The horn of battle echoed through the morning mist. Phil clutched the ribbons and herb ointment in her hands, her heart racing along with the rhythmic beat of the war drums.
As a doctor’s assistant, Phil did not need to go to the front lines. She stood behind the treatment table, her gaze passing through the densely packed soldiers to land on the distant battlefield.
The catapults of the Rebels were already in position. On the throwing arms, engineers were adjusting the tension of the ropes. Beside them sat rows of rounded, massive stones.
The range of these catapults was roughly one hundred meters. Amidst the vibration of the ropes, the projectiles shot toward the sky like falling stars, accompanying the sharp arrows from the archers as they fell upon the high outer walls of Konsh Castle.
“Wow! Is this a siege?” Phil’s eyes followed the sparks of that friction.
Blitz did not answer. He was busy checking the medical supplies, ensuring everything was ready. He knew that before long, this place would become an ocean of pain and wailing.
Because they could not be certain if other Nobles would send reinforcements, according to the original plan, the Rebels could not afford to waste too much time at Konsh Castle. They had to fight a quick, decisive battle.
Following that, their assault continued for two days. Konsh Castle remained like an empty city, offering no response whatsoever. After a discussion between the Captain and Babatok, they decided to use a ram to force open the castle gates.
However, the change in the battle situation caught them off guard.
Just as their soldiers intended to set the ladders against the walls, chaos erupted in the rear units. Sounds of tragic screams and shouting drifted over.
Only then did Fesca realize that Mutz had hidden a portion of his army outside the city long ago. Under the cover of night, they had already surrounded their rear.
“Old, cunning fox!”
Fesca cursed under his breath, turning his horse around and tightening his grip on his long spear.
Before long, due to the collapse of the rear, the forward units had to temporarily halt their attack on the city walls.
The Enemy Army within Konsh Castle had been waiting for this moment. With a thunderous boom, the iron gates swung open, and a dark mass of troops surged forward.
As the two armies clashed, Count Mutz’s army began to advance. The formation of spearmen was like a forest of steel, slowly crushing the space of the Rebels.
“It’s no good, we can’t hold the line!”
An adjutant spurred his horse to Fesca’s side, shouting with a face full of terror.
“Cavalry, get ready! Charge and pincer them from the side high ground! Earth Dragon Soldiers take the lead! Break their front Wedge Formation first!”
The commander forced himself to remain calm. He tried to change tactics to disperse his forces, but the cavalry was already caught in a Wedge Formation (the vanguard is pointed, thickening toward the back to concentrate power on a single point to tear through enemy lines). The enemy army had already reacted; their spearmen adjusted their formation and launched a fierce counter-attack against the Rebels’ cavalry.
With this, the Rebels instantly fell into a disadvantage, beginning to retreat step by step as their lines crumbled.
At the same time, Phil was crouching in a tent, bandaging wounds for those blood-stained soldiers. Her hands were trembling, but she could not stop.
“What do we do… Blitz, they’re going to break through!”
The other Phil was sweating profusely with anxiety, turning back to look at Blitz, who was calmly arranging medicine.
The Old Doctor still maintained his unruffled appearance—perhaps he had already given up on struggling. He merely stood up sluggishly and glanced outside.
“As expected, it’s a loss.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Sigh, I foresaw this day long ago,” Blitz said with a bitter smile. “Fesca is always too confident and relies too much on others. He will pay the price for his choices.”
“Reliance? What happened to him?”
“Phil, ah, come here. I have something to tell you…”
Blitz faced the Hunter Girl before him, about to say something. At that moment, a sharp scream came from outside the tent. The flap was thrown open, and an enemy Knight holding a sharp blade barged in.
Had Count Mutz’s army already broken into their rear?!
Phil’s face turned pale instantly.
The Knight’s eagle-like eyes scanned the room. Holding his long sword, he walked over and suddenly lunged toward Blitz!
Phil instinctively screamed, while simultaneously grabbing the medicine jar beside her and hurling it at the Knight.
Blitz’s reaction was also unexpectedly fast. He dodged to the side, avoiding the lethal strike.
The medicine jar traced an arc through the air and smashed against the Knight’s helmet. Although it caused no substantial damage, it made his movements falter for a brief moment.
In that flash of lightning, the Old Doctor grabbed Phil’s wrist and dragged her out.
The battlefield outside had turned into a scene of complete chaos. Broken armor and snapped iron swords were everywhere. Blood and mud mixed together, emitting an’ nauseating stench.
The roars and screams of agony almost burst their eardrums. The Rebel soldiers were retreating steadily before Count Mutz’s army; many had already given up resistance and begun to flee for their lives.
Phil and Blitz were also mixed among the fleeing soldiers.
“Where is Fesca?” Phil asked while running.
Blitz shook his head. “Right now we must ensure our own safety first, then find a way.”
They crossed the edge of the battlefield, dodging stray arrows flying everywhere and soldiers running in all directions. Just as they were about to escape the battlefield, a stray arrow suddenly whistled through the air, heading straight for Phil’s chest.
Blitz’s eyes were sharp and his hands quick. He forcefully pushed Phil aside, but he himself did not have time to dodge. That arrow pierced ruthlessly into his chest.
“Blitz!”
Phil cried out in alarm. She immediately stopped her footsteps, prepared to treat Blitz’s wound.
“Don’t worry about me, go!” Blitz gritted his teeth, using his last bit of strength to push Phil forward.
“What I didn’t finish saying… go find Fesca. Tell him… we… we cannot trust the Vampires…”
His words were barely finished before he collapsed due to excessive blood loss. Tears fell uncontrollably from Phil’s eyes.
Woo—
At the same time, the sound of a ceasefire horn drifted from afar. The sound was distant and deep, making everyone’s heart tremble.
That was the sound coming from the enemy.
They could have wiped out the Rebels’ final line of defense in one go, but Mutz, as the commander, did not intend to do so. Instead, he took the initiative to halt the attack.
This left Fesca, who was fighting on the front lines, feeling incredibly confused.
“What exactly is that Vampire planning to do?”
Fesca wiped the dried blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at the Konsh Castle, which had been battered into a mottled state.
To his surprise, outside the city gates, the enemy army parted to create a path. An old man wearing a gold-threaded red coat slowly rode out on a red warhorse. Behind him fluttered a triangular banner bearing the family crest.
Judging by his attire and the attitude of the generals around him, this bald, white-bearded old man was undoubtedly Count Mutz himself.
Fesca took a step back, tightening his grip on his sword hilt, his heart rate accelerating.
“Ho ho, sir, you needn’t be so nervous.”
Count Mutz slowed his pace, and the warhorse came to a stop. His gaze passed over the piles of corpses on the battlefield to look directly at Fesca.
“War is nothing more than a game of power, is it not? Rather than meaningless mutual destruction, we could certainly do something more meaningful.”
“Cut the nonsense, Vampire. What do you want to do?”
Fesca asked, his voice betraying a hint of distrust. He knew Count Mutz’s reputation—a cunning Organization noble. What was hidden beneath that hypocritical smile was often a lethal trap.
“Don’t be so agitated. This is merely a peaceful negotiation, sir.”
Count Mutz said as he dismounted his warhorse, his steps steady and composed. He reached out a withered hand, gesturing for Fesca to approach.
Fesca remained unmoved.
“Peace?”
“That’s right, peace. Do you not wish for the Blood Clan, Human Race, and Beastmen to live together in peace? We have coexisted on the land of Ansels for so many years; we ought to be three races living in harmony.”
He chuckled, revealing two rows of yellow teeth. The small pupils under his droopy eyelids sized up the strong Man before him, who was a head taller than himself.
“Or perhaps, you intend to refuse this negotiation? Shall I give the order to annihilate all of you?”
The fingers Fesca used to grip his sword were trembling slightly, his eyes a mix of fury and hesitation.
As he breathed heavily, he used his peripheral vision to look toward both sides. On the dark green hills on either flank, the banners of the Mutz Family had been raised at some unknown time—the shield-shaped crest of deep purple and white flowed in the wind, connecting into a sea of oppressive color, bearing down on the Rebels with a heavy aura.
The high ground on both sides had been occupied. Judging only by the enemies visible in his sight, reinforcements were still arriving in a steady stream; the total number was unknown.
This was vastly different from the situation Fesca had initially estimated. Given the current productivity of Ansels, even a Noble of the Count rank could not afford the consumption of maintaining such a large-scale standing army. The armies of various lords usually only gathered together during war, following commands temporarily.
The enemy could not have assembled such a massive force in such a short time. There was only one answer: Count Mutz had been prepared for this war long ago. One could even say the battle before Konsh Castle was a carefully set bait.
Fesca naturally understood that the Count before him was not offering a peaceful talk, but a blatant threat.
Why did it turn out like this?
Did Babatok betray me? No… that Captain couldn’t have done such a thing! We only made it this far with the support of the Peng People; what reason would they have to harm us?
Various speculations filled his brain, but Fesca had no time to investigate further. He knew well that Count Mutz’s words were riddled with hidden traps, yet he also understood that the Rebels were already at a dead end. Continuing to fight was no different from stepping into an abyss of total annihilation.
“I accept the negotiation.”
Fesca took a deep breath, and with a “clang,” he sheathed his long sword. His boots stepped onto the muddy road as he strode forward.
Count Mutz stroked his beard, seemingly having long seen through Fesca’s thoughts. The corner of his mouth curled into a satisfied arc.
“That is a wise choice, sir.”
And so, both sides declared a temporary truce.