Lance Charge on the Arkship, but No Mount — Chapter 40

"Of course not. You are my friends, not my subordinates."

Claude shook his head, then relaxed his tightly clenched hand and turned slightly to nod at the other man.

"It's just about time for lunch. Please join us, Mr. Młynar. By the way, where is Margaret? I went back to the Great Knight Territory in Kazimierz once. Old Martin and the others told me Margaret had gone traveling with you."

Hearing the young man address his niece so intimately, Młynar's brow furrowed slightly, but he still answered.

"Margaret is on another landship—the medical company called Rhodes Island."

"Then I'll invite her. Mr. Młynar, please go on ahead. My captain of the guard will show you the way."

Char immediately stepped forward and gestured for Młynar to proceed, while Claude dragged the foolish golden-haired dog up from the ground and headed toward Rhodes Island's landship.

Młynar suppressed the urge to follow them and instead went with Char toward the dining area. Such behavior would have been far too discourteous.

They were probably just good friends. He was being far too suspicious.

That was what Młynar thought to himself.

"Shining, how is Liz doing?"

The tall, valiant female knight stood in the medical department corridor, drawing the attention of many operators. Notably, quite a few female operators were secretly watching this gallant woman as well.

The Sarkaz woman standing across from her did not seem particularly conspicuous at first glance beneath her heavy black robes. Yet upon closer inspection, one would be struck by her serene, radiant temperament. Her well-developed figure, especially beneath those heavy robes, possessed a uniquely feminine allure.

"I've already given Liz a thorough examination. Her body is still very weak, and the Originium erosion is also worrying. But the most serious issue remains Liz's psychological condition..."

Both of them fell silent. As companions who had traveled together for years, they knew very well where Liz's psychological problems came from, and they felt deeply powerless before them.

No matter how one looked at it, the girl resembled a fragile doll. Her body and mind were both so delicate that they dared not use any aggressive treatment, only carefully maintain the current state of affairs.

"There will always be a way. Liz is a strong child..." Shining's words sounded pale and weak.

Thud, thud, thud!!

The newcomer announced his arrival with loud footsteps, making no attempt to conceal his presence. It was impossible for them not to notice, and so they raised their heads and looked toward one side of the corridor.

A slender black knight approached them, dressed in well-fitted black armor. His polymer cloak was so clean that not a speck of dust could be seen on it, while blood-red reflective trim decorated his black attire.

The knight was fully armed. The longsword at his waist, the throwing spears on his back, and the various pouches and straps on his body kept him in a constant state of battle readiness.

Yet what drew the eye most was his handsome face. His amber eyes resembled polished gold, while one or two strands of his neatly combed black hair had escaped their restraint and curled up from his temples. His long eyebrows were slightly raised with their owner's delight.

Margaret was utterly stunned. She stared silently at the black knight until he walked up and stopped before them, only then coming back to herself.

"Claude?! How are you...?!"

"Won't you give an old friend a hug after so long apart, Margaret?" Claude asked with a mischievous grin, opening his arms.

But the female knight before him did not take it as a joke. She hesitated for a moment, then reached out and embraced Claude. Their hard breastplates collided with a loud clang. Claude was somewhat surprised, but quickly recovered and returned the embrace.

"All right, all right. It was only a joke. I'm glad to see you again, Margaret."

The two released each other and kept three paces between them. A blush colored Margaret's face. She had acted on impulse just now, and by the time she came to her senses, she was already hugging him.

Beside them, Shining could not help thinking that she... perhaps ought to leave for a while.

"Claude, why are you here? I thought you were still in Ursus. I was planning to look for you after returning to Kazimierz this time."

"See that land battleship beside us? It belongs to our organization. I wanted to write and tell you about my situation, but I didn't know where to send the letter, so I had no choice but to give up."

Claude's words left Margaret stunned for quite some time. She had always wondered which organization owned that enormous land battleship beside them, but Liz's condition was the highest priority, so she had not paid it much attention.

But who could have imagined that such a priceless, state-of-the-art land battleship belonged to her friend? She had known Claude was no ordinary person, yet she had never expected him to achieve all this in only a few years.

"How about coming aboard that ship with me? We can talk about how you've been these past few years. And this lady as well—if it's convenient, please come along. We'll be making a lavish dinner today."

"Delicious food!!"

A figure with large pointed ears suddenly sprang up from behind Claude and clung to him. Claude reached behind him and lifted the child in front of himself.

"I nearly forgot to introduce her. This is Ceobe."

Ceobe looked at the two strangers before her. After Miss Vulcan's long-term instruction, she had learned some basic common sense. She knew this was the time to greet them.

"My name is Ceobe. You can call me Little Ceobe. That's what everyone calls me."

"I'm Margaret Nearl. Miss Ceobe, you can call me Margaret."

"Please call me Shining."

"I'll remember!!"

Ceobe always won people over easily. After only a brief greeting, Margaret and Shining's gazes toward her had both softened considerably.

"I have some biscuits here. Would you like some?"

The golden-haired female knight pulled out a packet of compressed biscuits from her bag. For some reason, she felt that giving this child food was a good way to get along with her.

"Yes!"

Ceobe squatted obediently at the side, munching on her biscuit, while Miss Shining politely declined Claude's invitation.

"Thank you very much for your kindness, Mr. Claude, but I still have important matters to attend to here." Seeing her friend's hesitation, she turned to Margaret. "Go without worry, Margaret. You and Mr. Claude seem quite close, don't you? I'll watch over Liz. Nothing will go wrong."

Hearing this, Margaret finally set her mind at ease and nodded to her friend.

"I'll be back soon."

Food born amid the ice and snow of Ursus always seemed bold and passionate.

Large cuts of bone-in meat, slowly roasted with care, could be pulled from their bones with ease. Drizzled with carefully prepared sauce and paired with soft toasted bread, they became a feast worthy of anyone.

The borscht had long been cooked and was now kept warm over charcoal, maintained at just the right temperature. One sip was enough to warm the entire body.

Beast meat and potatoes were stewed together until thick and tender, then ladled into plates and bowls. Delivered before every soldier, they drove away the chill of the night.

Soldiers standing guard were relieved by those who had already eaten, ensuring that every warrior in the legion could enjoy fresh, hot food. The entire land battleship was filled with a fervent, jubilant atmosphere. It even attracted operators from Rhodes Island next door. Whenever they leaned over their deck to watch curiously, drones laden with steaming meat dishes would fly over one after another, accompanied by loud invitations and blessings from across the way.

More than a hundred chefs were working busily in the kitchens. This meal would consume half their supplies, but today was a holiday, and this was their general's order. No one hesitated. To prepare such a feast, they had been working since noon. Countless fresh meats and vegetables had been sent into ovens and pots, transformed into dish after dish of food. Once all their work was done, they too would join the lively banquet, but for now, not a single person relaxed.

The Rising Reunion Movement: Glory to Us ### Chernobog was like any other Ursus city, renowned for its developed heavy industry. Thick smoke from its factories blotted out the sky.

Snow fell endlessly all year round, covering every street. Even after it was cleared away, the same sight would greet people again the next morning. Thus, the buildings here had exceptionally thick walls and small windows.

Every building was iron-gray or black, like clusters of tombstones rising from an enormous foundation. Black-clad military police stood at every road and street, watching every passerby with suspicious eyes. No Infected were permitted to enter the city. They could only scrape out a living in the complex sewers beneath the mobile city's foundation.

The only reason those Infected could remain there was because the city's factories constantly created more of them. The proportion of Infected was terrifyingly high, so even the lawless Ursus military police did not dare send them all to the mines. Combined with the mobile city's complicated sewer system, which was simply too troublesome to deal with, they could only drive them into the sewers and leave them there.

The Infected there had no chance of finding work, and not a single shop in the city would open its doors to them. Their only means of survival was to steal, rob, and rummage through garbage... Coupled with the Ursus Empire's subtle, pervasive propaganda, the Infected had gradually become things lower than Originium Slugs in this city. A worker might have worked hard to support his family one day, but once he became infected, every neighbor and friend would turn against him and rush to report him, as if he had been someone else before his infection and had become some alien, hateful thing afterward.

The Infected, the Infected. What exactly were they? In this country, they were no longer treated as human beings. They could only struggle to survive like maggots. Yet even in such desperate circumstances, people still wanted to live. After all, aside from surviving, there was nothing else they could do.

Alyok was rummaging through a trash can on the street for anything edible. He wore only a tattered old coat, patched upon patch. Places too damaged to mend had simply been left to rot. To keep out the cold, he had tied all sorts of odds and ends scavenged from trash cans around himself—cardboard, plastic, anything he could bind over drafty spots without hindering his movements, all to bring a faint trace of warmth.

Half a moldy fruit—after cutting away the rotten parts, it could still be eaten. He placed it in his woven sack. A dry loaf of bread bearing bite marks still looked unspoiled, so it went into the sack as well. A feathered beast bone that had been sucked clean still held several precious drops of grease, so that went in too...

He was so focused on searching that he forgot there had never been any safety for the Infected in this city.

Only when a black-clad figure's shadow fell over him did he realize what was happening. He threw down what was in his hands and tried to run.

Bang!

A club smashed hard onto the top of his head, knocking him straight to the ground. There was no restraint in that blow. His head was like a battered clay pot kicked with all one's strength, crying out in pain.

Has my brain been knocked out?

The thought flashed through his mind. Then he instinctively curled up, protecting his vulnerable chest and abdomen. Sure enough, the next second, the hard club fell like raindrops, deliberately striking his vital areas and landing on his emaciated body with dull thuds.

He did not beg or cry out even once, because he knew it would be useless and would only waste his strength. He could only curl up as tightly as possible, shielding his vital areas with his hands and feet as he waited for the violence to pass.

The sounds of flesh being beaten, bones breaking, and occasional groans of pain echoed continuously through the alley. Five or six minutes later, the military policeman was drenched in sweat from exhaustion. Finally, taking advantage of the other man's brief lapse, he kicked him viciously in the stomach before putting away his baton in satisfaction.

He did not care about rummaging through trash. It was not his responsibility anyway. To him, everything he had just done was merely entertainment, a little diversion to spice up his life.

He walked over to the woven sack and looked at the pitiful scraps of food inside. A cold smile appeared on his lips. Raising his boot, he stomped everything within into mush. Only then did he saunter out of the alley, completely satisfied.

Alyok lay motionless in the alley like a ruined sack, looking as though he were dead. Only when an Originium Slug drawn by the smell of blood crawled up beside him and began biting his fingers did he awaken from unconsciousness. Trembling, he began moving his fingers, then his palm, slowly forcing himself to turn over. Seeing that its prey had come back to life, the Originium Slug retreated slowly in disappointment. After all, it was accustomed to eating carrion.

His condition was somewhat better than he had expected. Only two ribs were broken, and his internal organs seemed unharmed. His head was dizzy, though. When he tried to push himself up from the ground, he realized his left arm had been broken. From his forearm to his wrist, it hung limp.

He struggled to his feet and leaned against the trash can. Fortunately, neither of his legs had been broken, so he could still walk. He went to his woven sack, looked at the food crushed into pulp inside, squatted down, and began searching through the mess.

Though the dry bread had been crushed into crumbs, he could still gather them up and eat them. The bone was fine as well... After finding as much edible food as he could, he did not dare remain there any longer. He staggered to his feet, climbed down through a sewer cover, and headed toward his home.

The journey was not short, and his injuries were severe. Stopping and walking, walking and stopping, it took him two or three hours to arrive.

The sewers were crowded with Infected, forming a sizable settlement. They had used all kinds of trash to build shacks separated from the ground, for the floor here was so damp and always crawling with bugs and rats of all sizes. When Alyok returned, only a few people greeted him. He responded to each of them, but they were all filthy and disheveled, their faces clouded over with a gloom so dark and damp that no amount of washing could remove it.

Returning to his family's shack, he pushed open the door made from broken boards. Inside, his mother—only in her thirties yet already white-haired—lay on ragged bedding. The blankets had turned black and shiny from long use, hard as iron and offering little warmth.

He crouched before his mother and nudged her, wanting to wake her so she could eat something. He pushed once. She did not move. He pushed again. Still, she did not move.

He grabbed his mother by the shoulders and laid her flat. Only then did he see the bluish pallor of her face. His heart shuddered violently, and he nearly lost his footing. He reached out with trembling fingers to check her breathing, then collapsed completely to the ground. His breathing came so rapidly that an onlooker might have thought his lungs were about to burst.

After a long time, he became strangely calm. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he took the bone from his clothes and put it in his mouth, chewing it and sucking the remaining grease from within. He was so absorbed that he did not notice a figure standing behind him.

"Your mother is dead. Aren't you sad?"

Alyok turned around. Before him stood a young woman in fine gear, wearing a cloak and winter hat. Her red hair spilled from beneath her hood, while a mask covered her face, hiding her expression.

Alyok turned back in fear, but he did not dare refuse to answer her. He could only say timidly, "I'm very sad, miss. But there's still grease in this bone."

Ludmila gripped the sharp dagger in her hand more tightly, as though it might sink into her fingers.

"Margaret, you don't need to come with me. This is, after all, a provocation against the Ursus Empire. You shouldn't be dragged into it."

Claude was trying to persuade his friend, but the golden-haired female knight before him still wore a determined expression on her fair face.

Looking into those golden eyes, brilliant as the sun, Claude found himself at a loss for words. He could sense the unwavering resolve within them.

"You needn't worry, Claude. Officially, I am employed by Rhodes Island. This trip to Chernobog is also to receive that Doctor, so there will be no problem. Please let me lend you a hand."

"It would be my great honor to receive the aid of such an outstanding knight."

Claude saluted the young woman before him. To continue refusing would be an insult to a knight's resolve. All he could do now was live up to that resolve.

Seeing Claude salute her with such solemnity, Margaret became somewhat flustered. His etiquette was so meticulous, elegant yet rigorous, like a monarch expressing gratitude to his knight. Margaret immediately turned serious as well and returned the salute with equal solemnity.

"You have entrusted your life to my hands, and I will never betray that trust. Come to my meeting room. You need to understand the battle plan as well."

On their way to the meeting room, they continually passed busy soldiers. Every soldier had work to do. They carried ammunition and polished their weapons and armor. Some captains shouted at their men, ordering them to inspect their equipment carefully and not make mistakes before the real battle began.

The artillerymen were inspecting their Originium cannons. They took the parts apart one by one, applied maintenance oil, and reassembled them, ensuring the cannons would roar when needed and blast apart the enemy's positions.

Some soldiers carried huge crates among the crossbowmen, distributing bundles of bolts to them. Vials of medicine were also handed out to every soldier, preventing their infections from worsening during battle.

The Iron Guard still stood silently before the meeting room. Because they rarely spoke while carrying out missions, Reunion Movement soldiers had given them the nickname "Iron Men." Every Reunion Movement soldier took pride in joining the Iron Guard, but recruitment was always extremely strict. Recruits needed exceptional physical ability and Originium Arts, as well as the strongest will and resolve. Under the principle of choosing quality over quantity and through perilous trials, even after all these years, the Iron Guard numbered no more than a thousand.

Margaret watched these well-trained soldiers. Even amid their bustle, they displayed an extreme order. So many people worked together, yet not one made a mistake. They were like precision gears in an enormous machine, each completing their task in perfect order and driving the machine onward. And whatever enemy that machine targeted would surely be ground to pieces.

Claude's efforts were indispensable in creating this situation. After learning from the Reunion Movement soldiers what Claude had accomplished over the years, Margaret even felt a trace of shame. This young man, the same age as her, had achieved in such a short time things she had never dared imagine. He had rescued countless innocents, united those who had been lost and uncertain, and defeated the Ursus Empire's attacks time and again. He seemed naturally at ease with war, effortlessly commanding these soldiers to victory and transforming ordinary Infected into an elite, powerful army.

Thus, driven by emotions she could not quite name, Margaret asked Claude to let her help him attack Chernobog of Ursus. And what Claude was doing now was precisely the resistance against injustice and oppression that she had always pursued, was it not? So she immediately made up her mind to join this glorious undertaking.

Claude stood at the prow of the landship, his cloak stirred by the cold wind at that height. The Reunion Movement's leaders stood behind him, silently awaiting his orders.

His soldiers stood in formation upon the steel deck and across the barren earth, arrayed in one neat military formation after another. Officers and soldiers alike raised their heads, eagerly watching him. Claude looked upon his army, this army that had already taken shape.

"Every one of us knows what we are going to do. Every one of us knows what we want to do. That is what makes us different from the Ursus army. So even if we are attacking a mobile city, I tell you here and now: they will be the ones to lose this war!!"

"What we are doing is the greatest and most righteous thing of all: we are resisting this world's oppression and injustice! Even if they are so powerful, we will still resist, because we are living human beings, not beasts!! We will save those who have been exploited and oppressed. We will save them from Ursus brutality! What could be more glorious, more worth doing than that in this world?!!"

"We will save the slaves, the Infected, and the oppressed!! We will destroy the oppressors, the perpetrators of violence, the ones who truly deserve to die!! Therefore, we will not be afraid. They should be the ones who fear!! We will not fail. They should be the ones who fail!!"

"Claude Ait!!... Claude Ait!! Claude Ait!! Claude Ait!!" The soldiers cried out in feverish fervor, until even the steel deck trembled. They wildly cheered their general's name, raising swords and blades high. Everything around them fell silent beneath their roar.