Chapter 1007: Act 178 – The Battle of the White Lion I
In the twilight of the forest, horses neighed in distress while the roars of Earth Dragons echoed through the trees, as if a giant beast were rampaging within the woods, causing unease in the hearts of those who listened. The Dragon Knights of the White Legion found themselves feeling as if arrows were flying at them from all directions, uncertain of how many foes lay in ambush in the shadows, and were forced to make a hasty retreat.
The slanting sun cast its orange glow over the valley beyond the long, winding ridge, and Juliette’s fiery long hair shone brilliantly under the sunset. After she released several arrows from her large crossbow, seeing the Crusian vanguard begin to fall back, she immediately commanded the nearby young wizard, “Hurry, follow the plan!”
“Captain, you have to let me take a break,” Cruz complained, sweat pouring down his forehead like a waterfall. “You think large-scale illusions can be cast effortlessly, let alone two at a time?”
“Enough nonsense, this is an order! If you can’t do it, I’ll cleave your head off with my sword.”
Cruz couldn’t help but curse internally, completely disregarding that the planner of this plan was Mel, whom he had praised before. But grumbling aside, he hastily recited the incantation—he raised his staff, and a hazy army suddenly materialized under his command, as if the mist of the mountains had gathered. Within the fog, horses neighed, sketching the outline of a well-equipped cavalry. Cruz trembled as he maintained his staff, drenched in sweat, while the army moved parallel to the retreating Crusian knights, rushing towards their flanks.
With at least two to three hundred meters of distance between them, and the light dim through the thick trees, the panicked Crusian knights had hardly any time to confirm the authenticity of this cavalry. When they saw the cavalry flanking them, they were struck with fear; clearly a large army lay in ambush before them. If this cavalry managed to encircle them and cut off their escape route, would they not all meet their end here? Although they were escorting thousands of skeletons, these creatures had little combat strength unless their numbers swelled to the thousands. Madara deployed skeleton soldiers in ten-thousands on the front line; in this stealth operation, they were only escorting a batch of those skeleton troops. If the tens of thousands were present here, that would have been different.
The leading knight wasted no time and immediately shouted a warning toward the forest, pulling a signal flare from the saddlebag and igniting the magical rune within it. With a bang, a dazzling signal flare shot into the sky.
The bright red light slowly rose above the valley like a firework, bursting open in mid-air—
Sir Maroly tilted his head back, the brilliant light reflected in his eyes. The same action was mirrored by the dozens of personal knights around him. They all looked up to the sky, but Maroly quickly came to his senses and turned back, waving his hand while shouting, “It’s an ambush! Back to back, form a formation! Al, Pierre, get those skeletons moving and prepare for the cavalry charge!”
As the first line of the Crusian Empire, the White Legion’s knights showcased remarkable composure. They smoothly transitioned into a circular formation, the massive Earth Dragons bowing to allow them to extend their lances, the sound of the weapons aligning creating a sharp noise as a row of long lances stood ready.
The knights named began to step forward to organize the skeletons. In truth, they didn’t need to do much; the undead had no morale and wouldn’t panic under attack. Quickly responding to their commander’s orders, the skeletons tightened their ranks, forming lines to brace against the possible cavalry charge. The knights responsible for formation realized their only task was to act as standards, marking the positions for each regiment of skeletons on the battlefield.
Within just ten minutes, a surprisingly orderly formation emerged in the forest—
From afar, a few young figures from Erluin could be seen showing expressions of joy, including Mel, the one who had proposed the plan—after all, formulating a military strategy in war is one aspect, but whether the unfolding of events adheres to the script is another matter. It depends on numerous factors and cannot solely be managed through brilliance; some commanders are cautious, others reckless. In an unknown scenario for both the enemy and themselves, many variable situations on the battlefield are at the mercy of Lady Martha’s decisions.
At this moment, the young knights from Erluin couldn’t help but shout, “Lady Martha bless us!”
“Don’t let your guard down; this won’t last long,” Juliette, being the leader of the mercenary band, remembered to splash cold water on the overly exhilarated young men. “Soon, we might have to fight to the bitter end. How long we can hold off this Crusian army depends on your abilities.”
However, the youth appeared too excited, thinking the Crusians were not as formidable as they had imagined, paying little heed to her warnings. Juliette sighed, understanding their mindset. She didn’t have much faith in the upcoming battle; the Crusians were performing beyond her expectations, and the combat skills displayed by these foreign knights were not typical of just any army. Even the White Lion Guard under the lord she had seen at Duke Toniger’s might not be this strong, and might even be slightly inferior.
The Crusians are indeed the Crusians; the essence of the empire cannot be compared to a small country like Erluin.
But she also knew it was not the time to advise further; morale could be fragile, and she would not say anything to dampen it. She just hoped to see how many of these young men would survive. She glanced at Mel, the young man from the Royal Knight Academy, who appeared more worried, but overall his concern was far less than hers.
At least the Crusians were already on the move; changing formations on the battlefield is no easy task. Even if they sensed something amiss, making a new decision would take a considerable amount of time. Adjusting their formation would take even longer. Keeping them here for an hour would be more than enough, but that wasn’t enough; they needed to use the terrain to entangle these knights for as long as possible. Juliette looked at the sunset, hoping the sun would set earlier; after dark, it wouldn’t be so easy for the Crusians to figure out how many people were hiding in the forest.
In fact, at the moment the vanguard knights of the White Legion burst forth from the forest, Maroly and his knights sensed something was off. Unlike the knights who had anxiously returned, they could calmly assess the situation. Maroly was concerned about how many foes lay ahead and what force they came from. Were they from the duke’s noble ranks? The Black Legion? Or the army from Fatan Port? His mind was consumed with these questions until the sound of thundering hooves broke the silence of the forest.
“Hoofbeats?” Sir Maroly paused briefly, thinking that it must be light cavalry. There was nothing strange about it; in this terrain, light cavalry could maneuver more easily than heavy cavalry. His Earth Dragon Knights could only passively defend, but the problem was—the hoofbeats were too dense.
For a veteran knight like him, it was instinctive to gauge the enemy’s direction, scale, and even speed just from the sounds of footsteps. While he couldn’t claim precision, his estimates were not far off. An experienced knight’s familiarity with war was ingrained in their blood. Maroly quickly recognized the problem; this dense sound of hoofbeats suggested that at least a unit of light cavalry was charging through the woods in tight formation.
This was highly irregular.
At that moment, a priest accompanying them reminded him, “Sir Knight, look at that cavalry in the forest.” A priest in his early twenties pointed towards the treeline and said, “That cavalry doesn’t seem to be real; it’s likely an illusion created by magic.”
Maroly was not well-versed in magic, but that statement was sufficient for him to realize he had been fooled. “That cavalry is fake! Be wary of enemy tricks!” he shouted angrily.
Before his words had fully left his mouth, the legions of mist that had burst forth indeed evaporated with a loud crash, dissipating into nothingness within the forest.
At that moment, anyone could understand they had been alarmed for no reason.
“Ah!” Nearby, Cruz exclaimed, unable to contain his shock, “The spell failed! Someone dispelled my magic!”
He appeared as though he had just been pulled from the water, drenched but not from rain, rather from sweat. After casting those two illusions, he was utterly spent, leaning against a silvery tree while gasping for breath.
“It’s alright now. This isn’t your fault, Cruz. You did well; they must have figured it out. It was the priest who interfered,” Juliette comforted him. “Now, you should rest aside and regain your magical energy. Keep away from the battlefield; we’ll draw their attention.”
Though Cruz felt weak, he couldn’t help but jump at her words. Although he had been grumbling earlier, he knew very well that the upcoming battle would be the most dangerous. To stall the Crusian cavalry, they not only needed to keep the enemy guessing about their numbers but also inflict some pain on them; it would undoubtedly be a hard-fought battle that could cost blood and lives.
Anyone here could fall, including himself.
“I want to fight with you. You can’t leave me behind,” he argued loudly.
“The wizard’s first duty on the battlefield is to preserve his life,” the beautiful mercenary captain elegantly tossed her head, her fiery red hair unfurling like flames as she smiled at the young wizard.
“But…” Cruz suddenly noticed that nearly all of his companions stood beside their captain, unable to help but stare in disbelief. “You all…”
Before he could finish, he felt a heavy blow from behind, everything went dark, and he collapsed.
Mel caught him and then turned to give Juliette a nod.
“We need someone to inform the lord. This task is up to him,” she instructed, “You go and secure him, set a magical mark on the tree—”
Mel nodded and vanished from sight in an instant.
Juliette, after he left, drew her sword and turned back to the young knights before her, saying calmly, “Don’t look so solemn; we’re not going to die here. What are you afraid of? What are you expecting? Before today, did you ever think you would gallop across the land of the Crusian Empire, facing off against the White Legion, one of the mightiest adversaries of our time? Some of you may find eternal rest here, but no one will dare to mock you because your enemy is so powerful and honorable. However, if you succeed, then from this day onward, our names will resonate throughout the lands of Vaunte.”
The young knights’ eyes lit up with bright flames, the burning resolve of gamblers, and an endless thirst for victory.
“Remember your name! We are the White Lion Guard, a title bestowed upon you by the lord, who has never known defeat, and neither shall you,” the mercenary captain’s sword traced a shining arc in the sunset, pointing forward like a steadfast belief, unbreakable and radiant. “Follow me, let this lion reveal its claws.”
The young knights thundered in response, shouting in unison, “For Erluin we fight, honor in ourselves, glory in our swords!”
Under the setting sun, the mountains lay like those who have long slept.
Sir Maroly made his judgment without delay.
The enemy’s numbers likely weren’t too many; otherwise, there would be no need for such theatrics. Their intent was clearly to pin him here—not an ambush but a blockade. However, the question remained: how many were involved in this blockade? If it weren’t too many, he could force a breakthrough; if too many, then rushing in might lead to disaster.
He promptly fell into hesitance.
Before him lay an empty valley, gaping like a bloodthirsty maw, filled with uncertainty and trepidation.
“My lord knight, it’s time to make a decision,” as the crowd parted, a middle-aged man in a robe stepped forward and said to Maroly, “The people ahead are clearly stalling for time; they might be waiting for reinforcements, and we cannot linger here too long.”
Sir Maroly turned to glance at this man; the man’s face was as pale as a vampire’s, thin enough that a gust of wind could topple him. Maroly’s gaze drifted to the dark ring on the man’s finger. He nodded slightly, “Rest assured, Great Mage Anshire, we will safely escort you to Valarch.”
The man sneered dismissively. “No need to call me Great Mage; I know what my worth is. I’m not here to pressure you, but I would like to remind you that we are still unclear about which faction is ahead. In such a situation, it’s best to make a quick decision to avoid long nights filled with nightmares.”
Sir Maroly nodded slowly and looked towards his knights.
“Let’s proceed with a tentative attack—”
“Wait.”
“What now?” A flash of dissatisfaction crossed Sir Maroly’s eyes.
“Let my skeletons take the lead; it’s too wasteful for noble knights of the empire to engage in probing actions. My troops are perfectly suited for this, and it will be a fitting end for them,” the man stroked his ring and answered leisurely.
Maroly felt a surge of anger at the man’s callous comparison of lives to practicality but understood he meant well. His expression slightly softened, and he nodded.
