Chapter 695 — Brushing Past the Blade's Edge
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 5
A blinding white orb tore through the darkness, hurtling skyward through wind and rain, bursting apart against the backdrop of heavy, sullen clouds into a bright flare visible even at an immense distance.
In the northwest of the Palemel Heights, at the center of a position screened by terrain and woods, an enormous and oppressive engine of war lay quietly dormant upon its rails, dense curtains of rain lashing and washing over its dark armor plates; the flash of the Typhonians' signal flare played across the wet steel and set a film of light shimmering over it.
The Iron Throne had shut down all its major exterior lights, and opaque shutters had been raised over the windows of every car. In the gloom only a few faint signal lamps glimmered on the hull, their feeble glow shrouded by the curtain of rain and the dim light of the sky, so hazy that a hundred paces away they were all but imperceptible.
In the tactical section of the armored train, a commander came up to Philip. "The Typhonians' lead knight order has signaled."
"They're signaling the superhuman legions waiting in the rear," Philip Pinhsi said. "Tell the armory section to make ready; all main guns to bear on the eastern plain of Longwind Keep."
"Yes, General."
Philip turned back to the holographic projection nearby. Above the crystal that gave off its faint blue glow floated the view outside the train, relayed from the external monitors.
The rain fell harder, the sky grew darker still, and a cold wind bore the curtain of rain across this land so near the border.
Thanks to this rain, the Iron Throne had reached its designated position northwest of the Palemel Heights half an hour earlier, then gone silent and waited until now.
In the wind and rain, night had gradually come on.
Now all that remained was to wait for the Typhonians' superhuman legions to enter the buffer plain. Whether they were the Iron River Knight Order or the Black Steel Knight Order, once they entered their massed charge they would inevitably have no time to raise their shields, no time to withstand the main-gun bombardment of the Iron Throne. The fire of four fortress-grade main guns, plus the light and medium magic cannons Longwind Keep currently fielded—no legion could do anything but fall on the road of its charge.
"A pity this rain has hampered our scouting too," an officer remarked at his side. "The armored griffins can't take to the air in this weather, or we'd have a clearer grasp of the Typhonians' movements."
"The Typhonians are worse off than we are. At least we have the watchtowers along the Longwind line; they have only griffins that can't fly," Philip said. "Wait patiently for Longwind Keep's signal, and don't overthink it."
He said so, but after hearing his subordinate's remark, Philip could not help but feel his thoughts stir.
The armored griffin was a compromise between the traditional arms and magical equipment, yet the limits of the griffin itself had predetermined the limit of that compromise. The war on the Holy Spirit Plain had already proven the great value of air power, and it was said the Magical Technology Research Institute had been working all along on an aircraft built entirely on modern techniques... Who knew how long it would be before that craft emerged from the laboratory...
On the triangular plain west of Winter Wolf Fort, the magical radiance rising in the distance lit the rain-soaked armor and weapons of the knights. Amid the waxing and waning of that light, Count Moglock, commander of the Iron River Knight Order, swung up into the saddle; the clatter of armor was the only sound among the silent knights.
Gazing quietly at the magical radiance in the distant sky as it spread out among the clouds, Count Moglock slowly raised the longsword in his hand, and his command rang through the whole order: "All units, third formation—advance at the walk, gathering speed!"