Chapter 440 — This Is a War

"Keep loading! Elevation eight, ready —"

The magic-net communicator set down beside him suddenly lit, and a soldier nearby activated it at once; Philip saw the figure of Gaosong take shape in the holographic projection above the device.

"Cease fire."

"Yes, my lord."

The young knight bowed his head and acknowledged the order; his face showed scarcely any change, but in his heart he let out a breath of real relief.

Though he knew the lord had ordered the barrage halted mainly because the enemy had already drawn close to the Whitewater's bank—at this range, the guns on Height Two were all too likely to overshoot and strike their own warships, or, even without a direct hit, to disrupt the focusing of the two Calibrator beams—he nonetheless breathed a sigh of relief.

It was, he supposed, the last shred of dignity left to the knights of a bygone age.

The fire and explosions raining down from the sky finally ceased, but of the knightly company that had charged out beside him, fewer than two in ten remained.

And those two in ten had all but lost the capacity to fight.

The column's pace fell away sharply; the knights, battered and with their magic drained to the dregs, halted one after another, and some simply collapsed from their horses, too spent to hold themselves upright. Even Sir Marchi, shielded at the heart of the column, felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him—yet he lifted his head and looked at the two vast warships now looming close at hand, and at the two terrible beams of light pouring forth from them.

The charge was over. It had been a charge "without an enemy"—the knights had not crossed blades with a single foe, and yet eight in ten were lost—but in the end they had achieved their objective.

Yet as Sir Marchi spurred his horse onward and began to gather all the magic in his body to destroy the warships, a figure appeared in his field of vision.

In that instant he realized that all his efforts had been for nothing—Gao Yang Cecil himself was aboard the warship, not in the main camp ashore!

An oppressive aura radiated from the prow, one that could nearly freeze the magic in the veins of any low-tier Transcendent; and though the warhorse beneath Sir Marchi was itself a mixed-blood magical beast of the Transcendent realm, it trembled and came to a stop. The knight had no choice but to abandon his mount and walk step by step out onto the surface of the river.

Where he trod, the water grew calm as a mirror beneath his feet. He drew nearer step by step, and saw that along the warship's deck a series of ports had opened, and from them the "guide rails" of some magical apparatus extended, training upon him.

But in the end they did not activate.

Sir Marchi resolved to make one final effort on behalf of the oath he had once sworn. He halted at a reasonably suitable distance, then drew his longsword and angled it slightly toward that legendary founding duke:

"I challenge you! I stake my life and my family's honor—in exchange, withdraw your troops!"

Gao Yang merely regarded in silence this man who had charged through the artillery fire all the way from Boulder Fortress to stand before him, and only after a long while did he speak: "Your life and your family's honor?"

"If I am defeated, you may take my life; my family and my lands will belong to you, and generation after generation they will swear fealty to you. Marchi Onar swears it here—the duel is sacred, and I will not break it," Sir Marchi declared. "In exchange, I beg you to withdraw your troops today, and to pledge that you will not attack Boulder Fortress for three years!"

Three years... within three years the situation in this country ought to settle. Whichever side prevailed, the Eastern Province or the royal house, at least by then there would be a new, unified dynasty to face the rise of the Cecil family...

And more important still, he would have fulfilled his oath—to hold Boulder Fortress.

Gao Yang looked at the knight who had challenged him to a duel, and again after a long while broke the silence: "I accept your challenge, but the attack will not end."

Sir Marchi stared at Gao Yang in astonishment, as though for a moment he could not react: "...Why?"

"I accept your challenge because you are a worthy knight, and as the founding father of Ansu's knighthood I acknowledge and respect you," Gao Yang said, drawing the Pioneer's Sword; a mighty flame of magic began to suffuse its black blade, and he leaped down from the prow to land on the river before Sir Marchi. "And the attack will not end because..."

A lethal, overwhelming pressure struck him full in the face. Sir Marchi hastily roused all the magic in his body, poured it into his longsword, and held it crosswise before him to block—and caught the Pioneer's Sword's ferocious blow.

The black blade wreathed in flame pressed heavily upon the knight's sword. Gao Yang fixed his eyes on the knight's and said, word by word:

"Child, this is a war."

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