Chapter 480: Act 228 – The Wind Archer (Part 1)
“Rendener lost?” Overwell’s parchment quietly slipped from his hands, and he quickly grabbed it to steady himself. He looked up, revealing a look of surprise.
Princess Grifian beside him listened to the news with an impassive expression.
The result of a great battle in the Southlands did not spread immediately, leaving the Rendener army in chaos and momentarily silencing the surrounding areas. The losses for the coalition were not significant; most of the personnel fled along with the panicking mountain folk, and the troops from the Greybear Territory suffered no casualties at all. The true losses were limited to a few thousand noble soldiers from Grus and Parsons, but the deaths of the lords of Parsons and Sir Grus sparked whispers throughout the entire Southlands.
Count Rendener’s close subordinate died in this battle, resulting in a massive depletion of strength in the north, making it impossible for Rendener to muster another army to invade the Cold Fir Territory in the short term.
Unless he personally led the army, but that was out of the question. Which lord didn’t have enemies? Count Rendener had to be on guard against adversaries, especially at a time when everyone believed this old tiger had lost its teeth, with even internal factions beginning to stir.
Thus, although Rendener was seething with anger towards Brendel, he had to resolve his own issues before he could spare any effort to deal with him. By the time he did have the opportunity, Brendel felt he had nothing to fear from this man anymore. At this moment, it could be said that at least half of his prior objectives had been achieved.
By the end of the month of Winter’s Lyre, when the February flowers bloomed and the earth began to thaw, conversations about this great battle were rampant everywhere in Erluin. Yet, the region of Toniger felt unusually deserted, and very few from the opposing side even discussed the conflict.
The Cold Fir Territory paid a hefty price during the war, especially for those mercenaries holding back Rendener’s army, which sustained casualties of over half. Some veterans of the November War did not bend to the fierce conflict but instead lay at rest beside the River Gris; their graves now nestled within a grove of pines, tranquil as a poem.
However, the shadow of war was soon washed away by the green shoots of wheat breaking through the fields after the melting of the snow. A winter had passed, and Vaunte had regained its vitality and energy, leading people to incredulously realize—they had actually won.
“I can’t believe we won just like that. I didn’t even get a chance to step onto the battlefield,” Carglis sat casually on a bench, hands behind his head, watching the dwarf Odum and Brendel’s royal workshop master Berun busily circle around a pile of scrap metal—at least to him, it seemed like scrap.
The most direct gain from this battle was the unloading of weight and armor weapons abandoned by the noble armies. These were terribly scarce for the Cold Fir Territory. Berun estimated that, once reforged, they could arm a military group of around three or four thousand. This reminded Brendel of the chaotic pile of junk he had in his dimensional pocket, all of which had been collected from the ruins within the Loop of Trade Winds, so he simply dumped it all out, nearly overwhelming Berun’s forge.
Berun, of course, exploded in anger, immediately driving him and Carglis—who had temporarily replaced Xi as captain of the personal guard due to the completion of the first phase of the White Lion Legion’s training—out of the workshop.
But a moment later, the kingdom’s forging master scampered back out, eyes gleaming as he grabbed Brendel’s hand and asked, “Lord, where did you get those weapons? You didn’t rob some imperial supply depot, did you?”
Brendel shook his hand off with annoyance: “Do you think imperial supply depots are public restrooms? You can just go in and out whenever you want? Even if they were public restrooms, you’d still have to pay to use them.”
“Isn’t it still because you are the lord? People outside say that whatever you, the lord, wishes to do comes to fruition. Look, other lords now call you ‘Brendel the Miracle Creator,’” the elder said with a smile. “But by the way, what is a public restroom?”
Brendel frowned at the title, thinking who gave him such a tacky title? “Brendel the Miracle Creator” sounded just like the protagonist from those shoddy knight novels circulating in the markets; he thought he at least deserved a title like “Wolf Shepherd” or something similar.
Titles are quite significant for a person’s reputation. For instance, “Sir Overwell,” “Crosshanded Bud,” as soon as you hear them, you can connect them to the character’s disposition and abilities. Any normal person called “Dead Maggot” or “Rotten Toe” would, in Brendel’s opinion, be better off just finding a pillar to crash into.
However, while he found the title disgusting, Carglis’ eyes sparkled at the mention. Unable to help himself, he complained, “Really, I should’ve known that joining the lord would have earned me a title as well.”
“What title?” Brendel asked.
“For example, if the lord is called ‘Brendel the Miracle Creator,’ I surely can’t compare with the lord, so I could be ‘Carglis, who follows Brendel the Miracle Creator,’” the young man thought carefully, responding earnestly.
Brendel stumbled, nearly falling to his knees. He looked at this noble descendant of Erluin and the second son of Sir Minate with disdain, feeling a momentary concern for the future of the kingdom, thinking, what a twisted sense of aesthetics this is.
For the sake of his future captain of the personal guard and the White Lion Legion, he decided to correct this young man’s taste: “But it’s merely a little skirmish; there will be plenty of opportunities for battle ahead. Just hope you don’t complain too much about being tired then.”
“Really?” Carglis asked.
“Of course,” Brendel replied. “Our enemies will not just be ourselves; there’s also Madara. Madara didn’t even deploy their regular troops in this war. Do you know why?”
“Madara didn’t use regular troops?” Berun was fine, as he hadn’t experienced the First Black Rose War in the dungeon, but Carglis, who had heard a bit about the conflict, couldn’t help but widen his eyes.
“Madara invaded Erluin due to constant internal disputes and unequal distribution of interests, with a new emperor ascending the throne causing turmoil. To deflect internal conflict, they sought expansion outward. In fact, the real war was merely legalized plunder; those alerted were merely the nobles of those places,” Brendel answered seriously. “This type of expansion is the external manifestation of Madara’s internal reform over the past decade. The Black Knight of Madara we face, Instalung, received support from the Tagus family due to his talents, venturing into Erluin to seek his capital for advancement, while before this, he was just a young lord who had just inherited his territory.”
“There are many such young people in this war from Madara; Instalung is not the only one.” This was the first time Brendel spoke candidly about the threat Madara to his subordinates, knowing full well he was not exaggerating.
Both Berun and Carglis gasped: “How strong is the real Madara?”
“The main force of Madara’s regular army is the Black Knights, the Dark Crusaders, vampires, and high-level necromancers. Particularly the Black Knights and Dark Crusaders play basic roles in Madara’s regular army sequence; their strength is at least above average silver tier, which I commonly refer to as tier three troops,” Brendel replied. “The high-tier combatants include bone dragons, vengeful wraiths, and bloodlords. Erluin might have had the strength to fight once with the Temple Guards, the early White Lion Guard, and the Iron Horse Knights founded by the late king Eke, but now…”
Brendel didn’t finish his sentence; in fact, at present, Madara was not the most powerful force in the world. Be it the Cruz Empire, Saint Ausoor, or Bud’s artisan wizards, all far surpassed this newly emerging dark empire.
At least Bud’s gargoyles and gem dragons’ attack tactics had once rampaged across the battlefield—“Bud’s sky is the world’s sky”—such a domineering statement could only be uttered by artisan wizards.
“Unfortunately, the training methods of the Iron Horse Knights have long been lost,” Master Berun sighed. “Even the training methods for the White Lion infantry have deteriorated greatly over the years; the combat strength of the newly trained infantry is no longer as formidable as before.”
Brendel nodded; he knew this all too well. The White Lion infantry had once roamed the lands alongside the late king Eke, and to have fallen to a level where they had to compete with the personal guard cultivated by Rendener was, to say the least, fate’s irony. Erluin deviated from the path of the late king Eke, thus facing such a retribution.
Meanwhile, the Temple Guards were a product of the alliance between the silver elves and Erluin; one could say Medisa was part of this product, but that alliance had long since crumbled. In fact, the misinterpretation of the sacred alliance by the Erluin people had also drawn Martha’s wrath.
Nonetheless, the intricate relationships between Erluin, the silver elves, and the wind elves allowed this kingdom to linger on until today; it was only the invasion of Madara that revealed Erluin’s weakness, prompting the kingdom to gradually move toward decline following this battle.
But that was all history.
Brendel patted the shoulders of both men: “Don’t be afraid, we can take our time; the kingdom isn’t without hope. The training methods for the White Lion infantry were lost during the wars between the Corvado Dynasty and the Siphai Dynasty (); it is said that the descendants of the Siphai royal family divided the training methods of the White Lion infantry into three parts to take into the burial mounds of Menstoro. We can search for them when we have time.”
( Summer Year, New Moon War)
Master Berun took Brendel’s words as mere consolation, unaware that Brendel was indeed speaking of a truth; the remnants of the Siphai royal family divided the training methods of the White Lion infantry into three parts, which were entrusted to three princes and princesses of that time. One part had been retrieved, while Brendel had certain knowledge that another lay hidden in the mounds of Menstoro, and the last part was truly missing.
The full legend of the White Lion infantry was a tier-four troop type; however, gathering two parts would at least give them tier-three strength. Brendel could also find a way to manage the training method of the Iron Horse Knights; that was the advantage of crossing over. In fact, he had already freed up his hands and was about to start preparing these matters.
But first, he brought Berun back to focus and asked, “Master, those red banner cavalry’s armor is of decent quality; can you find a way to improve it?”
“Improve?” The old man was puzzled. “Although that armor has high defense, it is not suitable for heavy infantry. Especially since it only reinforces defense against arrows, it somewhat contradicts the philosophy of the White Lion infantry.”
“No, I want you to modify it to fit archers,” Brendel shook his head.
“Archers?” Berun’s eyes widened in disbelief; he had never heard of anyone so extravagant as to require archers to wear magical armor. It wasn’t that archers weren’t valuable, but they were too far back in the formation; it seemed too wasteful to use magical armor on them: “Isn’t that a bit luxurious?”
“Not at all. What if they wear it?” Brendel pointed to a group of tall, slender, longbow-bearing treant maidens wandering about in “the human world,” curiously looking around.
“Well…” Master Berun was at a loss for words this time.
Anyone would know that elven archers were all exceptional marksmen. However, he couldn’t imagine what it would mean for an archer to wear magical armor.
Because theoretically, archers should pursue agility.
……(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, I welcome you to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendations or monthly votes; your support is my greatest motivation.)
