Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Chapter 26: The strangest game of tag

That was the most outlandish and unusual game of hide-and-seek the world had ever witnessed.

The one who called himself the monarch of the Empire was fleeing in great haste from his own seat of power, consumed by the panic of being caught by a solitary individual.

“Your Grace, Count Kylo has yielded at his feet and has opened the way for him through the walls!”

“What are you talking about!? How dare that perjurer…”

“And the misfortunes do not end there! The rulers of the imperial regions bordering the rebel forces are surrendering consecutively…”

“Damn shameless traitors!”

The avalanche of dismal notifications was uncontainable, and the sovereign’s flight far from the metropolis did not bode well for the future. Ultimately, the fall of the regime at the hands of the insurrection was merely a chronological matter.

However, it was not those who took up arms who truly broke Emperor Guillermo of the Ninth Empire, nor who brought the entire nation to its knees.

Even the insurgents themselves, just like the official hosts, stood in the path of that individual and suffered a devastating punishment.

Faced with this subject, the usual logic lacked value.

The God of Insignificance advanced with a firm step, disintegrating any obstacle that dared to cross his path.

For those who attempted to contain him, perishing represented almost an act of mercy; whereas for those who prostrated themselves, surrendering a piece of their land to him, it meant absolution.

The stronghold that the rebels never managed to breach, along with the very capital of the dynasty, succumbed to the will of a single being. The chronicles about the colossal creature he built using rubble and human remains spread to the edges of the territory.

The ancient nation of magic, believed to be buried in oblivion, rose from its ashes, and its mystic sovereign, the Lord of Black Gold, prepared to extend his global yoke once more.

Completely alone, devoid of armies.

Initially, those tales were judged as mere tavern gossip spread by idlers. However, as the fortifications and bastions were subjugated one by one by his hand, and the regular armies were turned into mountain ranges of the fallen, no inhabitant of the territory retained the spirit to mock what they had believed to be a fable.

For this reason, yearning to distance himself from that solitary being, Emperor Guillermo of Brandenburg began a chaotic retreat towards the southern territory.

At every moment, the pursuer sliced through the central provinces of the Ninth Empire, absorbing the domains that separated him from his royal prey.

The local regents bent the knee, promising vassalage through a handful of dust, and in succession, the aristocracy of the Ninth Empire swore eternal submission to the Lord of Black Gold.

And invariably, a blue butterfly took flight, weaving bluish filaments over the fields that Dale was subjugating.

“Demonic incompetents!”

Shortly after, the monumental silhouette that embodied the Lord of Black Gold was sharply outlined against the horizon line.

“If this ducal territory also falls under his control, what will be left of my imperial domains?”

“I beg your mercy, Your Majesty.”

Taking refuge in the possessions of the duchy of Muir, Emperor Guillermo shouted, losing his composure, while Duke Muir returned a grimace loaded with disillusionment.

How did this inept man aspire to rule the Ninth Empire? There was only one reason that explained it.

The most formidable warrior in the region, the Crimson and White Knight, remained guarding his back.

Sir Michael.

And when the latter made the determination to measure his strength alone against the Lord of Black Gold, the outcome was sealed.

That colossal mushroom-shaped emanation that covered the sky, whose heat incinerated the capital metropolis, held the conviction that not even the Lord of Black Gold himself would emerge alive from such devastation.

Mutual annihilation. The last resort devised by Sir Michael, the supreme paladin of the crown.

Despite everything, not even the cataclysm of total destruction managed to halt that man’s advance. Thus began the most implausible and grotesque pursuit remembered in history.

The sovereign of the empire fled in terror, hounded by a single presence. The aristocrats and warriors of the crown raised palisades and bastions to interpose themselves, but against him, any defense proved sterile.

Finally, they ended up cornered in the southernmost extreme of the nation, within the domains of the duchy of Muir.

The escape options had been exhausted. The monarch’s fleeing journey concluded at this point, and the Lord of Black Gold would not take long to show up to claim control of these lands.

Before his figure, no defense possessed validity. Neither the sophisticated martial protection exhibited by the rebel factions, nor the most skilled warrior of the kingdom, nor the very conflagration of the final judgment.

“What is wrong with you, Duke Muir?! Mobilize the battalions immediately and design a defensive strategy to face him right now!”

Emperor Guillermo cried out, causing Duke Muir to let out a burst of laughter filled with bitterness and skepticism.

“What are you laughing at in a moment like this?”

“A defensive strategy, you say?”

After suppressing his laughter, Duke Muir questioned him directly.

“Have you perhaps still not assimilated the reality of the facts?”

“What are you trying to insinuate…?”

“Duke Muir, moderate your words in front of His Majesty!”

In that instant, the personal guard guarding the monarch immediately gripped the pommels of their weapons. However, they did not enjoy the necessary time to draw them from their sheaths. Duke Muir’s warriors acted with greater speed.

Metal cut through the air and vital fluids splattered the ground.

“Emperor Guillermo, it is likely that the annals of our history have never recorded a ruler as incompetent as you.”

“You, damned felon, how dare you turn against me…!”

Weapons collided and, in a coordinated manner, a volley of arrows descended upon the place. Thunk! The projectiles tore through the defenses of the golden-gala warriors who were supposed to watch over the sovereign’s safety. The tips found the weak points of the joints and the slits of the cranial protections, making blood spout.

“Seize the monarch.”

“At your orders, my lord!”

“Duke Muir…! How are you capable of betraying the kingdom and the one who granted you your lands?”

“Do I perhaps have any other viable alternative?”

Wilhelm demanded, receiving as a reply a new question from Duke Muir.

“Am I supposed to conscript the serfs of my fields, organize foot battalions, call the men-at-arms, and open fire with artillery to measure ourselves against such an entity?”

After formulating the question, Duke Muir emitted a smile devoid of joy. An absurd reaction, intended solely to camouflage the absolute panic gripping his insides.

“What kind of force do you believe could contain that individual? Perhaps terrain defenses or heavy projectiles? Thousands of riders in formation? Firearms and explosives? Do you truly consider that all of that retains the slightest value against that entity?”

“Duke, Duke Muir, I beg you…!”

“The Lord of Black Gold? The Mystic Sovereign? A deity from the remote past? What term should we employ to categorize him? Do you believe that simple designations will allow us to assimilate his nature? Evidently not.”

Inquired Duke Muir.

“Does your mind still not process it?”

“What… what are you trying to say?”

“It is about… a higher demonic entity.”

Duke Muir declared.

“To that being, we are nothing more than simple vermin wandering through the mud. No matter how much Your Majesty attempts to resist in his presence, it represents nothing more than the irrelevant thrashing of a common insect.”

“How dare you utter such insults…!”

“Contemplate reality, Your Majesty. How does someone who is incapable of subduing even a single serf intend to evade the reach of that deity?”

Having finished the sentence, Duke Muir showed an expression full of coldness.

An individual draped in garments dark as midnight advanced toward the domains of the duchy of Muir. At the precise instant he stepped on the borders of the region, an entourage awaited his arrival.

Men-at-arms provided with metallic defenses, some practitioners of mystic arts, and the members of the territory’s court were ready to receive him.

In the position of honor, a male attired in luxurious clothing ornamented with fine stitching immediately bent his knees.

“Duke Muir pays his most submissive respect to our sovereign.”

The members of his retinue held their breath upon witnessing such submission, but no disturbance was generated. Despite counting on the most formidable military contingent of the crown, any power lacked relevance against that visitor.

“And I deliver to you this testimony of my absolute submission toward Your Majesty.”

Remaining on his knees, Duke Muir made a visual signal. Various warriors dragged Emperor Guillermo, the self-proclaimed regent of the Ninth Empire, throwing him roughly at the feet of the newcomer.

“Take your hands off me! Infamous perjurers…!”

“…”

“How dare you treat the direct heir of the legendary paladin of the sword and of Wilhelm, of the Brandenburg lineage, in this way…?”

Emperor Wilhelm struggled desperately on the ground, while the subject in the tunic dark as midnight contemplated him, maintaining absolute silence. Wilhelm’s verbiage was abruptly cut short.

The gloom projected beneath his hood examined him intently. A freezing sensation and an indescribable dread permeated the atmosphere of the place.

An icy and oppressive gust spread through the surroundings, conveying the experience of having been thrown, devoid of shelter, into winter waters.

Emperor Guillermo and the rest of those present linked to the duchy of Muir experienced the identical sensation. It was not due to a real thermal alteration in the environment nor to the manifestation of a physical frost.

“A successor of the celebrated master of the sacred blade, as you claim. How evocative that is.”

After a prolonged pause, the individual in the garments dark as midnight, Dale, showed a slight and icy smile. In those moments, even that designation seemed to him a distant and almost pleasant memory.

The experience of the steel that in past times pierced his ribcage, the accumulated resentment, and even the desires for retribution, had completely dissipated.

“Who would have imagined that the Brandenburg dynasty would achieve the crown through the turns of historical destiny. Your predecessors would certainly feel pleased.”

“…”

“Bearing the golden lineage and arrogating to yourself the domain of darkness… analyzed in that way, referring to you as the Lord of Black Gold would not be a far-fetched idea.”

Emperor Guillermo showed himself incapable of assimilating the background of those expressions. Dale opted not to delve into details and simply diverted his attention elsewhere.

“Duke Muir, your display of submission will obtain its corresponding gratitude.”

“I… I remain eternally grateful to you, Your Majesty!”

As he uttered those words, a group of blue butterflies emerged floating from the back of the man, moving through the air until positioning themselves next to Duke Muir.

A network of bluish filaments began to cover his physiognomy.

That network constituted the fundamental pillar of the structure that granted Dale control of his domains, allowing him to monitor everything that the duke contemplated, heard, and perceived internally.

“Nevertheless, your direct subordinates must equally prostrate themselves and manifest their obedience before me.”

“I will fulfill your mandate immediately…!”

The notice concluded, Duke Muir reiterated his gestural indication.

Clang!

Without a single one missing, the men-at-arms, the members of the court, and even the rank-and-file infantry stationed nearby knelt on the spot.

Initiated at the northern border and culminated at the southern limit, Dale’s journey across the Ninth Empire was coming to its end at that site. He then focused his attention on the captured monarch belonging to the overthrown order.

“It would be incongruous for the one who wore the crown of the old dynasty to continue his existence within the bosom of the new era.”

“Ah…!”

Upon hearing the sentence, the overthrown Emperor Guillermo lost all composure and made a swallowing gesture with notable difficulty.

“Despite that, appealing to considerations of the past, I will grant you clemency.”

“Considerations of the past…?”

Dale added, maintaining an unalterable tone, bringing to his memory the countless occasions in which he measured himself against and defeated the old leaders of the Brandenburg lineage, whom he himself had stripped of their status.

“I will assign you a fortification along with extensions of land.”

“Do… do you really speak the truth?”

Wilhelm momentarily caught his breath in the face of that surprising concession. It was impossible for him to understand the motivations behind Dale’s actions.

“In order for you to have an existence free of privations for the time you have left, I extend my clemency to you.”

“…!”

“This constitutes your last alternative. Prostrate yourself in my presence.”

Upon perceiving the requirement, Wilhelm did not show the slightest hesitation.

“I render my humble vassalage before the legitimate monarch!”

He bowed shamelessly in front of the man, lowering his head to receive the granted benefit. After all, he did not lack the discernment necessary to evaluate the gravity of the landscape.

He mentally evoked the old leaders of the Brandenburg lineage, who suffered bitter defeats and torments during the era of the “Black Prince”. The compensation for those old sufferings was taking shape at this precise instant, through the cycles of historical evolution.

Certainly, it was all due to the inheritance of his predecessors.