Warhammer Divine Throne

Chapter 1350: Chapter 577: Steel Felix (2)

”Because the Winged Cavalry Legion is the Kingdom’s sword, the Wings of Freedom—it is not her Tsar’s Sword, nor the wings of the Bokaha Royal Family!” Felix’s expression was hard as steel, and just as stubborn as a stone from the bottom of a latrine: ”This is already the third time I’ve been exiled! But I will never regret it!”

”Please, be seated.” The great merchant Amancio gestured for Felix to sit down. With an understanding smile on his face, the merchant rose and motioned for this Winged Cavalry General to take his seat, then called to the waiter: ”Bring that up here!”

”Yes, sir!” The waiter went down, and very soon, they brought up a special kind of food.

At first glance, what was set down looked like ordinary bread—only this loaf was unusually large, nearly thirty centimeters across and weighing close to two jin, packed in an oversized cloth bag. Amancio chuckled and said, ”General Felix, have a taste. I’m not entirely sure about your preferences, but I can guarantee, it’s exactly the original flavor.”

”This is... Russian loaf?!” The Winged Cavalry General’s eyes widened. He examined it closely: ”This really is Russian loaf! And a big Russian loaf at that!”

To taste food from his homeland once more, this general of steel finally managed to squeeze out a faint smile.

”That’s right, I import it from Erlengrad. I hope you like it.” Amancio turned to Fugen, Hadrian, and the others: ”You should try it too—a specialty of Kislev.”

The group continued their meal.

Fugen maintained his elegant manner of eating while listening to Felix’s tale, learning why he had been banished—why this decorated Winged Cavalry General had fallen to the point of being driven out of the country and stripped of his general’s rank.

From the moment the Winged Cavalry were founded, it was destined that they would never receive sufficient pay. The meager salary and supplies the Tsarist Royal Family could offer weren’t even enough to maintain weapons and horses. Thus, the Winged Cavalry usually formed detachments of three to five hundred riders and operated across the Old World as mercenaries, earning their own upkeep.

All Winged Cavalry forces have one Marshal and several Generals. In theory, the Marshal commands all Winged Cavalry, but in practice he only leads the most elite Winged Cavalry Legion—the ”Griffin Legion”—so named because the Winged Cavalry Marshal of the time, Bujoni, single-handedly slew a Griffin in the World Edge Mountains and used its feathers to adorn his wings.

The current Winged Cavalry Marshal is called Romanov, a Knight of Legendary Peak. The Griffin Legion at present serves under Emperor Karl Franz of the Empire, fighting as mercenaries.

All Winged Cavalry have sworn an oath: whenever the Kislev Kingdom faces a crisis, they will return to Kislev without fail and fight to defend the Kingdom. They take pride in being from Kislev; they are proud to be the Kingdom’s sword.

Yet it is precisely here that the conflict arises.

”The Winged Cavalry have always had a glorious and long-standing tradition of independence. We are the Kingdom’s sword, not the Tsar’s Sword. But ever since Red Eye Egil died and the military pressure from the Barbarians lessened considerably, Her Majesty Katarina has revisited the old issue.” Felix ate his Russian loaf, his voice somewhat hoarse: ”She wishes to bring the Winged Cavalry back under the control of the Tsarist Royal Family. She promises to treat us well—but that is not what we want.”

”You swear loyalty to Kislev, not to the Bokaha Royal Family.” Fugen immediately understood the reason for Felix’s exile.

”We are willing only to fight against evil—we will not raise our hands against our own countrymen.” Felix nodded. At this point he sighed: ”Because I’ve been the most adamant in my opposition, this is already the third time I’ve been driven out of the country.”

”If the Kingdom were to face danger?” Fugen asked calmly.

”Then I will set out for Kislev once more, together with my Winged Cavalry!” Felix’s voice was as hard as a boulder buried in the eternally frozen northern earth: ”Kislev will fight evil to the very last moment—until Kislev’s last child draws their final breath!”

”Very well.” Fugen nodded; his last doubts were dispelled. ”Then, what are your terms?”

Thus began the haggling.

Fugen needed a powerful Heavy Cavalry unit—desperately so. If he could hire Felix and the three hundred Winged Cavalry under his command, it would be a tremendous boost to the Ash Legion’s fighting strength, for aside from the few Cold Lizards provided by the Lizardmen, the Ash Legion had always been troubled by a shortage of cavalry.

”Our terms are always the usual... only, I have a request.” Felix was slightly embarrassed. He was a soldier, and for a soldier, begging for favors was not something one said lightly: ”Lord Fugen, I’ve heard that you and the Duke of Musillon, Laine Macado, are brothers?”

”That’s right, we are blood brothers.” Fugen nodded; he had no intention of hiding this. He had already planned it out—at most another month in Estalia and Tiriel, and then he would head straight for Brittania.

”It’s like this, Lord Fugen. I have with me a group of ’special prisoners’ who have been exiled, and a number of war orphans who hope to find shelter and protection.” Felix pleaded in a low voice: ”We have no means to settle so many people. Mister Amancio has no way to help us, so I need your aid.”

Kislev is indeed a very peculiar place. There, the exile and banishment of ”special prisoners” has already become a tradition. Many noble scions take pride in being thrown into prison by the Tsar, while generals like Felix consider it a disgrace to shake hands with the Tsar’s Personal Guard—the Krim Guard.