Chapter 470: Act 219 – Battle by the Riverbank (III)
As soon as the rockets touched the trees, they ignited, and the moisture in the trees evaporated, instantly forming billowing thick smoke. The Grudin infantry, clad in gray-green battle robes, took the opportunity to advance, nearly crossing the shallow water and entering the forest on this side. The attack was unbelievably smooth, and even from a distance, watching the battlefield, Sir Parsons couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
But at that very moment, a rumble of thunder suddenly echoed from the forest, and a large mass of dark clouds gathered above the treetops at a visible speed. Then, accompanied by a flash of golden lightning, a downpour of rain fell suddenly, extinguishing the flames that had just been ignited almost instantaneously.
As the flames were snuffed out, the thunderstorm continued to extend forward, with several bolts of lightning striking the riverbank where the Grudin infantry and hill warriors were gathered. With explosive sounds, blood and flesh splattered among the crowd. Golden lightning burst open several craters in the ground, and the debris raining down felt like hail upon the heads of those around them, leading to a chorus of screams.
The morale of the Grudin infantry crumbled in an instant. Ignoring whether there were still archers behind them, they turned to flee, their speed ten times faster than before. These noble private soldiers lacked any will to fight, and although the accompanying hill warriors were strong, the war held no meaning for them; naturally, they turned and ran when the Grudin infantry retreated. However, compared to the already terrified and disorganized Grudin troops, the hill warriors managed to retreat in an orderly manner, gathering together.
The two knight lords accompanying Parsons observed this scene and turned to glance at Count Rendener, the true commander of this campaign. They were surprised by the battle discipline of the hill warriors. As they thought of Parsons, who had long led his armies to victory over these hill people and forced their submission, they fell silent. They naturally resented being subordinate to Parsons, but after witnessing the performance of their own troops, they could only remain quiet.
At this moment, the dark clouds were passing over the heads of the Grudin infantry, moving towards the array of archers on the opposite bank of the river. A foreboding sense of disaster spread through Sir Wiggins, the commander of the archer line, “Retreat! Quick retreat!” he screamed, but it was too late. A golden network of electricity suddenly descended from the sky, exploding among the three lines of archers, and in an instant, more than two squads of carefully trained noble archers were obliterated.
Sir Wiggins himself was struck by the lightning, but the chainmail he wore saved him from a fatal blow. His aide, however, was not so lucky, and was burned to a crisp. Wiggins, covered in dirt and ash, struggled to his feet, overcome with grief. An entire squad of archers had been wiped out in that round of attack. While the actual losses were only about twenty to thirty, the remaining soldiers were already too frightened to fight again anytime soon.
Not to mention that at this moment, the storm clouds above were still surging, ready to unleash a second wave of lightning. The archers, upon witnessing this, collapsed in horror like the foot soldiers before them, screaming and turning to flee. Common folk had no capacity to withstand such overwhelming natural forces, and while the knights under Parsons, who were more experienced and knowledgeable, might handle it slightly better, they were certainly no match for the noble private soldiers.
But just then, a deep chanting began to resonate from the forest, the rhythmic incantations seemingly gathering an invisible force in the air. The atmospheric pressure suddenly dropped a few degrees. The storm clouds in the sky halted abruptly, then dissipated piecemeal, revealing clear skies, vanishing without a trace.
First, there was silence in the forest, and then a cheer erupted from the north bank of the Gris River.
“It’s a dispelling spell; at least three points of chanting,” said Brendel, as a druid clad in moss turned to report after listening intently.
“No, it’s four,” said Charles, shaking his head upon hearing this.
“Four?” The others dared not refute; there were no great druids among the first group sent to the Cold Fir Territory, and Charles could be considered the foremost spellcaster here. Furthermore, high-level spellcasters were rare; it was said that Count Rendener had two golden-tier wizards at his side, but it was uncertain whether they were present on this occasion.
“If there are four wizards here, that doesn’t mean there are only four. Unfortunately, we don’t know exactly how many there are. The intelligence reports indicate that Parsons’ mage contingent could exceed thirty individuals, which includes silver-tier spellcasters, so it’s quite plausible,” replied Crenshia.
He was nominally the commander of the mercenaries here, while the more reliable Vurn was assigned to assist in commanding the eight hundred gnomes. In addition, Brendel had ordered the ‘Bronzesteeldragon’ Retao and others to replace Juliette’s mercenary group stationed at the silver mine, as Count Rendener should still be unaware that the silver mine had fallen. Brendel hoped that Retao would bring him some unexpected surprises; it was a perilous mission, and as veterans of the November War, Retao and the others were evidently more capable than Juliette’s mercenaries.
As for Juliette, she had been reassigned to the front lines against Count Rendener’s army. She was quite satisfied with this arrangement, standing beside Medisa as she voiced her doubts: “Where does a lord like Parsons get so many wizards? Even if Parsons has been on the front line of war for years, that’s impossible.”
“Don’t forget about the Grudin territory and the Bear Territory. I suspect Count Rendener must have redeployed some of his wizards; otherwise, it would be impossible for there to be silver-tier spellcasters,” Crenshia replied.
“Over thirty? Since the November War, Erluin hasn’t had such a sizable mage contingent. Count Rendener is truly sparing no effort to intimidate the ‘petty thieves,'” quipped Julian, the patrol cavalry captain who had followed Brendel from Ridenburg. As a half-noble, he knew quite well the various wars that had occurred in Erluin in the past.
Julian’s comment drew laughter from those present. Their side’s spellcasters alone included over a hundred druids, let alone the young lord’s mage attendants, who were genuine golden-tier wizards.
It must be said that while the young lord’s army was not large, its quality was astounding—common soldiers were either seasoned mercenaries or veterans of the November War, and at the very least, soldiers who had previously engaged with Madara’s forces. Very few among them were below the black-tier level, and a notable portion even surpassed the upper black-tier — in addition to a contingent of gnomes, whose individual strength was at least upper black-tier, with many at the peak.
Together, the two armies approached three thousand troops, and the proportion of spellcasters accounted for more than one-tenth of this army, which was extremely rare in the entire history of warfare in Erluin, thus almost unbelievable. If this information were to spread, it would likely cause quite a stir in the outside world, forcing a reevaluation of the abilities of Duke Toniger’s new lord. However, Brendel deliberately suppressed this information because he knew sometimes a surprise could leave a deeper impression than an already established fact.
This time, the young man aimed to make the entire Erluin remember his name and who rightfully served as the lord of Toniger.
Julian’s words dissipated much of the shadow that loomed over the hearts of those present, as if the army of Count Rendener seemed less daunting. Nonetheless, Charles felt the need to issue a warning. He raised his hand, “Though that may be the case, the enemy still holds a significant advantage in absolute strength. Count Rendener’s side boasts three knight lords leading an army of twenty thousand, while the hillmen are nearly at ten thousand—meaning there is a gigantic force hidden within this forest in front of us—”
Charles solemnly pointed ahead to the north of the Gris River: “It could be over thirty times our number.”
The group became serious again, a point they were already aware of.
“Moreover, each of the three knight lords commands elite knights, numbering at least a hundred, if not more. These knights possess at least silver-tier strength, and we happen to lack such power. While gnomes might match them, the lord has made it clear that as long as Madara is not present on the battlefield, the gnomes cannot appear. Hence, the silver-tier combat strength is completely in their favor.”
“Additionally, besides Parsons, the knight lords of Bear Territory and Grudin are all golden-tier forces under Count Rendener, and there’s no telling if the enemy has hidden trump cards—take a leap and say there are only two golden-tier wizards; against Medisa and me, it could only be a stalemate. If there’s a third, we are at a disadvantage.”
“What do we do then?” With Charles’ statement, Malence couldn’t help but feel somewhat stunned.
“It’s alright; we just need to follow the lord’s instructions.” Charles glanced around at those present.
“The lord’s instructions?”
Brendel once stated that they should try their best to delay Count Rendener’s army’s crossing of the river, but at that time, his army did not seem as terrifying as it did now. That was a total of three knight lords, along with nearly thirty thousand hillmen, not to mention Madara’s undead lurking nearby.
Brendel had once promised them victory, but that was in the past. Could they still win now?
Although most who followed the young man possessed a nearly blind trust in Brendel’s words, the young lord’s promises of victory had rarely been broken. As long as he advanced, the direction of his sword would surely lead to the path of victory. The young lord was like one of those legendary heroes of ancient times; when he proudly declared he would achieve victory, that victory was all but assured.
Yet at this moment, all present couldn’t help but fall silent.
They were battle-hardened warriors, capable of laughing amid the most perilous of environments, but that did not mean they were devoid of reason. In their original confidence, the only possible path to victory would be to drag things out until Count Rendener’s supplies were exhausted and he was forced to withdraw. However, that would require both sides to pay a brutal price.
As warriors, that was not unacceptable, for they had sworn allegiance to the young lord, and each one was prepared to shed blood.
But the promise Brendel gave them seemed to imply a complete victory over Count Rendener’s army.
How could that even be possible?
The druids naturally assumed Charles was just trying to bolster morale. Meanwhile, Juliette and Crenshia, who had witnessed Brendel’s miraculous feats, felt a headache coming on; the two racked their brains but couldn’t fathom what Brendel intended to rely on to achieve this victory.
However, faced with so many varied gazes, Charles merely exchanged smiles with Medisa. Indeed, the upheaval within the Loop of Trade Winds would soon spread throughout Erluin and even the entirety of Vaunte.
Everyone would remember this battle.
The young mage raised his head, his gaze landing on the dark, brooding forest north of the Gris River. Unfortunately, at that moment, Parsons did not sense this gaze traversing the vast distance. The aged knight commander was counting the casualties. The Grudin soldiers had actually sustained minimal losses; the infantry that charged forward had only dropped around ten corpses. However, the withdrawal of an entire squad of archers without even having seen the enemy pained him greatly.
Though he had gathered an army of over twenty thousand, he had few professional soldiers, and his noble archers amounted to just over a thousand in half a battalion. Many among them were private soldiers from the earl brought from Count Rendener’s territory. If he lost too many, he would have difficulty justifying it.
Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but turn to ask, “Was that lightning from the druids’ spells? Can black-tier druids cast such terrifying spells?”
The mage beside him nodded. “That was the Summon Thunder spell; however, it wouldn’t be as impressive with just one or two druids casting it. That spell requires at least ten people casting simultaneously. Furthermore, a black-tier druid would need to rest for a day after casting it. If it were a druid master, that would be another matter…”
The old knight interrupted the wizard, insisting that there could not possibly be a druid master among the rebels: “So that means they can’t continuously cast that kind of spell, right?”
“My lord, even if they could continuously cast it, there’s really no need to worry. While they need ten people to cast that spell together, we only need two or three to dispel it. Moreover, that spell consumes a lot of resources for black-tier spellcasters, but dispelling spells cost us only a regular amount of energy. Using magic defensively is far more useful than offensively. If I were them, I wouldn’t cast that spell again; they probably only used it for intimidation in the first place that time,” the wizard replied respectfully, bowing his head.
Parsons nodded. As long as it wasn’t a large-scale spell, he didn’t need to worry too much. The disparity in military strength was so vast that he didn’t need any extra strategies. Moreover, the expense of a twenty-thousand-strong army was too significant; Parsons did not want to waste time. He had intended to end the war directly from the beginning.
Once they crossed the Gris River, taking Cold Fir City would just take a few days.
Ending the war within a week was indeed within his acceptable range.
“Rebels, Erluin…” The two words circled in Parsons’ mind, but ultimately, all his thoughts coalesced into a calm smile on his face. As a general who had tasted countless victories, he had no reason to believe he would fail under absolute superiority.
The old knight smiled faintly, that smile representing pity for the enemy and lament for this kingdom. A hundred years ago, there was never a report that any part of Erluin had a rebellion that could reach such magnitude. His lord, Count Rendener, may have displayed his strength, but that could not change the fact that this kingdom was becoming increasingly decrepit and teetering on the brink.
Let alone a hundred years ago, even fifty years ago, not even the most remote areas could have such threats to the lives of nobles.
Parsons sighed and muttered, “Brendel, Brendel, let me, this old fellow, stand guard for this kingdom one last time…”
He tossed his short sword onto the map on the table, perfectly lodged at the position of Cold Fir City, as though victory was already in his grasp.
This vassal of Grudin, a battle-hardened knight, no longer hesitated. On that day, Count Rendener’s army camped, preparing for a night of rest before the final assault, ready to take down the enemy’s defenses in one swift blow. Parsons was not worried that the ‘rebels’ would attempt a night raid; with his experience, he wouldn’t make such a low-level mistake. If the enemy truly were that foolish, he wouldn’t mind ending the war early.
Unfortunately, the leader on the opposing side was as shrewd as he had expected—no talk overnight, and at dawn the real offensive began.
As dawn broke, Charles and Medisa were atop the watchtower, seeing countless silhouettes of soldiers in the forest across the river. “They’re building a bridge; they’ve figured we don’t have enough manpower,” Charles remarked, turning back to Medisa.
Medisa nodded.
The test had begun.
The same thought flashed through both their minds.
……
(PS: I’m back; starting normal updates again today. The weather is very cold, and I caught a cold; everyone please take care to wear more clothes. I’m not feeling great, but it’s the end of the month, so I’ll try to write more for everyone. Tonight I have to lead a team; once this chapter is posted, you all don’t need to wait anymore. Thank you.)(To be continued. If you like this work, welcome to qidian.com to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets; your support is my greatest motivation.)