Interlude
Loud bugles echoed again from Blackrose Castle at noon, the rune knights slowly starting to march along established paths. Meanwhile, all of Norland was reeling in shock; Gaton had killed his way to Faust in record manner decades ago, and now Richard was looking to crash right through the Sacred Alliance. This wasn’t just a glorious act; not even the most learned historians could find an accurate parallel.
The powerful families of the plane reacted in different ways. In the palace of the Millennial Empire, Prince Tumen was engaged in light conversation with the Sword Saint and Empress Gelan when the news spread to the. Gelan’s droopy eyes opened wide for a moment as she locked gazes with Hidden Sword, after which her eyes slowly drooped once more.
“Looks like the amazing young kid is making another show. I heard he brought Mountainsea along?” the Sword Saint said.
“Indeed,” Tumen nodded, “Hmm... It should be about time for her hibernation to end. We might get an unexpected surprise.”
“Impossible,” the Sword Saint laughed, “That kid wouldn’t let her get involved in this battle at all. He’s stubborn and wants to put everything on himself; quite like Gaton.”
Prince Tumen sighed, “Pity. Even the one time I met him, Gaton felt like a natural king.”
“I hear Richard set out a bounty for all Scholars?” the Empress suddenly interrupted.
Tumen was startled, “Oh? Ah, yes. What about it?”
“We know the locations of a few, and I hear there’s a particularly high-ranking individual amongst them. One who can attend their internal meetings.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Dig them out, catch them if we can, kill them otherwise. Hand them all over to Richard.”
A chill flashed past Prince Tumen’s heart; the Empress had clearly made up her mind. However, Hidden Sword made a face of confusion, “We can kill them when we flush them out, but why hand them over to Richard?”
“For the reward, of course. That kid is rich, and our treasury is starting to empty. It would come in handy.” The Empress’s straightforward reply stunned both Prince and the Sword Saint.
......
Elsewhere in the Sacred Tree Empire, some leaders were shocked while others grew despondent. They all started paying close attention, and nobody knew just how scared those who had tried to impose sanctions on Richard now were.
Naturally, the ones most affected by the news were the powerful families of Faust. Duke Mensa smashed every breakable item in his study that night, but his followers still didn’t receive a command to move their troops. The soldiers could only stay put, awaiting actual orders or a plan.
The light in Old Joseph’s study was left on the entire night, and when the Duke finally walked out in the morning he looked to have aged twenty years in the blink of an eye. He was now truly an old man, with one foot in the grave.
“My Lord, shall we—” the guard who tried to ask for instructions was waved into silence, before the Duke returned to his room to rest.
In island 7-7, the lowest of Faust, Duke Anan suddenly broke out into laughter, bellowing out, “No need for that fake display of solidarity, not one soldier joins the battle without my command! Anyone who wants to court death is free to do it themselves!”
In the sixth level of Faust, Dukes Wellington, Turing, and a few others quietly discussed their frustrations.
On island 5-5, Duke Orleans seemed to be glued to his map, not moving the slightest as he stared at the glaring red line that the Archerons would be taking to Faust. Richard had already announced his path a month earlier, seemingly unafraid of any surprise attacks or ambushes.
The Ironblood Duke’s hands were locked with each other at his back, and the constant throbbing of his muscles was an indicator of his struggle. The Orleans Family was currently the pillar of the Sacred Alliance, second only to the royals in terms of power and responsibility. It was their job to intercept Richard. Even the Wellingtons could just observe, making an excuse that they were awaiting his decision, but he had no such options. He either chose to fight, or retreated into a shell to admit defeat.
Against an entire battalion of rune knights, any long range attacks, ambushes, or other forms of guerilla warfare would be completely useless. Even if all the powerful families of Faust combined their forces, the only ending was defeat. Richard was a stellar commander as well, and would use these knights with frightening effectiveness. Unless...
The only way to win was for all the powerful families of Faust to pool their armies together, attacking Richard with all their might. However, that was an appropriate response to an invasion, not against a standard march into Faust. Duke Orleans himself had preserved Richard’s island for when he inevitably returned, he wasn’t about to annihilate the Archerons and his own family for no good reason. He still recalled the humiliation when the envoys from the other two empires had asked to redraw the boundaries.
That wasn’t all. The Orleans Family would definitely be at the forefront of an all-out war, and there would be anywhere between three to seven others fighting alongside them. However, if even a few families held back their forces, Richard would decimate everyone and continue his march. Faust’s rankings would change drastically, and the cowards would end up winning the most. The Ironblood Duke didn’t even have the spare resources to just deploy his elites to stop this expedition, and both Beye and Agamemnon had made it clear that they weren’t on board with the idea of a war against Richard.
So, retreat? Other families could retreat, but he could not. Retreating at this juncture would deal a huge blow to his reputation, one that could have everlasting repercussions.
The Duke just stood in place, pondering as the night turned to day.
......
The first day was the messiest and most difficult of them all. Numerous people were watching the developments of the situation, prepared to adjust their responses at any time. Richard’s army only travelled a hundred kilometres before making camp, and despite a deluge of scouts all around them there wasn’t a single attack.
Just like the rest of the route, the camp locations had been publicised a month ago as well. As night fell, RIchard set up a nominal patrol and allowed the rest of his troops to sleep, not fearing ambush in the slightest.
In the cover of the deep, dark night, a few light cavalrymen were looking at the brightly lit camp upon their horses. Seeing the number of guards, a younger scout couldn’t help but comment, “They’re really slacking on their defences... If we sent a few thousand soldiers to launch a sneak attack—”
“Nonsense,” the captain immediately chided him, ruffling his own large beard, “The people sleeping in that camp are all rune knights! You want to launch a sneak attack? We’d be discovered a kilometre away!”
The young scout immediately dropped his neck, but he still seemed unresigned, “Then why haven’t they discovered us?”
The veteran sneered, “Do you really think they haven’t? They’re just too lazy to come over and kill us.”
“What... Is that really...” the youth paled.
......
Countless eyes gazed upon Richard’s camp under the night sky, but actual troops never appeared. When the sun rose the next day, Richard led his army out on the next leg of their journey, travelling a hundred kilometres once more before resting.
The third day passed without incident as well, but by this time the powerful families of the Sacred Alliance couldn’t sit still any longer. Their leaders were all holding secret meetings that lasted from dusk till dawn, leaving even those with considerable stamina exhausted by the end.
They had all come to the consensus that they had to fight against Richard, but there was one issue that nobody could agree upon. Who would be at the forefront? No names were decided that night, but perhaps everyone already had an answer in their minds. There was no way to stop Richard’s march; even legendary beings wouldn’t dare to take so many rune knights head-on. Anyone who fought Richard directly was sure to die.
When the meaningless debate came to an end, the Ironblood Duke was the last to leave the venue. It had just been one night, but he seemed to have aged many years.
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