Chapter 291 Fall

In just six months since the Far North nation of Fearros invaded the Northern City, approximately one-fifth of the Silver Iris Empire's territory north of the Frostwhisper Mountains had been engulfed in war. The warring parties engaged in a long and bloody tug-of-war at the easily defended and difficult-to-attack Icefang Pass.

The Silver Iris Empire's battle plan was simple—combine the entire nation's strength to stall for time. As long as they could hold out until the long, perilous winter in the north arrived, when no human could fight amidst the raging blizzards, the ravenous frost dragon would be forced to retreat to its icy lair, and the battle-weary Silver Iris would have a moment to breathe.

Hold Icefang Pass to the death—this was the only order the exhausted frontline soldiers received day after day. Otherwise, once the Ferros army crossed the pass and lost the protection of the Frostwhisper Mountains, the more prosperous and populous regions of the southern empire, even the royal city of Amarkatio, would be completely exposed to the frost dragon's claws.

But just one month before the long winter was about to arrive, Lord Lunsbei, the only warrior among the three saints of the Silver Iris Empire and in charge of the northern border, died.

All the soldiers on the front line claimed that they had seen the saint's corpse with their own eyes - ice spikes piercing the sky replaced the warrior's spine, blood flowed down the tips of the ice spikes, dyeing the body red on top and white on the bottom. The body was almost completely integrated with the ice layer. Perhaps only when the ice and snow melted next year could the body be buried.

The only one who could kill a saint could be Salvador, the only saint in the far northern country of Forlos.

After the news broke, a deluge of letters streamed into the St. Bartolomeo School of Warlocks. Initially, to appease the public, these letters, originating from various special channels, were kept confidential. But soon, everyone realized that the bad news was becoming impossible to conceal. No matter how exaggerated the victory headlines in the newspapers, the advancement of the front was always more persuasive than the bragging of victory.

The Icefang Pass was quickly lost. Ferros's army did not immediately occupy the wealthy town of Sunset City below the Icefang Pass and use it as the starting point for invading the southern region. Instead, it sent an elite force composed of Snow Wolf Cavalry to bypass the main battlefield and move south along the rift valley on the eastern foot of the Frostwhisper Mountains, which was rarely visited by people, and headed straight for the royal city.

By the time the Silver Iris soldiers, panicked by the loss of their commander, rediscovered the whereabouts of this cavalryman, the enemy was only three days away from the royal city.

What's even more terrifying is that Saint Salvador and his frost dragon White Nightmare have disappeared, which means that no one knows where the other will appear next time.

Of the only two saints left in the Silver Iris Empire, the Pope of the Glowing Church is already old, and the Guardian of the Royal Court, Sandro, has a strange personality and is currently wandering in the city of Balando on the border of the southern region.

You should know that Saint Talon and the little prince Hardy of the Alan tribe disappeared inexplicably in Port Morris. Not long after, King Charon died of illness on the throne. The eldest prince Nito succeeded to the throne and vowed to integrate the Gray Domain Alliance that was briefly in chaos and to avenge the Silver Iris people for his "missing brother".

The Silver Iris Empire absolutely could not be caught in a two-front war, so it acquiesced to the other party's departure, hoping to rely on the presence of this female saint to intimidate the Gray Territory Alliance, which was suspected of possessing a saint and a foolish new king. However, this also meant that the royal city was now only guarded by an elderly saint from the Church. The king, queen, and nobles in the royal city could face a young and powerful saint and a dragon almost as powerful as a saint at any time.

Under such dire circumstances, the Silver Iris Empire's ruling class capitulated. Late at night the day after receiving the intelligence, an unassuming carriage rolled along the ancient cobblestones of Amacatio. Someone opened the city gates for it, allowing it to quietly depart the royal city and hurried toward the Frostwhisper Mountains.

A month later, as the first snow of winter fell, devastating news spread throughout the land. The Silver Iris Empire's lands north of the Frostwhisper Mountains were ceded to the Far North nation of Ferros. A massive compensation, calculated on a per capita basis, amounting to thirty copper coins per person, was to be paid to the Ferros royal family in exchange for the Ferros army's retreat to Icefang Pass.

Some newspapers shamelessly promoted it as a "peace treaty", but the newspapers controlled by the Okensele Society harshly criticized the royal family's combat mistakes and weak concessions. Mr. Nova, the chief of the People's Party, even directly questioned in the newspaper under his real name whether the royal family had the right to decide to cede one-fifth of the country's territory to foreign races without convening a conference or holding a referendum.

Calls for reconvening the Bloom Conference are growing louder across the country.

At this time, the president of the Oakensele Society and the president of White Tower University, the Owl, who had been silent for a long time since the riots in White Tower Town, once again appeared in the public eye.

Several highly respected scholars of the society, together with several professors from the St. Bartholomew's School of Magic, publicly challenged the religious community, declaring that "non-believers" were not as "untouchable" as the Church and the Temple had long claimed. Various banned historical materials proved that the ancestors of the first century were non-believers when they practiced, and the most outstanding among them became gods.

This view is indeed horrifying, but with the view in "History of the Gods" that "God is human" as a basis, it does not seem to be enough to destroy the nerves of all sorcerers.

"...We suspect that Saint Salvatore of Ferros is a non-believer. The gods who once manipulated frost in divine history have all been proven to have fallen. If humans can only gain strength through resonance in faith, then now that the gods have fallen, which god do our enemies believe in?"

The Radiant Church responded with the Pope himself, denouncing the Okunsele Institute's research as "blasphemous heresy" and declaring a severe trial for all scholars implicated in this blasphemy. However, these individuals seemed to have already found a way out, disappearing without a trace before the Inquisition could block the entrances to the Saint Bartholomew School of Magic and the Okunsele Institute.

Under the dome of the Saint Bartholomew School of Warlocks, an invisible shadow enveloped everyone. Anyone who mentioned the battle situation on the front lines or the Pope's condemnation would immediately draw wary glances from others.

More and more teachers and students disappeared. Some were taken back by their families, while others disappeared completely.

Little Bateman sat in the corner of the restaurant with his eyes blank, stuffing his spoon into his mouth bit by bit, but he didn't taste the food at all. Strictly speaking, he seemed, probably, perhaps, as if he was "forced" to contribute to this chaos, providing a lot of connections and some precious secret history from the Bateman family's collection.

But he didn't even have the mind to think about whether his eldest brother would really kill him when he knew about this. The noble family was preoccupied with their own affairs, and everyone was busy reshuffling their positions.

"Mr. Baartman."

Little Bateman looked up in a daze and met Kennett Shrike's equally gloomy face.

He was silent for a moment, then suddenly gave him an ambiguous sneer: "Mr. Shrike, what a coincidence! The Shrike family hasn't asked you to drop out of school and go home yet?"

As the highest military minister, Shrike bore the brunt of the royal censure. The Queen nearly used this as an opportunity to have Shrike executed for treason, but ultimately, in exchange for the royal family's effective control of key military posts, Shrike was merely suspended pending further action, barely sparing his life.

The defeat was so devastating that Duke Kamu secretly decided to abandon his loyal right-hand man - and then everyone knew that in less than a month, the once-prominent Shrike family was completely destroyed.

"Going back will kill us." Kennett Shrike set up a barrier around the two of them. He sneered nervously, "Anyone who has a deep hatred for Shrike won't let us go. I'm afraid it's better to stay in school."

Little Batman couldn't help but roll his eyes, thinking to himself, if he had fewer lovers, maybe he wouldn't be so terrified that some unfaithful lover would cut off his penis in the middle of the night. But he held back, not saying anything that would hurt his heart, lest he completely provoke this lunatic who was already showing signs of madness.

"Why are you looking for me?" he asked angrily. "Are you naive enough to expect the Bateman family, who are also struggling with their own affairs, to lend you a hand?"

"No." Kennett Shrike smiled strangely. "I hope you can introduce Percy Brody to me."

“…”

Seeing little Bateman looking at him like a madman, Shrike stared at him closely, clapping his hands nonchalantly, his mouth curled into an exaggerated grin. "As expected of the Bateman family who once fell in love with Cassius I, who was still Prince Adraan. Tsk tsk, hedging their bets."

Little Batman frowned: "...I don't understand what you are talking about."

"Oh, come on, do you need me to explain it more clearly?!" Kennett Shrike suddenly rushed forward, grabbed the little Bateman by the collar, stared at him without blinking with his bloodshot eyes, and said in a suppressed voice, almost inaudible: "Who doesn't know that Percy Brody's cousin is the ghost of the People's Party? Who doesn't know that ghost is one of the people behind all this?!"

Little Bartman looked at the Shrike blankly. He even forgot to curse the other party for his rudeness that was completely inconsistent with aristocratic etiquette. "He... is it?"

Kennett Shrike: "..."

He let go of little Bateman with an expressionless face and elegantly straightened his collar: "You'd better pray that your brother, Jolini Bateman, is still alive."

"If the Batman family falls into your hands..." He gave a false smile and swallowed the rest of the unspoken words.

Little Batman finally couldn't help but explode in anger: "Are you fucking crazy? Is this how you ask for help?!"

"Besides, who doesn't know that Percy Brody and I are sworn enemies and we fight whenever we see each other?!" He stiffened his neck and cursed at the person, "Why the hell go find him directly? Why are you looking for me?!"