The soldiers who could depart immediately were the elite vanguard led by Leo.
Even when the nomadic tribes of the North came to attack, they would slowly retreat at the mere sight of Leo's cavalry.
Such was the reputation of House Riward's one hundred and fifty elite horsemen.
Of course, the efforts to dismantle private armies had reduced their numbers considerably,
but the mounted soldiers of House Riward were still a thing of dread.
There were ongoing efforts to formally incorporate House Riward's elite forces into the North proper rather than leave them as a private army — but that was a matter for another time.
For now, the fastest force that could be dispatched was Riward's cavalry.
The moment Leo received the summons, he arrived at Winter Castle.
"Y-Your Highness."
"You must depart immediately. I'll write a letter for you to deliver to House Barth — ride out the moment you have it."
"I-I am to ride out to the Barth estate, then?"
I hastily wrote the letter and pressed it into Leo's hands as he stood in the study.
I gave a single nod in answer to his question.
Leo took the letter, clad in his armor, and bolted out of the study.
If he left now, he would barely arrive by the following day.
"Your Grace, Commander Dorgon is waiting outside."
"I'll go to the Hall of Winter now."
Winter Castle had begun to stir with urgent motion.
The moment the meeting ended, Hexon disappeared with an armful of documents.
Berdo likewise vanished beneath a stack of papers.
These were the men who kept the internal workings running — they could hardly be expected to concern themselves with affairs beyond the walls.
In the Hall of Winter, Dorgon was kneeling.
"Well then — have you learned the Imperial Palace's position?"
"This information just came in, Your Highness. It appears Lord Roy has been thrown into the dungeon."
"Hmm. Torture, or something of that sort..."
"I doubt they have the nerve for that. If anything, I'd say he went rather too far."
"Why — did he cut someone down?"
"Nothing of that sort."
Dorgon began to recount, slowly, what had transpired within the Empire.
House de Wintergard did not hesitate to stake their lives for the sake of their loyalty.
In the Imperial chamber, Roy had been the first to arrive — axe in hand.
His purpose was to force through the will of the master he served — that is to say, my will.
There was no one who could stand against Roy as he rose from his seat at the center of the room, axe in one hand, head held unbowed.
*Either summon the Emperor back and give me a clear answer — or drag me out.*
When Roy's voice rang through the Imperial chamber, the guards could not bring themselves to approach.
Even as the plate-armored guards pressed in around him, they could only shrink from the axe that looked as though it had been carved from a southerner's body.
Jackson, standing at Roy's side, raised his voice as well.
*Where are the ministers who refuse to uphold the laws of the Empire? Correct this attitude of yours — this refusal to give a straight answer!*
As the voices continued to rise, the Empire's Chief Minister was the first to confront them.
But the Chief Minister had made the mistake of dismissing Roy too lightly.
He shrieked that bringing an axe into the Imperial Palace was simply not done — to say nothing of the Empire's laws and customs.
In the end, the guards rushed Roy to wrest the axe from him.
But this time, rather than attempting to restrain him bodily, they drew their swords and came at him to fight.
Even for Roy, against soldiers who hadn't donned their full armor, being pushed back was inevitable—
"Knocking a few guards flat was all well and good, but he got a bit too worked up in the process."
Dorgon continued.
To deal with the guards drawing their swords in the Imperial chamber, Roy rose slowly from his seat.
The blade of the axe was small but honed to a keen edge.
At the opposite end of the haft hung a blunt, heavy hammer.
The moment the guards thrust their swords skyward, Roy swung the hammer mounted atop the axe.
The hammer arrived at the helmet before the descending blade could.
Roy's hammer, driven with precise force, struck with enough power to cave the helmet inward.
"Wouldn't that kill a man?"
"Fortunately, they were wearing plate armor. Had they not been, it very well might have."
Roy with a weapon in hand feared nothing.
If anything, the nomadic armies he had faced in the far North were more fearsome — compared to them, this place was full of children.
Another soldier lunged with a thrust, extending his sword in a single straight line.
Roy met him head-on.
He twisted his body slightly, letting the blade glance past him from within arm's reach.
Catching the blade that had grazed his collar with his elbow, he swung the hammer of the axe at the guard.
This time it landed squarely on the shoulder, and the plate armor buckled.
"He's not human. Perhaps Lord Roy is actually a bear in disguise."
"So it would seem."
"And that is how he ended up in the dungeon?"
"The guards weren't killed, but a great many were badly injured. The moment he was subdued, he was dragged off to the dungeon."
Roy had fought alone for nearly an hour — against the guards, and the reinforcements who came after them.
Jackson had kept his voice raised throughout.
Even if Jackson had drawn a sword and joined the fight, it likely wouldn't have made much difference.
In the end, Roy was taken away first, and the Chief Minister turned to face Jackson.
"J-just what is it you want?"
"We want the compensation that is rightfully owed under the laws of the Empire. I find it remarkable that even this is so disagreeable to you."
In the end, Jackson was permitted to return to the conference table. The ministers still wished to drag things out.
"A proper answer will come now. Leo has already departed for the Barth estate."
"The army of House Riward is going?"
"Yes. Of course, once an agreement is reached I'll have them turn back immediately — but this should be more than enough to..."
Force a response.
"W-who goes there!"
Leo's army had ridden hard.
The roads where horses could run were cleared easily enough, but crossing the mountain range had cost them dearly in time.
A creeping unease began to settle over Leo — the fear that he would not arrive within the time his Grand Duke required.
"Open the gate! Can you not see the banner!"
He bellowed in a voice that rang like iron.
The sentries guarding the castle confirmed the banner and hastily ordered the gates opened.
He had sent the vanguard ahead to clear the gatekeepers if necessary, ensuring there were no obstacles on the most direct route to the Barth estate.
"General, are we not riding too fast?"
"We must ride faster still!"
"Has war broken out in the South?"
"That seems to be His Grace's thinking. It won't come to actual battle — but there is a need to make a show of force, I'd wager."
The adjutant gave a nod and ordered the standard-bearer to raise the banner higher.
But the pace had been too brutal — the horses were beginning to flag.
They had chosen the best path through the mountain range, easier than routes taken before, yet there had been no thought spared for the horses' exhaustion.
"No help for it. We split the force — divide into advance and rear columns and continue the march!"
Of the one hundred and fifty cavalry, setting aside the vanguard already ahead, they split again into advance and rear detachments and resumed the ride toward the Barth estate.
A distance of at least a full day's ride.
Leo's elite soldiers pushed their mounts to the absolute limit.
They rode even as the horses grew exhausted, on the verge of collapse.
They arrived at the Barth estate the following afternoon.
They had arrived some five hours ahead of the expected time.
The Barth estate's sentries moved to stop them, but even in that state of utter exhaustion, the Grand Duke's Banner stood tall against the sky.
"Open the gate! We come from the North!"
Of the one hundred and fifty, few had arrived in any condition to be called whole — but the banner bearing the Grand Duke's crest carried an authority that could not be denied.
The gatekeepers opened the gates at once. The Grand Duke's Banner entered the Barth estate.
Marquess Roland came rushing out to the castle gate to receive the soldiers arrived from the North, nearly stumbling in his haste.
It had not been long since he had sent his letter to the Imperial Palace — the response had come with startling speed.
"H-has His Grace the Grand Duke come in person?"
"No, my lord. But they are soldiers in armor."
"Soldiers?"
Men clad in armor dyed pitch-black were filing slowly through the castle walls.
When the Grand Duke's Banner finally reached Marquess Roland's castle, Leo stood at its head.
"Marquess Roland. I deliver a letter from the Grand Duke."
The moment Leo handed over the letter, he nearly crumpled to the ground.
Had his adjutant not caught him, he would have pitched face-first into the dirt — that was how utterly spent he was.
Marquess Roland ordered the Grand Duke's Banner raised on the flagpole, then opened the letter on the spot.
The letter contained only the briefest of contents.
To Marquess Roland von Barth.
In respect of the agreement concluded between House Barth and the North, I send a portion of the soldiers requested in advance. The army that has arrived is composed of the finest soldiers who hold back the nomadic tribes of the North — men who dedicate their lives solely to the well-being of the North.
These soldiers receive their orders from Wintergard, the supreme commander and rightful commander of the North, and as such cannot be placed under the direct command of those who march south in accordance with Imperial law. However, command through a designated representative is permissible; Leor von Riward shall serve as the commanding officer acting in place of the North's supreme commander and shall lead the soldiers accordingly.
Should Leor von Riward judge that the situation within the South has shifted rapidly and become critical, all military activities conducted in the name of the North's supreme commander are hereby authorized in advance.
These soldiers shall carry out the orders of the North as their first priority; all other orders shall follow those of Marquess Roland von Barth.
Theodor von Ardrno Ifela Wintergard
The letter, which read more like a formal order, bore not only his name but a wax seal pressed with his signet.
It was an official order — and the men who had arrived were weapons that Marquess Roland von Barth could now wield.