Lance Charge on the Arkship, but No Mount

Though she was not quite skilled at it and made a small mistake, it was nothing serious.

The blonde young knight looked at the scarf in her hands. For some reason, a blush rose to her cheeks again. She slowly wrapped the scarf around her neck, immediately blocking the cold wind that had been pouring down her collar.

"Thank you very much for your gift, Claude. It is very useful to me."

She thanked him sincerely, her fingers still stroking the scarf around her neck. Then, as if she had remembered something, she showed an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, Claude. I have no gift to give you in return right now. That is truly discourteous of me."

"Don't be so formal with me. If you want to thank me, how about we take a walk together? It's been a long time since we met, and we haven't really had a proper talk."

Margaret naturally had no reason to refuse, nor did she want to.

The two began walking along the street, chatting as they went. Claude naturally asked about what had been troubling her just now. Margaret trusted Claude deeply, so she did not hesitate to lay out all her thoughts before him. That was her nature to begin with—just like her knightly title, she was as open and upright as the blazing sun.

Claude quietly listened to her, not interrupting before she had finished. They only stopped when they reached an intersection and had to wait for the traffic light. They drew quite a bit of attention there. Both of them were exceptionally attractive, and together, they were even more eye-catching.

"Margaret, you're getting too caught up in your own thoughts."

Claude's words immediately made Margaret look at him, her eyes carrying a trace of expectation, hoping he could tell her something.

"Do you think you can figure this sort of thing out just by thinking about it alone? That's why I said you're getting too caught up in it. You don't need to shoulder everything by yourself. Your family and friends are all willing to help you, and they are all good people. You can seek help from like-minded people, from your friends and family. The answer to this question will always be found through practice."

After a brief pause, he continued.

"Do you need my help? No... let me help you."

After saying that, he looked at Margaret with utmost seriousness and patiently waited for her answer.

Margaret looked at the person before her, and time seemed to suddenly return to several years ago, when they had met at old Martin's tavern. It had only been their first meeting. After exchanging just a few words beneath the warm lights, he had unhesitatingly decided to oppose the Commercial Union and help her. All these years later, he had not changed at all. He was still that remarkable knight, with fervor hidden deep within his heart.

"Then I'll thank you in advance for your help, Claude."

Margaret's smile was as brilliant as sunlight at that moment, more dazzling than gold.

The Rising Reunion Movement: Kazdel

Chernobog's buildings had a very distinctive style. Most were not especially tall, but rather squat and low. Even the tallest building did not exceed thirty floors, with dense, narrow windows covering its exterior. To retain warmth indoors, most street-side shops used heavy doors. The few that used transparent glass doors had double-layered insulated glass.

Fifteen days after the city changed hands, eighty percent of its shops had reopened. No matter how worried people were about getting caught up in some disaster, they still had to survive. Once the first shop cautiously opened its doors and discovered that no one was coming to loot it, the rest gradually reopened as well.

Most establishments on this street were restaurants selling Ursus specialties: salted pork fat, dark rye bread, borscht, and the like. To withstand the bitter cold here, people favored food heavy in oil and salt. People from other countries found it difficult to get used to the local cuisine, but it suited Claude perfectly. The food here always reminded him of his homeland in his previous life, a place just as cold and desolate as Ursus. There, only the unchanging stone fortress and the soldiers stationed within it bore witness to humanity's existence.

Fat was extremely precious to the people who lived there, something only brought out to entertain important guests. But as the son of a duke, he was different from ordinary commoners... he had more fat than he could ever eat. Every meal they ate had to be covered in a thick layer of oil. No matter what they ate, melted fat was poured over it. At first, Claude could not understand it at all. The sight of such greasy food made him unable to take a bite.

But after rolling around in the snow twice, he immediately understood. In winds cold enough to freeze marrow, he would soon freeze to death if his food did not provide enough energy. So, during his years living and fighting there, he grew accustomed to his father and mother's tastes... though he still had plenty to complain about when it came to their awful cooking.

They stopped outside a restaurant. A wooden sign at the entrance listed the day's discounted dishes, while warm, pungent smoke drifted slowly from the chimney into the sky. Their figures were reflected in the glass door: two people dressed in black, looking incomparably harmonious together.

"How about we go in and eat? It's just about time for a meal."

"Of course. I'd be happy to."

After receiving his companion's agreement, Claude grasped the wooden handle and pushed open the glass door. Warm air enveloped them. Inside was not the common wood-burning stove, but an Originium heating unit, which seemed rather luxurious. The owner was a middle-aged Ursus man with a thick mustache on his upper lip. He wore a knitted wool cap, and along its edge, a heart had been cleverly woven in red yarn.

Hearing the sharp chime of the brass bell hanging above the door, he hurriedly got to his feet to greet them. He swiftly wiped down a table by the window and guided the two of them to sit.

"What would you two like to eat? All our ingredients are fresh—fresh vegetables and meat bought straight from the cultivation modules."

"I saw that you have a special dish today. What is it exactly?"

"It's our restaurant's specialty: creamy mushroom poultry stew with sour cream. Lots of people around here come to eat it every day, though there have been fewer customers these past few days. We also have freshly baked butter bread. It goes best with the stew." The owner stroked his beard and made his recommendation.

"Do you have butter-roasted meat? We'll have two large portions."

"Haha! Of course we do. Every restaurant in this city has that dish. Otherwise, it couldn't stay open here." The owner laughed heartily, as though the answer was obvious.

"Then two portions of your specialty as well. That's all, is that alright?... Yes, that will be all, boss."

The owner nodded and was about to prepare the food when he suddenly stopped and asked curiously.

"Are you two tourists from Kazimierz? Sorry, it's rare to see Kazimierz people in this city."

The two exchanged a glance, then nodded and temporarily accepted the owner's assumption.

"Then your luck truly isn't very good. You happened to arrive during a war. But when you think about it, it's not that bad. After all, life has gotten better now."

The owner sighed as he walked behind the counter. He lifted a curtain, leaned his head inside, and called out.

"Atasha, two large portions of butter-roasted meat, and two specialty sets."

"Got it."

A middle-aged woman answered from the back. Soon, the sound of meat sizzling in the pan and the rich fragrance of simmering stew came from the kitchen. The owner hesitated outside for a moment, then, seeing that there were no other customers, turned and slipped inside to help.

Claude rubbed his hands and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. He had been busy with the war lately, and his hair had grown rather long again. While they waited, warmed by the heat indoors, both of them took off their scarves and gloves and shared what they had experienced over the past few years.

Claude was still the one quietly listening. He listened as Margaret spoke of the years she had spent traveling with her uncle across the Ursus border, wandering without destination and nearly crossing half of Terra, all the way to Kazdel, the country of the Sarkaz.

The Sarkaz had an infamous reputation across this land. They were sometimes called demons, which showed just how much people feared and loathed them. Claude knew something of the reason. Long ago, the Sarkaz had launched a war that swept across more than half the continent, trampling one country after another beneath their feet under the command of their Demon King. Though they were ultimately defeated by a coalition of other nations, they had still left behind scars and memories that could never be erased.

The Sarkaz, who had once ravaged the world, naturally suffered relentless suppression from every nation after their defeat. Whenever they showed even the slightest hope of revival, they were immediately crushed by other countries. For a long time, Kazdel had existed in a state of near anarchy, utterly chaotic, with mercenaries everywhere slaughtering one another. Kazdel's only product seemed to be mercenaries who brought death and slaughter.

Several years ago, Claude had heard that a pair of Sarkaz siblings had united their people and brought Kazdel a glimmer of revival. He had been very interested in that news, but unexpectedly, not long afterward came word that the siblings had turned against each other. For some reason, the Sarkaz's twin monarchs had begun a brutal civil war, plunging that land into the flames of war once more.

After some time, the Sarkaz civil war reached its conclusion. Theresa was defeated and died, and the organization she had founded, Babel, dissolved with her. Theresia became the final victor and took control of all Kazdel. But the war had also brought severe consequences, and Kazdel's situation remained chaotic to this day.

Margaret and the others had stayed in Kazdel for a long time. There, they met two new friends. That hopeless land, deeply mired in the quagmire of war, also left a profound impression on her. On their first day after arriving, they encountered five attacks. Most were scattered Sarkaz mercenaries driven by greed. When they could find work, they were mercenaries; when they could not, they were thieves. Their identities were remarkably flexible.

The Rising Reunion Movement: Hart??

Every nation in this world had serious problems. After listening to Margaret recount her experiences, Claude came to that conclusion. The political systems of the various countries were wildly diverse, competing to see which was worse. Tribal systems, slavery, feudal societies, and capitalist societies all existed at once on this land. He had never seen anywhere so chaotic.

After the two exchanged a few remarks of wonder, their food arrived. The first dish was a large slab of meat roasted in butter, steaming hot and sprinkled with herbs and lemon juice. A thick, dark red sauce flowed across the plate, releasing a rich aroma.

The two of them tacitly picked up their knives and forks at the same time, cutting into their steaks with precise, swift movements. They dipped the meat in the sauce on their plates and began eating. The moment it entered his mouth, Claude's eyes lit up. The food here suited his tastes surprisingly well. The steak had a bold, rich flavor that easily stirred one's appetite.

Claude ate with gusto, and the steak on his plate rapidly shrank. Similar sounds came from across the table, making him unable to resist looking up.

Margaret heard Claude's soft laugh and raised her head in confusion. Then she saw Claude smiling as he pointed at the corner of his own mouth, his expression gentle yet teasing. She immediately understood. Her face flushed crimson at once, and she hurriedly looked for something to wipe the corner of her mouth with.

A handkerchief was passed to her from across the table, white cloth embroidered with golden trim. She silently accepted it and wiped her mouth, but the blush on her face refused to fade for a long while.

But the owner, who soon came over with more dishes, dispelled the ambiguous atmosphere. Seeing the blushing girl and the boy smiling at the corner of his mouth, he gave a knowing smile and immediately turned away, leaving the two of them some space.

"Young people these days really are young..."

Claude, on the other hand, did not seem embarrassed at all. Having tasted the steak, he had developed keen expectations for the rest of the restaurant's food. He reached out and lifted the lids from the two soup bowls, releasing great clouds of steam. Then he placed two spoons inside them.

The toasted butter bread gave off a sweet fragrance that whetted the appetite. Claude broke a long loaf in half and passed one half to the young knight across from him.

"Miss Margaret, a knight won't do if she doesn't eat her fill."

Margaret showed an expression of agreement and accepted the bread. As though nothing had happened, she continued eating—if one ignored the red tips of her ears. The resolute and powerful young knight seemed to have fallen into a strange state of mind.

They were both extremely satisfied with the meal. Not only was the food excellent, but the prices were very affordable as well. Claude silently remembered the location of the restaurant, intending to make it his regular place for lunch in the future.

The heat in their faces from being inside the restaurant no longer felt so uncomfortable when it met the cold air outside. After putting their scarves and gloves back on, the two looked at each other and, without speaking, chose to continue down the street.

There were more newcomers on Chernobog's streets now, but the military police officers once dressed in black had been replaced by Reunion Movement soldiers. The soldiers were still somewhat unskilled at directing traffic and made mistakes from time to time. Though they had undergone emergency training, they still fell far short of the experienced traffic police.

Pedestrians continuously passed along the street, most of them Ursus. The round ears atop their heads somehow began to seem rather cute after one looked at them for long enough. Passersby always glanced at the two of them. On one hand, Kuranta were rare here. On the other, their exceptional appearance and bearing made them stand out from the crowd.

Their smooth black-and-gold tails swayed behind them, occasionally brushing against each other. Margaret was tall among women, but she could only reach Claude's shoulder. They wandered aimlessly through the city, chatting about whatever came to mind.

"Is that so? You're planning to return to Kazimierz."

Claude held out his hand and watched a snowflake melt in his palm. At some point, a light snowfall had begun drifting down from the sky.

"That's right. We've been away for many years. It's time to go back and take a look."

Margaret also extended her hand and precisely caught a snowflake. The instant she pinched it, it melted, leaving only cold moisture seeping into her glove.

"And I haven't seen Maria in a long time. Grandfather is looking after her, but I'm still worried. Since I've been wandering from place to place outside, I haven't been able to correspond with her either. I wonder how that child is doing. She should have grown into a young lady by now."

"I went to Kazimierz once. They're all doing well. The Commercial Union is no longer capable of retaliating against them, and Maria is stronger than you think. You really don't need to worry so much. She grew up a long time ago."

Claude tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat and turned to look at Margaret, who wore a heavy dress.

"But if you're going back, give that child my regards. I've been far too negligent as her teacher. I'll go to Kazimierz to see you all after some time."

Margaret adjusted the scarf around her neck. She knew it was time for the two of them to part ways.

"Do you have somewhere to live now? If not, I can have someone arrange it for you."

"Thank you for your kindness, Claude, but you arranged a place for us long ago."

Claude raised an eyebrow in surprise. He truly had no idea when he had made such an arrangement.

Margaret smiled and explained.

"Didn't you allocate a hospital for everyone from Rhodes Island? Shining, Nightingale, and I are staying together. The living conditions here are quite good, and there's heating too."

"So that's how it is... Well then, it's time to say goodbye. I imagine my desk is already piled high with documents waiting for me to deal with them."

"May the light bless you, Claude. Goodbye."

"Have a safe journey, Margaret. See you later."

Beneath the streetlights, the two said their farewells. Then, with faint smiles on their faces, they headed toward their respective homes.

Even at night, the recent improvement in public safety had brought many pedestrians onto the streets. People constantly brushed past Claude, and he moved nimbly through the crowd toward the city hall.

Suddenly, as though he sensed something, the corner of his mouth curled upward. His route changed as he turned into an alley. Pretending to know nothing, he continued walking forward. Then, just as expected, he sensed a figure rapidly approaching him.

His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword. Just as he was about to act, the figure did not draw a blade. Instead, it bumped its head against his back... a light collision, less an attack than an attempt to get his attention, and one with an unmistakable rhythm. Two gentle bumps, followed by a slightly harder one.

But Claude was struck by immense shock. This sensation was so familiar. This feeling, carved into his soul, could only belong to one creature.

"Hart??!!"

His voice, distorted by delight, rang through the alley.

The Rising Reunion Movement: My Old Friend

Corpses were piled atop one another, forming a massive mountain of bodies. Broken weapons and flagpoles stood chaotically across the ground like clusters of gravestones. Knights clad in full armor were driving beastmen toward a great pit, cutting off their heads one by one, then tossing both bodies and heads into the pit.

The mountain of corpses consisted entirely of the beastmen's most elite warriors. They wore heavy armor made of crude iron. To beastmen, that was the finest equipment available. The vast majority of beastman warriors wore only rough hides and bone armor, tying two rusted iron plates over vital areas as protection.

He lowered his head to look at the enormous head in his hand. The stronger a beastman was, the larger its body would be. This creature, whose head alone was as large as a sheep, was without question the strongest among the beastmen. And now, its head hung from a human hand.

Behind him, Hart's serrated beak was tearing open the Behemoth's chest, searching for tender, soft organs within. Soon, it dug out a massive heart and clamped it in its beak. Like a ball full of blood, a gentle bite made copious amounts of blood seep out.

To the griffin, that pungent blood tasted delicious. It slowly chewed the heart in its mouth into pieces, then prepared to dig out more delicacies. Its huge wings, covered in black feathers streaked with gold, flapped with its mood and blew dust across the ground.

It tore the delicious liver in two and picked up one half, looking toward its brother. In its heart, though its brother looked somewhat different from itself, he was undoubtedly the creature closest to it, and the only one it was willing to share food with.

The crimson glow of the setting sun shone into its eyes, its enormous golden pupils reflecting that lonely figure. Griffins were creatures of deep emotion, and it keenly sensed that something was very wrong with its brother's mood.

The griffin's talons gripped the massive body beneath it, lightly carving four deep furrows into the flesh. It tossed the huge corpse into the nearby pit as though discarding garbage. It had already eaten the most delicious parts. What mattered more now was its brother.

It slowly approached, the pads beneath its claws keeping its movements nearly silent. The bloody liver remained clamped in its beak. It placed the liver beside its brother, then gently bumped its head against his back—two light bumps, followed by one harder one.

He silently reached out and embraced the griffin's enormous head, expertly scratching beneath its chin. The griffin, covered in golden feathers, rubbed against him vigorously and gave soft, contented hums.

"You made me worry. I'm fine now."

He looked once more at that enormous head, smiled in relief, then seemed to make up his mind. He hung the head from the griffin's saddle. He had to let Mother see this head.

"Behemoth liver? Perhaps I'm the first person in the Empire to ever eat something like this."

Picking up the bloody piece of liver at his feet, he gladly accepted his companion's goodwill. His knights began forming ranks, while the griffins that had been feeding on the beastmen's corpses were gathered by their owners. The massive and elite First Legion awaited his command.

Yet as the commander of the legion, he was doing something rather strange. He found a piece of enemy breastplate, scrubbed it clean, then lit a fire right there on the battlefield and began frying the liver on it.

The knights said nothing, silently watching him. After hesitating for a moment, several of his generals approached him.

"My lord, what should we do next?"

"No rush. Sit down and have some with me. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This was the last Behemoth in the world."

Unhurriedly, he turned the liver over, then took several bottles of seasoning from his pack and sprinkled some over it.

"But my lord, this is the territory of those barbarians. If we remain here too long, won't we...?"

"Don't worry, Lamonfu. We have completely broken their backbone. All those barbarians can do now is cling to life. Alright, sit down and eat some. I'm quite good at making this. My father liked it very much."