He's in Love with the Devil.

Chapter 12: Enemy Attack at the Moment of Encountering Demons

The devil stood still.

The sky suddenly darkened very quickly.

The dark red remnants of the sun at one moment is still like the color of blood to cover the world, the next moment the heavy black clouds will be swept by a large swathe. The shackles of the Northland were opened, the cold knifed through the earth, flying sand and stones, sounding like ghosts crying.

Medieval night belongs to the devil, to the grotesque, to all the most horrible and darkest things you can imagine.

If there is any unlucky person wandering in the wilderness at this time, then mixed in the wind of the wolves howling is enough to scare him through the liver and gall bladder. Not to mention all the other hideous things that gradually appear in that darkness.

The cries of the night lords with their sneers came from far away, and stretching the view a little, one would see the scene that taught the saints to tremble - one after another of those graves in the wilderness opened their mouths wide, and shroud-wrapped forms staggered out of them.

They hurried toward the place where the devil stood, like a pack of jackals tempted by the smell of blood.

--To be more precise, they should be rushing in the direction where the king had left. The devil merely happened to be standing in the line through which they must pass in their pursuit.

"Ah."

The devil looked like he remembered something.

"Today is the day St. Val died ...... It seems like yesterday that she was stuck with white bone through her chest."

If any cleric had heard him mention "St. Val's death" in such a light and casual tone, they would have been shocked and angered. In the war that swept between darkness and light a thousand years ago, the Holy Lord's earthly beloved, the pure white St. Val fell. Her blood stained the silver emblem.

The dark creatures rejoiced on the day of her fall.

Since then, the saints have mourned their saint on September 23rd. And the witches, the werewolves, the vampires ...... they would rise up at the top of the mountain to hold a pageant belonging to the witches and demons. [1]

But this was a long, long time ago, but from the devil's mouth it was as if he had been there in person, and had even played an extraordinary part.

"A fine day indeed."

The Devil rejoiced, holding a scarlet rose in his hand, joyful as if he was about to go to a lover's banquet.

He was in a good mood, so good that he didn't spare a sassy smile to the guests behind him, "Good evening gentlemen, welcome to this humble stage."

Alas, the most enthusiastic castle owner could not have been more attentive and decent in welcoming his guests.

The devil calls them "guests," and they're not the kind of things that step foot in a church:

The ladies of the night, riding on beasts, came down the long road in the darkness, obeying the moon goddess, the mistress of the night, Diana, as if she were their mistress. The black-clad monks were closely followed by a large man, and to the left of the large man was an army of death knights with black banners. The half-human, half-bird Mistress Ponfil combed her wings. To the north loomed the shadow of werewolves traveling back and forth ......

Like the uncorrupted corpses in those graves, these dark creatures of higher intelligence sniffed the darkness and tracked them.

Ordinary people, clerics, astrologers ...... they could not smell that scent, only the beings of darkness could. It was a wonderful smell of blood that was incredibly sweet to them, enough to teach them to go mad.

Not the smell of those mortals, those hellish clerics. Their blood smelled about as bad as a roadside ditch to a dark being. And the smell of this blood was so sweet that it reminded them of the good old days, a thousand years ago, when darkness ruled the continent.

It was like the most gorgeous red rose.

The smell of blood only spread a little at this particular time today, and those who smelled it had already rushed far away.

"Too bad the timing wasn't right, otherwise I would have asked you to convey greetings to my old friends."

Holding a rose in his hand, the devil bowed apologetically towards the gathered "guests".

His "guests" were inexplicable to the extreme.

They looked at each other, most of the dark creatures in the vicinity of Tru City and Moon River Fortress knew each other. Then they all looked at the strange demon standing on the hill as if no one knew him.

The half-human, half-bird Lady Ponfil scowled at the handsome and flamboyant devil, whose nose and fingernails had been transformed into a bird's beak and claws, and who was now elegantly combing her feathers with her pointed beak, and asked in a shrill voice, "Where did you come from, strange devil? I haven't seen a devil like you in a long time ...... Geez your kind can be unpleasant."

The large man leading the black-clad monks was much more succinct.

He chided gruffly, "Get out of the way Devil, don't get in the way of us going soul hunting. Get out of the way, devil. I don't care where you fight from, either join us and tear that rarest of crimson souls to pieces with us, or be torn to pieces by us ...... You don't want to enjoy the feast all to yourself, do you?"

The Devil stood on the small hill as he straightened up.

The devil stared at first in the face of the big man's caution, then he laughed indulgently.

The laughter grew louder and louder, penetrating so intensely evil.

The big man angrily removed the huge hammer from his back, which was covered in dripping blood.

The devil's laughter died suddenly.

He held the red rose, and one moment he let out a loud laugh, and the next moment violent anger had swept under his eyes. --From this point of view, the devil's gloom and doom was practically on par with His Majesty the King who had signed a contract with him.

"I'm not in the habit of sharing gems with others. Maggot."

He said icily.

"His soul belongs to me alone."

The devil declared.

The storm poured down without warning.

..................

Their Majesty's temper came worse than ever.

The men of the negotiating mission realized this.

Having won the negotiation from the Blesians didn't make the king a bit happier. Ignoring the exhaustion of the crowd, he forcefully ordered that the caravan must make it back to the castle as soon as possible, definitely before nightfall.

The negotiation site was located in the middle of Moon River Fortress and Tru Castle, and a full-speed sprint was indeed possible.

However, no one had expected it to get dark so quickly.

One moment the sky was blood red, the next moment it was dyed in black, so dark that it could drip ink. Not only that, but there was also a wind that was cold to the bone, and everyone couldn't help but start shivering. With this damn weather, even if they hadn't left the campsite, they would have been out of luck.

Any tent would be blown to the sky in front of such a gale.

The abnormal weather, the thick darkness ...... all of this made the hearts of the people rise up a strong uneasiness.

The chief chamberlain lit a lamp for the king, and the knights in iron armor lit torches. The wind was too strong, and although the torches that had been treated in a special way were not blown out directly, the fire was pitifully small, and it was simply not going to be any better than a match.

The horses kicked their front hooves frequently, snorting uneasily one after another.

--It was almost as if hell had opened up.

The chief housekeeper couldn't help but think so.

The king sat in the carriage, his face paler than any other despite the heavy, warm cloak he wore. His head began to ache, as if there were knives scraping ...... him a little bit finely He was not sure whether this was the aftermath of being born again or an old problem that he originally had.

The Chief of Internal Affairs came to ask him what to do next.

The king rested his spine against the cold metal carriage and answered in a calm tone.

His disguise was so perfect that no one could hear the difference.

At the king's command, everyone drew their weapons and moved forward vigilantly. They weren't sure why the king was so on guard, but in this environment, there was always nothing wrong with caution. May the Lord bless those of them who trekked through the darkness.

Tonight was the death of St. Val, and the Holy Lord was angry and saddened by the fall of God's favorites.

Tonight, God does not bless mortals.

"Defense--"

The caravan struggled to climb a small hill, and the experienced knight commander suddenly felt a chill run up his spine bone. He couldn't think of what it was due to and immediately raised his shield.

His voice was torn by the wind.

In the cacophony of men and horses, the sound of sharp arrows breaking through the air was somewhat mournful.

"Enemy attack!!!"

The knights shouted out. They gathered at the front of the caravan at the first opportunity, erecting hardened shields and forming a defensive wall in an instant.

Clang - clang - clang...

Arrows hit the shields one after another, and the iron arrowheads collided with the iron shields, making a series of crisp sounds.

Everyone should be thankful for the howling wind that made them so wretched! They happened to be upwind, while the enemy was drawing their bows and shooting arrows against the wind. If the wind hadn't shaved more than 40% off the speed and power of the iron arrows, they would definitely have suffered casualties by now.

Who is it?

Shock swept through almost everyone's heart.

Who is it? Set up an ambush here? Who was so bold as to want to put the monarch of Rogaland to death?

The only one who expected it was, I'm afraid, the king himself.

Almost as soon as he heard the clamor, the king immediately grabbed the sword and riding crop that was placed at his side and jumped down from the cart. The chief chamberlain turned pale at his unexpected move. The king was in no mood to pay him any attention, grabbed the warhorse that belonged to him, and rolled into the saddle.

"Your Majesty!"

The Chief of Internal Affairs felt like he was going crazy.

The arrows stopped.

The enemy had also realized that their plan had failed. In such a gale, any rain of arrows was just a joke. They stopped their futile action.

The king drove his horse over the caravan and went straight to his knights.

A bolt of lightning tore through the black sky.

The world was illuminated for a moment, and all things showed their true colors in the cold fury of white.

The king saw his enemy.

Beneath the hills, the withered grass was plastered to the ground by the wind. Across a wetland, a terrifying band of cavalry was illuminated by lightning.

He heard the voice of the chief chamberlain behind him tremble slightly, "Ancient ...... Gurundi cavalry!"

In the lightning's ghastly white light, those heavy cavalrymen were dark as a shadow. They had the finest armor on both sides of the Abyssal Strait, the most terrifying cavalry. They sat on high horses that were porous and as heavily armored as men, with arrows behind their backs and chilling cavalry lances in their hands. [2]

Their breastplates gleamed.

They were the descendants of the sea barbarians who had invaded the western continent in the first twelve centuries.

The world plummeted into snow.

The king is at a distance from his enemies.

Author's Notes:

[1] Reference to the medieval Night of Valbugis. Valbugis, the female saint, the night before her feast day witches and wizards held a night of witches and demons in the mountains.

[2] Reference to the Lombard heavy cavalry. They were spread over northern Italy and had the finest armor and the most horribly protected cavalry in Europe at the time. Their horses were heavily armored and they were armed with cavalry lances. They were described by Dan Jones as "a sight to behold".