volume 2 - Chapter 133 (1/2)
Chapter 133 – Romaine’s second plan (1)
In the bountiful pastures of the northern highlands, the citizens who lived there circulated a famous legend, which depicted the soldiers left behind in the battlefield to be people who were watched by the G.o.d of Death.
Kren Norsdt had heard of this legend too. He was hired by the northern kingdom’s Baltha region, and was born in a gentry family. He was considerably talented as a beast tamer, and enrolled in the Dragoon Knight’s 34th wing and became a Dragoon. That particular platoon was part of the southern region’s army, but it was defeated by Madara and their commander slain in battle. (TL: Not sure how to use gentry in a sentence. n.o.bles > Gentry > Commoner, in terms of social ranking.)
However, the squadron did not wait for a truce, and a.s.saulted Madara harder each time the days went by. The n.o.bles that were further away from the battles, used the ongoing negotiations at that time as an excuse not to provide any support for them.
The messengers that were sent out to the White-Mane Army and the other armies from Arreck did not return, and the situation grew more desperate, and the situation turned out like how the next highest ranking officer in the 34th wing predicted:
“The southern region’s situation is becoming worse every day. We do not know where our brothers are after being separated, and the Madara army continues to attack from all directions. We are unable to contact anyone and it seems like all news have been sealed off. It is impossible to retreat. The n.o.bles are acting on their own, and this land has completely fallen away from the kingdom’s control by now. Marsha above, I pray that I will see this nightmare end while I still live—“
But it was all pointless to Kren right now.
He rode on his injured flying dragon and patrolled one of the villages destroyed by the undead. He tried taking to the sky when he was discovered, but the thick arrows managed to pierce the dragon’s eye and brought it down shrieking in pain. When it finally crashed back down onto the ground, he found that it had succ.u.mbed to its injuries and was pinning him down. He looked at the surroundings with despondent eyes and gritted teeth.
He became someone who received the gaze of the G.o.d of Death.
He tried getting his body out from but he immediately yelled out in pain. That crash had broken numerous bones in his body and realized there was no possible way for him to drag himself out. In the end, he sighed and reached for his light crossbow, loaded it with a bolt and shot at one of the skeletons.
The bolt had been blessed with Holy Water and shone brightly as it was fired towards the skeleton, making it hurl backwards, while setting it aflame before it turned into dust.
More of these white lights were fired into the air, but even more undead drowned out Kren’s sight. The youth reminisced upon the time when he first heard of how Madara split up their armies into three different routes. Almost everyone in the army, regardless of whether they were n.o.bles or commoners, held a light-hearted att.i.tude towards their enemies. They believed that these barbaric Dark Lords were going to fight amongst themselves and fall apart because of their uncoordinated commanding, just like how they failed in history every single time.
The result was utterly beyond their expectations. The Madara’s advancing army was swift and decisive, calmly taking every bit of advantage whenever a mistake was made. On the contrary, Aouine’s army was like a slow and elderly man. They unable to defend at vital points because they were late to respond, and even when they went into battle, they were haggard soldiers fighting the tireless undead.
Aouine’s days of glory were long gone, and the praise from the 17th pope of the Holy Cathedral of Flames three hundred years ago describing Aouine as ‘The Fiery Blade that represents the s.h.i.+ning glory of the Old Eras’, was nothing more than history.
When Kren finally exhausted his supply of Holy Bolts, he gripped the pendant containing his wife’s portrait and looked up. A giant skeleton had already blocked off the sunlight from reaching him—
The Soul Flames of its eyes jumped about.
“Farewell, my father, mother, and my lovely Vanessa. I wish you remember your son and husband, and the many others who fought to protect Aouine…… This kingdom can no longer see hope……”
============== Brendel POV =============
At the end of the tenth month, the scent of autumn was becoming denser. Trentheim’s gra.s.slands were dyed with a layer of pale yellow and had a picturesque scenery. But when Brendel and the others rode through the rural village’s path, they could feel the war’s aftermath.
After Rauze had ripped his leather armor apart, he decided not to replace it with another, and ordered a black comfortable robe and clothing set from a tailor during their journey. He was now sitting on the horse with a contrasting pair of white gloves, and a silver-plated sword at his waist, looking like a young n.o.ble.
But this was not because he wanted to enjoy being one. It was simply because it was easier for him to avoid any additional troubles. After leaving Chablis, the month-long journey was quite peaceful, but it was clear that public order was poor due to the war. Most of the bandits were formed by peasants whose livelihood were destroyed.
Brendel had resummoned his mercenaries and formed up into a group of twenty one men strong, and they were all well-equipped. These peasant-bandits hardly had the courage to rob them.
Brendel glanced at the empty villages along the way with unhappy eyes. He had been warned by Rauze that an army of Madara undead was marching towards Trentheim’s southern area. This knowledge was no different from what he knew in the previous world. The ‘Black Lord’ Incirsta would stay in Randner’s region for half a year after the truce, simply because he was greedy to gain more from Aouine. This kingdom at its current state was unable to fend him off anyways.