Chapter 73: The Downpour
“…So, how much longer do we have to sit here?”
Finally, Isaac broke the silence, rubbing his bald head before slapping an urgent letter on the table with a resounding “smack.” “A bunch of nasty little rats from the Eastern Continent! Twenty-one years ago, we snuffed out their nest, and now they’re brave enough to crawl back out and cause chaos. This time, I’m going to wipe them out for good! Pope, give us the order.”
As he said that, he turned to Angel, but before Pope could respond, the Captain of Knights spoke up first.
“Lord Isaac, we should analyze the current situation and formulate a solid battle plan…”
At that, Isaac slammed the table again. “A battle plan? Harlan, when has the Fist of Judgment ever needed to come up with such things?”
“This enemy is different…”
“Different, how? Those supernatural flamethrowers? How many have we smashed over the years? Can you even count? If the Third Knights don’t know how to handle them, do we suddenly not know how?” The bald brute shot to his feet with a fierce glare, causing the sword hanging at his waist to clank loudly on the table. “Phase Two, chop off heads! Phase Three, use divine miracles to turn them into meat paste! Captain Harlan, have you spent too long in the Holy City that you’ve forgotten how to wield a sword, or lead an army?”
“With a jester in play, things will never be simple…”
“A jester? You’re talking about that coward who used to scurry like a dog whenever we chased him, hiding behind the big bad demon?!”
“Lord Isaac, I meant no insult. Please try to stay calm…”
“Calm? We have thousands of knights fighting for their lives in the south! They could be dying out there, and you want me to stay calm? Seriously? Just sit here discussing tactics for three days and three nights?”
Seeing the two bickering, the Bishop rubbed his forehead and glanced at the otherwise silent Angel. “Pope, we must be cautious of the heretics’ tricks. We cannot act rashly. I suggest we immediately intensify the search along the Northern Coast to locate Archbishop Anser… At the very least, we need to find any surviving ships. We need to clarify the locations of the relics…”
“You mean…” Isaac suddenly spun around, glaring at the Bishop with a spark of anger in his eyes, “that relic is more important than the lives of thousands of knights?!”
The Bishop straightened up firmly. “Lord Isaac! Can’t you see that the relic brought from the Royal City is the source of the heretics’ current actions? They’re willing to wage war against the Church for it! The jester has been silent for twenty years—what made him so anxious that he had to reappear? Please, read the letter again and see how Commander Nick describes their forces! If the jester had an army like that twenty years ago, could we have smoothly penetrated the Eastern Continent?”
“What nonsense about an army? Just a bunch of rabble who’ve made deals with demons!”
“Rabble? They have ten Phase Threes! The heretics must have emptied their nests this time! This is a desperate, insane tactic! They’re willing to pay such a huge price—why? You don’t know! None of us know! But one thing is sure, if they succeed, far more than just a few thousand knights will perish!”
“So you’re saying we should abandon the Third Knights to go look for a questionably alive leader in the Fesser parish?!”
“I didn’t say that! Please, don’t be rash…”
The once-quiet command tent erupted into chaos, and I found myself not wanting to say a word.
Ten Phase Threes…
So, the heretics actually… sent ten strong ones like Teresa over?
I took a deep breath, suppressing the surging emotions inside me, telling myself I had to stay calm, not panic, don’t rush.
Maybe Commander Nick misunderstood the Third Phase… How could there be that many…
No…
It might not be impossible…
After all, none of us knows how many Phase Threes the heretics truly have…
What to do…
Can we fight?
I turned my gaze around the table at the few people present, finally resting on the envoy, who was rubbing his hands and deep in thought to my left, and suddenly remembered the food issues he mentioned earlier. I quickly turned back to Angel and asked, “So, we cannot leave immediately?”
Angel remained silent.
He kept his head down, seemingly pondering something, with his eyes slightly narrowed, fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. I watched his profile for a while, but he still ignored me, overwhelmed by the clamor of the arguing people, with Isaac’s booming voice getting on my nerves.
“Pope!”
I couldn’t resist nudging Angel with my elbow, calling out each word distinctly.
Angel finally lifted his head.
“What’s all this noise? Sit down.”
He still didn’t look at me, merely straightened his back, and with a few gestures of his hand, the others fell silent. Isaac settled back in his seat, redirecting his focus toward this direction. “Pope, for all these years, the Fist of Judgment has never slacked off in training for a moment. We’ve waited too long for this day—please give the order! We will sweep away all heretics that torment humanity, no matter who they are.”
“…Envoy Ian.”
Angel ignored Isaac’s enthusiasm and lazily glanced over at the envoy. “Shouldn’t we continue discussing the topic we just had? About the army and food. What does the Republic plan to do about it?”
He knocked on the table again, his voice low, and his demeanor relaxed, but somehow, sitting next to him, I felt a chilling aura sweep through me.
Intimidation.
Angel kept the envoy there to hear the battle reports as a form of intimidation…
I quickly grasped the situation.
The food issue might not be smooth sailing.
“Uh, Pope…” The envoy wiped the sweat off his forehead, his face tense, “Since things have reached this critical point, the Republic will definitely spare no effort in supporting the heroic knights against those demons from the Eastern Continent… The logistical efforts for supplies in the south have always aligned with the major merchant associations, but…”
He hesitated a moment, choosing his words carefully.
“However, as you know, our country is primarily agricultural and values peace. Eighty percent of the populace are farmers… and among those, eighty percent can only produce enough to feed themselves and their families each year… We don’t have that many soldiers. Given the recent droughts, even transporting relief food has exhausted the palace’s resources, leaving lords and landowners on edge…”
As the envoy spoke, he glanced at Angel cautiously, gauging his expressions. “Previously, the Williams Chamber of Commerce gathered military rations, and some wealthy farmers even donated half of their assets, yet the transportation routes ran into issues, with food getting stolen and many people dying… Most merchants are afraid to venture south now, and the association is powerless against it. We’re doing our best to mediate, but it’s not something that can be resolved quickly…”
“The knights fighting in the south are bleeding out there, and you say you can’t go?” Isaac exploded, pounding the table again.
The envoy responded with a nervous smile, “It’s not that we’re afraid—it’s those merchants… they have their concerns, they’re not warriors after all… The landowners don’t have much stored grain, and they all have their private militia. Trying to collect supplies using force might require the Church’s assistance, which would take a massive amount of time and manpower to truly implement… This isn’t practical right now…”
“Ridiculous! Silgaya is such a vast country with the richest land in the Western Continent. Many farmers here are wealthier than the nobility in the Holy City! And now you’re telling me you can’t provide more food?!”
Faced with Isaac’s accusation, the envoy forced out a bitter smile. “In a normal year, forget about five thousand army rations; we could easily supply fifty thousand if the Emerald City’s granaries were wide open! We wouldn’t even need to appeal for donations, it wouldn’t be a problem at all… But this year is a special situation.”
He paused, looking increasingly distressed.
“Maybe it’s a sign that demons are about to step onto this land… Since four months ago, across the Silgaya borders… it’s roughly been divided at Woodward Forest—except for places north where rainfall remains normal, the entire southern, western, and eastern regions have experienced varying degrees of flooding. Villages and farmlands have been submerged, and the torrential downpours are still ongoing in some areas… There’s simply no food left to harvest, and many homeless have turned to banditry, plundering everywhere…”
“They’re desperate; they’ll do anything to survive… The reason that lords and merchants are hesitant is partly because of these people… We started calling for donations for food before the Williams Chamber even began operating, but it’s just… a drop in the bucket… The King has been losing sleep over this for two months, but all that’s left to do is pray to the deities… If the Pope were to venture a bit further south, perhaps he’d witness that scene.”
…
This meeting turned out to be the longest of those past days.
As night deepened, with the sounds of insects buzzing in the camp, I stepped out of the command tent, rubbed my eyes, and dragged my weary body back to my little tent on the hillside, sitting on the blanket-covered ground.
The flickering light of the lantern illuminated the dark chest in the corner, casting a reddish hue.
I drew the short sword Victoria had gifted me, holding it up to my face, then exhaled onto the blade.
Six days…
In the end, after negotiations, the envoy returned with a letter flying back to the Emerald City, charged with the Pope’s orders to allocate the recently dispatched grain to the disaster area for our military use.
If we rationed it, this grain could certainly ensure that about a thousand knights reached Alectine City safely.
This was currently the fastest, best option available.
But even with the grain coming, it would still take at least six days.
And then…
Perhaps there would be even more victims starving to d*ath.
For a brief moment, I even considered breaking my promise to Angel and sneaking off alone tonight to confront those guys in the city.
However, that impulse didn’t last long. I quickly calmed myself, reminding myself that such action would likely take even longer and wouldn’t necessarily solve the problems or rescue Barry.
Besides…
I wasn’t even sure if Barry was still alive…
Those were…
Ten Phase Threes!
I tried hard to stop thinking about that.
Time to sleep…
But that night, I tossed and turned, unable to find rest, my mind swirling with all sorts of chaotic thoughts, narrowing down eventually to one single idea: why was such a terrible flooding disaster happening…
Why, conveniently right when the heretics were about to strike, did half of Silgaya suddenly start raining without any warning…?
Was that even reasonable?
