This is a war.
Sir Maryland certainly knew this was a war, he knew it from the very beginning, but at this moment, he couldn't understand what Gawain meant by saying this—is there something special about war?
Aristocrats make declarations, submit letters, documents, and war notices according to etiquette, gather knights and conscription soldiers, agree on time and place, form ranks, charge, fight, capture prisoners, exchange interests—in necessary times, decide everything through honorable duels and oaths, isn't this war?
The legendary Sword of Pioneers, as famous as the Grand Duke, once again struck his knight's sword. The blazing fire on the blade made it almost impossible to breathe. The flaming black blade made one think of the dark and corrupted Gondor wasteland, and the flames on the blade were reminiscent of the lights that illuminated the wasteland seven hundred years ago—but at this moment, Sir Maryland had no extra energy to think about these things with admiration.
