Chapter 72

Chapter 72: Act 8 – Knights, Charge Forward

Retao and Mano ultimately chose to believe Brendel’s words. If someone could speak so confidently, even if he were lying, he at least had to have some confidence and ability. The key was that Brendel provided them with a sufficient reason: the reward—mercenaries and rewards are inseparable; rewards act like a safety net—making everything unreasonable seem reasonable.

It didn’t take long for more than a dozen seasoned mercenaries to gather. They communicated through gestures, one by one, their horses soaring out of the crowd and gathering together. In a moment, they were all present.

These mercenaries were not ordinary; they were exceptional. Brendel thought to himself.

However, he also called for the constabulary cavalry to gather. He needed to split his own men into two groups; although some of them were a bit disgraceful, they could still be trained and utilized.

Brendel had the horses run a lap around these people, then he stopped on one side, holding a pocket watch to estimate the time.

From a distance, many refugees lined up in a long line slowly moved forward, watching this cavalry squad of over twenty men, guessing what they might do. Many of them were latecomers and didn’t know Brendel but were rather impressed by the lady knight riding along the line to maintain order.

They continuously asked who that girl was, causing Freya’s identity to rise from being the militia captain in the citizens’ eyes to the chief of the constabulary cavalry, then to a member of the White-Maned Swordsmen, or even the chief of the Buche security team. In any case, she was at least their leader. They just needed to follow that figure, and she would naturally lead them out.

The slender second hand made its final tick, and Brendel froze the moment in time—

He raised the elven sword and pointed forward. The cavalry immediately moved forward slowly, and under his guidance, the riders gathered together to charge towards the high ground along an unremarkable route.

“What is he doing?”

“If we rush straight in like this, we will look like fools if that team of skeleton cavalry doesn’t appear in that direction,” Mano couldn’t help but ask.

“If those monsters appear in another direction and counterattack, the refugees will be scattered before we can save them. That kid doesn’t know how to fight; how could you believe him?” another person said.

“Aren’t you believing him too?”

“I’m just here for the money.” The person was momentarily stunned, then immediately retorted.

Brendel had already issued the order for the cavalry to hasten their pace. The sound of hooves thundered on the riverbank, and in two seconds, as Brendel estimated the time, they arrived at the high ground a step ahead. The riders were stunned as they just crested the rise.

They saw a squad of about forty skeleton cavalry quickly retreating on the other side, indicating that Brendel had indeed chosen the right direction and caught the enemy off guard, seizing the high ground first.

Everyone couldn’t help but look at the young man with astonishment—how had he judged this?

As soon as the riders appeared on the high ground, the skeleton cavalry below began to turn. But Brendel just glanced at the opposite side, swung his sword twice, and pointed out a tangent to everyone—

He wanted them to charge.

But this was hardly the time for a charge; it was too rash! What if those undead turned in an unexpected direction? Besides, how fast could they start? Nobody knew; if they rushed in recklessly, wouldn’t they give up the hard-earned initiative?

They should have waited, tested each other, and as long as they firmly held the high ground, the initiative would always belong to them.

Not only the mercenaries but even the constabulary cavalry had their eyes on Brendel. This young man had magically seized the initiative from the beginning, instilling a bit of confidence within them; therefore, at this moment, they weren’t willing to give up that advantage.

But Brendel seemed oblivious, continuing to point his sword in that direction, which signified one meaning—knights, charge forward!

Then he pulled on the reins, turned his horse’s head, and rode around his cavalry, leading the charge himself.

“Those with courage, follow me—”

“If you can’t catch them, at least drive them below the high ground.”

Brendel shouted, his act of leading from the front infused these people with a kind of power—a power called confidence. In Erluin’s most prosperous times, knights and nobles were like flags on the battlefield; where they stood was where the will of the kingdom lay—

Unstoppable.

However, for many years, this country had not seen such a climate. It was as if it could only reminisce about its most glorious years in its twilight; yet even those memories were gradually disintegrating and fading away.

But at this moment, a figure stood on the little high ground outside Ridenburg, like a lightning bolt in the darkness, piercing down to seem like it was about to unfold an era.

Charles stared at his lord’s back, his eyes shining, and he couldn’t help but put his fingers to his mouth and whistle, urging his warhorse to gallop down.

Two men, two horses, and they charged forward.

Mano, charged with adrenaline, drew his curved sword and glanced irritably at the figure that had leaped forward. The horse and rider moved as one, flawlessly, not allowing anyone to point out a single flaw: “Didn’t you say he couldn’t ride?”

“He truly couldn’t at first.”

“Then you must have been tricked by him, ha ha.”

“Shut your mouth!” a disgruntled voice retorted.

The riders raised their weapons high, shouting in unison, and like a surging flood, they charged down. At that moment, even the most timid constabulary cavalry felt their blood boil—immersed in the rolling tide, individual strength blended into a vast collective, giving rise to an illusion of invincibility.

As soon as their warhorses took action, they believed they would surely achieve victory.

In the mercenaries’ eyes, that young man’s sword seemed to always point forward, toward a path leading to miracles. They began to charge, accelerating, rolling down—the group of skeleton cavalry desperately tried to turn and start up, but their path seemed entirely within Brendel’s expectations.

More than thirty cavalrymen crashed head-on into the fragile formation of those skeletal frames like a heavy hammer. With a flick of his hand, Brendel sent a crescent-shaped wind pressure sweeping away four skeleton soldiers on horseback—compressed air struck against their brittle ribs, caving them in and breaking, then their spines, sending half their bodies flying—

They collapsed.

With a crack, a huge gap suddenly appeared in the side of the skeleton cavalry.

Brendel shouted furiously, pushing forward; the skeleton soldiers blocking him were blasted away along with swordsmen, while he knocked down another skeleton cavalry. Then, experienced mercenaries surged in and tore open that gap, even passing through the center of this undead scout cavalry—

The necromancer in charge barely had time to read the second line of the spell before Brendel beheaded him with a single strike; he fell from the skeletal horse and, in an instant, turned into a pile of burning white flames.

Brendel led the riders through, with only one constabulary cavalry sustaining a wound on his arm. He turned everyone back, seemingly unifying with the persona he had when leading an attacking regiment in the game—he raised his sword, and every skeleton cavalry he struck sparked countless golden lights—those lights soared into the sky and headed straight for Brendel.

531 experience points; the skeleton soldiers were the lowest-ranked troops of Madara, but skeleton cavalry offered a bit more experience than the usual low-level necromancers. Because not only were they stronger, but their agility was outstandin—ordinary warhorses found it hard to catch up with these purely skeletal frames.

And without the necromancer, the aimless skeletons began to act on instinct, their instinct to destroy living creatures, gathering together and preparing to charge.

But Brendel easily commanded the mercenaries to bypass them and reclaim the high ground. They met once more. As a result, another constabulary cavalry was struck in the thigh, and Brendel earned another 131 experience points, then annihilated the skeleton cavalry squad.

Brendel ordered his cavalry to stop, resting in place. He then led a group with Charles to clean the battlefield. Upon seeing the scattered skeletal frames and skeletal horses that had fallen to the ground after losing their masters, everyone could hardly believe their eyes.

They had actually won, with only two injuries.

Yet they didn’t know that Brendel’s understanding of the tactics concerning Madara’s skeleton cavalry might surpass even the necromancer who commanded them. The young man sat on his horse, staring at the misty eastern horizon, pursing his lips: Madara felt like his nemesis in the game, one he had never defeated, but now it was different.

The skeleton cavalry carried little of value, and Brendel merely inspected them slightly before instructing Julian to collect their swords. Madara’s black blade was relatively notable among even the common swords—it wasn’t every race’s craftsmen that had the chance to forge steel with soul fire like the undead smiths.

Then he pointed off into the distance to Retao and Mano, saying, “Listen.”

At that moment, the looks in Mano and Retao’s eyes towards Brendel had completely changed. In the previous battle, he had not only proven his commanding abilities; his extraordinary swordsmanship and terrifying strength had deeply shocked everyone present.

The skeletons who dared to cross swords with him were left with shattered bone pieces flying out, even Madara’s soul-forged steel bending and breaking beneath that elven sword.

Especially that confidence Brendel exuded—anyone who had charged alongside him undoubtedly would become enamored with that exhilarating feeling.

Mano and Retao were taken aback and immediately listened carefully. But they soon heard a sound cascading like a stream.

“The skeleton army, no, a sea of skeletons.”

To Brendel’s surprise, it was Retao who spoke first, judging quite accurately. He turned his head to take a closer look at this so-called tavern owner; clearly, this individual’s identity was not as simple as it seemed. He had long suspected that these mercenaries had backgrounds, and such strength suggested they were more than mere war profiteers.

Mano’s expression changed too; the number of skeletons beyond the fog could be in the thousands. He couldn’t help but look back at Brendel—how did this young man know? If he didn’t, how could he have timed the attack on that team of undead scout cavalry so perfectly?

It was almost too exact.

If that squad of undead scouts wasn’t eliminated, they would have surely fallen into a dire predicament. Unless they abandoned those refugees to escape, but it seemed neither Brendel nor Freya would agree to that.

“Should we go up and hold them off?” Retano asked, his expression darkening.

“There’s no need. They can’t catch us without cavalry to restrain them,” Brendel waved his hand. “Just understand this matter; there’s no need to speak of it. I am very clear on Madara’s tactical intentions, and since you are following me, I have the confidence to lead you out—”

“However, one thing is certain: battle is unavoidable, and each of us might die here. The fighting will be intense, not like this minor skirmish. You’d better prepare yourselves mentally.”

“Mental preparation,” Mano grinned, “We are mercenaries, kid; when it comes to this, we are far better than you. Let me tell you one thing, Retao here has experienced fights worse than the Blood Battle of Knock Valley.”

A veteran of the November Wars? Brendel glanced at Retano, smiled, and sheathed his sword without responding.

He lifted his head to look at the moon in the east—the moonlight was growing fainter, and dawn was fast approaching—at least before the morning light rose, they wouldn’t encounter any specters that night.

He sighed with relief.

*

(PS. Second update, counting—please keep requesting monthly tickets and subscriptions, feeling a bit melancholic.) (To be continued. To know what happens next, please log in, more chapters await, support the author, support legitimate reading!)