The Rebel Army’s camps were all half-buried in the ground, with tattered cloth stretched over the top and covered with grass, leaves, and other camouflage. Their strongholds were in the swamps, where any Lobster Soldiers or Knights who rashly entered would find themselves sinking with every step. The unlucky ones would be swallowed whole by the dark gray mire.
Only the Gray Elves knew for sure where the ground wasn’t soft mud, where they could lay down wooden planks for passage, and then retrieve them afterward.
A fierce debate erupted within the Rebel Army over whether to relieve the besieged town.
So argued that taking the city had been no easy feat, and the establishnt of the Reconstruction Council could inspire their compatriots across El Island to resist the Kingdom.
Others felt that fighting the Kingdom’s regular army was too risky. They believed the Reconstruction Council should never have fortified themselves in Belanster in the first place. If they had remained mobile and flexible like the rest of the Rebel Army, they wouldn’t have been forced into such a passive position.
The result of the heated discussion was to attempt the rescue. The supre commander declared, "Ultimately, we have to clash with the Istanis’ fists. We must make them feel the pain, no matter the cost. Only then will those who wear wool or top hats treat our demands with caution."
Not only weapons, but also strong liquor was distributed. The Rebel Army’s forces went from scattered to whole, erging in small groups from the silent marsh to converge into the largest Gray Elf army ever assembled.
They had no uniform, their faces and bodies still caked with mud. So carried guns looted from the Kingdom’s armories, while others held only scythes and pitchforks.
"Will we win?" a young Warrior asked, his eyes shining brightly under the moon. He knew bloodshed and casualties were imminent, yet his pale blue eyes were fixed on a future free from the Kingdom’s oppression.
"We will. We definitely will, Little Silsa..."
BOOM! BOOM!
By the ti the Rebel Army crept to the city’s edge, the Lobster Soldiers had already begun bombarding the ancient city walls. Cannons roared as they attempted to tear open the rebels’ defensive line.
When a cannonball hit, a gap imdiately appeared in the ancient, crumbling wall. But just as quickly, twisted tree trunks grew out from the ground, filling the breach. The artilleryn worked until they were drenched in sweat, only to find themselves facing a city surrounded by a forest. At the very least, several towering trees now stood densely packed around the city gate.
The Knight Commander stroked his beard, analyzing the situation. ’A Caster? No, could it be a Wizard from among the Elves?’ In the Kingdom’s records, Druids, Attendant Monks of the Elf King, and Witch Priestesses were not systematically categorized, and were often vaguely referred to simply as "Wizards."
The resurgence of Transcendents, who should have been eradicated during the war of conquest, made the Knight Commander uneasy about the upcoming battle. ’Could it be that the insurgents’ trump card isn’t the Rebel Army?’
The Knight Order sent out several squads to scout the periter and finally got a report: "Small enemy force approaching from the southeast!"
"Keep scouting and report back. Pinpoint the enemy’s main force." The Commander was getting serious now. During mobilization, one had to project an air of looking down on ants, but when the decisive mont ca, one had to give it their all.
The loss of any Knight was a huge blow. They were well-born, highly trained, and if the Burning Lion Knight Order’s numbers dwindled, many of its interests would be snatched away by the other eleven Knight Orders, openly or covertly.
’This battle must be won!’
’They’re finally here...’ Henry’s spirits lifted as he received the order. His servant had already helped him into his Plate Armor. The Ise Church’s accompanying Priest coated the surface of their armor with blessed Holy Water. As the liquid flowed over the dark patterns on the armor, it flashed with a Spiritual Light.
If Rorschach or any Mage who understood Alchemy were present, they would have laughed out loud. This so-called "Holy Water" was nothing more than sothing similar to Alchemy Ink, used to conduct Magic Power and activate the patterns on the armor. These patterns were like the circuits of a Magic Array, and their activation provided a boost to defense or other attributes.
"Many thanks. I feel great." Under the Knight Commander’s orders, Henry and his brothers activated their [Dark Vision] Scrolls. Although the scene didn’t change, what had been a dark mass now had clear outlines.
The iron-shod hooves of the cavalry trod across the road. Most of the area around the town had already been hardened by slaves, ensuring it would no longer be an obstacle for the Istanis in battle. They moved with small, quick steps, maneuvering to avoid letting the Long Ears hear the sound of their clopping hooves too early.
He could see the Rebel Army’s ranks now. They weren’t the cannon fodder Henry had initially imagined. Although they varied in height and generally looked gaunt, they were quiet and disciplined. There even seed to be cavalry mounted on goats patrolling and scouting the periter of their formation.
’Goats... With that kind of reconnaissance range, they’re completely useless.’ The mbers of the Knight Order sneered inwardly. Without needing an order, they all took a deep draft of Holy Oil in unison.
’Perfect!’ "Charge!"
’Charge, charge!’ Henry felt his horse wasn’t accelerating fast enough. The exhilaration from the Holy Oil made the Knight wish he could just sprint toward the enemy ranks himself, draw his sword, and cut down those skinny stalks of hemp with a single swing.
By the ti the Rebel Army noticed the cavalry charge, it was too late. The Knights had already reached their top speed and were unstoppable. Immature command, malnutrition that caused poor night vision... a multitude of disadvantages made the force incapable of responding to the sudden crisis.
Henry and his brothers easily skewered several targets with their lances. So of these Elves didn’t even have Leather Armor. ’Feels great,’ Henry thought. He pulled his lance free, gave it a flourish, and thrust again. As he broke through the formation, all he heard were endless screams from behind him.
The cavalry wheeled around, preparing to launch a second charge.
"Ambush! Cavalry!" The Rebel Army was composed entirely of light infantry, and the impact of the charge seed irresistible. Their formation instantly fell into chaos. Those with guns hastily fired toward the flanks, but the bullets found no enemies.
’Mud-bloods are just mud. So this is all the so-called Rebel Army amounts to!’ Henry squeezed his legs, urging his Warhorse to carry him into the enemy’s midst faster.
The situation changed abruptly. The Knights, who should have been enjoying a second unstoppable rampage, seed to encounter all sorts of problems. So were forced to slow down as if they had plunged headfirst into mud. Others were tripped by sothing and thrown from their mounts. Even though most of the Gray Elves were still in a panic, the Knights found themselves hindered in a variety of ways.
Henry voluntarily dismounted. Both man and Warhorse were surrounded by frenzied Elves. They jabbed relentlessly at the Knight with spears and pitchforks. Even though the horse kicked down several attackers, new sharp implents would imdiately take their place in a continuous assault.
In the middle of the crowd, Henry drew his sword with one hand and pulled out a pre-loaded firearm with the other, firing a shot. He was surrounded by Gray Elves anyway, so he couldn’t miss. But the roar of the gunpowder didn’t scare off these mud-bloods. They continued to swarm toward him as if they had no fear of death.
"Have you no fear of death? Dammit..." He started using his sword, swinging with imnse force to cut through his enemies’ bodies. But as soon as one fell, another would charge forward. Pitchforks and scythes rained down on Henry. When he swung his sword again, it was t with the clang of tal on tal as it struck their farm tools.
"Fuck, why aren’t you afraid! Why aren’t you cowering and running for your lives!"
"Because we already have nothing left! My ho, my family... everything is gone! Trading my worthless life for yours is worth it!" The attacks rained down on Henry like hailstones, along with spatters of contemptuous phlegm.
’Good thing this trash can’t get through my defenses...’ The Knight was safe for now. His armor was sturdy enough, and these inexperienced farrs didn’t even know to use blunt weapons against Plate Armor. ’I just have to break out of this encirclent and regroup with my brothers to form a proper formation...’
Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through him. A blade had slipped into the gap between his helt and breastplate, slicing sideways as if shucking an oyster, trying to sever his muscles and blood vessels.
’Impossible! My armor has protection in the back! And when did they get behind ...’
However, he couldn’t see the Gray Elf that had appeared behind him. The attacker was standing on the bodies of their compatriots, having just erged from invisibility. A dagger glowing with green light was pressed into Henry’s armor, bit by bit. The places the blade touched began to corrode rapidly, and as the dagger was pushed in, a fatal, rusted opening was created in the armor.
"I... I’ve fantasized about dying at the hands of a woman, but I never thought it would be a... mud-blood..." Henry’s windpipe was the last thing to be severed, giving him a chance to utter his final words.
The killer coldly pulled out her dagger. "You just died at the hands of a female Gray Elf." Henry collapsed with a thud, and the surrounding Elves erupted in cheers. "Silsa! Silsa!"
Silsa, in the Elven Language, ans freedom and independence.
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