The Forgotten Field

No one knew how many days they had been riding.

They stopped at temples along the way to receive healing magic, but the relentless march that continued day and night visibly wore down the mounted warriors, while the warhorses staggered forward with white foam gathering around their mouths.

In the end, Varkas split the force in two.

The advance detachment, composed of lightly equipped cavalry with superior mobility, took the shortest route to Kalmor. Meanwhile, the remaining heavy knights gathered every available soldier they could from the nearby lords before following behind the vanguard.

Because they pressed on without a moment’s rest, they reached the edge of the Armund Forest two full days earlier than expected.

”Please don’t worry too much.”

When they had passed roughly halfway through the birch forest, Daren approached, breathing heavily before speaking in a grave voice.

”The Kalmor garrison isn’t so easily overwhelmed. Even if the Zram attacked in full force, as long as the gates were sealed in time and the defenders held the walls, they could easily endure a siege for several months.”

Varkas did not bother replying.

He knew Daren’s words were meant more to comfort himself than anyone else.

Bjorn Blodar Heimdal had infiltrated the Holy War by disguising himself as a Holy Knight under the guarantee of the Grand Temple.

That meant there was at least one high-ranking clergyman within the Central Church working with him.

If there were collaborators within the Eastern Church as well, Kalmor might not even survive a single night, much less several months.

Without another word, Varkas dug his heels into Tork’s flanks and shot through the dense forest.

Not long afterward, the charred remains of the outpost came into view.

Reining in before the collapsed barricades, Varkas’s expression darkened as he saw corpses scattered around the blackened watchtower.

There were roughly twenty bodies.

Judging by the degree of decomposition, they had been dead for at least half a month.

It seemed the enemy had destroyed the communication network beforehand to isolate Kalmor.

Varkas clenched his teeth.

If the other outposts had met the same fate, then Kalmor had been completely cut off from the outside world.

Immediately, he snapped the reins like a whip, urging Tork into an even faster gallop.

The mounted warriors behind him realized the gravity of the situation and drove their own horses forward with equal desperation.

How much farther they rode, none of them knew.

When they emerged from the forest and crossed a gently sloping hill, the ruined village spread out before them.

Beyond it stood thousands of invaders.

The instant Varkas saw them, he drew his sword.

The enemy had established camps to both the north and south, launching simultaneous assaults from both sides.

Watching dozens of siege engines lined across the plains hurl stone after stone toward the city’s towers, the knights cursed viciously.

Fortunately, the city had not yet fallen.

However, sections of the walls had been heavily damaged, and enemy soldiers were pouring through the collapsed breaches like a flood.

Without the slightest hesitation, Varkas charged down the hillside.

Cutting through the burned village, he plunged directly into the enemy’s rear.

His sword lopped off the head of a soldier who had been repairing a trebuchet.

At the same instant, nearly fifteen hundred cavalrymen crashed into the enemy’s rear like an enraged tidal wave.

The besieging army, completely focused on attacking the city, failed to react quickly enough to the assault from behind.

The iron-shod hooves of the charging warhorses trampled hundreds of panicked soldiers in an instant.

The enemy formation collapsed almost immediately.

Part of the infantry rushed over to reinforce the siege troops after finally realizing what had happened.

By then, however, the elite Wolfram Knights had already carved straight through the enemy ranks.

Varkas mercilessly cut down the neck of a soldier charging at him with a battle cry before riding directly through the breached wall.

The marauders guarding the opening lowered their halberds and rushed him.

Varkas casually deflected the attack before violently pulling on the reins.

Tork immediately reared onto his hind legs and brutally crushed the spearman’s skull beneath his front hooves.

The barbarians instinctively recoiled.

Taking advantage of the opening they had created, Varkas rode into the city streets.

His eyes rapidly swept across the broad avenue where brutal hand-to-hand combat raged.

Thick clouds of dust hung over the streets while the deafening sounds of battle echoed from every direction.

”Your Grace!”

An elderly veteran shouted as soon as he spotted him.

Recognizing the man, Varkas narrowed his eyes.

It was Modrian, clad in heavy armor and locked in combat with two marauders.

Varkas rode straight toward them and plunged his sword into the back of one attacker.

The man screamed as the blade pierced through his body and turned toward him.

Varkas slashed diagonally, tearing open the man’s side before decapitating the second marauder, who charged him in a fury.

The two grown men were cut down as effortlessly as butter.

Seeing this, the surrounding enemies hurriedly retreated.

But behind them waited the Wolfram Cavalry.

Dozens of warhorses thundered into the avenue at full speed, instantly overrunning the enemy.

Witnessing the scene, Modrian cried out in relief.

”You’ve returned at the very last moment! It seems the gods have not abandoned Kalmor after all!”

Varkas did not even glance at him.

Instead, he carefully surveyed the surroundings.

Although the outer districts had been devastated by the invaders, the central district remained largely intact.

Which meant...

The enemy had not yet reached Laedgo Castle.

The moment he realized it, relief so overwhelming it bordered on trembling spread through his entire body.

Varkas gripped the hilt of his sword with shaking hands.

Only then did he realize how consumed he had been by fear and unbearable tension.

After taking several deep breaths to steady himself against the sudden weakness washing over him, he gathered himself and turned to Modrian.

”Give me the situation. Keep it brief.”

”It was fifteen days ago... No, today marks exactly three weeks. Not long after Your Grace departed on campaign, the barbarians launched their first assault.”

Drawing a deep breath, the old veteran continued in a calmer tone.

”We managed to repel the initial attack by sealing the gates in time. But afterward they brought up siege engines and have bombarded us day after day. Much of the city has already been destroyed.”

”What are the casualties?”

”The civilian losses aren’t as severe as they might have been. Some of the villagers living outside the walls were killed, but most escaped into the city quickly enough to avoid being slaughtered. We also evacuated the citizens living in the outer districts into the city beforehand, which kept casualties to a minimum.”

After pausing briefly, the old man wiped the sweat from his brow.

”That was all thanks to Her Grace the Grand Duchess.”

”Thanks to her swift decision, countless civilians survived.”

Varkas, who had been scanning the battlefield, suddenly stopped and looked at him.

”What do you mean?”

”The moment the raids began, Her Grace immediately ordered the civilians evacuated inside the city walls.”

”Not only that, she personally cared for the wounded and spared no effort in distributing relief supplies.”

”The only reason tens of thousands of citizens have endured until now... is because of Her Grace.”

Speechless, Varkas stared at the old veteran.

There was unmistakable respect in Modrian’s voice.

No one had criticized Talia more harshly than this man.

What could possibly have happened in only a few weeks to change him so completely?

Still frozen by emotions he could not explain, Varkas suddenly heard an earth-shattering explosion in the distance.

His head snapped upward.

Black smoke was rising from the northern part of the city.

Immediately spurring his horse forward, he raced across the devastated streets.

Passing through an empty plaza, he reached the northern battlements.

The outer wall and one of the towers had already begun collapsing.

Beyond them stood several thousand Zram warriors.

Varkas’s expression hardened.

There had to be at least four thousand of them.

He looked behind him.

Only around three hundred cavalrymen had managed to follow him.

The rest were still pinned down clearing out the enemies around the southern gate.

But if he waited for the main force to arrive, the enemy would break into the city itself.

They had to stop the advance somehow until reinforcements arrived.

Making his decision in an instant, Varkas immediately rode over the shattered remains of the wall and charged straight at the enemy.