Chapter 583: Act 330 – The Battle of Saintly White XIV
The sunlight shone like a bright sword, piercing through the mist. On the high ground, flowers were spread out, and the river flowed brilliantly like silver. But rows of long spears emerged from the forest, with highland infantry clad in armor advancing in unison; countless tail flags and spear flags came into view, each displaying the heraldic emblems of their leading knights, with no two alike—ranging from lions to pelicans, from thorns to wreaths.
The Finn Formation, the Constantine Formation, the Brule Formation, and the Northern Coalition were gathering, with spear tips like snow slightly undulating with the breaths of the noble infantry, weaving a sparkling ribbon miles away.
From the peak of Ankl Mountain, one could see the south, now a dark and vast ocean, with flags fluttering above it, occasionally catching the glint of weapons. Brendel pressed his lips together; this was the true grand battle, and only at this moment did he feel a fleeting illusion of returning to the past.
Everyone gripped their longswords tightly, unaware that their palms were turning white; the noble private soldiers even forgot to breathe, their mouths agape as they gazed upon the boundless army.
Behind the main force, there were continuous streams of reinforcements joining in. Tens of thousands—this term only displayed its unprecedented pressure at this moment, as the collective breath of so many seemed to still the wind.
The gentle winds on Mal Mountain were calming.
The air became hot and heavy, a portent of the impending storm. Upon the emerald meadows, a knight was speeding away from the dark clouds of the Northern Coalition’s main formation, brandishing a long spear, gallantly running towards the northern position.
“Look, that’s the genius knight from the Port Agreement; Lord Earl intends to appoint him as the formation leader. I hear he’s taking his father’s place.”
“A twenty-year-old formation leader?”
“Because he’s a genius. I’ve heard that the viscount led his forces in several impressive battles against the Donitoquinin Lionmen, achieving miraculous victories. The veterans who fought alongside him call him ‘Vanag,’ did you know? ‘Vanag’ is a hero from mountain folk tales.”
“Veterans?”
“Those veterans who participated in the November War. He can command them. Only he can command them; I hear Lord Earl intends to cultivate him as the next generation of legion leader.”
“That seems absurd.”
“It’s possible; there are rumors that the viscount is the closed-door disciple of the Earth Sword Saint Darus. Just think—before the Sword Saint became famous, wasn’t he also called ‘Vanag’?”
“I find that unlikely, but isn’t Lord Darus supposed to have descendants? Who knows where he ended up; perhaps the viscount is indeed that lord’s descendant. After all, Darus didn’t want to see Erluin divided…”
The soldiers chattered among themselves, and eventually, they couldn’t help but feel a sense of respect. In the Restoration era of the kingdom, Sword Saint Darus left a legendary reputation in Erluin, and his mysterious retreat only marked a vibrant chapter of this legend. Common folk believed that the Earth Sword Saint was the guardian of the kingdom, and that one day, when the kingdom faced peril, he would emerge once more, sword in hand.
In “Amber Sword,” such tales even circulated widely among some players. Players in Erluin even reformed the military swordsmanship left by Darus, but including Brendel, no one would suspect that the guardian of the kingdom couldn’t escape the judgment of time.
And that last hope was also submerged under the ashes of Buche.
Brendel rested his hand on his longsword, feeling a sense of melancholy.
Viscount Feng Dongning, however, held his head high, full of vigor. If one looked closely, they would recognize that this knight, wrapped in silver armor, was the young man who stood beside Victorkin days earlier; the same knight captain who clashed with Brendel before the auction. He was the genius knight from the Port Agreement, even respected by the veterans of the November War, who believed he could be the next Earth Sword Saint.
Viscount Feng Dongning believed so himself.
He raised his long spear, riding a heavy earth dragon around the main position of the Northern Coalition with a swift trot; the cape behind him waved like a golden flame, wherever he passed, the soldiers of the Northern Coalition erupted in cheers, shouting:
“Wagner! Wagner!”
“Wagner! Wagner!”
Sweat beaded on the young man’s forehead as he proudly approached Earl Victorkin. The earl nodded in satisfaction; the White Lion Legion was filled with heroes, but the Black Blade Legion wasn’t without successors, especially with no one else gaining the honor from the veterans of the November War. This young man had fought perfectly against the Northern Coalition and the Toquinin Lionmen, reminiscent of the young Sword Saint Darus of yore.
While Earl Victorkin dismissed the rumors circulating among the lower soldiers, if one day, Feng Dongning became another Earth Sword Saint, then the Black Blade Legion might one day surpass the White Lion Legion. He took the spear from the young man’s hand—commanders taking the lead with a spear was an important belief of the Black Blade Legion, but now it was merely a formality—Earl Victorkin asked lightly, “Have you observed the princess’s formation?”
“I have seen it, my lord!”
“How is it?”
“Utterly arrogant.”
In the shadows at the foot of Ankle Mountain lay three massive formations, with thousands of noble private soldiers lined up along the northern bank of the stream. The front three rows held long spears of four to five meters, while oval-shaped large shields reflected the sunlight—these strange tower shields bore little resemblance to any human military unit, being more akin to the field troops of the Silver Elves—Anse’s Throat.
A silvery barrier lay across the front of the Northern Coalition.
“It’s that genius knight from the Port Agreement.” Brendel donned a full set of knight armor for the first time, sitting atop his warhorse at the center of the formation. Upon hearing Earl Ouding speak, he looked up at the complacent knight before the Northern Coalition.
“The Black Blade Legion fought with the Toquinin Gold-maned Lionmen in the north; Viscount Feng Dongning fought the enemy with less than a quarter of their strength, penetrating into the enemy’s rear and burning down their supply depots. This forced the Hallowed Temple of Earth to withhold their troops momentarily. Makarolo once said this man would be a star of Erluin’s future, Mr. Brendel, you must be cautious of him.” Princess Grifian reminded quietly from behind Brendel.
The calm expression beneath Brendel’s visor shifted slightly as he chuckled softly.
What is there for him to be cautious about? It is the other side that should be wary. History remembers this man for being killed for Freya; now Erluin’s Valkyrie is on this battlefield; the viscount is likely to encounter misfortune.
Knight Sir Overwell noticed Brendel’s expression and couldn’t help but smile, “What’s this? Seems like Mr. Brendel has some history with this person?”
Brendel nodded.
History? Not only that, but this man still owes him a duel.
“Princess Grifian did not allow the officers to constitute the core of the central formation.”
Old knight Reld removed the monocle from his eye, the corner of his eyes, lined with crow’s feet, slightly moved as his brow furrowed, “Which army is that?”
“By the flag, it’s Ouding’s private army.”
“How arrogant.” Marquis Baltar sighed, “It seems the continuous victories have made Her Highness underestimate the enemy; this battle is likely to end in one go.”
This sentiment reflected the thoughts of most of the first-line noble commanders present—one battle to determine the outcome; it seems Lady Martha still favors the north. Though the Siphai royal family had been stripped of glory, the Corvado family had not been any better off. Earl Victorkin couldn’t help but close his eyes, feeling fortunate to have not chosen the wrong side.
Victory was assured.
On the battlefield—
The princess’s army extended its left and right flanks back into Ankle Mountain, yielding the southern peaks of Machinko Mountain and Vileko Mountain. This formed a vast battlefield anchored in the center.
The main position became the focal point and bulge of the entire battlefield; Her Highness intended to use this axis to adjust the balance of the entire battlefield.
Everyone couldn’t help but feel sentiments like, “Such grandeur, such ambition.”
Unfortunately.
“But once this axis is breached, the princess’s army will lose their support,” Viscount Feng Dongning pointed towards the shadow of Ankle Mountain in the north, analyzing energetically, “The entire battlefield will then be divided by our side, and they will have to fight separately, leading to their quick demise.”
“Could Overwell make such an error? He is the kingdom’s lone wolf!” A noble officer shouted.
“Because he seeks greater initiative; that is the nature of that lone wolf—cunningly lying dormant and striking decisively!” The viscount replied confidently.
“What of the Naga and the officers from the Royal Knight Academy?”
“They must be on the left and right flanks!” Viscount Feng Dongning answered slowly and deliberately.
Everyone understood, and Earl Victorkin raised his head, staring long at the shadows beneath Ankle Mountain. After a long moment, his gaze settled on the young man atop the dragon’s back: “Viscount Feng Dongning, are you willing to lead the vanguard for the new king?”
Viscount Feng Dongning’s heart surged with excitement; he realized this was his best opportunity for fame, to be recorded in history. He immediately raised his head high, “Of course.”
Orders flew back and forth, and the orders of the nobles intertwined and resonated across the plains. The Northern Coalition’s banners were passing back and forth, and then the army began to move slowly.
Everyone held their breath, and Brendel suddenly felt a chill on his forehead.
The wind was rising.
“Raise spears!”
“Advance, maintain formation!” First to move was the Brule Formation from Bersas, with Brule infantry clad in breastplates, wielding war tridents, wearing wide-brimmed helmets, and dressed in loose riding pants, tightened at the knees with iron greaves. The Brule infantry was disciplined, their uniform blue and white battle garb flowing together; viewed from above, they resembled a blue and white ribbon slowly separating from the Northern Coalition on the meadows.
Viscount Feng Dongning rode atop a massive earth dragon, leading his cavalry behind the infantry, where the thin two columns of infantry spanned the entire river valley. The blue and white lineup ebbed and flowed along the undulating terrain, with flags flying, numbering in the hundreds or even thousands.
Even though this wave of attack was merely a trial, it stirred one’s emotions profoundly. This was a true grand battle; how many could witness it first-hand? Let alone participate in it. Moreover, he understood that this battle would be his moment of glory.
From this day forth, Feng Dongning would shine as another name in Erluin’s history.
He raised the long spear in his hand and shouted with all his might, “I will lead with the spear, you all shall follow me to victory! Long live Erluin! Long live the king!” His voice echoed across the plains, and the Northern Coalition responded in unison.
A deafening roar of cheers arose.
The thunderous cries sent ripples through the ranks of Earl Ouding’s private soldiers, tightening their grips on their long spears, sweat pouring down like a fountain, oblivious to it all. Earl Ouding glanced at his tense subordinates, and couldn’t help but sigh; this plan was far too bold, and how could his men handle it?
He turned to look at Brendel.
Brendel, however, showed no sign of worry; he calmly listened to Princess Grifian speaking nearby. “I once heard Lord Overwell mention Mr. Brendel’s heroic deeds at Ridenburg; I just wonder what the scene was like when Mr. Brendel charged forth?”
That time, huh.
Brendel smiled, “I didn’t think much of it; one must survive. Nobles are the same as commoners; in the face of life, there’s no distinction.”
“Is this what Mr. Brendel wishes to tell me?” The princess inquired keenly.
“No, just a thought.”
Princess Grifian glanced at him.
Brendel was silently counting, then suddenly turned around and asked, “Antinna, how long until we engage?”
“Less than ten meters, my lord.”
The aide behind him yawned, rubbing her red eyes softly.
The Brule infantry, splendidly dressed, lined up and began to slowly advance along the river valley. For them, the princess’s army positioned on the northern bank where the streams met still seemed like a blurred line; no one would expect an attack at this moment.
As the priests of the Temple of Fire began chanting prayers, holy hymns echoed over the meadows and forests, rays of golden light descending from the sky, bestowing blessings upon the infantry.
This was a Flame Protection spell, a large-area blessing that granted the recipient increased protection and reflected fire damage. However, the protective benefits of this spell conflicted with armor, so the lighter the armor, the more complete the benefit; it matched perfectly with the Brule infantry.
But at that moment.
Everyone on the battlefield suddenly saw a flash of light from the Brule infantry’s ranks, and several Brule infantry were instantly hurled into the air, their bodies crashing to the ground like puppets upon the flower-laden grass.
Then came a thunderous explosion, echoing across the plains—
——————————————————————————————
Background Note:
(1) The Port Agreement, a fishing village near Grey Mountain in the Yanira Province that developed into a port. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please consider voting for it on Qidian (qidian.com); your support is my greatest motivation.)
