The Runesmith

Chapter 575: Taking The City.

“I can’t see… Is it over?”

A bare-chested Armand shouted as he squinted into the distance. Before him, the soldiers had stopped moving, and the dust began to settle across the battlefield. Beside him stood Roland, clad in armor, his visor glowing as he surveyed the scene.

“Almost.”

Roland stood still. There was no more reason to be concerned. The battle had been won. Yet he wasn’t looking at the battlefield or the motionless army. His eyes were fixed on a single figure moving carefully through the aftermath, trying not to draw attention. Her dark robe concealed most of her features, but he recognized her immediately.

‘So she came after all.’

It was Mary, the catmaid who had followed Arthur even to this bloody conflict. She had remained hidden along the edge of the fight. Roland had seen her take down a few enemies and plant explosives that sent horses running to their doom. But more important than any of that was the moment she struck Alphonse.

She had thrown one of the runic daggers he had crafted for her. It was a blade designed to dissolve most standard enchantments. That single attack had been the turning point, the move that made their victory possible.

The battlefield, once a sea of chaos, was now quiet. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood with a hint of smoke mixed in. The wounded groaned. Broken weapons and shattered dreams littered the field. But amidst the ruins of battle, a single truth reigned: Arthur Valerian and his forces had emerged victorious.

Alphonse lay on the ground, his weapons broken, his armor dented and scorched. His breathing was shallow, and blood seeped from a gash in his side. Gareth, Morien, and Wischard stood over him, the tips of their weapons pointing at his neck. Alphonse’s eyes, filled with fury and disbelief, locked onto Arthur as he approached.

The young noble dismounted slowly. He was no longer trembling. His face was calm, his stride slow and meaningful. The weight of command, once heavy on his shoulders, now felt natural. He stopped a few paces from the fallen knight.

“You fought with courage.”

Arthur said, his voice neither mocking nor arrogant, only resolute.

“But this battle is over.”

Alphonse coughed, blood on his lips. The man was cleary angered by what had transpired and unwilling to admit defeat.

“Over...? Mayhap. Yet... this war... hath but only just begun…”

Before he could finish the sentence, a heavy blow struck the back of his head. Despite being a tier-three knight, he was knocked out instantly by one of Arthur’s knights, who didn’t appreciate the tone he had taken with their lord. Arthur didn’t flinch. He simply nodded, and the man was carried away. His status as a prisoner of war remained unchanged, and the goal was still to earn a reward for turning him in.

‘We made some progress today, but what now…’

Roland gazed into the distance. The entire scene felt surreal. He had been preparing for the Culling for a long time, and now it was finally coming to an end. Yet he couldn’t relax. He wasn’t allowed to. Although this part of the plan was complete, there was still more work ahead. The city was in their hands for now, but Theodore wouldn’t stay silent. They had to move quickly before the enemy returned to their doorstep.

“So, what do we do now?”

Asked Lobelia. Her sharp eyes could see the distant soldiers tossing away their weapons and surrendering after most of their tier-three class holders had fallen. 𝘳ἈℕŐBĘŝ

“For the time being, we have to stay here and keep the city safe.”

Roland replied while turning around. It didn’t seem like he was actually needed to help Arthur tidy things up.

"Stay here? Fine, but you know that’s going to cost extra, right, Mr. High Commander~"

Lobelia grinned, and soon Armand joined her, grinning even more than she was. It made Roland want to smack him.

"Take it up with the master of coin later. For now, go rest. We need you both to be sharp if trouble arrives."

They were still standing upright, but he could tell they were showing signs of fatigue. Even though they had taken multiple recovery potions, nothing could replace a good night’s rest. It didn’t take them long to disappear from the battlements, leaving Roland alone with his brother and Lucille.

“Theodore Valerian won’t stay quiet about this.”

Robert, clad in his runic armor, commented as he and Lucille began walking alongside Roland. Agni was nearby, waiting down in the city, since he would take up too much space on the walls, which were already crowded with soldiers and golemic cannons.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Oh? What do you mean?"

Robert was caught off guard by the response, and Roland quickly explained.

"After analyzing Theodore’s character, I came to a conclusion. The man has an inferiority complex toward his eldest brother and tends to overthink everything. More than likely, he will assume Julius orchestrated the whole thing and believe it's a trap."

"Is that so? Then..."

"Yes. That means we should have enough time to alert the courts and get everything sorted out before he takes action, but first, let’s get ready to accept our lord…”

Roland turned his gaze back toward the gate. The victorious banners of Arthur’s army were already rising above the outer roads, fluttering in rhythm with the soldiers’ chants. The city bells rang slowly, each toll a declaration that the battle was over, the enemy defeated, and a new chapter about to begin.

"Open the gates."

For now, he was the man in charge. The guards who had remained on the wall responded without hesitation, each of them having witnessed him slay the giant turtle beast.

Citizens began to gather, emerging cautiously from their boarded-up homes now that the danger had passed. At first, there was fear and uncertainty about what was approaching. But soon, they recognized the man they had seen earlier, delivering a grand speech through the hologram: Arthur Valerian.

"Could it really be, Lord Valerian?"

"Are we truly saved?"

"This has to mean it's over. He’s one of the Duke’s children!"

"But I heard he’s illegitimate..."

"Hold your tongue!"

The crowd began to murmur, and a few had the good sense to silence those bringing up Arthur’s legitimacy. Yet even amid the whispers, none could ignore what they had seen. A young man, untested until today, had led a force to victory and sent his finest warriors to protect the city from deadly monsters. The walls still stood, and everyone knew who they had to thank for being alive.

Roland watched as trumpets and drums sounded to announce Arthur’s arrival. Soldiers marched in formation, battered but proud, carrying the sigils of House Valerian and its flag. Behind them came wagons filled with the wounded and captured, followed by armored golems that clanked and hissed with every step.

Arthur rode at the front, his helmet removed so that all could see his face. Not a single drop of sweat marked his skin, and his hair looked freshly washed. As he came into view, the crowd was immediately struck by his elf-like features and silvery locks. His unblemished appearance made it seem as if the battle had been nothing more than a game. They would never know that he had used magic to clean and compose himself before entering the city.

As Arthur passed beneath the gate’s arch, a cheer began to rise. It was hesitant at first, but it grew louder as the people began to recognize the truth. Their would-be savior had not lied to them. The city had never been breached, and they had all survived.

Roland stood on the steps of the city square, watching the scene unfold. He had already prepared the platform, and Lucille was beside him, adjusting the runic controls. A glowing panel pulsed to life as the final enchantments activated. The stage was ready. Arthur would soon address the crowd, speak on what had just happened, and make the transition of power clear. The people needed to understand that the city now belonged to Arthur, not Theodore.

The square, crowded with soldiers and citizens, continued to fill as Arthur stepped into view. Despite having commanded thousands on the battlefield less than an hour ago, he now faced a different challenge. He had to speak as a noble, presenting himself to his new people. Roland observed closely. Compared to Arthur, he felt unprepared for moments like this, not because he lacked the confidence of a leader, but due to a lack of experience when making speeches to crowds of people.

Arthur ascended the platform without hesitation, his movements light. Though his heart still thudded in his chest from the adrenaline of battle, he did not let it show. He stood tall, shoulders squared, the silver mithril of his armor catching the light of the sun. The square had grown deathly quiet. All eyes were upon him, some filled with hope, others with doubt, and a few with defiance. But none could look away.

Roland gave a subtle nod from the side, and with a flick of his hand, the hologram shimmered to life. Just like a few days ago, the figure of Arthur appeared above the city, but this time, it was no pre-recorded message. Nearly every citizen of Aldbourne had gathered to witness it.

“Citizens of Aldbourne… I stand before you not as a conqueror, but as a protector.”

The crowd murmured, then fell silent again as the projection’s voice echoed with clarity. Each word carried a strange, calming resonance, all thanks to an enchantment Roland had added to help ensure the people would truly listen.

“This city was abandoned. Its walls were left to crumble. Its people were left to die when the dungeon broke and monsters poured forth. My brother, Lord Theodore, who held dominion here, did not come. He turned away. He left you to fate.”

The truth rang through the square like a bell. Even those who had tried to deny it found no ground to stand on. They had seen the monsters, lived through the chaos, and knew that no aid had come from the one meant to protect them. It had been Roland and his group who arrived in time to make a difference.

“But I came. My allies came. And we did not come for glory or coin. We came because your lives matter. Because your suffering should never have been ignored.”

Arthur slowly raised a hand, and the hologram mirrored his every movement. His voice grew stronger, his tone no longer that of a young noble but of a commander, a true leader.

“From this day forward, you will not be forgotten. This city will not be abandoned. I, Arthur Valerian, take stewardship of Aldbourne. Not in my father’s name, but in the name of justice, protection, and duty. I claim this place as my burden, and I swear before you all, it will never again be left undefended.”

A wave of energy rippled through the crowd. Then the cheering began, loud and filled with various emotions. Roland had to give him credit. Arthur knew how to speak to a crowd. Every word, every pause, was deliberate and skillfully woven. Even if not every word was true, the people believed him. He had won them over, at least for now.

"This city is under my protection now. Those loyal to my brother Theodore are free to leave at any time. They will not be prosecuted. If they wish to remain, I will welcome them with open arms…"

Arthur continued his speech, offering the citizens the promise of a new beginning. He spoke of future business opportunities and the reduction of taxes until the city walls could be fully restored and improved. After some time, the hologram flickered and gradually faded into light, dissolving like mist. The crowd remained energized, cheering as the vision of a better life began to take root in their hearts.

Arthur stepped down from the stage, but others continued to speak. The city needed unity, and the citizens and adventurers had to be rallied to take part in its rebuilding and management. Those who had served under Theodore needed to be removed from positions of influence and replaced with individuals who could be trusted. It was a moment of change, and an opportunity for new leaders to rise. Anyone with ambition had a chance to make a name for themselves in this new beginning.

Roland stood at the back, silently observing the celebration. Everything appeared to be going well, and the people had begun to rejoice, but beneath his helmet, a scowl darkened his face. There were aspects of the dungeon break that troubled him deeply. One in particular was the strange and unnatural shapes some of the monsters had taken.

He had a theory, but it could not be confirmed through his monster identification skill or even by dissection, which he had already attempted. To prove his suspicions, he would need to return to the deep tunnels beneath the city and trace where they led.

He knew it would not be a simple task. Mapping the underground labyrinth could take weeks, months, or even longer. The caverns stretched across the island like an immense web, and he needed to find their point of origin. Until then, his questions would remain unanswered.

To make matters worse, one more obstacle was preventing Roland from investigating further. The tunnels that led into the caverns below had collapsed and vanished once the culling came to an end. While the main passageways had been constructed over many decades and reinforced with mana, the exit tunnels connecting to the surface were much more recent. Once the flow of mana stopped, they lost their stability and caved in, making it impossible to reenter from above.

Still, there was a benefit to this collapse. With no visible entrances remaining, the existence of the underground network would remain a secret. That gave him the time he needed to study it without interference. Now that the mana pollution had cleared, he would be able to send his golems into the depths to carry out the bulk of the exploration.

Before any of that could happen, however, he needed to return home. To do so, he had to assemble a short-range teleportation gate that would allow him to make the journey…

******

Suddenly, a group of knights moved quickly, their armor clinking softly against the stone floor as they hurried through what appeared to be the interior of a castle. At the center of their formation was a lone man, coughing violently and supported by two others.

His skin had taken on a ghastly shade of gray-green, as though life itself had been partially drained from his body. Veins like twisted black roots spread beneath the surface, pulsing faintly with an unnatural purplish glow. His breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps, and a foul scent clung to him. It was acidic and pungent, not the smell of blood or rot, but something far worse. It was the stench of corruption, as if a curse had taken root deep within him.

“Easy now.”

One of the knights muttered, adjusting his grip as they passed through a heavy wooden door and into a darkened bedroom. The chamber was dimly lit by a few flickering lanterns hanging from wall sconces. Thick velvet curtains were already drawn tight, and the air smelled faintly of incense. The knights guided the man to the bed, lowering him gently onto the crisp sheets as his body convulsed with another round of harsh, chest-rattling coughs. A stained cloth pressed to his mouth came away black with mucus and streaks of red.

“Don’t let… anyone see me. That is an order, do you understand?”

The man wheezed, forcing the words through clenched teeth. His voice was hoarse, but still bore the commanding tone of someone used to authority. He tried to sit up, but another wave of pain slammed into him, sending tremors through his limbs.

“You must keep this hidden; no one can know of this…”

The man’s head turned slowly, revealing his eyes for the first time. The whites had turned a sickly yellow, and his pupils twitched, unnaturally wide. Even his once-pristine mustache had withered and now trembled over his upper lip.

"We will continue as planned."

"But your grace..."

One of the knights finally spoke, his voice filled with concern. The nobleman snapped back immediately, his voice cutting through the chamber like a thunderclap.

"Silence. You will do as I tell you."

"Y-yes, your grace..."

The knights recoiled in fear. The flickering lanterns dimmed for a moment, and an invisible pressure pressed against their chests. Though the man stood before them in a weakened, sickly state, his authority remained absolute. They could only nod in silence. His word was law, and no one on the island could ever defy him…