Rumors always spread faster than people.
Before anyone could react or make preparations, the news of Chel’s army being wiped out had already swept across the entire continent.
“Brother Chel... is dead?”
“Yes. They say he died an honorable death in his final battle against Serpina...”
“No... That ans there was soone on Serpina’s side capable of taking down my brother?!”
“I—I’m not sure about that part...”
After dismissing the soldier who brought him the news, Lord Carlints leaned back on the throne of Arnel Castle, sinking into thought.
Now that Chel’s army is gone, Serpina will inevitably turn her blade toward ...
Even after the recent plague had shaken things up, Carlints’s forces hadn’t suffered devastation on the scale of Chel’s or Aishus’s armies. In fact, most of the pri, fertile lands that once ford the core of the Brans domain were under his control.
If Serpina were the only enemy, perhaps he could have kept the war going through sheer force of will.
But—
“Damn it!”
What reached Carlints’s ears were increasingly hopeless reports of defeats against the Brans Army.
Objectively speaking, neither Brans nor Carlints had any particularly outstanding commanders left— All the talented officers had followed ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) Chel.
From a national strength perspective—based on resources and territory—Carlints held the advantage. Lyn was rumored to be ntally unstable, nearly non-functional.
By all accounts, they should have crushed what remained of the Brans Army with ease.
So why... why is this happening?
Far from crushing them, he was instead losing stronghold after stronghold. Before he realized it, Lyn’s troops had marched right up to the outskirts of Arnel Castle—once the capital.
Nothing was going according to plan. It wasn’t stubbornness, nor blind loyalty to his vassals. It felt like he was just constantly circling away from the right answer.
In martial prowess, he couldn’t compete with his older brother. Compared to normal soldiers, sure, he might be called a strong general. But next to that man, the one with the sa hair and sa blue eyes... there was no comparison.
Nor could he compete with his younger sister in terms of wit. She wasn’t just clever—she had the charisma to draw people to her side. That alone made her a better sovereign than either of her brothers.
When their father, Oland Brans, nad the youngest—Lyn—as his heir, Carlints hadn’t even been surprised. He had understood the decision.
But the more he lost, the more it felt like the world itself was trying to inject a single truth into his brain:
This is what happens when soone so diocre, so in-between, dares to reach for the throne.
Was that really true...?
Was he truly... a man who could do nothing?
...Damn it!
At this rate, two-thirds of the forr Brans territory would be handed over to Serpina. When he rebelled, he thought he’d prepared himself for the consequences.
But now that the reality of it was staring him in the face, the weight he’d claid he could bear was suddenly too much.
If things kept going this way, Arnel Castle might fall. And before that—
If my poor decisions push the Brans Army into a position where it can never again defeat Serpina...!
For Carlints, who lacked both might and intelligence, all he could cling to was the honor of the Brans na. The thought that he might be the one to doom it—
To be the reason House Brans is destroyed, and by Serpina of all people—
It was unbearable.
At that mont, Carlints rembered the surrender proposal Brans had sent before the war truly began.
He had scoffed at it back then, continued the war in defiance—and now, here he was.
Lyn’s no fool. She’ll choose practical gain over personal grudges.
Carlints had never been particularly ambitious.
Even his rebellion had co about because he was pushed into it.
People whispered:
“Lyn is ntally unfit. If this goes on, the Brans Army will be destroyed. Only Carlints, not that simple brute Chel, can lead House Brans instead of her.”
He had rely accepted that burden.
Which ant—he could change his mind.
Unlike Chel, Carlints could entertain an option Chel never would have considered.
Maybe... surrendering now is the wise choice.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
If he surrendered now, before Serpina’s forces reached him—it would all end before blood was spilled. If the lands were claid not as “Carlints’s army” but as part of the Brans domain—then even that humiliating peace treaty Lyn had signed could beco their greatest shield.
Even if they lost everything else—if Arnel Castle fell into Serpina’s hands, with Aishus in shambles, there would be no one left to stop her from unifying the continent. That was Carlints’s calculation.
If he had been even slightly more strategic, he might’ve sensed the brewing storm rising from the southern continent— but unfortunately, he was a man who had only ever been handed things. That kind of insight was far beyond him.
And above all else—
He didn’t want to die.
Not yet. Not without leaving so kind of mark on the world. If he died now, without achieving anything, he’d never be able to rest in peace.
He had started a rebellion. If captured, execution was guaranteed. Family or not—no ruler had ever spared a traitor who pointed a blade at their own blood.
That thought alone made surrender feel like the last remaining, rational path.
...Yeah. I’ll surrender. Lyn... she’ll see my value and forgive .
Once the decision was made, acting on it didn’t take long.
“Soone—anyone! Co here!”
Carlints called out in a rush—summoning a soldier.
And then...
***
“Carlints has expressed his intention to surrender to the Brans Army.”
Upon hearing the news at the frontline fortress, Lyn’s expression grew complicated. She sank into thought.
“He wants to surrender... now?”
If he still wanted to fight, he certainly had the strength left to do so. And now, after rejecting their earlier offer, he suddenly wished to surrender?
“What do you think? It doesn’t seem like a trap.”
“I doubt it’s a trap,” Parfalle replied. “He’s not exactly a cunning man, and it’s not as if you’re being asked to et him alone.”
Lyn slowly nodded at Parfalle’s words.
“What about you, Cecil?”
“I’m less concerned about whether it’s a trap,” Cecil said thoughtfully, “and more interested in why he’s suddenly reversing his stance after refusing our original offer.”
“That’s a fair point.”
Thinking about it that way—there were so aspects that made sense.
Since the war with Carlints began, it had beco painfully clear—even to a child passing by on the road—that the goddess of victory smiled upon her.
Thanks to Parfalle’s strategy and Cecil’s battlefield leadership, their army was now overwhelming Carlints’ plague-weakened forces.
Carlints never had the talent to beat her—not soone who had decided to fight seriously.
And then there was the one factor that couldn’t be ignored:
Chel Brans was dead.
A man who, on the battlefield, had once seed incapable of dying. For those who had once followed Brans, that alone must have been a massive shock.
Any resolve they thought unshakable... could be flipped over like turning a palm.
“Now that Chel is dead, and Serpina’s invasion has beco a tangible threat, he must’ve judged that it was pointless for us to be divided.”
As if reading her thoughts, Parfalle’s voice cut in. Lyn nodded.
“So, what are you saying, Parfalle?”
With her head slightly bowed, Parfalle offered her advice in a calm tone.
“My lady. You must think carefully. Consider what it is Carlints truly wants. And whether that’s sothing you can give him—or sothing you must never give.”
“...Heh.”
What does Carlints want?
As his younger sister, and soone who had spent her life watching him, she could guess it easily.
“This is, in many ways, a test of you as a sovereign. Whatever choice you make—I will follow it.”
A test.
Lyn had already failed her share of those in the past. Now, more than ever, she couldn’t afford another mistake. From this point forward, she had to make the right decision—for the Brans Army.
***
“You ca! Lyn!”
“It’s been a while, little brother.”
This was the eting chamber inside a fortress near the border. Lyn and Carlints, after so long, finally looked into each other’s blue eyes again.
“You said you’d accept my surrender under a condition, right? Go ahead—say it! I ca here alone, just like you asked! I have no intention of harming you!”
Just as he claid, Carlints had co alone. Lyn had several guards with her, but he was entirely unard and unaccompanied.
He was confident—Lyn was too smart to throw away a commander like him when she needed every capable man she could get. That was his quiet reassurance, the thing he believed he could rely on.
“...Brother. I’ll say this only once, so listen carefully. There is just one condition for us accepting your surrender. If you can’t accept it, we’ll keep fighting to the bitter end. Even if that ans losing a few provinces to Serpina—so be it.”
“I understand! Just tell the condition! Neither of us wants to let Serpina run wild, right?”
“...”
Without a word—
Lyn drew the sword from her waist and flung it toward Carlints.
“...Lyn?”
Carlints looked down at the longsword that clattered to the floor, puzzled.
Why is she giving this to ?
“What, is this... a duel challenge or sothing? Out of nowhere—”
“Carlints. As your sister, and as the current head of House Brans—this is my final request to you.”
Lyn slowly closed her eyes, then reopened them—now burning with cold, blue fla.
Her voice was utterly devoid of warmth.
“...Take that sword. And kill yourself. Right here.”
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