Chapter 615 — Northward

Yet the golden-haired high ranger only gave him a faint glance and said mildly, "I believe in the shields and walls and mage towers you speak of, but I don't much believe in the men who hold the city."

Meeting the high ranger's gaze, Mitchell said, unwavering: "The two great knight orders will hold to the very last."

"...Not bad. So long as this generation of the royal capital still has knights like you, it hasn't rotted through entirely," Suojilin said, clapping Mitchell on the shoulder with words that might or might not count as praise. "Let's hope so. Let's hope that city holds."

……

Continuing north along the Gorgon River, on the eastern bank, between Boulder Fortress and the river, in the city of long history called Red Maple City, the last cries of slaughter finally died away.

Blood brimmed over the streets; broken blades and bodies just as broken lay strewn across the ground; a pungent stench of burning filled this city famed for its red maple leaves. Sunlight spilling through the clouds lit the battlefield as it slowly cooled, and under that light the army of crystal giants was clearing the ruins, gathering spoils, and tallying losses, while a tall, gaunt man in a black robe, his face sinister, walked the blood-sheened streets and, amid the respectful salutes of the crystal giants all around, came to the square before the lord's castle.

The Pontiff of Ten Thousand Silences, Heaton.

The sinister man had changed somewhat from before: fine crystals had begun to grow from his cheeks and hands, his eyes brimmed with mighty arcane energy; he had not yet completed the final step of the godfiend transformation, but many of a godfiend's traits had already surfaced in him.

This brought him additional power, and let him command this vast army all the more effectively.

"Those who resisted to the last... are mercenaries and adventurers, are they," the black-robed pontiff said, glancing at the corpses around the square, disdain on his face. "The lord of this place was a coward."

A towering crystal giant came to Heaton's side and rasped in a low, hoarse voice: "Most of them are cowards. Only a few are exceptions."

Heaton turned his head slightly and glanced at the giant. "Korod, is the resistance at Boulder Fortress finished?"

"It will be. We've taken more than seventy percent of the city..."

"Then it is not finished," Heaton cut him off. "What exactly is going on?"

"That so-called 'Queen of the North' is still putting up a stubborn fight. She and her troops hold the castle district; boosted by the castle's mage towers and the magic net, a powerful blizzard shrouds all the ground beyond the castle district, and no one can get near."

At this the giant could not help but curse: "That damned magic net—it can just keep running!"

"The magic net does not tire. People do. That 'Queen of the North' will run dry sooner or later," Heaton said mildly. "Find a way to drain the blizzard's magic and destroy them as quickly as you can. They have resisted long enough."

"Yes."

"More than those stubborn fools, something else weighs on my mind," Heaton went on. "I hear there's been some trouble in the south?"

"Yes. Some roving intruders, Southern Marchers by the look of them, moving about the outer edges of our controlled territory."

"...I don't want the distraction, but I've had enough of these so-called 'Cecil men,'" Heaton snorted coldly. "Wipe them out."

"Yes."