Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 404 - 403: Consolidation

Unlike the noble coalition army, which can only flee in panic between the wilderness and hills, the Cecil Combat Corps has been consistently supported by the Cecil Homeland, Leslie Region, and Kant Region. Although these supports are not timely due to road and transportation restrictions, they are sufficient to provide the warriors with some respite and rotation under these circumstances.

On the afternoon of the tenth day, Sir Byron led a thousand troops and a large amount of supplies from the Cecil Homeland to the west, successfully joining forces with the first and second mixed corps led by Sir Philip. At the time of their rendezvous, Wald Peric was leading the soldiers of the Second Legion to bind and send groups of noble coalition prisoners to the rear.

Byron found the leading Sir Philip: "I’ve brought more ’Persuader’ light shells and replacement acceleration rail components—by the way, things look quite good over here."

Due to days of marching and combat, Sir Philip had a hint of weariness on his face, but his spirit remained high: "These things came just in time—we can rely on the carried dry food and the supplies captured from the enemy for food, but we’ve been consuming the shells pretty heavily."

Byron looked up at the prisoners who, with numb expressions and stiff steps, were being led away with their hands bound; from their mental state, he knew this pursuit was nearing its end.

"Try to keep as many of them alive as possible, that’s the leader’s instruction," he said to Philip, "The noble coalition army is mostly made up of conscripted farmers and hunters from various places, as well as various serf soldiers and slave soldiers. These people are labor force."

"I understand," Philip nodded, "But frankly speaking... the enemy is becoming increasingly scattered, especially after entering open areas. Several nobles are leading retreats in different directions. We have eliminated and intercepted some with artillery, but a few units managed to escape into the forest further west. I estimate at least one-fourth to one-third of the enemy has escaped."

"This situation was anticipated by the leader," Byron nodded, "We have powerful artillery and ray guns, but ultimately our numbers are limited, and it’s unrealistic to completely annihilate or incorporate all the enemy. But don’t worry, before I set out, the leader said one thing—the nobles have castles and estates they cannot give up; they cannot roam forever. Eventually, we’ll take care of those who got away."

"Let us hope so," Philip exhaled deeply, looking up at the long, seemingly endless line of prisoners, "After this war, the entire southern part of the kingdom will be united as one..."

On the twelfth day of pursuit, the core of the noble coalition army—the knights and mages formed by Transcendents, along with the overseeing nobles—finally collapsed entirely.

The noble private soldiers, lacking organization and discipline to begin with, could not have lasted until today. The main reason they continued to flee was that the Transcendents within the coalition maintained the situation through sheer will and deterrence, but when these Transcendents’ willpower also reached its limits, the coalition’s collapse was almost instantaneous.

The noble coalition began to surrender en masse, led by knights, mages, and even noble leaders themselves.

In fact, according to common practices, noble surrenders should have been easier—under the usual "rules" of noble wars, captured nobility surrendering on the battlefield would receive treatment befitting their status. Their personal safety would be secured as they served as ransom chips, and they might even be courteously sent to the victor’s castle to become honored guests. However, the terrifying combat style of the Cecilian forces and Gawain Cecil’s non-traditional approach to noble rules petrified these people, and they dared not entrust their lives to Cecil soldiers.

Yet, when physical and mental endurance was worn to the limit, no amount of concern or fear could enable them to rise from the ground and keep moving forward.

The demoralized aristocratic soldiers, including the knightly orders and conscript soldiers, remained on the plains like frightened sheep. Most had finished their last morsel of food, even resorting to eating their former warhorses and caught rats along the way to stave off starvation. They hadn’t been able to rest or eat properly for days, their minds filled only with the rumble of exploding shells. Clusters of dozens or hundreds were scattered everywhere, and all the Cecil soldiers needed to do was run across the vast plains to gather them, hand them ropes, and have them bind themselves.

Wald Peric and his Second Combat Corps mainly took on the task of gathering these prisoners and sending them to the rear. The number of captives was so enormous that the escorts were outnumbered by the captives they were transporting, yet they had no fear of the prisoners escaping during the journey—the escapees had lost their will to resist during their lengthy flight, and even if they resisted, the unarmed conscripts were no match for the Cecil warriors armed with ray guns and Melting Swords.

As the number of prisoners increased and the battle line stretched longer, an awkward and unexpected situation arose: the Cecil forces were short of manpower.

The escort teams of the Second Combat Corps began to experience shortages, and even though Wald called in a thousand reserves from the Kant Region to the front line to take over the captives, it was far from enough. They were short of hands not only for escorting but also for guarding the thousands of aristocratic conscript prisoners on the plains.

While Sir Philip and Sir Wald, both orthodox knights, were troubled by this unexpected awkward situation, Sir Byron volunteered to lead a team south to gather reinforcements.

Sir Philip had often criticized Byron for his careless and unknightly conduct, but he had to admit this veteran and former mercenary colleague always had novel ideas that offered refreshing solutions to unexpected situations—as bizarre as some of those ideas could be, they were generally quite effective.

Holding onto hope, they waited for some days until Byron returned from the rear—he still had only the team he initially took with him, not a single person more.

On the increasingly chaotic plains of the Hosman Region, Sir Philip stared in surprise at the seemingly empty-handed Byron: "The leader didn’t assign anyone to you? Even recruits would do..."

"I didn’t return to Cecil, otherwise how could I be back this quickly," Byron replied smugly, "I just went to the Leslie territory and met with Viscount Andrew..."

"And then?" Philip asked in confusion, constantly glancing behind Byron, but apart from the team Byron took and returned with, along with many wagons, he saw no additional manpower, "Are Viscount Andrew’s reinforcements still behind?"

"I borrowed five thousand axes," Byron pointed at the wagons he brought, "Later on, Viscount Andrew will also send over a batch of grain for temporary relief, and besides that, there’s nothing else—Leslie territory isn’t rich with personnel either; they’re helping watch the thousands of people fished out from the White River."

Sir Philip couldn’t comprehend at once: "Axes? What are you doing with five thousand axes?"

"Give these prisoners the order to cut down the woods on the east side of Hosman territory and build a prisoner camp right there. Also, see if you can find any survivors from Count Hosman’s side among the prisoners. Take them with you to take over nearby farms and granaries—if not, bring more cannons over."

Sir Philip listened with a dumbfounded expression, utterly unable to fathom how Byron came up with such extraordinary plans: "You mean... have these prisoners build a camp to imprison themselves?"

"You can even give them ropes to bind themselves, so why not let them build a camp to lock themselves in?" Byron waved his hand dismissively. "These people have been completely demoralized; at least in the short term, they can’t recover. We need to seize this opportunity to thoroughly control them. Afterward, we’ll gradually transport them to the Cecil Homeland—this last part was the leader’s instruction."

Sir Philip was left speechless and could only admit that Byron’s idea made perfect sense.

Thus, on the last day of this prolonged pursuit, the remaining Noble Coalition Army on the Plains of the Holy Spirits ended their long and painful escape in an unprecedentedly dramatic way.

Under the supervision of thousands of Cecil Clan warriors, the prisoners in the coalition swung axes borrowed to them, tirelessly cutting down the woods at the edge of Hosman Territory in rotating shifts, day and night, and then built a prisoner camp where they confined themselves.

Meanwhile, as the last batch of coalition prisoners were being taken over by the Cecil Clan, Viscount Carol and his last attendants and companions were trekking through the muddy wetlands of northern Hosman Region.

The young viscount who once exuded confidence was now far from his former glory. His luxurious coat was filthy and his breeches and boots torn by thorns. His cloak with intricate patterns bore several bullet holes from heat-ray guns. Unwashed hair clung like greasy water weeds to his forehead. Beside him were Viscount Konsko and Viscount Mari Oran, looking even more bedraggled than him.

They had narrowly escaped the wolf-like Cecil soldiers but were utterly clueless about their next move. Severe exhaustion was impairing their ability to think, and they felt as if their lives were as hopelessly messy as the muddy wetlands around them, devoid of any sign of hope.

At this moment, the sudden sound of hooves approaching from behind startled Viscount Carol and his companions into tense anxiety.

Yet when they turned around, they realized it was not the Cecil soldiers facing them.

Lady Ropenny Gran halted in front of them, accompanied by a considerable contingent.

"Lady Gran, you managed to escape too?!" Viscount Carol exclaimed in surprise upon seeing the noblewoman before him. He noticed her condition was much better than his own, despite appearing somewhat disheveled as well. Not only did she have a horse, but her guards were fully equipped. He marveled at how this lady had accomplished this during the chaos. "These people..."

"I’ve gathered those who got separated on the plains," Lady Ropenny replied with a smile. "Viscount Carol, it seems you’ve been separated from the group once again."

It was a scene reminiscent of times past; Viscount Carol recalled how during the chaos in the paths of Broken Stone Ridge, this lady had appeared before him, collecting the disbanded and disordered troops. Now, mirroring that scenario, he couldn’t help but marvel at the wonders of fate: "You always see me in my most bedraggled state..."

"Follow us—I have a few extra horses," Lady Ropenny Gran extended a hand to the distressed nobles before her. "We have to unite."

The distressed nobles and their remaining attendants joined Lady Ropenny’s group, and Viscount Mari Oran couldn’t help but express curiosity about the future of this group: "Where are we headed?"

"To the north," Lady Ropenny Gran glanced back at Viscount Mari Oran. "We’re heading to the rocky ridges Fortress."

"Rocky ridges Fortress?" Viscount Carol hesitated upon hearing the familiar name. "We’ll have to pass through my territory... but those Cecil soldiers..."

"The Cecil Clan has left; they wouldn’t expect us to return after eluding their pursuit," Lady Ropenny Gran said. "Their numbers are limited—they can’t occupy every aristocratic territory quickly."

"They’ve left..." Hearing Lady Ropenny’s words, Viscount Carol couldn’t help but feel a stirring excitement. "Then I..."

"Do not think of returning to your castle, dear Viscount," Lady Ropenny Gran, aware of Carol’s thoughts, promptly turned back and sternly warned. "Remember, those Cecil soldiers blasted apart your first wall—they can do the same to your castle."

Saying this, she turned back around, a steadfast determination seemingly evident in her gaze. "There isn’t a single safe place left on the southern borders, gentlemen. Our only hope is to seek aid from the Plains of the Holy Spirits and Count Pompeii, to head to the rocky ridges Fortress—a fortress of formidable strength, with its walls fortified with Mage metal, capable of withstanding an archMage’s assault, entirely unlike the walls of Carol territory, impossible for the Cecil Clan to breach."

Whether due to shared confidence in the rocky ridges Fortress or because severe exhaustion dulled his judgment, Viscount Carol was easily persuaded by Lady Ropenny Gran, and he nodded: "Alright, we’ll head to the rocky ridges Fortress..."

"Of course, but before that, we must gather as many separated companions as possible," Lady Ropenny Gran said, her smile radiating a particularly contagious charm. "There are several groups who escaped the Cecil Clan’s pursuit, and we must gather all who have been separated. Only when our numbers are large enough and the noble gathering is substantial enough will the rocky ridges Fortress recognize the severity of the situation and welcome us even more earnestly..."

(There might not be a double update for the next few days =.=)