Chapter 832: Act 13 – The Grief of Xilmann
The paper pages rustled in the night as the cold autumn wind swept through the empty streets. Announcements regarding the attack on the Tosankade mining area by unidentified bandits three months ago seemed to flutter as if pulled by an invisible hand, dancing alongside a few wanted posters on the bulletin board like butterflies. The militia and security forces were running chaotically through the streets like headless flies, their disordered shouts and shrill whistles piercing the night air and echoing throughout the small town. The bell atop the temple in the center of the town finally began to chime, resonating ominously like a nightmare startled awake, casting a pall over everyone with a sense of impending dread. However, amidst the atmosphere of panic, some remained indifferent; Shanali, in the uniform of the White Wing Cavalry, leaned against the wall outside the city hall with his arms crossed, coldly observing a young couple saying their goodbyes across the street.
“Loni, take this. I’ve heard that Svenfano is very cold, and you’ll need it.” A boy in a security uniform handed a thick fur coat to the girl on the carriage, concern evident on his face. The occupants of the carriage mostly wore grim expressions and were silent, but the girl, pale and gripping the boy’s hand tightly, implored, “Ivan, aren’t you coming with us?”
The boy smiled faintly, “Loni, I’m a member of the security force, sworn to serve Her Majesty the Princess and the future King. It’s my duty to protect this land and everyone in it. Don’t be selfish; I’ll join up with you soon. Besides—” he drew his sword, the gleaming blade sending a chill through everyone’s hearts, “I’m among the best in swordsmanship within the security forces. Those skeletons are nothing to fear. Wait for me, I will achieve great things like Knight Brensen and the Earl of Toniger.”
The girl bit her lip as she looked at him, and just then, an urgent whistle sounded from down the street. The boy glanced back quickly and turned to pat the back of the girl’s hand, “The commander is urging us. You head to Svenfano and wait for me. Don’t worry; it’s just a scattered force of Madara’s troops. Their main force is still in the mountains near Buche. The knights of the White Wing Cavalry have already told us that this fight is nothing serious.”
Only then did the girl nod, holding back tears.
Shanali turned back, feeling somewhat bored, just in time to catch sight of his companion leading her horse along with his warhorse exiting the city hall courtyard. He immediately asked, “Did the captain manage to convince them?” “Those shortsighted fools,” replied the Lady Knight, rolling her eyes with indifference. Shanali understood that meant she had persuaded them, but likely the process was far from pleasant – they were a bunch of shallow thinkers, only focused on immediate gains. He agreed with this notion, yet one couldn’t ignore that they themselves were the same; no one ever proclaimed that the valiant men of the Vanmeir Legion were righteous. On the contrary, their reputation in the local areas was anything but good. He gripped the saddle and mounted swiftly while brushing aside the cloak that hung at his waist to avoid it getting caught on the horse’s back. Turning his head, he saw Rosa completing the same action.
Both were seasoned cavalrymen, having fought through the brutal war a year ago. Shanali still recalled the moment he charged into the endless sea of skeletons. In the darkness, wherever he looked, there was only the glimmer of phosphorescent fires dancing like flames across the horizon. That was a magnificent scene, the mere memory sent chills down his spine. It was said many were killed by spears simply because they slowed down in fear during that battle. Yet, as people became familiar with fighting Madara, they gradually realized the fighting power of skeletons was no more than that of a frail human adult.
However, the relentless, tireless army that knew no fear and never retreated left a deep impression on him nonetheless.
Shanali touched the scar on his cheek and asked, “Where are we going?”
“To join our troops,” Rosa replied as she took the reins, nudging her horse into a slow run. Shanali had no choice but to kick his horse to follow. Suddenly, a sharp scream sliced through the air above them, causing bricks on the rooftops along the street to crash down.
He instinctively looked up.
Ivan, gripping his sword, turned to run towards the assembly point, but the sudden scream stopped him in his tracks. Staring in shock, he noticed countless points of light rising slowly against the dark night sky. The lights ascended, merging together into a swirling mass that suddenly dispersed like a flock of birds turning to dive. In that moment, the boy finally realized what it was—
“Take cover—!”
A chilling scream echoed from somewhere, and a barrage of fire arrows rained down like a storm. The once fleeing townspeople became mere wooden stakes as they fell amidst the arrow rain, the magically tempered icy projectiles piercing vulnerable bodies, ignited by the soul flames attached to them, turning victims into writhing fireballs in an instant. Only a few quick-reacting people managed to survive, and Ivan was one of them. Years of rigorous training in the security forces ultimately saved his life. He couldn’t even comprehend how he had responded, but by the time he came to his senses, he found himself on the ground in front of a pottery workshop.
Stunned, he looked up to see the hanging sign of the workshop pierced by several arrows, slowly being consumed by a ghostly blue flame.
“What’s happening?”
He turned back to see the cobbled street suddenly sprouting a patch of weeds, which were actually the fletching tails of densely packed arrows. Bodies, terrified residents on the brink of collapse, and burning debris turned the entire town into a scene straight out of hell in the blink of an eye. Ivan stared in shock at everything around him. Just then, a second piercing shriek swept across the town, shaking the ground slightly, and in his field of vision, an unknown winged creature soared above the central temple of the town.
…
Knight Captain Gage of the White Wing Cavalry’s Seventh Squad was frozen in place, having tried several times to grab his command sword yet found nothing. Less than a hundred meters away from him, innumerable skeletal arms clawed from the earth, followed by skulls with burning phosphorescent eyes, clavicles, shoulder blades, and entire upper bodies, all rising in succession from the ground. Countless skeletons stood up one by one, shaking off the dirt from their darkened infernal chainmail, brandishing longbows, aligning in formation and advancing to their expected positions, then raising their longbows, their arrows ablaze with flickering ghostly flames. In an instant, a complete battalion of skeletal archers appeared right before him.
Nearly all the knights around Gage stood there bewildered, for the sight before them was not limited to just their location; this scene unfolded across the entire Xilmann River Valley. Under the night sky, the phosphorescent flames on the skeleton archers’ arrows formed a continuous band of light stretching from west to east, disappearing into the darkness.
But the crucial question was, where did they come from? What happened to the scouts? Where had those damned skeletons bypassed the defenses? Did they come up from underground?
Everyone was burdened by this heavy question.
Yet for Gage, these questions crystallized into one primary concern—
What to do?
When the second wave of arrows fell from the sky, Walter, the vice-captain of the White Wing Cavalry, who had been stunned by the onslaught, finally reacted. He realized this was no mere harassment. Even during the Black Rose War, he had never seen so many skeleton archers; the dark lords of Madara preferred to break their forces into small teams led by individual commanders; usually, a necromancer commanded ten to twelve skeletons—depending on how many necromancers and dark knights a dark lord had at their disposal. This formation resembled knights leading their retinues into battle; only during large-scale engagements would one typically witness hundreds of necromancers driving thousands of skeletons forward like a tsunami, a sight that terrified human armies. However, such events were rare even for that black rose of Broamente, as gathering thousands of necromancers was a daunting task requiring many lords to cooperate—a feat Madara found very difficult to manage.
Thus, when Walter witnessed thousands of skeleton archers lining up along the front, his first response was to feel duped, realizing that at least three or four dark lords were fighting in unison. At that moment, he was no fool; he understood that the path through Xilmann, seemingly more difficult to assault, was exactly Madara’s main attack direction. Once this realization struck him, he quickly pondered: What should they do? How could they resolve the current battle? Was it even resolvable?
The only consolation he found was that he commanded cavalry; compared to Madara’s regular skeleton warriors, the cavalry had the advantages of mobility and striking power. Although Madara did have dark knights, their numbers were so small they couldn’t play a decisive role in this battle. The vice-captain soon composed himself; Madara’s assault was too sudden. The damned skeletons had emerged from underground, appearing before them in the blink of an eye, leaving no time to react. His perimeter of cavalry was decimated. While they weren’t annihilated at the start, they became scattered across the battlefield, losing cohesion and soon their fighting spirit. Walter knew his men well and had no illusions about miracles happening, but he still had two full cavalry units left.
That was sufficient.
“Messenger!” He finally made up his mind and shouted.
Orders were relayed through the chaos, and as the remaining two cavalry units in Xilmann Valley were gathering to attack the left flank of the skeleton archers, Walter’s predictions came to fruition; the first cavalry unit of the White Wing was thrown into utter chaos. The first unit’s commander, the Noble Knight Garin, was shot through the eye during the first wave of arrows and died immediately. When the skeletal army suddenly erupted from underground in front of them, they dragged the already confused first cavalry unit into disarray. Within half an hour, the fourth unit was completely wiped out, and Knight Captain Gage perished; Knight Captain Ophem from the eighth unit was severely wounded and unconscious. The ultimate commanding authority now fell to the eighth unit’s vice-captain, Portland, who was always indecisive, leading his troops to retreat into the Owl Town, allowing Madara’s forces to advance unimpeded.
The remaining two cavalry units were instantly exposed to the deadly arrows—
Walter, witnessing this scene from the heights, was furious enough to curse, mentally beheading Ophem multiple times, but unfortunately, his anger was useless at this point; it was too late to retract the orders. He could only hope that Madara’s response wouldn’t be so swift, that they couldn’t pivot on the battlefield in such a short span of time. Or perhaps his men would prove themselves capable enough to withstand one or two waves of attacks, and once they broke through the skeleton archer’s lines, things would fall into place. They were cavalry; the enemy was merely infantry.
If this were during the Black Rose War, perhaps the White Wing Cavalry would have already collapsed, but fortunately, a year had passed since that war, allowing each participant who had endured that dreadful conflict to lick their wounds. Those terrifying undead had reverted to mere ugly skeletons in the minds of the veterans; they no longer embodied death itself. Besides being rigid and fearless, they were inferior to ordinary human soldiers, having lost their foundational source of fear. The black rose of Broamente was just a somewhat unusual opponent at this point.
Walter thought of this and bit his lip, “Martha bless, time changes not only Madara.” He silently considered.
And indeed, it was true.
Waves of illuminating magic exploded around the battleground, illuminating the final stretch between the advancing cavalry’s point and the skeletal army ahead. Amidst the steadily advancing cavalry, wizards began to soar from behind their knights, leaving their mounts to float in mid-air. Although their spells exposed the White Wing cavalry to the range of the skeleton archers, the cavalry prepared for one last surge; launching such a tactic in darkness was nearly impossible, though legendary accounts spoke of some cavalry who could achieve such feats, the commanders of the White Wing Cavalry were confident in their subordinates’ capabilities.
Knight Leader Vance of the second cavalry unit felt as one by one, young men on horseback surged ahead of him. In fact, the entire second cavalry unit was in a state of acceleration, now less than a hundred meters away, while the first cavalry unit commanded by Valerie was somewhat further ahead. Their task was to carve a path through the ocean of skeletons to allow them to slaughter the necromancers driving the skeletons behind; suddenly, he felt a lightness on himself—an indication of wind magic affecting him and his horse. Thanks to an array of unusual spells, their cavalry could charge over this rugged terrain at night, and these tactics had been synthesized from the experiences acquired during the Black Rose War.
Previously, the kingdom’s forces had adhered to rigid and outdated experiences drawn from the First Holy War, which were not suitable for wars against other beings.
War was fair on both sides; that Madara was perhaps stronger than before was undeniable, but they too were not stagnant. “Let’s see, you damned skeletons!” Vance excitedly waved his longsword. Cavalry tactics were the greatest invention in all of civilization; when you participated personally, surrounded by galloping horses and knights clad in armor wielding two-handed swords, everything coalesced into an unstoppable tide of iron, and each participant seemed to commandeer that extraordinary power. It was an exhilarating feeling.
For Vance, it was no different.
The rain of arrows began to fall, clattering against their armor with barely any impact. The cavalry’s war steeds were not mere pack animals but tamed magical beasts, genetically closer to unicorns, though not nearly as strong as their relatives in the forests, yet they far surpassed ordinary beasts. Thus, the impact of the arrows was negligible as they penetrated the thick armor and transferred only minor force to the steeds.
The knights leading the charge began to make strange noises.
At this distance, they needed to brace for the upcoming spell—necromancer spells. But the wizards behind were also ready to cast; this was the last blockade before them. Once breached, they soon faced the utterly defenseless skeletal army. During the Black Rose War, few armies dared to confront an ocean of skeletons so head-on, but times had changed. The mysterious shroud that enveloped this army had long faded with the passage of time after the war, especially in the eyes of veterans from the first conflict; they were only skeletons now. New and old grievances loomed before them, and they were determined to teach their opponents a lesson. Junior officers were shouting, rallying the new recruits; everyone understood one thing: they were cavalry, while the opponent was merely infantry. Regardless of whether their charge succeeded or failed, the infantry couldn’t pursue cavalry.
The only concern was to avoid getting bogged down.
And then there were the dark knights—
But thankfully, the skeleton army was scattered. The enemy commander seemed to lack experience. Moreover, Vance did not see any signs of dark knights; in such an environment, they would stand out significantly, and he did not worry about them hiding anywhere. The entire valley was open, and the nearest hills were over a kilometer away, so he was not concerned about them suddenly appearing. Vance glanced around, finally breathing a sigh of relief.
The only thing that puzzled him was—
The expected spell attacks did not come.
“What are Madara’s commanders doing?” he wondered, unable to help but look up towards Valerie’s direction, “They’re about to miss their final opportunity…”
