Chapter 101: Volume 4 - CH 4.5

The Battle of Saint Emmanuel was bloody, and required little tactical strategy.

Therefore, the presence of the military commander Narsus was extremely thin in this battle. It was because of his excellent judgment that the encounter in Shahristan and the battle of Saint Emmanuel were successful, and the whole fortress was taken in one day. Without Narsus’s decisiveness, the Parsian army would have sounded the golden horn and the drums of defeat. If the Lusitanian army had run back to the fortress and closed the gates, the reorganized army could have set up a defense across the walls for several days of fierce battle.

Now, the situation was completely different. It had become what Daryun would later call “taking advantage of an opportunity”, but of course he knew that this was not really the case.

One more thing.

“The fall of the fortress is inevitable, but we can’t let the pagans get a hold of our food stores. Though it’s a pity, we must burn it all!

Having received the order from Count Baracacion, one of the remaining cavalrymen was attempting to set a fire in the granary, but by this time, the granary was already occupied by Narsus. All the grain in the fortress thus fell into the hands of the Parsian army.

“Narsus worries a lot about food for someone who grew up wealthy!”

However, from Narsus’ point of view, even without weapons, he could still fight with his wits and bare hands. But without food, even wisdom and courage are useless.

“By order of His Highness the Crown Prince, those who surrender and drop their weapons will not be killed. Those who disobey this order will pay with their lives!”

When Daryun’s voice rang out, the bloody fight was nearing its end. Almost all of those still standing and sitting atop horses were Parsians.

“Don’t kill those who surrender! Pars is a civilized nation, we don’t kill women and children or plunder like the Lusitanians. That is an order!”

The one who announced these words with a slight tone of mockery was the Tahir Kishward. Putting his twin swords into their sheaths, Kishward jumped down from his horse and approached a wounded Lusitanian soldier sitting against the wall of the fortress. The bloodied and wounded man’s body did not move, but he was gasping in pain.

“Where is the lord of this fortress?”

The cavalryman looked at Kishward with abhorrence, then a large amount of blood spilled from his mouth and his head dropped. He had bitten through his tongue and killed himself.

Azrael flapped his wings on Kishward’s shoulder, and the bearded general stroked the bird’s feathers in disappointment.

“What stubborn people! At this rate, it seems that no one will surrender.”

Soon after, most of the Parsians felt the same way as Kishward. Elam and Crown Prince Arslan were riding side by side, looking for the whereabouts of the fortress commander, when suddenly Elam called out.

“Your Highness, look!”

Arslan followed the instruction and looked up, and couldn’t help but gasp.

The tower located in the southeast of the fortress wall was probably used as a watchtower, however, it had now become the setting for mass suicide. The few women and children in the fortress jumped down from it with sad cries, perhaps because they thought it was better to throw themselves into the arms of God than to suffer the shame of being killed by the infidels.

The sight of a living being falling like a stone from such a great height in order to give up their life paralyzed Arslan’s mind in a matter of seconds. After regaining consciousness, Arslan desperately shouted.

“Stop! Don’t do that! I won’t kill you, don’t seek your own death!”

Arslan looked around at the knights and again shouted.

“Help me to stop them! Someone speak to them in Lusitanian!”

“It’s useless. The entrance to the tower is barricaded from the inside. Every effort is being made now to break through the door, but…”

It was Narsus who answered, but there were some things that even he could not do anything about.

The last figure jumped into the air and fell like a meteorite, the armor it wore striking hard on the stone floor. The Parsians ran over either on horseback or on foot and saw an old man who had fallen to the ground, bleeding.

“The Count! Count Baracacion!”

A Lusitanian came flying out of the crowd of Parsians with a sad cry. It was the maiden that Daryun had hoisted up with his spear. The oversized armor on her clanked, only to see her kneel beside the Count and pick him up.

“Count, wake up!”

“Oh, it’s Etoile? You’re still alive, huh?”

He seemed to be trying to say something like that, but just barely moved his lips. Then, his eyes closed. If he had continued serving as the king’s librarian in the capital of Lusitania, he would have been able to live out his life smoothly. Instead, he died in a way that was extremely unsuitable for him because he had taken up a task that was not meant for him, all the way in a foreign country.

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The young girl lifted her tearful eyes.

“Who killed the Count?”

The maiden screamed, picking up the sword at the Count’s waist. She carried the sword on her right shoulder with both hands and looked at the Parsians around her.

“State your name! I want to avenge the Count, give me your name!”

“He hit the ground and died, do you want to attack the ground to avenge him?”

Tus replied with a taut face. The chain rolled over his left shoulder was dyed bright red.

“Shut up!”

The young girl swung her sword and shouted in the Parsian language, which was more mechanical than the average Parsian’s speech, however, Kishward, who stepped forward with smooth footsteps, quickly snatched away her sword.

“No way, tie her up!”

Kishward gave the order, and three of his men stepped out.

“What are you doing? Let go of me! You filthy heathens! God will punish you, you will be struck down by God, how can you tie up a knight like a domestic animal?” The young girl was no match for the strength of the three men. Immediately, she was tied up.

“Keep her tied up for now. Your Highness, what should we do with this young girl?”

Farangis asked. Her expression was full of laughter. The Lusitanian maiden’s behavior seemed rough and reckless, but it had an effect on the Parsians’ hearts. They were tired of the bloodshed. Seeing the group suicides from the tower, their battle frenzy subsided, and the feeling of killing had turned bitter. That bitterness within them seemed now to be almost entirely blown away by the actions of this young girl. Of course, the maiden was just single-mindedly acting according to her own will.

The young girl’s vision reflected the figure of a teenager about the same age as herself. The golden armor shone in the afternoon sun, and the teenager looked at the Lusitanian girl with a confused expression. His feelings were very difficult to immediately express in words. Finally, the teenager opened his mouth.

“I think it’s fine to let her escape. Give her a horse, and some food and water and let her go.”

A violent protest was immediately heard. It was from the mouth of the young girl herself.

“I can’t go back like this!”

“Then what do you want?” Farangis asked.

“Torture me! Beat me with a whip! Stabbing with a red-hot iron skewer will do, and waterboarding won’t hurt either.”

“Why do you want to make a nuisance of yourself?” Farangis thought it strange. She asked gently, but with slight mockery.

“If I return unharmed, I will surely be suspected of accepting favors from the infidels, or of colluding with them. To give up one’s life for God is the… well, the wish of the followers of Yaldabaoth.”

After saying everything within her Parsian language ability, the young girl looked around.

“So, kill me! Or else torture me, I don’t want to go back unharmed!”

She shouted while kicking out both legs and playing up her character, as if on a sacrificial slab.

“What’s wrong? Still not making a move? Damn you heathens!”

The knights of Pars, who were originally called brave and fierce, looked at each other, and none made a move. Arslan looked on with a deep, thoughtful expression, and Daryun and Farangis whispered and discussed together.

The knights also whispered amongst themselves.

“Hey, are all the women in Lusitania so unruly and difficult?”

“Ah, they can’t all be this weird, maybe it’s just her?”

“No, I bet they’re all like that in Lusitania. Those barbarians probably came here because they hated the women of their own country, and came for our good Parsian women!”

A bitter laugh gushed out from the crowd at these words.

With no more fire and blood, this burst of bitter laughter put an end to the Battle of Saint Emmanuel.

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