mutters this, he turns to the Chief and the rest of the Ministers with an extremely brutal expression.

"I’ll do my best to wring out every last bit of information from the kid. In the meantime, we have to attack and protect our borders. This will be an immensely tasking battle since we are largely unprepared, but if we can hold the fort while backup from other tribes come, we stand a chance at obtaining victory."

The Ministers nod in agreement.

Their greatest weakness is the fact that they are the closest to the Northern Empire, thus they will be the first to be attacked by the emerging forces.

Back when Javier had entered their land, he intentionally took a detour because he wanted to gather as many Magivores as possible.

He could also slip past their crude detection system since he was only with a few people.

But this is an army.

An army of over ten thousand, featuring all kinds of monstrous creatures organized to form an unstoppable tide.

They are heading straight for the Great Northern Tribe.

"Evacuate the city. Engage all defenses..." The Chief jumps to his feet and begins barking orders at the Ministers. "... And get that disgusting brat out of my sight!"

The warriors drag out the First Prince, who profusely begs while Geralt walks right behind.

"What a nightmare..."

Although the Chief whispers this, he has a hardened expression on his face.

As the leader of the strongest force in the entire Central Plains, he cannot afford to show any kind of weakness.

Naturally, he will be marching out to war very soon as the leader of their army.

"We will be utilizing all the Armaments at our disposal—even the ancient treasures." Turning to his Ministers with a solemn expression, he mentions this. "I imagine none of you have any problems with this decision."

"No, we don’t."

It is the wise choice to go all-out. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

If they reserve as little as an ounce of their strength, they could lose.

"Although it’s probably useless, we should reach out to the other Great Nations for assistance." He sighs, leaving the hall with the rest of the Ministers trailing after him.

Just as he said, it will likely be a waste of time to resort to this.

Since the Northern Empire, the architect of this alliance, has joined the side of Kalakuta or has been destroyed already, the treaty has lost most of its meaning.

The allure of the Great Bridgeworks and all other benefits can be considered nonexistent.

Why would they still adhere to the agreement?

Instead, they would likely preserve their forces while using the Central Plains as a scapegoat to comprehend the strength of Kalakuta’s current army. Only by doing this can they better prepare for an attack when it inevitably becomes their turn.

’We should expect a timely response from the other Tribes since they’ll also be affected if they don’t support us and try to resist Kalakuta’s forces with us. But even I don’t know how long they’ll take in their prrparations. Can we endure until then?’ The Great Chief grits his teeth while clenching his fist in sheer frustration.

"Damnit!"

As much as he hates to admit it, the Great Northern tribe is on its own.

"Take heart, Chief." The Minister of Combat pats his shoulder before walking away from him. "Dedicate your heart to the Gods of the Heavens. They will secure us a great victory today."

"...."

Although she has told him this, her own clenched fist and frustrated demeanor isn’t hidden.

But rather than addressing this, he simply nods and responds aloud, "See you on the battlefield."

She chuckles and says the same.

"See you on the battlefield."

******

Both armies meet on the plains, just a few kilometers from the true domain of the Great Northern Tribe.

An army of ten thousand Magivores against tens of thousands of warriors.

Nearly a hundred thousand figures dot the plains as harsh winds and hints of a stormy weather paint the landscape for them.

In such a dreadful situation, one man steps forward to address everyone.

—Kalakuta!

"Wr are the Freedom Fighters. My name is Kalakuta, and we will not fight you all or cause any bloodshed if you surrender now and concede your rule over these Plains."

This is the same proposal he made to the Northern Empire days before invading.

No one took it seriously back then.

They had thought he was merely bluffing. Yet he stuck true to his words and took down such a monolith overnight.

Now, it’s the turn of the Central Plains.

The warriors of the Central Plains, now clad in their armor and wielding all kinds of Armaments, stare at each other and shake their heads in a resolute manner.

Their answer is clear.

Even when faced with such danger, they have no intention of backing down.

Such is the pride of these people.

"So be it..." Kalakuta sighs upon receiving their response, a sad expression forming on his hardened face.

Right now, he dons his usual fur coat, holding his signature club—the Pathfinder.

Javier stares at him, observing his facial expression with a stoic demeanor. He considers it a little unwise to lose the initiative by not taking advantage of their momentum just to give their enemy a chance to surrender.

But this is Kalakuta’s code.

Even if they had to make a surprise attack on Central Plains so they could traverse the distance and reach their shores with little to no resistance, he still remained unwilling to initiate a battle prior warning.

Although a naive disposition, Javier understands this ideal.

After all, even he benefitted from it when he, Tyrrion, and Enryndral were ambushed by Kalakuta’s forces in the past.

Thus, even though henwould do the opposite, Javier can’t help but respect this position.

’But now that our enemy has refused, the outcome has become fairly certain...’ Just like the few hundred Freedom Fighters in their ranks, Javier dons a battle attire.

He is also in possession of multiple Armaments, particularly a High Level C Grade Defensive Armament and the same Grade for an offensive one.

This gives him a balanced set of tools at his disposal.

Adding Tracing to the mix, he would be considered one of the most lethal individuals on this battlefield.

Thus...

He has no complaints whatsoever.

"Attack!"

"Charge!"

Both sides yell out, sending their armies forward to officially commence the war.

*****

’My goodness..." The more Geralt listens, the more stunned he becomes.

He realizes just how terribly misinformed his people are regarding the true enemy and their borderline divine power.

The real threat isn’t the Imperial Family.

It isn’t even Kalakuta.

It is one of the Imperial Knights—the same one who had escorted the First Prince to the Central Plains.

’He is the one who controls the Magivores. He also possesses other frightening abilities like teleportation and Divination.’

Geralt shudders as he looks at the sweat-covered body of the First Prince.

Blood drips from his plump body, and all kinds of wounds appear all over his obese frame. One can only imagine the degree of torture that hss taken place here.

’Looks like he told me everything he knows already. Chances are also very low that he is lying. If that is the case...’ Geralt gulps loudly while shuddering to himself.

’... This battle will end in our defeat.’