Chapter 1236 - 1161: Emmerick’s Surprise
By September, the grasslands of the Empire’s northwest had already sunk into desolation.
The wind came howling from the distant Ice Sea, sweeping grains of snow across the withered meadows.
The blades of grass on the meadows were pressed flat to the earth by the cold wind, laying a wrinkled golden carpet over the land.
Cattle and sheep were treading on this carpet, chewing slowly; they would occasionally lift their heads in wary alertness, but their gaze always went to that wall of mountains like the ramparts of a giant.
The Furnace Plateau range lurked within a veil of gray mist, the snow on its peaks giving off a cold light.
At the foot of the mountains lay Tielu Castle, once called the Capor Pass, the very place where Grandmother Vivian had feasted on human flesh in days past.
Seth the Black Khan of the Centaurs had besieged this place, and in the end had been forced to withdraw.
In the two great invasions of the Blood Race, the armies of the Royal Court had likewise come here, only to return in failure again.
Tielu Castle, Golden Soup Castle, Fat Cow Castle—these three fortresses formed the Roaring Corridor line of defense against the Royal Court and the Centaurs.
Tielu Castle was the strongest fortress of the Border Knight Order, and also the first line of defense against the vast armies of vampires.
The black stone walls of the tall mountain ramparts were now pitted and scarred; in the gaps between bricks were marks left by centaur bone arrows and crimson stains from exploding blood-bolts.
Once, beneath these walls, tier upon tier of timber-frame houses and redwood roofs had sprawled; now they had all turned into heaps of embers and burning skeletons.
At the foot of the walls a pile of blackened corpses lay stacked—some were Centaurs, some were vampires.
Hundreds of guards patrolled the ramparts, chainmail glinting beneath their black cloaks.
The soldiers on the arrow towers hugged their Longswords, chins resting on the hilts as they dozed, dark circles under their eyes, rust-like grime streaking their faces.
Three months—it had been three months of holding the line.
The rations in the cellars were nearly gone; they had even been forced to start slaughtering their warhorses to fill their bellies.
Yet the promised reinforcements had still not arrived; Fat Cow Castle had made no truce, and the Regent had sent no aid.
They no longer harbored hope of preserving their ancestral land; perhaps the meaning of the Kush River was exile and wandering.
Whoever drank the water of the Kush River would in the end have to leave the Kush River.
The Kush people of old had been thus, and the Border Knights of today were the same.
They now sought only one thing: to stay alive.
Even if it meant bowing in humiliation to that former enemy, Duke Omes, the Regent.
So long as Leia came to their aid, pinning down the vampires or the Norn people, they could withdraw at a measured pace and leave this place behind.
But—
"...he actually refused!" With a slap like a whipcrack, Emmerick brought his palm crashing down on the tabletop.
In the castle’s council chamber, candle flames wavered, casting light over the faces of more than twenty Knight Commanders.
Most of them wore damaged chainmail, Longswords stained with blood at their hips, and bandages wrapped around their arms, already seeping through with red.
"Why? It’s clearly a matter of mutual benefit!"
When they heard that Duke Omes had actually sent back a letter of refusal, the Knight Commanders all started in shock.
Hoffman, who had just read out the King’s letter, said nothing more and merely sat down slowly.
Why Leia was unwilling to support them or to accept their submission was simple enough; in the end it was nothing but the chain reaction of the Dawn Island War.
First, Leia had to keep sufficient forces to face the newborn Dawn Island Federation, and had lost a major source of manpower.
Second, the Border Knights had won no glory on Dawn Island, so when it came to their submission, the Leia nobility refused to accept it.
Third, with Dawn Island’s successful independence, the vast lands once up for distribution had all fallen into enemy hands; to find room for these Border Knights now would mean carving flesh from the other great lords.
If the Dawn Island War had been won, if the Border Knights had proven their worth by slaughtering Dawn Island and seizing a vast tract of land, their submission would have been all but guaranteed.
But now?
Now all of that was nothing more than vain daydreams.
"Leave Leia’s attitude aside—what are we supposed to do right now?"
"Hold fast and wait for relief..."
"Hold fast? Hold until when?" A stubbled Knight slapped the table and stood. "Till we’re all dead? The Pope is gone, what are we still clinging to?"
"Tielu Castle is our root. Back then, neither the Centaurs nor the Blood Race took it; if we surrender now, how do we face the Knight brothers buried at the foot of these walls?"
"Then what do you propose?" the stubbled Knight sneered. "Leia has abandoned us, the Holy Alliance is a world away, and at least Norn sent messengers. They say they’re willing to grant us a fief, so long as we help them hold the border!"
At those words, the council chamber, which had just fallen into a semblance of quiet, erupted into clamor again.
"Norn? A pack of blood-drinking savages!"
"We are a Knight Order personally enfeoffed by the Pope, not hired blades."
"Then what about throwing ourselves on the Pope’s mercy? We were the Pope’s Knight Order to begin with." A somewhat younger Knight ventured timidly.
This suggestion clearly made a layer of shit-eating disgust crawl over the faces of the Knight Commanders present.
Back then they had helped Leia fight the Holy Alliance for the Pope’s sake, and now, after so many turns of fortune, it was Horn of the Holy Alliance who had become Pope.
Though in many bishoprics and monasteries this papal seat was not acknowledged, that did nothing to change its true legal authority.
By the end of the Holy War, they had become the heretics, the jesters of the age.
"Didn’t Pope Horn say all Believers of the Holy Sect are brothers? If we convert, maybe he’ll send troops to help us..."
As soon as he said that, mocking laughter broke out.
"Convert? Have you forgotten all those wars we fought with the Holy Alliance?" An older Knight shook his head. "Besides, how far is it from here to the ry Court Barracks? By the time the messenger comes back, we’ll all be dead as dog shit."
The arguing flared up again and again, then died down again and again; the Grand Master said nothing, just sat silently on the high-backed wolfskin chair.
As the debate went on, sure enough, the Knights finally turned their eyes to Grand Master Emmerick.
"Commander, say something, will you?"
"Commander, what are you doing, Commander?"
"Why are you just watching, Commander!"
Feeling that with everyone so fired up, it would be wrong to stay silent, Emmerick said softly, "What do you think... about going over to the Royal Court’s army?"
The council chamber fell silent for a full three seconds.
The Knights had watched the Grand Master hold his tongue, thinking he was about to pull something ruthless—only to find he’d dropped an even bigger bomb.
After those three seconds of silence came an eruption of noise like a volcano blowing.
"What?!"
"Grand Master, have you lost your mind?"
"The Royal Court is our mortal enemy!"
The Knights all sprang to their feet, faces full of shock and disbelief.
The stubbly Knight even pointed at Emmerick, his finger trembling. "Have you forgotten the corpses of those Blood Race under our walls? Forgotten that we’re stationed here to block the Royal Court’s advance? And now you want us to defect to them?"
Emmerick waved his hand, signaling them to quiet down. "I’m not crazy. The Royal Court you’re talking about is the Royal Court of the Immortal Council. The Royal Court now belongs to Serafe."
"Even if it’s Serafe’s Royal Court, would they really take us?" The older Knight frowned. "We’ve been fighting the Royal Court for so many years; there’s blood feud piled up high. How could they possibly stomach us?"
"Whether they can or not, we have to try." Emmerick’s voice sank. "Aside from this path, do we have any other choice?"
Do they have any other choice?
Leia doesn’t want them, the Norn people are ancestral enemies and can’t be trusted, the Holy Alliance is out of reach and even less likely to help.
If they don’t throw in with the Royal Court, within three days Tielu Castle will be breached by vampires.
By then, everyone here will become their blood food.
The council chamber went quiet again. The Knights looked at one another, eyes full of inner struggle.
They all knew Emmerick was telling the truth, but this wasn’t just defecting to another faction—this meant defecting from humanity to the Blood Race.
"Then... what about the terms?" At last, some Knight in the crowd asked in a small voice. "Who surrenders with no terms?"
Emmerick’s gaze dimmed. "The terms are... everything stays as is. We remain the Border Knight Order, with our own structure and our own garrisons.
But there’s one condition—every Knight Commander has to accept Blood Race transformation."
"Turn into Blood Race? Do they even have that much source blood?"
The source blood needed to transform an Extraordinary Knight versus turning an ordinary person into a vampire differed in both quality and quantity by more than one level.
"At least we’d live." Emmerick’s voice carried a rasp. "Becoming Blood Race at least guarantees we’d be second generation, and enjoy the same treatment as the Ogre Warlords."
"Let me ask one more thing, Grand Master—does that mean we’ll have to go to war against our human compatriots?"
Emmerick stayed silent for a long time. "I don’t want to lie to you, but we can’t rule that out."
"I’m out!" One Knight yanked off his helmet and hurled it to the floor. "I’d rather die in battle than turn into some blood‑drinking freak! I refuse to be a monster!"
"I’m out too!" Another Knight stood up after him. "We Border Knights, even if we die, we’ll die like human beings!"
Emmerick did not stop them; he just watched the Knights who stood.
"I won’t force you," he said quietly. "If you don’t want to surrender, you can walk out right now. Head for Norn, head for the Holy Alliance, whatever—you’ll have your last rations and horses from me."
The doors of the council chamber were pushed open; a cold wind rushed in, almost snuffing the candles.
A dozen or so Knights picked up their weapons. Without looking back, they walked out of the chamber one step at a time.
Their footsteps gradually receded, disappearing into the corridors of the castle.
"So... the Knight Order is split, just like that." An older Knight let out a sigh. He looked at the empty doorway, then at the dozen or so Knights who remained, and suddenly felt his eyes sting.
What had they done wrong, really?
Three days later, the Tielu Castle surrender ceremony.
The walls that had been shut against vampires for a thousand years were opened from within; Emmerick walked alone, leading a warhorse, toward the massed vampire and Centaur coalition.
At the very front of the vampire host, there was actually a Knight on a black horse.
Unlike the rest of the vampire army holding position, he was alone, galloping forward on horseback.
Only when he drew close did the man raise a hand and remove his helmet.
A familiar face appeared before Emmerick; Emmerick couldn’t believe it. He rubbed his eyes several times before tentatively asking—
"Lord Lakunio?"