I Don’t Need a Guillotine for My Revolution Chapter 42

Revolutionary Period - Western Front (2)

I Don’t Need a Guillotine for My Revolution

Written by – 카르카손
Translated by – Mara Sov


 

༺ Revolutionary Period – Western Front (2) ༻

 

 

 

“Fire!”

 

The artilleryman sparked the fuse with a linstock and jumped back, clamping his ears, as the cannon kicked back with a thunderous blast.

 

I squinted through my telescope, tracking the cannonball as it slammed into the fortress walls.

 

“Ughhh—”

 

Shoved back by the force, the cannon was muscled into place again by the crew, wiping the sweat from their brows as they cooled the smoking barrel with a rod.

 

They hustled to reload, dumping in more gunpowder and wadding, then, with a collective heave, pushed the next cannonball down the barrel.

 

“Fire!”

 

The crew lit the fuse again and stepped back. The cannon jolted with a loud boom, sending another ball flying.

 

This arduous cycle, a grueling and infernally taxing labor, visibly took its toll on the men, a sight clear even from this distance.

 

I raised the telescope again, watching the cannonball bash against the wall, knocking loose bits from the damaged rampart.

 

Most places within the Lionel County gave up pretty quickly, but the Count was hunkering down in his capital fortress.

 

For six days we’ve laid siege to this fortress, and they’re still holding out—guess that says something about the Count’s standing as their lord.

 

The memory of his departure during our last meeting still brings me a pang of regret.

 

While I was lost in thought, the cannon fired off another round, and a chunk of the wall gave way, stirring up a cloud of dust.

 

With a sigh, I handed the telescope to my aide and spurred my horse forward.

 

“Prepare for the assault.”

 

“Understood, General… Men! Prepare for the assault–!!” 

 

 

Soldiers in the uniform of the Revolutionary Army shouldered muskets as they marched, with a ragtag bunch of conscripts from out west trailing behind.

 

Their march thumped across the plains encircling the walls, mingling with the piercing tones of flutes and the rhythm of drums.

 

As they drew near the shattered walls.

 

“Archers!”

 

Arrows zipped from the still-standing walls on both sides, let loose by archers in sync.

 

“Kuhuk!”

 

“Aack!”

 

I whipped out my sword to knock down the incoming arrows, but some of the musketeers up front weren’t so lucky—they dropped, hollering as arrows found their mark.

 

“Aim!”

 

However, these soldiers that we had trained, even if it was for a short time, weren’t so easily shaken.

 

Even as their comrades fell around them, they methodically hoisted their muskets, filled out the powder, and rammed bullets down the barrels.

 

“Fire!”

 

Then, gunfire cracked one after the other, and soon enough, we were staring through a cloud of black powder smoke.

 

This time, it was the enemy on the wall yelping, with a few unlucky ones tumbling over the edge, their cries trailing.

 

It was almost like a back-and-forth, enemies releasing their arrows, then our musketeers taking their shots, over and over.

 

But this was no game, and the ones hitting the dirt weren’t getting back up when it was all over.

 

The only difference in this unfair game was that eventually, the walls went silent as I led my soldiers closer to it.

 

Dismounting from my horse, I stood before my men and said.

 

“Ready.”

 

I surveyed the soldiers, taut and edged with cold steel, swiftly affixing bayonets to their muskets.

 

“Charge!”

 

“Woooooh—!”

 

I led the charge, sword drawn, as the soldiers followed with a roar.

 

Arrows continued to rain from the remnants on the walls, but the cries of the struck were lost amid the thunder of the charge.

 

“Block them! Halt their advance!”

 

Spearman emerged from the rubble-strewn breach to obstruct our path.

 

“Huk!”

 

However, as I led the onslaught, shattering their spears, their defense crumbled.

 

“Follow the Marquis!”

 

“Long live the Republic!”

 

Our soldiers rushed the now defenseless spearmen and screams and blood flew.

 

“Uaaak!”

 

I swung my sword, cleaving one soldier’s chest, then thrust and twisted it into another’s neck before wrenching it free.

 

“Hi, hiik-!”

 

“Kurk-“

 

I kicked the awkwardly standing enemy, sending him tumbling to the ground, and with a horizontal slash of my sword, the soldier who was late to react clutched his throat, spurting blood and falling.

 

“You cur!”

 

As the soldiers began to stumble and retreat to avoid me, a knight clad in clanking armor charged towards me.

 

In stark contrast to my attire—a mere light breastplate atop my military garb—he was fully kitted out, a sight that had been utterly ordinary just a year ago.

 

“Lafayette! Betrayer to the nobility!”

 

Dodging the spear hurled by the charging knight with a twist of my body, I thrust my mana-infused sword into him.

 

The mana that the knight hastily conjured to protect himself was effortlessly shattered by my sword.

 

“Cough, kuh…!”

 

His armor, which failed to block the direct hit and only hindered his movements, couldn’t protect its wearer when my sword pierced its joints.

 

“Count Lionel……M-My Lord…I…, ugh…aaaah!”

 

Even after being stabbed, the knight tried to draw the sword at his waist, but as I twisted and pulled out my sword, he spilled blood and collapsed powerlessly to the ground.

 

His body struggled to rise but soon lost strength and slumped down.

 

“Gasp, Baron Messi-!”

 

“It can’t be…!”

 

Whether the knight I had killed was a commander or not, disturbance quickly spread among the enemies.

 

Perhaps this man was to Count Lionel what Baron Domont was for me.

 

No, that port-bellied man wouldn’t be capable of such a thing.

 

I let out a bitter chuckle as I surveyed the battlefield.

 

By now, the enemies were retreating towards the inner defenses, and only our victorious comrades shouting and those writhing in pain on the ground remained.

 

I caught a glimpse of Eris as she entered through the breach just behind me.

 

She seemed ready to kneel and cast a healing spell, so I quickly approached and gently held her shoulder to stop her.

 

“Eris.”

 

“Ah, Marquis?”

 

“You’re not planning on healing everyone here, enemy or ally, are you?”

 

“That’s….”

 

“Concentrate on our own wounded and those enemies who have surrendered.”

 

Though her face was veiled, her body language betrayed her unease.

 

“But if we take the time to identify them, some might die…”

 

“Can you be certain that an enemy you heal won’t harm one of our own later?”

 

It’s a hard truth for someone as compassionate as she is, but since she’s chosen to be here, she needs to understand the realities of war.

 

“What if you use up your energy healing indiscriminately and we’re attacked again? What if I, your commander, am struck down?”

 

After a pause, Eris nodded.

 

“…Understood, Marquis. I will follow your instructions.”

 

“Thank you, Eris. I trust you to manage this.”

 

“…I’m sorry.”

 

Her voice carried a hint of sorrow, and I let out a soft chuckle.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with a saint wanting to save lives. It’s those who have to choose who lives and who dies that bear the burden.”

 

I said this as I turned to leave.

 

“……Leave that weight to me.”

 

 

Upon regrouping the troops and reaching the inner defenses, a familiar middle-aged man stood before the gate.

 

“Count Lionel.”

 

The Count, donning light armor, brandished a sword and shield, pointing his blade in my direction.

 

“Marquis Pierre De Lafayette. Leo De Lionel challenges you to a duel of honor.”

 

A duel, he says.

 

Sigh.

 

“And why must I accept this duel?”

 

“Victory in this duel means my men will cease fighting and surrender at once.”

 

“I regret to inform you, Count, but even without this duel, Lionel’s defeat is certain.  I see no reason to stake my life. Soldiers of Lionel, you face certain defeat. Those who lay down their arms will be spared.”

 

Yet, the soldiers atop the walls stood firm.

 

True to their honor, they stood loyal amidst the insurmountable odds.

 

If only Count Lionel was a rotten man like Duke Lorenne.

 

As I was clicking my tongue, Count Lionel spoke again.

 

“I’m well aware of the ongoing conflict with foreign powers in the North. Are the lives of your men and time not of the essence? If you choose dishonor, shunning the warrior’s way, then you are but a mere traitor of the Republic.”

 

“Hah……”

 

“Marquis……”

 

As if the news from a messenger during the siege about our southern forces facing Grand Duke Leopold wasn’t troubling enough, he seemed to know my situation all too well.

 

“I guess. I’ll have to oblige.”

 

As I drew my sword and stepped forward, the soldiers from both sides, without any need for prompt, roared in anticipation.

 

It almost felt like a farce, and I couldn’t help but smirk bitterly.

 

It seems this battlefield only draws from me such smiles.

 

“Count Lionel of yore, valorous in combat. I trust you will uphold your vow, with the honor of a knight.”

 

“……I commend the Marquis for entering this duel, for knightly honor and the welfare of his troops. I vow upon my honor, the promise shall stand.”

 

Brief words were exchanged, followed by a moment of silence.

 

Count Lionel sprang forth with a swiftness belying his age, his sword and shield at the ready.

 

“Tsk!”

 

I deflected his blade, but his shield came at me with lethal intent.

 

Retreating just in time, I narrowly evaded the assault.

 

“HAAH-!”

 

Count Lionel roared and charged with his shield in front.

 

“Damn it.”

 

As soon as I parried the shield with my left arm, enveloped in mana, the arm creaked as a searing pain flooded my senses, and before I could grimace, Count Lionel’s sword, targeting my neck, clashed with mine.

 

“You knew of the foreign nations invading our land, and yet, you tried to stir a peasant revolt?” 

 

Count Lionel gave his mustache a twitch and his brow a furrow.

 

While we exchanged words, my left arm throbbed with relentless agony, and I kicked his shield to gain some distance.

 

The Count regained his balance and questioned.

 

“Was there another choice?”

 

He pointed his sword at me.

 

“Should I have sat by, awaiting ruin when those insurgents came for me and my lineage?”

 

“I proposed a path with the Republic. I, along with Countess Aquitaine, and the lords who joined us, are proving that we can stand with them now.”

 

“Heup-!”

 

Count Lionel charged again with his shield at the forefront.

 

Shield in the left hand, sword in the right.

 

I met his advance head-on, sidestepping the shield and directing my blade toward an opening on his right.

 

“Kuk?!”

 

My sword pierced through Count Lionel’s mana, nicking his chest. But even though his enhancement shattered it bought him enough time to divert my sword.

 

Tsk, the cut was too shallow.

 

While both of us tried to catch our breaths, the Count said.

 

“Perhaps you find solace in their company. But do you remember for what we spilled blood in the Civil War?”

 

Even with his armor stained by blood, his posture remained unyielding.

 

Unlike lesser Knights, the Count’s experience in combat made him a worthy adversary.

 

“During the Civil War, I witnessed the fall of many vassals, knights, and my own men. And For what cause? Fealty to a Prince? No! All I did was to protect Lionel’s domain! To protect our honor!” 

 

Count Lionel’s gaze burned with an intense flame.

 

“Marquis, I have fought for so long to protect this land, this name, bestowed by my forefathers, long before you first stepped onto the battlefield! What worth is there in a life that renders all of that futile, merely to preserve this single existence!”

 

“…By orchestrating events to impart meaning upon your life, Count, does it excuse the demise of countless others who might have lived? And those who perished in your name, are they truly saved?”

 

Count Lionel pressed his lips together as I continued.

 

“…At least I harbor no shame. They may have forfeited their legacy due to me, but in its stead, we shall forge something new.”

 

“Very well, Marquis. I see that we are destined to remain at odds.”

 

The fire in Count Lionel’s eyes never waned. Ultimately, no words would ever sway him. 

 

For him, this course must have seemed the optimal choice, confined by his role and those he cherishes.

 

Perhaps the gap between us stems from my diverging actions during this life, something that should have never happened in the first place.

 

Trying to keep my breathing in check, I tightened the hold on my sword.

 

Count Lionel’s gaze momentarily tracked my right hand wielding the blade, and then our feet kicked the ground in unison.

 

“Lafayette!”

 

As Count Lionel’s shield barreled toward me, I switched my sword to my left hand and unsheathed the dagger at my hip with my right.

 

Shifting my leg as though to lunge to the right—

 

“Hyaahp!”

 

I dodged the swinging shield and instead dug into the left.

 

“Kuk?!”

 

Confusion flashed across Count Lionel’s face as our swords collided, sending violent vibrations.

 

As both of us flinched from the numbing pain in our arms, the dagger I had thrown with my right hand buried itself into Count Lionel’s chest, where my sword had pierced just before.

 

Even though the dagger was imbued with mana, it failed to fully pierce the Count’s own mana enhancement and his sturdy armor.

 

“Kuh, ugh-ah! Not like this—!”

 

With the blade half-sunk into his chest, Count Lionel roared in defiance.

 

In that instant, I drove my foot into the dagger’s hilt embedded in his chest.

 

“Kaaahk!”

 

The blade sliced through his mesh armor, biting into his flesh, and shredding his muscles. Only when the whole blade had been embedded inside his chest, did Count Lionel drop his sword and shield, crumbling to his knees.

 

“My lord!”

 

“Save the Count!”

 

Enemies atop the ramparts shouted in desperation, attempting to rush out.

 

“Do you intend to tarnish even my last moments?!”

 

A thunderous bellow, unfathomable from one so grievously wounded, quelled all clamor on the battlefield.

 

In the stillness, a knight once radiant with valor and resolve now spoke with the fatigued tone of an elderly man.

 

“Such is the end of our long battle.” 

 

The Count let out a hollow laugh, then coughed while looking at the blood flowing from his chest and soaking the ground.

 

After a moment of silence, he spoke again.

 

“My son, Gilles. That child, he… opposed my plans…. And fled this land.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“……The lands and honor of Lionel shall perish with me, but the lineage of Lionel…..My Blood….That….Child….” 

 

The Count looked at me weakly, pleading in his gaze.

 

“Will you overlook just that boy?”

 

“Should he depart these realms and shed no further blood, it shall be as you wish.”

 

“…I beg of you. Ancestors, forgive me for my disgrace…”

 

The Count didn’t finish his prayer.

 

Seeing the gates open and those bearing white flags rushing out, I slowly reached out to close his eyes.

 


TL note: I have promised.

I have delivered.

Although my fate verse fanfic binge may have delayed this chapter kewk.

What can I say….Mama loves sum Fate.

Omg Archer is just too hot.

I Don’t Need a Guillotine for My Revolution

I Don’t Need a Guillotine for My Revolution

Score 9.08
Status: Ongoing Released: 2021 Native Language: Korean
As a noble of a corrupt kingdom, I died after failing to quell the Revolution. When I opened my eyes, I returned to the time before the Revolution erupted. Now, to survive, I must join the Revolution.

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