Chapter 352 Beast Man

In Capell, Cimili's arrival made the originally depressing meeting hall lively again. Although mourning for their dead colleagues was inevitable, the generals could at least see hope.

Even the Elector of Ostermark changed his previous urgency and haste, and everyone regained their composure.

Cimili sat at the edge of the conference room, quietly listening to the commander's plans for the next step. He never raised any opinions, because in these few short days he had been too out of touch with the outside world, and his strategic vision could no longer keep up with the changes in the situation.

What else is there to analyze? The vampires’ offensive in Ostermark is certainly terrible, but their reckless push northwards has also stretched Sylvania’s front line in disguise. The surviving people of Ostermark will hold their ground in the fortress, and the generals who no longer underestimate the enemy’s strength will also have the confidence to counterattack.

If there were no other variables, the Sea of ​​the Dead in Ostermark would eventually be divided into trickles by fortresses, and the counterattacks of Talabek and Oster would completely swallow up the seemingly turbulent waves.

The current vampire lord should not be a short-sighted guy without strategic thinking. Why did he push the front line to the border of Kislev at all costs? No one knew, and the most cautious general only prepared some backup plans for this.

The hurried footsteps came closer and closer, and finally arrived outside the meeting room.

Ximili was the first to notice the arrival of the messenger, a mage from the Amber Academy. It must be something urgent but not far-reaching, otherwise no one would be willing to let a mage serve as a messenger.

The most important letters should be kept by the best and most reliable warriors, not mages. They are like moving powder kegs. Leaving a mage out of surveillance is a dereliction of duty to the safety of the people of the Empire.

Cimili glanced at the person standing by the door vigilantly and pressed the scabbard.

He never believed in wizards, and even the magic academy endorsed by His Majesty Magnus could not make him let down his guard.

The tragedies that had occurred in the past had made him realize that this vigilance was correct.

The young wizard was accustomed to hostile gazes. Compared with the ill intentions in people's eyes, what he could not stand more was the oppressive feeling that the obsidian products brought to the wizard.

Obsidian's suppression of the Wind of Magic made him feel uncomfortable all over. He was like a fish on shore, even breathing was extremely difficult.

The wind of magic in this space was so thin that it was impossible to gather magic. At least he couldn't gather the wind of magic in such an extreme environment. He was not a great wizard with profound attainments in the academy.

He really wanted to say something to make the soldiers put down their hostility. Now he was no more threatening than a strong farmer.

But he didn't dare to speak easily before getting permission. If any brainless soldier thought he was going to cast a spell, then he would have no idea how to return to Kopebad.

A gentle knock on the door woke up the generals who were arguing until their faces turned red. A pair of scrutinizing eyes pressed on the mage. Prince Wolfenburg of Ostland spoke first and issued permission for the mage to speak: "Master Volan wants to use your mouth to say something? I hope it's not bad news."

Dean Wolan didn't know the bad news. The wizard swallowed hard and tried to summon up the strength he had when chanting the spell, but his voice was still full of timidity.

"Respected Earl Tasenic, in compliance with the order of the Grand Earl of Styria, I have come to remind you that just yesterday, the city of Kopebad was attacked by a large-scale beastman."

The Grand Duke of Talabek, Count Krieglitz, failed to keep his composure, because Koppebad was the southernmost town in Talabek and it was his territory that was attacked.

Before he could ask, the wizard kept giving the battle situation on the front line:

"They are a group of deformed, skinny beastmen with the appearance of rats. There are countless of them. Prince Utbard and the Knights of the Flaming Sun are helping to defend the city of Koppebad, but there are too many of them. It is very likely that some of the beastmen have already penetrated into the core area of ​​Talabek Territory."

Yes, the Skaven are just a legend, a story that adults tell to deceive children.

In the ghost village that was bustling again, Sherlock looked sarcastically at the wizard's back as he rode away on his horse, as well as a group of ignorant vendors who seemed relieved, and couldn't help pinching his forehead.

These imperial people still don't know what kind of disaster has happened and even refuse the truth.

From time to time, guards would pass by Sherlock and joke around, imitating his speaking posture to warn everyone.

"Skaven! The rat infestation will threaten the empire." There was a mixture of mockery in the exaggerated tone. People who have never seen a planet would think that the earth is square. Sherlock could understand them.

There is nothing more to say. They have determined a fact and Sherlock is not qualified to correct their wrong views. So let it be. There is no need to create more conflict.

The evil bell sounded intermittently underground. Except for a small number of slave rats and the corresponding clan rat warlords, most of the individuals in the rat tide went around to the rear of the human fortress.

No one stipulates that they must capture human towns and advance the front line on the ground. Their territory has always been underground.

It only takes one tenth or even one percent of the rat tide to make the hairless creatures think that it is the main force of the rat group. The creatures on the ground have always been stupid, and every ratman who has been on the ground knows this.

Yes, yes, the Great Necromancer asked them to cause disaster in Talabek Territory and disrupt the Imperials' rear, but which ratman would keep his promise?

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At the very least, the Grey Prophet Borriol is not a trustworthy ratman. All the ratmen who could be trusted are dead. The underground world does not need trust.

The Necromancer should learn the social etiquette among the ratmen. Boriole knew how to give up interests to drive the corrupt clans, but the skeleton thing actually wanted to steal the power of the ratmen with just one sentence.

This is impossible, it is always the rat people who steal other people's things.

Boriole sat beside the death knell, and struck the shrill bell weakly from time to time. He was a little tired of marching.

How long would it take to reach Mirkavala? Ten days? A month? Or even longer? Perhaps they would have to step onto the surface again halfway and get supplies from the human towns. Borriol was a little hungry.

When he discovered that the slave rats traveling underground had many obvious deformities on their bodies, Cuitus Weiwei knew that he had arrived at the territory of the Corrupted Clan.

But according to rumors, they should live on the ground, and the ratman city next to the deep pit of hell is quite famous in the underground kingdom.

Why are there so many slave rats underground? Shouldn't they be sent to the warlock's laboratory table as soon as they are born, and then driven to the aboveground city after the transformation fails?

(End of this chapter)