Chapter 849: Act 27 – The Prelude to the Great War II
The gently rolling hills appeared like a wrinkled carpet, still bearing the last hues of late summer before autumn’s arrival. The grass and trees exhibited a deep green, while a light rain fell, enveloping the battlefield in a thin mist of chilled air. On the hills beside the valley, shadows of many figures gradually emerged near the linden trees. They were soldiers clad in heavy armor, wearing pointed helmets adorned with the head of a white lion on their right shoulders. The lion’s eyes seemed to be in constant contemplation, exuding the steady momentum of the army. The first to emerge from the forest were the sergeants, most of whom bore a decorative emblem of a demon’s long horn engulfed in flames on their pauldrons, signifying their survival as veterans from the Ampere Seale War, where they had faced bloodshed against demons. Among them, one young man named Mars, with eyes full of resolve beneath the edge of his steel helmet, had not only participated in the Battle of Ampere Seale but had also experienced the Wolf Calamity at the Loop of Trade Winds. Of the original sixty youths from various parts of Toniger who had accompanied him, half had perished in the Ampere Seale battlefield, yet he survived, personally taking the white-maned helmet from his lord to become a knight and squad leader of the White Lion Guard.
He turned his head to glance at another sergeant behind him, who wore a helmet with a metal mask, revealing only a pair of light brown eyes radiating wisdom. He knew this person was Julian, who, although he had not fought in the Battle of Ampere Seale, was one of the earliest followers of the lord and had now become a key officer in the White Lion Guard, just like him. There were many such individuals in Cold Fir Territory; Brendel had established two systems among his subordinates. One was the original Bronzesteeldragon Mercenary Group, led by Retao, a veteran of long wars who had attained prominence in Toniger. Most of his followers were among the first to have followed Brendel, from their time serving the lord; this system was now subtly adopting an elder’s demeanor. However, Brendel had always intended to downplay the status of non-professional soldiers in Toniger’s military. The Bronzesteeldragon Mercenary Group stationed in Mintai was primarily responsible for local security within Cold Fir Territory, on par with the cave dwellers responsible for local defense, yet Retao himself had little ambition and was quite agreeable to this arrangement.
Of course, Brendel’s arrangements were never rooted in considerations of power but were merely to emphasize the future role of professional soldiers for Toniger and even for the kingdom. No one understood better than him how deeply flawed the private armies of the old nobility were; the present plight of the Vieiro army was a bloody and painful example that left those who were previously unclear about Brendel’s plans both startled and in admiration. Yet they did not comprehend that what Brendel saw was far more profound; at this moment, he understood better than anyone else what Erluin would require.
Brendel’s other system consisted of the newly established White Lion Legion and Wind Archers Legion, representing the future’s fresh blood for Toniger. He did not prevent those seasoned soldiers from his original camp from joining in. Many recognized that this legion would be the true core strength for Brendel going forward. Even those optimistic about the future of the White Lion Guard, including several mercenary leaders who had originally been close to Brendel—except for Crenshia, who now served in logistics, both Juliette and Vurn had voluntarily joined the White Lion Guard, becoming the knight commanders of the Third and Fourth Squads, respectively. These individuals, along with local Toniger inhabitants and the king’s young faction drawn from the original White Lion Legion, had evidently formed three major factions within the new White Lion Legion. However, Brendel despised factional opposition, advocating for harmony from above; thus, these so-called factions only remained at a geographical level.
Julian noticed the gaze of his colleague and turned back—a dense formation of White Lion infantry was slowly emerging from the forest edge, young soldiers drawing their swords in unison, their great swords glimmering with a subtle cold light in the midst of the misty rain. The standard bearer had yet to raise the banner, so their formation was not discernible, but in the distant view, several figures stood tall on horseback through the fog.
“Nervous?” In the cold weather, Brendel could almost see his breath, yet with his prowess, he did not need to wear a metal mask or thick armor; he simply wore a chest plate over his shirt, with a belt buckle tightly fastened at his waist, engraved with the emblem of a two-headed griffon, a recent trophy from the Rift of Lonira. He spoke this to Freya, who would become a Valkyrie. She shook her head, “It’s not my first time on the battlefield, Brendel, really.” She thought to herself, recalling how she was once extremely tense during the Battle of Ampere Seale, even nearly faltering with her well-practiced sword. After enduring numerous battles, she had gradually become accustomed to it. She raised her head, gazing ahead with bright eyes as if she could see through the mist miles away: “This really feels like Buche, uncle and aunt; this time, I’ll drive those damned invaders back!”
On the gentle hills of the Pine Mountain Range, behind the mist was the same enemy from that night, and in Freya’s eyes burned a firm conviction, like the raging fire that had consumed Buche then. Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on her Lionheart sword.
A line of figures emerged from the mist.
“Carglis!” the High Priestess Meria, standing beside Brendel, exclaimed with a sigh of relief. She was no longer dressed in men’s clothing as a companion but had regained her youthful attire. Her beautiful light golden hair had made her renowned as a great beauty in Cold Fir Territory, now favoring Carglis. Meria’s father was a noble from the south of Ampere Seale, with Crusian bloodlines. Thus, he inherited the haughty temperament typical of the empire, consistently opposing his daughter’s relationship with the impoverished youth Carglis. However, once Brendel had made a remarkable mark in the kingdom, her opportunistic father saw promise in Carglis, allowing the match. Because of this, both Meria and Carglis were now utterly devoted to Brendel.
Carglis blushed and stole a glance at Meria, who was followed by several other young people. Brendel quickly spotted Kewen in the back. “He actually came himself.” Brendel was slightly surprised but did not show it on his face. Instead, he raised his hand and threw a helmet adorned with a long mane and winged relief towards Carglis. Carglis caught it and replied with a grin, “Carglis reports to you, my lord, requesting to return to the ranks.” He glanced at his lord, who gave a nod of approval, unable to resist stealing a shy look at Meria, replying bashfully, “My lord, why did you let her come too?”
“Miss Meria is the most outstanding priestess in the territory and the leader of my accompanying priest team; why shouldn’t she come?” Brendel retorted impatiently and teasingly glanced at the fellow: “Of course, in private matters, Meria is yours. But you cannot stop her from contributing her abilities to the territory, can you, Carglis? One should not be too selfish.”
Actually, Meria was not the foremost priest under Brendel; that title should go to Himelam. However, since Himelam was a priestess of Himelude, in the Temple of Fire under Erluin, she could only act independently; otherwise, it might attract religious disputes. Brendel suddenly recalled that there was another individual temporarily residing in the territory who, in terms of doctrinal expertise and status in the temple, far surpassed Meria: the Princess, High Priestess of Anzobro. However, Margadale was not yet fully recovered and was still in the recuperation period; even if she wished to, Brendel would not agree to her risking such adverse weather for an expedition to Rendener; that would be too inconsiderate.
Upon hearing the latter part of Brendel’s remark, Meria blushed deeply, while even the thick-skinned Carglis found it slightly challenging to bear. He often engaged in banter with the lord, yet it seemed that the earl had recently shown signs of surpassing him in this regard, which was quite unfathomable. Of course, he had no idea that Brendel had been subjected to far more information daily in his previous life, and his ability to make quips far exceeded the youth’s, as it was only the establishment of the lord’s authority that had kept him from retaliating earlier.
Perhaps even Carglis himself had yet to realize that he had unconsciously accepted this lord who was likely one or two years younger than him.
Carglis quickly cleared his throat, attempting to cover up his embarrassment. At this moment, Brendel was engaging in eye contact with Kewen behind him. The young man had become slightly thinner since they last met, his cheeks drawn in, yet his dark eyes appeared sharper and deeper, and he seemed to exude a more rugged temperament. Clothed in a thick beast-fur cloak, he bore a resemblance to Xiao Peiluo. In merely half a year, he had grown several inches taller; he was no longer just a boy but already had the demeanor of a leader.
“Long time no see, my lord.” Kewen spoke first. He had been interestly watching Brendel banter with his subordinates but was surprised by the relationship between the master and the people. Born in the mining area under Rendener, he had been accustomed to witnessing the exploitation of the lower classes by the aristocracy of Erluin and expressed strong aversion to the corrupt upper echelons of the kingdom. Like many who had aspirations since youth, Kewen dared to act on his hatred; however, he remained confined by the times, struggling to envision a world that truly valued equality and freedom, making it difficult to comprehend someone like Brendel, a curious noble.
“It seems that this Earl of Toniger is indeed as described—an unconventional person. I just wonder if it stems from his inherent character or is merely hypocrisy?” He had already formed his conclusion; after all, Brendel had once shown kindness to them all in the depths of Schafflund, leaving a profound impression. Unlike the typical aristocrats’ betrayal, he valued commitment and kept his promises, embodying the style of ancient nobility. Kewen was not simply inclined against the nobility but harbored hatred toward the decaying upper class of the kingdom. Like all Erluin people, he yearned for the legacy of the late sovereign Eke, and Brendel’s emergence enlightened him.
Perhaps this was the person he had been searching for.
This future king of Rendener’s thoughts were quite complex, though he did not show an ounce of it. He looked at Brendel, who, at this moment, felt a faint suspicion. Could this future lord of one territory truly be willing to pledge allegiance to him? It left him nearly astounded. In Brendel’s eyes, someone like Kewen—who could leap from the station of a mere refugee to an actual ruler—was precisely the kind of ambitious and visionary person out of legends. Had the framework of Erluin not been too restricted, his future achievements would not have been limited to this. Such a person, if placed within the historical context of his previous life, would be an emperor-founder. That someone was now contemplating allegiance to him?
For the first time since arriving in this world, Brendel felt a surge of regal aura, but amidst his thrill, he quickly regained composure. After all, Kewen was not yet the future king of Rendener; he remained merely a bandit leader and had not encountered the many fortunes of history; moreover, because of Brendel’s existence, he might likely never face those fortuitous encounters. Back during their time in Schafflund, Kewen hadn’t pledged allegiance because he, too, was just a bandit leader back then, seemingly unmotivating to the other. And at that time, Kewen hadn’t held the same perspectives as he now had; he was merely a youth wishing to venture past Schafflund and see a broader world.
However, merely half a year later, this youth had undergone significant changes. It appeared that this broader world had indeed altered his life.
“Thank you very much for everything you have done for the Silman region in this war, Mr. Kewen. Sometimes, one’s origins do not represent everything; nobles are never born superior; people of capability are everywhere, and you are among the best of them,” Brendel lightly praised. “Some began much earlier than you, sheltered by their fathers, but now they lag far behind. Mr. Kewen, when the ancient nobility opened up this kingdom’s borders with swords and plows, their origins were never preordained by heaven—only five words mattered: faith and struggle.”
Kewen’s eyes instantly brightened; this was precisely what he had been seeking. Every word that Brendel spoke seemed to validate the confusion that had lingered in his heart. He almost suspected that Brendel possessed a kind of ability to see through people’s hearts, looking at him with incomprehensible insight. Yet, in truth, this future king of Rendener had not misjudged; Brendel did possess some power to penetrate his soul. Throughout history, Kewen had always pursued the glory of ancient nobility, which, inherently, was the ideal every Erluin person yearned for. However, most could only fantasize in their hearts, while Kewen dared to act.
Brendel knew exactly what the future king of Rendener was contemplating; every word he spoke would be accurate. Yet he still felt some concern; after all, the present person had already traversed experiences far different from those in history, and he could not predict how Kewen’s worldview might have transformed. Yet Kewen’s expression at least comforted him; “Thankfully, while the history of Vaunte is now in disarray, certain details remain hard to change.” He thought to himself, feeling as though he had already swayed the other somewhat.
“Silman is an important gateway in the southern region of the kingdom. You have seen what its future holds; to the south lies a dark kingdom, where an impending empire will pose the most formidable enemy to the kingdom. Mr. Kewen, you can achieve far more than today’s undertakings.”
Kewen took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I’m just a fugitive, my lord; everything I’ve done today is far from the nobility you suggest. My intent was merely to repay your kindness.”
“Mr. Kewen, there’s no need to belittle yourself,” Freya interjected, guessing that there might be some romantic subtext between the two. She fought for the ideal of safeguarding Buche, while her other half was solely devoted to Brendel. Knowing full well that Brendel wished to recruit the young man before him, she already felt supportive of Brendel’s aims without needing to ask why. Yet, Kewen merely cast a glance at the knight beside him and shook his head without responding.
Brendel was aware that Freya’s lofty, academy-trained rhetoric would likely bear little effect on this ambitious youth. After all, such sentiments might only resonate with someone as pure-hearted as Freya. He looked at Kewen and said, “Both of us are fugitives, fleeing for the kingdom and the beliefs in our hearts. In the face of such perseverance, everything else is trivial; why concern yourself with those formalities?”
Kewen pondered for a moment, refraining from arguing further, and merely nodded slightly before stepping aside. Brendel realized he had already stirred a change in him, recognizing this person as a true talent. Their backgrounds mirrored one another closely; if he were to pledge allegiance, they would undoubtedly stand side by side. Throughout the kingdom, no one besides him would offer such equivalence to Kewen and others. In fact, even Brendel himself, without the support of the Princess and his identity as the grandson of the Sword Saint Darus, might not hold his own within the kingdom.
The aristocratic contempt towards the lower classes was deeply ingrained.
The light rain continued, and Brendel shifted focus, asking Carglis, “Tell me, what’s the situation ahead? Is our Earl Jack alive or dead? How many troops from the Vieiro army remain?”
Carglis perked up, quickly replying, “That fellow Tomober is holding up, though his knights are a bit dull-witted and almost led to the demise of the Vieiro people. I haven’t witnessed such a disastrous defeat before; it’s nothing short of a joke. However, my lord, it’s a miracle that Tomober didn’t let his troops flee in panic. As for Margadale… it’s terrifying…”
At the mention of Margadale, he couldn’t help but shiver. Since the Battle of Ampere Seale, they had all held the White Lion Guard in high esteem and had never thought little of Margadale. Although Brendel had warned multiple times about the terror of the Broamente rose, in Carglis’s heart, the Undead Army seemed terrifying only compared to the antiquated troops of Erluin. He believed that the Undead Army could easily sweep aside the noble private armies, yet in the face of the White Lion Guard, they were merely clay chickens and tile dogs. The White Lion Guard had withstood the onslaught of the demon army during the Battle of Ampere Seale, and the legends of the undead, no matter how frightening, lacked the notoriety of the demons recognized as the strongest in individual combat.
Yet everything experienced today brought him a refreshing feeling, deepening his awe for his lord.
In fact, every commander encountering the Undead Army for the first time would likely share Carglis’s thoughts: Individually, the undead might not seem as terrifying as demons, but once organized into a cohesive army, they became one of the most formidable forces in the world. A silent army that never cried out in fear, would not flee when wounded, and would not abandon resistance until casualties reached one hundred percent. There would be no desperation and no exhilaration—only a relentless advance, seeking to consume everything.
Their adversaries would never feel the advantage of courage against these skeletons because even if one possessed overwhelming might, facing a multitude of wooden figures rendered it meaningless; one had to slay and crush each individually to achieve victory.
Those victorious against the undead would endure immense exhaustion, while the defeated would feel nothing at all, for they had already become part of that black rose.
The Broamente rose never withered, as if it were eternally everlasting.
