The noble lord he had sworn loyalty to had died before his eyes.
"Kill them! Avenge the Viscount!"
At that moment, Viscount Dragoon's soldiers went berserk. Even the enemy's rage potion couldn't match the fury of men watching their noble die before them.
From the rear, Baron Kendra's army finally reached the battlefield, surrounding the knight troops on all sides. They, too, saw a noble had fallen. For these slave-born soldiers, that sight struck terror into their hearts. But this fear didn't lead to cowardice—instead, it forced them to fight harder.
The death of a noble often meant the indiscriminate execution or punishment of many slaves. They could only prove their worth, and earn survival, through reckless valor in battle.
Especially when it appeared that the slain noble was on their side.
Baron Enzo awoke—violently. His severe injuries left his eyes bloodshot.
"Father!"
This war needed a noble to command. The lords lacked the standing. Enzo, as Viscount Dragoon's heir and a noble in his own right, had to take up that duty.
"Kendra, send out all your troops!"
Enzo roared, his teeth stained with blood, his face twisted in rage, even as he turned to Kendra.
Kendra, on the other side, clenched his jaw. He hadn't expected Viscount Dragoon to die on the battlefield. That a viscount—a noble—would die in a territorial war.
He was furious with Viscount Miles. And yet, he knew: if he didn't act now, no matter who won this war, the viscount's death would be blamed on every noble involved.
Yes, every noble present. As nobles, they had failed to stop one of their own from killing another. Whether it was him, Enzo, or the assembled lords—none of them could escape responsibility.
"Charge! Slaughter every last soldier of the Miles family!"
Kendra finally dispatched his finest troops—dozens of formally knighted soldiers—into the battlefield to assault the enemy infantry.
At his side, Baron Roch looked grim. With Viscount Dragoon dead, would the promises made to him still stand?
"Damn Miles—he dared to kill a noble? How could he?!"
Baron Roch raged silently.
On the other front, Castor's chest heaved. He, too, had seen Viscount Dragoon fall—right before his eyes. Worse, he had personally taken part in what led to it.
"I'm not a noble… so maybe… the nobles of the Northern Wind Province won't remember me?"
Uneasy thoughts swirled through his mind. The death of a noble—especially a viscount—was never a trivial matter.
His own father, when assassinating a baron who visited their land, had gone to great lengths to disguise it as an accident. And now—a viscount had openly died on the battlefield.
Fortunately, it was another noble—another viscount—who killed him. One already near death.
"My father's greatest concern was attracting the Empire's attention to the Northern Wind Province. But now, a viscount has died in war…"
Castor regretted it. He didn't know what storm the viscount's death might unleash, but if it drew the Empire's notice, his father would surely blame him.
He thought of many things—so many—that he no longer cared about the outcome of the battle.
Victory or defeat.
After Viscount Dragoon's death, there was no longer victory or defeat—only survivors and the dead.
Enzo frantically commanded his troops to attack the forces of Viscount Miles and Castor. The battle raged until dusk, and with nightfall, both sides were forced to retreat under the darkening sky.
With the retreat, Viscount Dragoon's forces fell back to their domain, while Viscount Miles led his own troops back to Zero Crossing City.
No one cared who had won the war anymore—because a viscount had died in it.
But soon after, another shocking message spread across the county of Zero Crossing: Ellis Dragoon, the viscount's eldest son, had been assassinated within the Dragoon territory. Word of it swept through the region like a storm, following the news of the viscount's death across the Northern Wind Province.
The Flower of the North Wind.
Ryan read the report in his hand with no small surprise.
"Viscount Dragoon is dead… killed by Viscount Miles using magic."
Ryan was astonished, but kept his expression under control. To him, nobles weren't immune to death.
In fact, he even respected Viscount Miles's decision.
The man was dying. If he couldn't take Dragoon with him before the end, then even if the Miles family won this battle, Dragoon could wait ten or twenty years and wage war anew.
Viscount Dragoon was still young. The Miles family, however, had no one strong enough to hold Zero Crossing City after their viscount's death.
Ryan was impressed that Viscount Miles had such resolve.
But the next piece of news darkened Ryan's expression.
"Ellis Dragoon was found with a finger-sized hole in the center of his brow. A wound from a rapier—assassinated."
Rage welled up in Ryan's heart. At last, he was certain who had sent the assassin that had once targeted him.
Would Viscount Dragoon kill his own men during this war? Impossible. The Miles family? They wouldn't have managed it. Only one suspect remained—Count Vis, the one who had sided with Viscount Miles.
Before, Ryan had been 90% sure. Now, he had no doubt.
Only with certainty that Dragoon was doomed would it make sense to assassinate Ellis. Otherwise, why bypass the viscount just to kill his heir? It would've been meaningless.
"Ryan."
Ryan snapped out of his thoughts, looking at Barnes, Lien, and the surrounding lords.
Indeed, for these nobles, Viscount Dragoon's death was earth-shattering. They couldn't fathom that a noble had died in battle. Even though they had the information, they still doubted it—and felt utterly lost.
But… was that the end?
The next day, news spread throughout the county of Zero Crossing.
Viscount Miles's eldest son, Christian Miles, was caught behaving improperly toward his stepmother. In a fury, the ailing viscount expelled him from the family.
Then, in front of all, the dying Viscount Miles named Lagg Miles as heir to the family, declaring him the new Viscount Miles upon his death.
And then, Viscount Miles fell into a sleep he never woke from.
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