Warhammer Divine Throne

Chapter 48: Chapter 21, The Descent of Will

Laine and Teresa walked along the street, Laine’s face looked very grim, like it was covered with a layer of ash. He casually pulled out the longsword he’d picked up at the dock and tossed it aside. This action prompted a scramble among the local residents, but Laine didn’t pay attention. He hesitated for a moment and finally decided in front of Teresa to take out his single-handed sword and carry it on his back: ”How foolish, I actually thought there wouldn’t be any battles in the town.”

Teresa specially paid attention to Laine’s single-handed sword because, in her memory, from the first time she met Laine, this sword had always been by his side. She’d never seen him draw it; it was more like an ornament than a weapon.

The sword’s scabbard was decorated with gold and silver patterns, sealed with wax and a segment of scripture. Teresa couldn’t understand what was written, but she knew what language it was.

This exceedingly complex language was High Gothic, a sacred language used by Gallorin’s Knights under Charlemagne during the Empire’s founding, different from the Continent’s Low Gothic language. This High Gothic was extraordinarily complicated, mastering it required years of diligence, and only the Empire’s Great Nobles knew how to use it and forbade its dissemination. Being able to speak High Gothic was a symbol of status and glory, and Teresa remembered that Laine’s Godfather was indeed that man from the Empire... She forced herself to refocus on the sword.

The sword was longer and larger compared to a normal standard longsword, about 1.3 meters. By specifications, it should be a two-handed giant sword, yet its design was in the shape of a single-handed sword.

The blade was hidden within the scabbard and invisible; only the connection between the hilt and blade could be seen, which was a strange golden box carved with various runes with unknown purposes. The black hilt looked solemn and severe, and the pommel was crafted into a silver skull-shaped counterweight.

”Is this sword of yours a ritual sword specially tailor-made by a craftsman for you? I see you’ve never used it.” The female sorcerer asked casually, actually feeling somewhat interested.

”Perhaps, perhaps not, who knows? I’m still thinking about that damned mercenary and this damned Nord custom.”

Seeing the man unwilling to speak on this, the female sorcerer knew it wasn’t the time to stir up conflict, so she gently said: ”Why care about a Little Mercenary? If you really dislike him, just kill him. Why be troubled over it?”

”After the second Chaos War, a group of old soldiers who first followed His Majesty Ludwig in raising the army pledged to meet every ten years at Griffin Square in Brunswick to chat about past stories.” Laine didn’t answer Teresa’s question but instead began telling a story: ”The first ten years, the second ten years, the third ten years, although everyone had aged somewhat, most people could always return to Griffin Square, all together chatting on the square, drinking to their heart’s content at night, how delightful.”

”And so, the fourth ten years, the fifth ten years, the sixth ten years, people began to gradually decrease, some slowly left them.”

”By the ninth ten years, only a few of the elderly from that time could come to the square, and they were all strong veterans who had broken through the legendary threshold. But after ninety years, they also began to age, and more old soldiers had already turned to dust of history.”

”Then came the tenth ten years, the eleventh ten years, the twelfth ten years...”

Teresa remained silent. If one cannot break through to the Holy Sanctuary Tier, one’s lifespan will inevitably come to an end, an eternal, unchanging truth.

”On the morning of another agreed day in the fourteenth ten years, when Baron Manuel Rudy was pushed to Griffin Square in a wheelchair by his servant, he didn’t see any comrades.”

”At first, he thought he came early, so he signaled the servant not to leave and waited patiently.”

”Thus, the morning sun rose, the sun gradually rose to the sky until mid-morning and then to blazing noon.”

”No one came.”

”Tears soaked Baron Manuel’s military uniform, stained his medals on the chest. He knew he was the last living person among those brothers from back then.”

”No one would come again.”

”Like this, Baron Manuel sat in the square for half a day until the afternoon sun shone on him, he seemed to have given up.”

”But then, an accident happened.”

”Countless Imperial Army poured out, surging into Griffin Square from all directions. Long spears like forests, swords like rain, the Imperial Long Halberd Corps, the elite Great Sword Legion, Imperial Firearms Team, Imperial Knight Order all rushed into the square from all directions.”

”Then came the most powerful Brunswick Inner Ring Guard and Royal Wizard Corps, followed by the legendary War Court Guard responsible for protecting the Emperor and Prince-Electors. The Emperor came, the Prince-Electors came, all the Empire’s Great Nobles came.”

”The Emperor of the Empire, recently ascended Franz Friedrich, walked in front of Baron Manuel, stood at attention, and saluted him, then all the Prince-Electors, then Dukes, to those Imperial Generals and ministers, all Empire Great Nobles and soldiers saluted Baron Manuel, with the Emperor himself saying these words.”

”The Empire will never forget your contributions. We will always remember your sacrifices for the Empire’s glory today. On behalf of all the Imperial people, I offer you and those old Imperial soldiers our highest respect and heartfelt gratitude.”