TSMMT Ch 172

Requiem

Throughout the winter months, Guiscard could do nothing but pine for Dianna.

[Dianna] "Guiscard."

Her radiant face and gentle smile filled his mind as she reached out to him. Yet he couldn't bring himself to hold her hand.

They had never once strolled hand in hand through the streets. And so, he remained shut away in Dianna's bedchamber.

Inside her room, her scent faded far too quickly. He traced the bedding where she had once lain, caressing the pillow where her small head had rested.

Whenever he recalled the sweet fragrance of her hair, he reverted to a slave boy falling in love all over again, cradling the pillow in his arms.

She was a woman raised in luxury, breathtaking in flower-bright gowns. Most of all, teardrop earrings had framed her face exquisitely whenever she tucked her hair behind her ear. Watching them sway as she turned with elegant grace, he had often burned to touch them.

Now, Guiscard found those very earrings left behind on her vanity.

She had taken nothing with her, neither the jewels he had bought out of lingering hope nor any other token. It was as though she refused to carry anything that belonged to him.

She likely wished to erase every memory of his existence.

Looking back, they had given each other nothing. They had merely shared warmth in their bedchamber, consumed by his frantic urge to sate his raw desire.

Driven mad by her porcelain neck, her melodic voice, and her captivating gaze, he found peace only when he poured everything into her.

He had been a ravenous beast. A foul beast draped in royal garments. His vulgar nature had never changed, taking her as if violating her body.

Remaining at his side must have been pure agony for her. Dianna was a noble soul, while he was merely an untamed monster.

Even now, the truth remained. In the depths of his longing, the moment he recalled her body, desire consumed him with a frantic urge to kiss her lips once more.

When chasing the lingering traces of Dianna pushed him past his limit, the King headed not to his own chambers, but toward an old, dilapidated storeroom.

Sitting blankly in that dust-covered space, he looked like a miserable slave once again. Clad in the finest royal garments, the King huddled inside a dirty storehouse, smiling like a madman.

The King had gone mad. Lost in his memories, he had surrendered his sanity.

Dianna had left no trace of herself behind, vanishing quietly from his world and leaving him with only his days as a slave to cherish.

As if desperately pining for those days, the King waited in silence, covered in dust.

He prayed the door would open once more, that Dianna would walk through it, weep at the sight of his wounds, and stroke his hair as she used to.

Looking back, they possessed no happy memories together. With virtually no shared moments of joy, he remembered Dianna from a past where only one of them had known happiness.

Nothing remained save regret. Perhaps he had been overly arrogant. He had slain the dragon, killed his own father, and taken the throne. He had even considered asking Dianna if she wished to be his Queen.

Foolishly, he had assumed she would smile for him as she once had. He had believed she would treat him just as she had treated Philip. How utterly foolish he had been.

At times, he gazed up at the stars and pictured the quiet maiden who had lain on the backless bench. Sitting in that exact spot, he caressed the air as if Dianna were resting her head in his lap.

Why had he failed to say those words to the young maiden back then?

[Guiscard] "Ah, Lady... your eyes reflecting the stars are beautiful."

He muttered to himself.

[Guiscard] "You are so exquisitely beautiful."

In the days before his departure for campaign, he whispered as though consumed by madness.

Possessing so few memories to cherish, he desperately scraped together non-existent fragments, forcing himself to remember. Having forced their marriage, he had no choice but to force his memories as well.

Cradling that fleeting taste of paradise in his dreams, Guiscard marched toward his death.

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Spring arrived, bringing the appointed season for the undead invasion.

As the hundred days elapsed, the weather shifted. Guiscard and his soldiers stared across the border with hardened expressions.

Beyond the frontier, the undead stood motionless like boulders. Materializing abruptly a hundred days ago, they stood without reaction, resembling lifeless corpses.

No weapons proved effective against them, and volleys of arrows fell useless. A few soldiers who charged into their ranks were torn limb from limb when the creatures suddenly burst into motion. Though Adelheit and his mages launched massive fireballs, the flames failed to inflict the slightest damage upon the horde.

Most border inhabitants had fled, though some chose to stand and fight.

If Lodbrog fell, what would remain?

Rallying under the banner of the Realm of Knights, the nobles sent their military forces to concentrate at the frontier. Thanks to Revius' diplomatic finesse, the neighboring kingdom dispatched reinforcements as well. It was a desperate struggle for survival.

As the hundred days ended across a war-torn battlefield, the undead began to move. Emaciated corpses lurched into motion as if reanimated by a dark force.

Watching their grotesque movements, Guiscard drew his blade, a dark violet aura radiating a brilliant glow.

[Guiscard] "Hear me, all living souls!"

He wouldn't flee. As long as his body remained immortal, he would fight even if his flesh were crushed to pieces.

All of this was for the woman he loved. Guiscard remembered her smile. Nothing else mattered. She deserved a better, happier life.

[Guiscard] "The enemies before your eyes are already dead. Those creatures belong in eternal darkness!"

With his presence erased from Dianna's life, a life scarred because of him, she would finally achieve a happy ending. That was his ultimate joy. He harbored no remaining greed.

[Guiscard] "Should we fall, those abominations shall march past us to invade the lands of every living soul!"

The knights slowly raised their spears in unison.

[Guiscard] "Fight for your lovers! Fight for your parents! Fight for your families! If you hold nothing dear, fight for your own lives!"

He raised his sword high and pointed the tip directly forward.

[Guiscard] "Here and now, every single one of us shall become a hero, a legend in the making!"

A thunderous roar shook the earth. War drums and horn calls echoed through the air.

Thump, thump, thump!

Armor-clad knights spurred their horses forward as the undead rushed to meet them with grotesque shrieks.

The roars of knights and soldiers shook the ground. Steel collided with flesh, and blood splattered. Across a battlefield strewn with corpses, a river of blood formed.

They fought to survive. Every soldier knew that even if they fled, no refuge remained. The living fought to defend the realm of the living, while the dead pressed forward without reason.

Initially, the living held the upper hand. The dead possessed no martial skill, merely flailing their limbs. Yet even when decapitated, their bodies continued to move. When limbs were severed, they attached the arms of fallen comrades to continue the slaughter.

The dead knew no exhaustion, and no truce could be struck. The only choice was to fight or die. Under the overwhelming pressure, the soldiers' spirits began to break. The lines began to fall back.

Exhausted men proved easy prey for the undead. Even valiant warriors froze in terror as they watched comrades devoured alive. Despair gripped their ranks.

[Grant them eternal rest…] *1

A song echoed from somewhere, a chorus of voices rising together.

Men turned their heads in bewilderment. It was no war chant, but a solemn requiem. As the troops looked up at the sound echoing across the battlefield, they spotted a figure gliding across the heavens.

[Hear my prayer, O God...]

It was a dragon. A pure white dragon glided across the darkened sky.

As the requiem echoed, the undead halted in their tracks, writhing in agony.

[All flesh is like grass, and the time granted by God is like a flower; the grass withers and the flower falls...]

Adelheit looked at Guiscard and spoke in a playful tone.

[Adelheit] "Honestly, I can't help but envy you."

As his mage corps chanted, the voices of the white-robed figures resonated with magnificent power. At the sound, the undead writhed like insects before falling still.

[Grant them eternal rest. Let not hell swallow them whole...]

The sky brightened as the sacred hymn swelled with majestic grandeur.

Overwhelmed by the song, the soldiers lowered their weapons to listen. Then, a figure descended from the dragon.

[The righteous shall be remembered forever, and endless light shall abide with them...]

Cascading platinum hair tied into a simple ponytail fluttered in the wind. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and trousers, the woman offered a bright smile.

[From death unto life, deliver them...]

Dianna Brienne.

She was the Queen they had abandoned.

Author's Note: The requiem lyrics in this chapter were adapted from Ein deutsches Requiem, Op. 45 and W. A. Mozart's Requiem in D minor, K. 626.

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