Chapter 311: The Battle of Aferton (Part 1)
Chapter 311: The Battle of Aferton (Part 1)
Aferton Plains, the frontlines of the battlefield.
The weather was clear, the sky without a single cloud, and from time to time, wyverns soared over the distant mountains, letting out long cries.
Camps stood on the snow-covered wasteland, while dirty slave soldiers worked to build fortifications and transport supplies. Armies from the Bosk Duchy, the Fano Duchy, the Carter Duchy, and other Northern nations had also gathered here.
A middle-aged noble clad in exquisite armor stood with his hands behind his back, gazing into the distance with a heavy expression. The crest of a lion and crossed swords adorned his chest plate.
“Have the Edson family’s troops not arrived yet?”
“My lord, we haven’t received any news from them. I’m afraid that they…”
“Damn it.”
A shadow fell over his face as he began pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath.
“The Edson family, the Durand family, the Rosa family, the Wolf family…”
“We were promised seventy thousand troops, and now we don’t even have two-thirds of that. How am I supposed to hold back the Ember Kingdom’s forces?”
His name was Loren Bosk. His surname alone signified his noble heritage. He was the second son of Grand Duke Leo, a count of the Bosk Duchy, a general, and the commander of the coalition’s first line of defense.
To demonstrate his resolve to fight the evil dragons and to silence the Northern nobles, Grand Duke Leo had sent his prized second son to the frontlines.
The wyverns in the distant sky grew denser, forming a chaotic black cloud. Under their erratic wings, even the earth seemed darker.
Loren stared at them intently, his expression grim, and instructed his adjutant:
“We’re out of time. The Ember army is approaching.”
“Notify all units to prepare for battle. I don’t expect us to achieve any great victories. Our sole task is to hold them back, probe their weaknesses, and buy more time for my father…”
Suddenly, the deep sound of war drums interrupted him.
“Boom, boom, boom.”
Loren instinctively turned his head to see the distant ground and sky dominated by the Ember Kingdom’s forces:
Orderly formations of hobgoblins, hulking ogres, towering armored drake beasts, swarming black wyverns, and colossal cannons pointing skyward. Even in a routine march, such an army exuded an overwhelming aura of despair.
The rhythmic drumbeats continued unabated, causing the ground to tremble slightly, like the heavy footsteps of Death.
“By Tempus…”
Loren couldn’t help but utter a prayer.
Despite the cold weather, sweat beaded on his forehead.
He had seen the Ember Kingdom’s army in magical projections before and hadn’t thought them invincible. But facing them in reality, he felt the sheer terror of this catastrophic legion.
“Is this a joke?”
“That… that’s our enemy?”
“How is this possible?”
“They’re sending us to our deaths!”
The soldiers in the fortifications gazed at the distant army, murmuring anxiously, their voices trembling.
These troops were private armies from various Northern nations, their overall quality uneven. They included professional mercenaries hired with money and even conscripted serfs disguised as proper soldiers.
The disparity in strength was so stark and demoralizing that anyone with common sense could see it at a glance.
Listening to the soldiers’ murmurs, Loren frowned deeply.
“This can’t go on.”
He knew that if things continued this way, the Ember Kingdom’s army wouldn’t even have to arrive before his forces completely lost their will and scattered. He wouldn’t be able to fulfill his father’s orders.
As a scion of the Bosk family, Loren enjoyed a privileged life but also bore the weight of immense expectations. He desperately wanted to become the heir of his family, perhaps even the titular ruler of the North.
But he was the second son.
Unlike the debauched scions of some noble families, Loren had worked tirelessly from a young age. He trained in riding and combat, studied tactics, and observed family affairs, all in hopes of earning Grand Duke Leo’s favor and replacing his elder brother as heir.
Yet in the North’s millennia-old “glorious traditions,” his efforts seemed insignificant.
This time, Grand Duke Leo had placed high hopes on him. Loren hoped to seize this opportunity to make a name for himself in the duchy, perhaps even become a hero worthy of the family’s epic history.
Thinking of this, Loren gritted his teeth.
“I must take the lead.”
He personally stepped onto the front lines, drew his longsword, and raised it high.
As a count and Grand Duke Leo’s son, Loren commanded considerable prestige in the North. His actions immediately drew the attention of the surrounding soldiers.
“Soldiers—”
His voice was heavy yet firm.
“As you can see, the enemy is unexpectedly strong. This may be a war we cannot win. The enemy is monstrous: wyverns, ogres, hobgoblins… They wield the power of the evil dragon. We are but ordinary humans. Compared to them, our only advantage as Skanians is our resilience.”
Loren paused, and his tone became impassioned, the drums of the Ember army serving as the backdrop to his speech.
“But remember, the ground beneath your feet is the homeland of Skanians, the land our ancestors have defended for millennia.”
“I am a descendant of the Bosk family. Nine centuries ago, my ancestor, the first ‘Lionheart King,’ Rosell Bosk, led your forebears to this unfamiliar land of Anzeta. We cleared the wilderness, built cities, and created the glorious Skanian civilization. The frost giants and white dragons of the North never broke us. We forged walls with our blood and defended our home time and again.”
“Nine centuries later, I, Rosell’s descendant, Loren Bosk, stand here with you. Our enemies are stronger and craftier, but I believe history will repeat itself.”
Suddenly, the distant drumbeats stopped.
Even Loren, in the midst of his fervent speech, paused in surprise before continuing: “We will defend together—”
But his words were interrupted by a deeper voice, and the soldiers’ eyes seemed to look past Loren toward a more distant sight. They gasped in awe, as if witnessing a miracle.
“Damn bastards, dishonorable scum.”
Seeing his speech ignored, Loren gritted his teeth and muttered a curse under his breath. He turned around and froze, stunned.
The Ember Kingdom’s army had stopped and silently encamped. Above them hovered a massive magical projection, hundreds of meters high.
The projection showed a handsome young man with black hair and golden eyes, whose bearing far surpassed any Northern noble in history.
He smiled politely, his deep golden eyes drawing everyone in, Loren included.
“Greetings, Northerners.”
“This is our first meeting. I am Cassius. You may have heard of me: the supreme ruler of the Ember Kingdom, also known to you as the ‘King of Ember.’”
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