Frontier Realities and Lingering Regrets

‘I… everyone, please, approach one by one, speak one by one…’ Having become the focal point of the crowd, Anto naturally betrayed a hint of timidity. Her gaze instinctively sought out Bishop Rhys for assistance, only to discover him already entangled in conversation with Foreign Minister Pierre.

“My friend, your presence here, as promised, truly astonishes and delights me,” Pierre declared, taking two glasses of wine and offering one to Rhys.

“I hadn’t anticipated you would bring such a beauty with you.”

“Sister Antolia is not accustomed to such social affairs,” Rhys interjected, “Do not allow these people to overwhelm her.”

“Naturally. There are no truly wicked individuals here,” Pierre assured him, clinking glasses with Rhys before taking a sip. “Only pompous fools and unimaginative mediocrities who fail to grasp the true state of affairs.”

“To whom do you refer? Such words border on sacrilege.”

“Do you truly understand of whom I speak?”

“Among those present, only one, in my estimation, is truly worthy of that designation.”

“But dare you utter their name?” Minister Pierre chuckled, while Rhys merely raised an eyebrow.

“Your tactics, I must admit, are truly insidious.”

“Not at all, my old friend. How long have we known each other, after all?”

A knowing smile passed between the two men. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Sister Antolia gradually began to acclimate to her new surroundings.

“What? So you truly are an apothecary apprentice from a border village? Is the frontier genuinely as perilous as the rumors suggest? Are man-eating beasts and all manner of monsters truly rampant there…?”

“Yes, though it’s not quite as terrifying as the rumors claim,” Anto clarified. “The border guards maintain a constant vigil from the watchtowers, and there’s also the witch’s barrier protecting us…” She paused, then added, “Still, it certainly cannot compare to the prosperity found here.”

“I tell you, those common folk are merely lazy and gluttonous. With the royal garrison stationed at the border, even if a demon or two occasionally slips through, no major calamity will truly unfold. Most of the border residents are retreating south due to mere rumors; it is utterly pointless.” Upon hearing such pronouncements, Anto turned her gaze towards the noble scion who had uttered them, and promptly retorted:

“While the frontier may not be as terrifying as it sounds, even a minor oversight can precipitate utter catastrophe. I myself witnessed a cataclysm where two or three thousand souls in a border watchtower were all infected, transforming into the shambling dead. They surged towards Linders like an unstoppable tide… Unless one personally stands upon those city walls and witnesses it, that harrowing sensation is perhaps impossible to truly comprehend. Border villages may possess rudimentary defenses, yet without the full might of the nation to bolster them, their ultimate fate is naught but annihilation.”

“Linders Fortress, housing the most formidable armed forces in the entire kingdom, could still withstand the advance of the living dead, even if every border watchtower were to fall,” another voice interjected. “It has historically served as a gateway city, a bulwark against orc invasions. Indeed, it was Saint Archbishop Kasa himself who, years ago, led a holy army from Cavenson to relieve this fortress city, which had been besieged by ten times its number of orcs. Such history clearly attests to the profound defensive capabilities of this city.”

‘Archbishop Kasa…’ Anto had, of course, heard of him; he was Rhys’s predecessor as the border bishop. Once, King Itar the ‘Bear-Lion’, the formidable ruler of the orcs, had led a hundred thousand warriors to besiege the Linders Fortress, which held only five thousand defenders. Yet, Archbishop Kasa, rallying a holy army of border farmers and guards, had galloped to its aid within a mere three days of their assembly, decisively repelling the enemy’s assault. For this heroic feat, Bishop Kasa was canonized as a saint. However, his fate took a tragic turn when he was later deployed to a grand border campaign. On the Eastern Mining Field battlefield, this once-heroic saint suffered a catastrophic defeat, ultimately meeting his end at the hands of the King of the White Plains. It could only be said that the Holy Light had not perpetually shielded this valiant brother.

“Linders Fortress is far from impregnable; indeed, numerous issues have plagued the city’s interior. Ghouls, for instance, once infested the sewers of the impoverished district.” Suddenly, another voice chimed in, “But they were purged and the problem resolved.”

“Well, there you have it, didn’t I say so? It’s perfectly normal for one or two to slip in and be dealt with. Moreover, it was merely the lower districts; if it didn’t spread, then it wasn’t truly a problem.” Confronted with these glib assertions, the other person abruptly retorted:

“Precisely why those are the words of a fool. The walking dead in the slums failed to proliferate solely because the church’s devout individuals descended into the depths themselves, cleansing those abominations and averting a catastrophic disaster. Had the border defense commander’s approach been followed, Linders would have undoubtedly fallen three months prior. And had Linders then lost its defensive capabilities, the entire Kingdom of Dralnes would have been utterly transformed into a realm of the undead.”

“You are…” Anto gazed at the man before her, recognizing him. This officer-like figure was none other than the commander who, back in Linders, had prepared his troops to relieve the border fortress, only to be held back by the administrative officer and confined to garrison duty. He had shed his armor, now clad in a standard military dress uniform, and stood slightly apart. Those gathered around then spoke:

“Knight Commander Greer, we were merely speaking casually, with no ulterior motives. However, consider that we successfully weathered this crisis, which surely indicates we possess ample strength, does it not?”

“That this did not escalate into a widespread catastrophe was purely a matter of luck. Your generation, having never endured war, cannot possibly comprehend such things. I do not suggest that your enjoyment of peace is inherently wrong; rather, I simply wish for you to understand that while you comfortably partake of fresh provisions and exquisite wines brought from across the land, every soul on the frontier relentlessly struggles for survival against both daily hardships and sudden, brutal assaults. You possess no right to pass judgment upon their choices.”

“…Understood. We realize our error.” The noble youths, chastened, offered no further explanation. Greer, meanwhile, approached Sister Antolia and bowed respectfully.

“It is an honor to finally meet you, Sister of the Church.”

“…It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Great Knight Commander,” Antolia replied, returning his bow. Greer studied the young woman before him, then remarked, “I cannot shake the feeling that if you were a frequent visitor to Linders in the past, my failure to remember you is quite… unexpected. Though I recall the priest, I confess I did not take note of those who aided him.”

“My lord, that is because I would not have been dressed in such attire before,” Sister Anto replied with a smile. “However, I distinctly remember you, my lord.”

“Hmm?” Greer paused, taken aback, but Anto continued, “That day, when you, my lord, were preparing to dispatch cavalry to rescue the border watchtower, I was standing among the onlookers.”

“Ah, I see…” Greer murmured, patting his head. “I deeply regret that I was unable to save those border villages, or the watchtower itself. So many people… transformed into the shambling dead. If only Linders had issued the order decisively…”

“That is not your fault, my lord,” Anto asserted. “Simply having the intention to act, the border villages were already profoundly grateful. While… I have no right to speak for those who perished, at the very least, everyone in my own village did receive rescue.”

Linders should have dispatched aid during the watchtower crisis, yet when calamity struck, the governor chose instead to merely fortify their position. This decision left the border watchtowers utterly isolated, condemning numerous border villages to complete annihilation. While the ensuing mass exodus of refugees southward did not directly inflict further damage, the governor’s actions were nonetheless indefensible.

“Such belated aid can hardly be considered true responsibility,” Greer stated slowly, his voice heavy. “Someone must ultimately answer for this matter, and I, for one, cannot evade that burden.”