Chapter 640 — Reinforcements
Blade of Dawn · Page 2 of 4
Walesmorne looked at those figures in mage robes as though watching the centuries of accumulated foundation of the kingdom march step by step toward ruin.
Transcendents are the foundation of a nation, and mages—transcendents of their kind—can bear losses even less than knights. For in most cases, mages are not merely transcendents skilled in battle; they also command countless bodies of inherited knowledge. An excellent scholar is not necessarily an excellent mage, but all mages are inevitably excellent scholars. These scholars... ought by rights to remain in relatively safe environments, delving into knowledge, using wisdom to drive this nation forward.
Having come into contact with a great deal of intelligence concerning the Duchy of Cecil, Wales had become all the more certain of this.
But now, the defenses of Saint-Sunir had all but collapsed. These mages, masters of vast knowledge and wisdom, had no choice but to mount the city walls, to serve as shields of flesh and blood, to serve as expendable weapons, dying cheaply and swiftly in this place...
In the earlier fighting, the Great Shield had at least been able to block the majority of the enemy's attacks. Even as the defending forces suffered continual casualties, most of the mages could rely on the Great Shield to protect themselves. But now the Great Shield was gone. Once the effect of the Divine Descent ended as well, those fragile mages would likely suffer grievous losses in an instant.
In the inner city district behind them, that radiant giant who had come into this world through the Divine Descent had already begun to dim, and the stele-like ramparts surrounding the royal capital showed signs of wavering into illusion. All these phenomena pointed to one thing: the power of the divine art was about to end.
Boyu Franklin's voice came from behind Wales: "Your Majesty, fire oil has been gathered from the whole city. It can sustain the fighting for more than two days."
Wales turned his head and saw that the Duke of the Western Marches no longer wore his usual neat appearance. His battle robe was torn in many places; traces of smoke and scorching and stains were visible all over him, and deep fatigue was etched into his face.
Yet even so, the Duke still maintained that composed, effortless poise and that air of dignity beneath his refinement, as though these qualities had been branded deep into his very bloodline.
The new king exhaled softly. "Good. With the fire oil, we can at least beat back one or two waves of attack..."
Those monsters feared fire—this was intelligence the soldiers on the several southern defense lines had purchased with their lives. Under normal circumstances, large-scale flames on the battlefield had to be created by mages. But what if there were no mages—or the mages' power was no longer enough to sustain the firepower of the entire defense line?
Soak hemp rope in fire oil, wrap it around stone projectiles, and once lit, it could substitute for the stone balls ignited by magical flame. Pour fire oil down from the city walls, and it could likewise raise blazing walls of fire beneath the walls no less fierce than those of the Scorched Lands. Even without magical support, there were still alternatives.
"Where has the Cecil Legion gotten to?"
"The last message we received was last night. They have already crossed the river channel of the Valley Corridor and are racing this way at full speed."
As that relief force drew nearer, the communication spells had been able to establish a relatively stable connection. Boyu Franklin was beginning to receive clear messages sent by Victoria. The establishment of stable communications had greatly heartened all the defending troops—and this was one of the reasons the defense had held out until today.
Wales thought briefly, then raised his head to look at the mages on the city walls.
"Pull the mages back," the new king said concisely.
"Your Majesty?"