Chapter 902: Act 78 – A Glimpse of the Iceberg
The four inner court knights were still persuading Earl Ji’en.
Earl Ji’en obviously did not believe the claims of the Jotungrund invasion. Just as the persuaders, including Rogers, would not have believed that the underground army of Jotungrund would suddenly emerge on the surface if they had not seen it with their own eyes. The world beneath the Great Hive was far too distant for them; troglodytes and minotaurs from mazes were merely terrifying creatures from bedtime stories. Although he could not explain the reason why his allies had gone missing, he could only conclude that it was a private scheme of Brendel, unable to see through the other’s plot.
However, whether he was willing or not, Brendel’s so-called “persuasion” was more a threat than a suggestion, and ultimately he had no choice but to reluctantly hand over command.
As the sun set, the sun gradually sank beneath the mountains to the west, and the entire hilly area seemed to fall into a strange silence. In the northern valley of Silver Surge, Valgris’s lights were no longer visible, and the sky on the horizon turned pitch black. As the hills quieted, a suffocating silence settled in, sending chills down one’s spine.
The four inner court knights walked silently along the edge of the red pine forest. After a while, Lady Knight Natasha could no longer hold back and said, “Perhaps Earl Ji’en is right; the situation isn’t that bad. Maybe what has appeared on the surface is just a bandit from Jotungrund. Such things happen often, don’t they?”
Rogers frowned tightly and did not respond.
“What about the strange light pillars and shooting stars we saw last night? And the interference with Kew’s message magic? This is a planned attack,” Trevor shook his head, “That old man, Earl Ji’en, just doesn’t want to bow to the Erluin people. You and I both understand that the nobility around here are usually stubborn and concerned about their pride.”
Natasha fell silent for a moment, seemingly trying to find a rebuttal but unable to convince herself. Finally, she asked with some concern, “If Jotungrund really invades us, how terrible would it be for the Empire?”
“That depends on the scale of the Jotungrund invasion,” Rogers replied in a deep voice.
“How extensive do you think this invasion will be? Can they really threaten the Empire’s defenses in the south?” Natasha asked incredulously.
This question seemed impossible to answer. They all felt that Brendel might be exaggerating, but Rogers and Trevor were not familiar with that forgotten underground kingdom. In fact, few even among the general populace could recognize the entirety of the underground ethnic groups. Suddenly, Rogers and Trevor thought of the black-haired boy draped in a cloak.
Kew calmly answered, “Jotungrund is slightly different from us; they do not have a unified country. In the dark underground, there are only lords of various sizes, the only exception being the dark elves.”
“Kew, what kind of power can the greatest lord have?” Natasha asked.
“Approximately equivalent to a moderately powerful kingdom on the surface.”
“Are there many such lords?”
Kew shook his head, “Apart from the three infamous black dragons exiled by the Dragon Race, there’s the famed Minotaur King Geralt, and the Medusa named Pertana—they are known as the kings of the underground world.”
“If they are to threaten the Empire’s defenses in the south, is such a lord strong enough?” Natasha asked again.
“If they exert all their strength, perhaps it would be enough, but wars in the underground rarely go all out, as they must guard against unseen enemies. The cooperation of two lords is a more reliable guess, but such lords are among the elite in Jotungrund. They rarely come to the surface world which is equally unknown to them. If it were not for these underground kings taking action, an ordinary lord would probably need the cooperation of ten or even twenty to launch a war of such scale.”
“Kew, what do you think the chances of that happening are?” Trevor turned back to ask.
“Hard to say; the underground world is one that adheres to dark laws, deception and intrigue are the norms in the dark, and they rarely trust one another, let alone form alliances,” Kew answered.
Natasha looked at her companion with some admiration: “Is there a possibility that they could form an alliance under special circumstances?”
“Perhaps,” Kew replied, “but I can’t say for sure. That Duke Toniger might know more about these underground people.”
“Why say that? He might just be exaggerating,” the Lady Knight clearly did not like hearing that.
The black-haired boy responded, “He and the lady knight beside him seem certain and quick in their judgment of the movements of the Jotungrund army, something I cannot do.”
Trevor felt that his companion’s words were somewhat exaggerated. He shook his head; although Kew possessed a genius-level mind, he was somewhat lacking in social dealings. He clearly understood the tricks within; those Erluin people could easily be putting on a show. Having heard Natasha’s earlier question, he too felt somewhat shaken. Could Jotungrund really raise an army of several lords to cause trouble for the Empire? The Empire was indestructible in the hearts of its people, and while it might encounter a stroke of bad luck, it would not coincide with facing the worst situation. Trevor could hardly imagine that the Lokos—The Swordbreaker Mountain Fortress cluster would be threatened. That was not just one or two fortresses; it was a fortified line nearly a hundred miles deep, with comprehensive facilities.
He vaguely agreed with the Lady Knight’s assertion that perhaps the enemy before them was merely a bandit army from the underground world, perhaps composed of the forces of one or two lords who had taken benefits from the Toquinin lionmen to stir up trouble within the Empire’s borders, distracting the Empire’s military attention, and seizing the opportunity to plunder.
Just as he was thinking this, Rogers suddenly asked, “Kew, how strong would the combined forces of all Jotungrund be?”
The black-haired boy suddenly looked up at his companion who had been frowning all along, a strange expression appearing on his face for the first time.
“That is impossible,” he replied.
…
Although Trevor and Natasha hoped that the Jotungrund’s invasion of the Empire was merely the personal actions of one or two lords, everything south of Russuff, at the end of the Lokos Highlands, was clearly contrary to their wishes. The mountain pass once housed a magnificent fortress, but now it was only rubble and ruins. The entire fortress seemed to have been struck from the front by some terrifying force, with a huge breach torn in the originally intact walls. The opening bathed in moonlight resembled a surface charred by flames, even the bricks and stones presented a shiny black color as if charred. Among the rubble sparkled what looked like crystallized sand. Such scenes were scattered throughout the fortress; aside from the lifeless objects, there were also charred and twisted corpses—some of animals—cattle, horses, donkeys, and even enormous earth-wyrms burned nearly to skeletons, lying limply against the street beside houses reduced to skeletal structures, showing no signs of struggle, invoking the image of death arriving, with overwhelming heat turning this giant creature to ashes in an instant, both flesh and soul.
But not just animals; human bodies were also found everywhere. Some wore armor—but now they had become melted and re-solidified metal puddles; others were merely civilians, but whether old or young, man or woman, they had all turned into unrecognizable charred corpses. Such bodies littered the streets, their positions indicating they had been trying to hide from something, but time froze at that last moment.
The entire fortress looked as if plowed through the middle, with streets and buildings in these areas becoming utterly shattered, while other districts remained intact, though sharp wooden stakes were stuck all over the streets and along the hillsides, countless human corpses impaled on these stakes, their empty gazes staring into the darkened sky, choked by overcast clouds, their eyes long devoid of life.
The shattered fortress had become a dead city, void of Crusian life and their enemies, as if the Grim Reaper had silently passed through, taking all life away.
Such scenes played out not just over the entire Lokos Highlands but also east of the Swordbreaker Mountains in many places simultaneously. Here lies Paseleian Fortress, the heart of the Lokos—Swordbreaker Mountain fortress cluster, consisting of thousands of fortifications, checkpoints, and forts both large and small; however, only the Emerald Claw Fortress, Aelno Fortress, and Paseleian Fortress truly formed the core of this defense line. The other fortified settlements were merely built around them for protection. Paseleian Fortress was the final line of defense pointed toward the Empire, and throughout its thousand-year history, it had never been breached, nor even attacked. Yet today, a force the Crusian had never encountered rewrote this history.
When Friis awakened beneath the ruins, he still could not forget the most unforgettable scene he had ever witnessed in his life. He remembered that the fortress had been attacked by a group of harpies whose origins he couldn’t discern. The fortress’s highest commander had deemed it a monster attack; perhaps a new nest had formed somewhere near the fortress, such things often happened in border areas, and the desolate Lokos Highlands were indeed a haunt for monsters. The Imperial soldiers joined the fight without surprise. Friis was an Imperial crossbowman, and naturally, he was also involved in the combat. However, he was relatively safe in the shooting chamber—though the noise of shouting from above the walls was somewhat unbearable, the sounds of militia heavy machinery being pushed to the parapet creaked causing discomfort. At that moment, he was like in training, drawing the string of the heavy crossbow using the winch, placing a bolt, and then leaning to look out the shooting slit.
Then in that instant—
He felt he heard a piercing, chilling scream from above the wall, a sound that seemed to drop from the sky, a shriek akin to the howls of ghosts at midnight. A piercing whistle made his hair stand on end, and then, through the aperture, he saw a gigantic, cold, emotionless eye, like a pitch-black cast iron ball. Just one glance made him feel like he was plunging into an abyss, an icy dread rising from beneath his feet, freezing him there. Although he opened his mouth to scream, no sound came forth.
He vaguely heard his comrades screaming in terror, their cries merging into one, as if describing a monster that filled them with dread.
But before Friis could make sense of what it was, there came a tremendous tremor, and he saw the wall of the shooting chamber collapse toward him, and at that moment, the world fell into darkness.
Upon waking again, Friis realized that it was those collapsing stones that had saved his life.
He lay in darkness, unsure how long it had been until he regained a bit of strength and, despite the aches throughout his body, gritted his teeth and cleared a path through the rubble. Miraculously, he found he wasn’t severely injured; aside from a dull pain while breathing suggesting a couple of broken ribs, his hands and feet were quite agile, only scraped. Climbing out of the rubble, the next moment, the desolate tragedy of the fortress filled his vision, and in an instant, Friis clenched his jaw. Everything he saw before him seemed to have already appeared in his dreams; although he had anticipated it, he could not help but tremble.
He raised his head toward the mountain pass, the direction in which the monster army had vanished, leading to the path to the Emerald Claw Fortress, with the depths being the heart of the Lokos—Swordbreaker Mountain fortress cluster. He felt a chill in his heart, realizing this was not a monster attack at all, but a premeditated ambush.
That eye……
Friis trembled, recalling the scene he had seen; he seemed to want to convince himself that it was merely an illusion, yet the lurking terror within his heart reminded him of what it truly was.
That was a dragon—
A black dragon.
…
There’s a saying in Crusian: Every day is calm in the Empire, yet every day is fraught with intrigue. This phrase may not aptly represent the entirety of the Crusian Empire, but it is most fitting for the capital, Rustra.
For the past three days, the White Rose Garden has been shrouded in a stifling atmosphere, the Holy Contipal Palace was lifeless, as if everyone who entered it would be tainted by misfortune. In the past, this usually indicated a change in Her Majesty’s mood, and typically, many factors lead to her anger—such as some noble causing her displeasure, or bringing disappointment, or perhaps the Temple of Fire offending the majesty of this supreme being again. It is well-known that the Temple of Fire and Her Majesty often offend each other. However, aside from these two major reasons, there were many minor issues—like mountain folk, the Anzeruta people, or other savages killing Imperial tax officials, or several dukes connected to the royal family sending representatives to one of Her Majesty’s banquets—this was widely recognized as a poor relationship between the Silver Queen and the Imperial relatives.
In fact, there had recently been some new grumbles, such as a certain Earl from Erluin, said to have become a thorn in Her Majesty’s side; not to mention the rumors surrounding a female mountain folk earl, claimed that after every summons from Her Majesty, her mood would deteriorate.
Yet this time, neither a noble had stirred trouble, nor had the Temple of Fire behaved disruptively. Although the seventh prince had suffered serious injuries after his carriage accidentally fell off a cliff on the way back to the capital from Valarch last month, the mountain folk behaved peacefully regarding this matter. They even sent an embassy specifically to explain the incident; the embassy was on the verge of reaching the capital, and their attitude clearly suggested a total submission to the Empire’s supreme being. It seemed unnecessary for Her Majesty to fly into a rage over this.
On the other hand, there seemed to be no news from the Flowerleaf Territory and Ludwig, and the rumors surrounding that Duke Toniger had sunk beneath the waves these past days. Based on reports from handmaids nearest to Her Majesty, she hadn’t summoned that female earl in some time.
The only news of note appeared to be that a few days ago, regions like Banker and the Violet Valley had reported rare responses from artifacts, but these manifestations occurred only in a few isolated areas, and no one had observed them over a broader region. The sorcerers of the Tower of Stars and Moons had yet to draw any conclusions as to whether these were illusions or real phenomena.
Yet in reality, among the high-ranking nobles of the entire Empire, only a few well-informed individuals understood that ever since that day, the Empire had lost contact with the regions south of Anziluwa. This news refers to the secret reports from the inner court knights, which originally came in once a day. Since three days ago, reports from Valgris to the regions of Bear Lake, Russuff, and even the whole area south of the Lokos fortress cluster seemed to have disappeared from the map, losing all contact.
In regular times, this delay of one or two days would mean little, but just prior to all this, almost the entire Empire’s attention was focused on this region. The Empire’s nobles were still lingering in expectation of the final battlefield results between Brendel and the local aristocrats of Anzeruta, but suddenly, this area fell silent.
Whether private or royal spies, it was as if they had evaporated into thin air, all vanished without a trace.
Everyone immediately believed it was the doing of that Duke Toniger.
However, the news that followed plunged the entire Empire into silence.
On the third day, early morning.
Constance summoned her two knights’ captains into the White Rose Garden—
At this moment in front of the queen, Royal Knight Commander Mr. Travis and Dragon Knight Commander Mr. Kevin were wiping the cold sweat off their foreheads with handkerchiefs, both of them coming from the Palut family, while the other was also from a family trusted by Her Majesty. Their official titles were the heads of the two elite military forces beside Constance, but anyone who had lived in Rustra for a time would know that the two gentlemen quietly managed the external affairs of the inner court knights.
