Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 622 - 621: Winds and Clouds Rising and Falling

Fly.

The words of her mistress echoed in the mind of the black-haired maid.

It was not an order, but a blessing.

She glanced at the two long swords in her hands, casually strapped them to her belt, and then walked towards the edge of the terrace, moving faster and faster, eventually breaking into a run.

Finally, she leapt off the edge of the terrace—a gust of wind wrapped in snow appeared in time, enveloping the figure that had leapt off and lifting her into the sky.

Among the swirling snowflakes, a large shadow faintly rushed towards the southern sky, yet the shadow flashed by so quickly that everyone who noticed this anomaly thought they were imagining things.

If it takes to the wind, even deformed and degenerated wings can soar.

Victoria quietly watched the whirlwind that appeared suddenly dissipate in the sky, watched the vast body that passed through the distant lead-gray clouds, reflected in her eyes a scene of swirling snowflakes, she lightly sighed:

"You hid it quite poorly—especially given the Wilder Clan has been dealing with the Sacred Dragon Kingdom for hundreds of years."

Then, the Duchess withdrew her gaze from the sky and focused on the walls of the castle area not far away.

Now, it’s time to fulfill the responsibilities of the Protectorate Duke.

...

A staggering number of humanoid monsters surged from the direction of the Plains of the Holy Spirits, the terrifying Crystal Cluster Giants corps rapidly flattened countless fortresses and castles, Elron City, Wind City, Valley Corridor were attacked in succession, the hastily assembled noble armies were caught unprepared, suffering heavy losses...

Continuous bad news came from the southeast direction, and apart from increasingly close reports of attacks and mounting lists of losses, the exhausted royal intelligence department continued to receive terrifying information about some of the kingdom’s army equipment appearing in the monster army, and front-line soldiers being transformed into Crystal Cluster Giants.

St. Soniel had already entered the highest level of lockdown, a dreadful tension enveloped the whole city, fully armed knights and soldiers patrolled the walls and sentry posts throughout the day, citizens kept their doors shut, afraid to go out; nearly all aristocrats cancelled rest day banquets and hunting trips to the countryside.

Every day, messengers wearing blue and white cloaks galloped into the city, or gryphon knights swept across the sky; every day, more soldiers moved in and out through the city gates, with emergency summoned reserve troops and knight orders going to support the front line; every day, new news spread among the populace.

Inside Silver Castle, the kingdom’s aristocrats gathered in the Golden Oak Hall, the urgency of the situation finally made these people, who were used to speaking in a specific elegant tone, abandon their composure, they debated intensely, proposed one plan after another, exchanged the latest intelligence, the atmosphere was heated, hectic, fear and fatigue engulfed more than half of them.

Finally, when the fire reached St. Soniel, they became proactive.

"They’ve already started attacking Valley Corridor—our two fortresses there are simultaneously under attack, those monsters are not only numerous but their power far exceeds our soldiers!" A tall, thin aristocrat of the royal capital said with a nearly shrill voice, "If we can’t stop them at Valley Corridor, no fortress or stronghold will be able to stop them!!"

Someone else stood up and shouted, "We should send the Black Iron Fort Knights and Charnel Fort Knights there too, the local knights of Valley Corridor alone certainly can’t hold off the enemy..."

"I’m still saying, we can’t send more knight orders outside," at this moment, the chief commander of the Royal Knight Brigade, Earl Cromwell Whitehill, who had dwarf blood in him, stood up, "We should gather efficient elites together, tighten the defense of St. Soniel, that’s the only viable plan to hold the city..."

The short and stout Earl Balin couldn’t help but stand up: "What’s the use of holding out?! Being besieged is just waiting for death, do we have reinforcements!? The situation is very clear, the main force of the kingdom’s army and Mountain Corps is already finished! No one will come back from the Plains of the Holy Spirits to support us, we have no reinforcements!!"

The hall instantly fell silent, an oppressive, deadly atmosphere almost solidified, Earl Balin had so directly touched on this obvious yet facts no one wanted to face, making many who originally wanted to speak lose the courage to do so.

Cromwell Whitehill glared, his beard trembling, yet he also knew very well that Earl Balin’s words were irrefutable—his plan to tighten defense may indeed be the only effective strategy for defending the city, but the necessary follow-up for tightening defenses is to be able to wait for reinforcements, or grind down the enemy’s morale and troops—however, the current reality is that the morale and troops of those monsters likely far surpass St. Soniel, and reinforcements...

The kingdom’s army and Mountain Corps are truly finished.

The leader of the Royal Knight Brigade couldn’t help but slam the table.

Even he, at this moment, could only propose a besiege strategy that might barely extend St. Soniel’s survival time, still a besiege strategy without follow-up.

Just then, the door of Golden Oak Hall was suddenly pushed open, an officer wearing the armor of the Royal Knight Brigade ran into the hall.

Usually, no one could so casually barge into Golden Oak Hall, but now, evidently no one cared about this.

Cromwell Whitehill recognized the officer rushing in, a dreadful premonition surged in his heart: "What happened?"

"Valley Corridor has fallen, Earl Norris is missing on the battlefield, Earl Bariel is dead," the officer’s voice trembled slightly, "the knight orders... the knight orders and the church guards that went to support are completely annihilated..."

The hall was filled with the sound of sharp intakes of breath.

Now, they no longer needed to discuss whether to support Valley Corridor.

"We... we have no fortress to defend," a noble of the royal capital wearing a dark blue velvet jacket said with hands on the table, sweat dripping from his face, murmuring, "the defense line of Valley Corridor is gone too, they’re only two days away from the royal capital..."

"Now there really is no fortress or stronghold to stop them," another voice immediately followed, "next is St. Soniel."

Cromwell Whitehill said in a deep voice: "We should immediately tighten forces, consolidate the royal capital’s defense."

"But fortification is not a solution, Earl," a noble of the royal capital wearing a white wig and brown jacket said, "perhaps we could move west—then leverage the forces remaining in the western parts of the West and Plains of the Holy Spirits to reestablish foothold, slowly plotting for the future..."

"Moving north is also an option, the cold northern parts might be able to stop those monsters and there are mountain barriers in the north..."

"The Western Legion is already on its way to the royal capital. With their presence, abandoning St. Soniel now is premature..."

Duke Baldwin Franklin remained silent, seemingly contemplating feasible defense strategies or weighing the suggestions to abandon the royal capital. No one could deduce what this Duke of the West was thinking from his deeply introspective expression.

In his contemplation, he looked up to see Wales Moen sitting at the head of the long table with an impassive expression. The crown prince appeared to be quietly observing everything, his eyes deep and expressionless, and no one could guess what he was thinking either.

Not even Baldwin Franklin could.

On both sides of the long table, those who truly held the power in the royal capital and commanded the kingdom’s remaining army also refrained from getting involved in the noisy discussions.

Some of them focused on Baldwin Franklin, while others kept their eyes on Wales Moen.

Meanwhile, outside the castle, a group originally scheduled to head to the Valley Corridor halted before leaving the city, and a silent Church Knights brigade also stopped due to sudden orders.

None knew the future fate of this royal capital. People only knew that its darkest day had arrived.

At the same time, in the Cathedral of the Holy Light, within the Great Hall of Radiance, the low hum of prayers had come to an end. The resplendent Holy Light continued to ripple in the resonance of energy, and the ethereal, sacred voices lingered within the Holy Light Cloud Summit that enveloped the entire dome of the hall.

"We have lost a significant number of Church Knights and Combat Priests," an elderly Archbishop with white hair and beard said to the Holy Seat in the center of the hall after his prayers. "They are among the most excellent and devout believers, courageous warriors loyal to the Lord. Your Eminence, we should bestow the title of saints upon the most outstanding among them who martyred themselves."

"Their glorious martyrdom is the greatest tribute to the Lord. They upheld their vows to the Holy Light, protecting the Lord’s kingdom and people. They indeed deserve the title of saints," the frail voice of Pope Saint Ivan III came from the Holy Seat. "Draft the list, for acts of loyalty and purity should be recognized."

Another bishop stepped forward: "Your Eminence, a blasphemous army is approaching this holy city. How should we respond?"

"The Lord has revealed to me that we must fight to protect it," Saint Ivan III’s voice carried almost no hesitation. "This is a test of our unwavering faith—the dark days have arrived, and the initial Holy Light emerged at the darkest moment. Now, we must fulfill our vows to the Lord."

The bishops in the Great Hall of Radiance immediately responded in unison: "The initial Holy Light emerged at the darkest moment... fulfill our vows to the Lord."

On the Holy Seat at the center of the hall, Saint Ivan III’s aged face seemed to shimmer with a phantasmal light. His brows lowered as he prayed softly: "It is time... to be faithful to the Lord..."

Beside the devoted Pope, Veronica Moen stood silently, seemingly in quiet prayer as well. The radiance descending from the Holy Light Cloud Summit surrounded her, even more brilliant than usual.

"Dark enough... will be bright enough..."

The Saint Princess softly parted her lips, murmuring in a voice audible only to herself.

...

Anzu has already plunged into a nearly absolute disaster.

However, the trade line between the Cecil Clan and Typhon miraculously carried on as scheduled and developed rapidly from the outset.

This peculiar occurrence perplexed Emperor Rosetta Augustus of Typhon.

It seemed that the mysterious "duchy" had completely withstood the artificial disaster occurring beside them and even entered a rapid development stage amidst the war triggered by this disaster. Their merchants, machinery, vehicles—everything flowed continuously across the border, entering Typhon through specially opened trade channels, while the massive cotton textiles and industrial products exported by Typhon were wholly absorbed by them.

The restoration project for the great walls overseen by Typhon had been completed ahead of schedule, and Rosetta had returned to his imperial capital. Seated in the study of the Obsidian Palace, this ambitious emperor meticulously reviewed the intelligence reports gathered and organized by his team of advisors. These reports summarized all the key data in the trade between Anzu and Typhon, as well as some information painstakingly obtained from Anzu.

"Industrial production has rapidly developed due to the war’s stimulation...

"The reason being that a large portion of the industrial sector is linked to the military; their frequent use of magic machineries in warfare has spurred the entire industrial system...

"The Cecil Homeland appears not to be directly embroiled in the war; they are waging battles beyond their homeland...

"The Cecil Clan has consumed an astounding amount of cotton textiles, though their ultimate use remains unclear; it’s only certain that a portion is for battlefield consumption...

"Daily-use, low-cost magic-guided products manufactured by the Cecil Clan have become immensely popular within the Empire..."

Rosetta Augustus laid down these reports, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Trade between the Empire and the Cecil Clan unfolded with unexpected smoothness and promising growth.

Throughout the process, the Empire seemingly reaped immense benefits, exporting vast quantities of cotton textiles, greatly profiting the Aldernon Region’s textile mills, and acquiring advanced transportation technology from the Cecil Clan. Additionally, the Constructers’ Guild had recently made significant progress in replicating the magic-guided vehicles...

Everything seemed to progress positively.

Yet Rosetta Augustus faintly sensed the presence of a quagmire, an invisible quagmire.

At this moment, the voice of his attendant came from outside the door: "Your Majesty, Master Daniel has arrived."

Rosetta Augustus immediately composed his expression, casually setting the reports aside, and cleared his throat:

"Please have the Master come in."