After praising Lucian's chivalric spirit, Natasha suddenly chuckled in a low voice: "I'm truly sorry for dragging you into such a dangerous battle before you've even held a girl's hand for the first time. Lucian, I'll definitely introduce you to a wonderful girl once this is over."
"...Please don't bring up things like that at a time like this," Lucian exhaled helplessly.
But seeing how quickly Natasha had composed herself—even finding the mood to crack jokes—Lucian felt considerably more at ease. She was the only Rank Five Great Knight on their side, and whether they could break through or not didn't hinge on him, but on her!
Natasha turned to face the other three and asked with a serious, earnest expression: "Sir Yakashya, Sir Daniel, Sir Bochit—why did you stay behind as well?"
Yakashya was not particularly handsome among the bloodline nobles. His flaxen hair and eyes were quite ordinary, yet he carried himself with grace and elegance, his bearing outstanding. He pointed to his heart on the left side of his chest: "My heart tells me it is beating powerfully. It is not the heart of a coward."
"From the moment I rose from commoner to knight, I became intoxicated by noble privileges and glory, and I made many mistakes—some serious enough to warrant the gallows. But the one thing that has never changed in me is my conviction to strike down evil!" Daniel was a middle-aged man with a pair of cold, ruthless grey eyes. He drew a cross over his chest. "Perhaps I am nearing the end of my life. Please allow me to make my confession to those I have wronged."
Bochit, who had only recently been made a full knight and still looked a bit green, scratched at his black hair. His pale green eyes shone with determination: "I don't want the first real battle after becoming a knight to end in surrender. I don't want my little Yawei to laugh at me."
At the mention of Yawei, Bochit's expression turned gentle and shy.
Having reviewed the knights who were hers, Natasha turned her focused gaze to the two squire-knights who had stayed: "Bright, Teard, all the squires and soldiers have fled—only the two of you chose to stay. Why?"
Teard was a half-elf with delicate, lovely features. She stammered: "Actually, actually—I think they'll definitely kill anyone who surrenders. Only the dead can keep secrets."
"Your Highness, you—you actually remember my name!" Bright was visibly moved. "I shared the same worry as Teard, but now I want to fight for you!"
Verdi had not attacked while Natasha was questioning her knights and squires. He simply watched her converse with them one by one—whether out of a desire to begin the battle with the courtesy and spirit of a knight, or in anticipation of some more decisive turn, it was hard to say.
Now, hearing the words of the two squires, he retorted sharply: "All these knights, squires, and soldiers followed me here—do you think I would kill them? As long as there is no proof that I colluded with devils or mages, and with the support of the vast majority of the duchy's nobility, the Church will never punish me. Moderate assassinations, infighting, and civil strife among the nobility—the Church is perfectly content to see and tacitly allow. Doesn't the Gustav Empire's royal family's inability to control its great lords prove as much?"
Natasha seemed to have realized many things, and shook her head with a smile: "Dear cousin, if you haven't figured out why the Arcane Council sent someone to assassinate me, then you have no idea how much importance the Church places on 'me.' Even if you kill me, the Iris bloodline isn't yours alone."
In the stunned silence that followed, Natasha looked once more at the seven "knights" beside her.
Aside from Lucian, who maintained that same terrifying calm, Wyen, Yakashya, and the others had all just articulated their reasons for staying. They were more resolute than ever, brimming with fighting spirit.
Natasha's smile vanished. Her expression turned firm and unyielding, her right hand pressed against her left chest. Her voice rose, passionate and thundering:
"My knights! Their knights outnumber ours and their strength exceeds ours, but in order to cut off our escape, they've spread themselves around us on all sides. In a head-on charge, we only need to face slightly more enemies than ourselves."
"If we crush the forces blocking us before the other knights can close in, we will have victory!"
Even knowing full well how fast a Great Knight could move, how fast a knight on a dragon-scale horse could gallop, that a head-on clash lasting more than ten seconds would mean being completely surrounded—in Natasha's rousing speech, Yakashya, Bochit, and the others felt as though there truly might be a chance to break through the encirclement. Their spirits soared higher still, and they shouted battle cries to keep themselves at peak excitement and readiness:
"Victory!" "Victory!" "Victory!"
Verdi saw that the other side had begun rallying. No longer willing to wait for the arrival of a Heavenly Knight or a high-tier mage, he waved his hand and signaled the surrounding knights to urge their mounts forward, pressing in at a steady acceleration from slow to fast.
Natasha turned to face Verdi directly. There stood two Rank Five Great Knights and four regular knights—the strongest link in the entire encirclement!
She raised her three-meter lance "Slaughterer" in her right hand, clamping it in the crook of her arm, while her left hand hovered over the hilt of her longsword "Natasha's Thunder." She bellowed:
"The knights of the Iris family are renowned for their valor—we have always crushed our enemies head-on!"
Her voice was resolute and ringing, tinged with a thrill of excitement—as though she had been dreaming of a moment like this for a very long time.
As a mage whose foremost prerequisites were composure and focus, Lucian could hardly believe what he was hearing. Natasha was actually thinking about charging head-on to smash through Verdi's forces at a time like this?!
But the other knights were growing excited. To attempt a frontal charge in the jaws of desperation—to overwhelm the enemy by sheer force—there was something deeply chivalric and heroic about it.
Natasha pressed on:
"My knight's creed is to advance, advance, always advance—to crush every obstacle head-on!"
"If you're men, then crush them head-on!"
"With glory to the Iris!"
She squeezed her legs against the black dragon-scale horse "Agatha" and was the first to charge forward.
"For glory to the Iris!"
Yakashya, Lucian, and Wyen in the second row; Daniel, Teard, Bright, and Bochit in the third row—they roared and surged after her. Among them, only Lucian lacked that white-hot knightly passion for sacrificing oneself in the name of glory. He kept one eye on vigilance, his longsword at the ready, while at the same time preparing to activate the "Crown of the Sun" at a moment's notice.
The tall black mare "Agatha" snorted two thick, dark trails of vapor from her nostrils, corroding the road behind her in a streak of intermittent, mottled scars. Every dragon-scale on her body had bristled outward, giving her the appearance of a dragon unleashing its breath. Her four hooves hammered the ground with tremendous, booming clarity.