Volume 2 Chapter 22 The Execution Of Duke Grandcud
The Grand Duke clenched his fists, questioning over and over how it had come to this. Reality offered no escape, only bitter truth.
"Damn it...! I want to blame someone, but the only face I see is my own!"
He slammed his foot against the desk with a loud thud. It was solid oak. Pain shot through his toes.
"Damn it! Is anyone there!?"
A voice responded from beyond the door.
"Your Excellency, do you summon me?"
"How many soldiers do we have!?"
"Do you mean our forces, or the enemy's?"
"Both!"
The knight fell silent for a brief moment before delivering the grim news.
"We have approximately eight hundred soldiers. The enemy... nearly ten thousand."
"Ten... thousand!?"
In truth, the opposing force numbered closer to eight thousand, but from the watchtowers, the lines of merchants, farmers, and wandering prostitutes—drawn to the siege like flies—had been mistaken for soldiers, swelling the perceived total.
It was a common tactic on the battlefield: inflate numbers to intimidate or inspire.
Still, the reality was harsh. Ten times their strength. The fall of the city was all but inevitable.
The walls, though high, were built on wooden frames and packed earth. Given enough time, they would crumble.
And with the siege fully encircling the city, there was nowhere to run.
If only his daughter and grandson were still here. With them, perhaps, he could have negotiated safe passage. But they had fled before him.
Even the Grand Duke—no man of strategy or war—could see there were no options left. His shoulders sagged.
"Leave. I don't want to see anyone."
The knight bowed in silence and turned to go. Just before stepping out, he muttered under his breath.
"It's already hopeless..."
The words sank like a dagger into the Grand Duke's chest.
"Am I going to die... just for claiming what was rightfully mine?"
A king is meant to expand his domain. And when lands are seized, they must be granted to loyal vassals. Was that not the natural order?
He had supported the king. He had acted in line with the law of nobility.
The emperor's youngest daughter—her sudden rise should have been easily thwarted. It made sense that Charles had taken the throne in her place.
And with his own son, Arsène, still an infant, it fell to him—Grandcud—to serve as a stand-in for the nobles of the outer provinces.
That was how he had justified it. But he had forgotten something important.
With duty comes responsibility.
And in the case of failed usurpation... that responsibility could only mean death.
* * *
Outside the city of Rubia, the coalition army under Eleonora had fully encircled the town. With supplies running low within and no hope of reinforcements, they prepared for a long siege.
In the command tent, the war council met.
"There's no need to rush," said the elf prince Wilhelm, swirling a glass of red wine. "They're trapped. In three months, they'll surrender."
A servant silently refilled his cup.
Nearby, the dwarf craftsman Viktor poured a drink for his cousin, the soldier Drahomir, both sipping with rugged ease.
"But the general doesn't like wasting time," Drahomir said. "Should we push forward, even if it costs lives?"
"I don't want to lose soldiers to such weaklings," Eleonora replied coldly, her gaze landing on Viktor.
"What about the underground route we used at Ruki?"
"That's a viable option. A small unit could sneak in and open the gates. It would end the siege quickly."
Viktor downed his wine with a satisfied sigh.
"This is really something. I used to think beer was all there was, but I can tell—this is quality stuff."
"That's from Teanuki's right bank," Drahomir said, grinning. "Enjoy it. It's a whole barrel."
"Oi! Don't drink it like it's water!" Charles snapped, watching them with irritation as another round was poured.
"The Eastern Clanf lords are watching closely," he added with concern. "If we drag this out—"
"Then we wipe them out," Haral said simply, lifting his bowl of wine. Eleonora gave a short nod.
"That option is valid. By making an example of them, we send a clear message."
"W-Wait... what do you mean, 'wipe them out'?" Charles' face drained of color.
"Exactly what you think. From the dying elderly to newborn infants. No one left behind. We show what happens to those who defy the crown."
"No. Absolutely not. As king, I forbid it!"
"Why?" Eleonora's icy tone made Charles hesitate.
"If we kill everyone, we lose tax income. Burning cities is a waste of potential."
"If there's no punishment, rebellions will only grow."
Charles tried to push back with logic and numbers. But Eleonora's calm, ruthless replies made his argument waver.
"Besides, the commoners didn't rebel. It was the lords—Grandcud and his ilk—blinded by ambition."
"Then why didn't you stop them when you arrived? Your inaction looks like approval."
The weight of her words forced Charles to reflect. He searched her expression, wondering if she truly intended to carry out the massacre. Yet, her reasoning never cracked.
Finally, he spoke plainly.
"Please... don't take innocent lives so lightly."
Eleonora studied him for a moment, then relented.
"Understood. Then we'll take only one head—Grandcud's. Will that satisfy everyone?"
Some nodded quietly. Others looked away, displeased. The rest remained expressionless.
Still, the decision had been made.
"Anyway, why did you say something so villainous?"
"Oh, I just wanted to confirm if that princess was really my sister."
Eleonora narrowed one eye, a mischievous smile on her face at the words. She looked like a troublemaker, but to Charles, that grin felt oddly reliable.
"That said, since you're the one asking, you'll have to take the risk."
"W-what do you want me to do?"
Eleonora laughed at Charles's flustered tone, her smile still charming.
"You'll come with me—as my envoy."
Together, Eleonora and Charles approached the besieged city of Rubia. As the defending soldiers gathered and raised their weapons, Charles raised his voice.
"Rebel Grandcud! This chain of uprisings, beginning with our lord's betrayal, cannot be forgiven!"
His words rang with the usual confidence expected before battle, but what followed stunned the entire field into silence.
"However, the commoners forced to follow him are not at fault! If they surrender, the townsfolk and soldiers will be granted innocence. The knights' punishment will also be reduced! We are offering mercy to those who serve!"
In other words, if the rebellion's leader accepted responsibility, the civilians would be spared, and the knights would face exile instead of execution. Since rebellion against the king was a capital crime, such a sentence was unusually generous.
"Furthermore! If the traitor refuses this offer and continues resisting, whoever brings back Grandcud's head will be made lord of ten villages!"
The moment those words left his mouth, the knights and soldiers broke into murmurs. Being given control of ten villages was a rare and prestigious reward. Even commoners could rise to nobility, and wealthy farmers or merchants might offer marriage to such a man—a dream opportunity to climb the social ladder.
"I don't want to keep my friends here for long. I will await your answer by tomorrow."
With that, Charles turned his horse and rode back to camp. Behind him, the city fell into an eerie silence.
Tension crept into Rubia's streets. Behind closed doors, citizens whispered, wishing for the Duke's death. The knights, meanwhile, quietly discussed ways to capture their leader—eager to split the rewards between them.
Everyone was desperate. Even the Grand Duke felt the pressure pressing down like a stormcloud. In his room, he bolted the door and shoved a heavy desk against it to block anyone from entering. Sweat streamed down his face as his heart pounded—not just from age or strain, but from the suffocating fear of death.
"What... what do I do? I have to escape... If I don't, I'll be killed!"
Escape seemed impossible. The city was surrounded. But to him, the panic made it feel like there had to be a way. He gathered his bedsheets, tied them together, and opened the window. The drop was survivable—if the sheets held, and if he had enough strength left.
Despite the barricade he'd built to protect himself, he now undid it. It was a contradiction, but staying would drive him mad. Escape was his only relief.
Breathing heavily, he clutched the sheet rope and began his descent. If Eleonora had seen him, she might have compared him to a desperate man clinging to a spider's thread.
By some miracle, the Grand Duke reached the ground.
But his luck ended there.
"Ah."
A patrolling soldier spotted him. For a moment, neither moved. Then the soldier charged silently, spear raised.
"Uwaaaah!!"
Overwhelmed by terror, the Duke turned and ran, screaming. The sound gave away his location, and soon, more knights and soldiers came rushing toward him.
"There he is!"
"Your Excellency! Prepare yourself!"
No one saw him as a ruler anymore. To them, he was just a stepping stone to promotion.
A sword slashed across his back. The Duke collapsed.
"Hii... hiii..."
He looked like nothing more than a pitiful old man. But around him, greedy eyes gathered.
"His head!"
"Out of the way!"
The crowd surged. Swords rose and fell, piercing the Duke's body from all sides.
It's unclear when he died. Most likely, it was before his head was severed.
And so, the second act of this tragedy began.
"I got it!"
A soldier held up the Duke's severed head, still gripping it by the hair.
* * *
"Where's the Duke's head?"
"Right here."
Narrow pulled the bloodied head from a box and presented it to King Charles. The face still twisted in agony.
"...It's him."
"And who are the ones responsible?"
"Over there."
He pointed to a group of seventeen men. Their armor and bearing made it easy to tell who were knights and who were common soldiers.
"Those who struck the fatal blows, those who severed the head, and those who fought desperately for a share of the reward. In total, seventeen individuals."
"Well then, what should we do?"
"Didn't they make that decision themselves?"
King Charles frowned. Some had lost fingers, others an eye, even though only one man's life was required. Still, it was their choice, not his responsibility.
"I know someone who can heal them. I'll have her tend to the wounds. Now—what about the reward?"
All seventeen men stared at Charles, waiting for his verdict.
"...We'll increase the number of villages from ten to seventeen. Each of you will be granted one."
Notes:
• Rea - Wilhelm's sister.
• Bo - A location south of Teanuki. It is a target for Eleonora's strategy to seize and put pressure on Zootuur.
• Charles - Male. King of the West Clanf Kingdom. He has brown skin and a regal appearance, often seen in royal attire. His speech is accented due to his southern roots. He is melancholic and pragmatic, prioritizing economic stability over territorial expansion. He has a newborn son, Arsène, and a sister, Elodia. His relationship with his lords is strained due to his passive governance.
• Arsène - Male. Charles's newborn son, who ascends the throne after Charles is dethroned. His appearance is not detailed, and he is an infant, so his relationship with Charles is minimal.
• Drahomir - A member of the royal palace warrior group, the Steel Breakers. He is short in stature (around 150 cm tall) but fierce and protective of his clan. His appearance includes miner attire, and he is quick to anger, especially when it comes to Victor's decisions. He challenges Eleonora to a duel to test her strength.
• Viktor - Viktor Kinshield Novak. A dwarf from the Kinshield Clan. His appearance is described as short, with a long beard and a stout, barrel-like body. He is charismatic and jovial, though his behavior becomes erratic when drunk.
• Ruki - A military and commercial port in Ropsein. It is a crucial location for merchants and the navy, making it a high-priority target for control.
• Teanuki - The royal capital of Dolbor, located in a bustling commercial area. It is a major port city with a castle overlooking the streets. The city is known for its economic prosperity and strategic importance.
• Haral - The Chief of the Suno people, a tall and imposing figure. He values strength and generosity, prioritizing land, gold, and resources for his people.
• Narrow - Male. A former Viscount's son who severed ties with his family to serve Eleonora. Wears an iron mask due to past leprosy, now cured. Skilled in military strategy, governance, theology, and heraldry. Speaks formally and is determined to prove his worth. Has a distant relationship with his family. His combat style is unknown, but he is entrusted with leading a platoon of 300 men.
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