The wheels rolled over the muddy road, which had been softened by days of rain, leaving deep ruts.
After several days of rapid travel, Lind, Lillens, Nix, and the guard squad led by Hoffman finally arrived at the core of the Earl of Sutherland's territory.
In contrast to the desolate and dilapidated state of the front lines at Grinburg, the Earl's encampment was grand in scale, heavily guarded, and adorned with fluttering banners.
But the air was filled not with high morale, but with a sense of oppressive anxiety and unease.
Throughout the camp, one could see flags from different families and soldiers in various armors, gathered in small groups, whispering amongst themselves, their eyes filled with uncertainty about the future and worry about their commander's serious injury.
Linde and his men were led to a place near the main tent and settled there.
Linde didn't rest for the next two days.
He had Nix secretly gather information while he quietly observed the arriving noble lords.
What he saw and heard confirmed Hoffman's concerns, and even made them more serious.
There was an undercurrent of tension in the camp.
Some powerful and ambitious viscounts, such as Viscount Wald Gregory, the "Iron Wall" who has been entrenched in the North for many years, are always surrounded by many "allies".
His words revealed a hint of disdain for the acting deputy commander of the Third Legion (a senior but not prestigious gold-level knight), and he seemed to be plotting how to seize more say or even dominance during the power vacuum.
Other minor nobles, especially those whose territories were close to the front lines, were worried and privately discussed whether they should shrink their defenses, even revealing a desire to "preserve their strength" and retreat.
The bloody battle of Grinburg and the Count's assassination cast two enormous shadows over their hearts, and fear spread.
Furthermore, some nobles who had never been to the front lines were encouraged by the news of Grinburg's "defense" and the continuous arrival of reinforcements. They were immersed in a dream of a "great situation," talking about how to "press the attack" and "recover lost territory," completely unaware of the real threat posed by the Sassians and the existence of the Shadow Abyss.
Linde saw all this and his worries deepened.
He knew that beneath the surface of reinforcements gathering lay a crisis of imminent collapse!
The Orcs' strange stance of arriving at the front lines but remaining inactive is like a Damocles' sword hanging over their heads; and the terrifying technology in the hands of the Sassins, capable of creating Shadow Rippers, is a deadly threat that could turn the tide of the war!
Although the Kree Empire's Holy Church has begun to intervene, it is too late to provide immediate relief, and the support it can offer at present is very limited.
On the morning of the third day, an emergency military meeting was finally held in the largest council tent at the base.
Inside the enormous tent, dozens of prominent nobles and lords from the North sat on either side of a long table. The atmosphere was heavy and oppressive, with various thoughts clashing in the silent exchange of glances.
Sir Barton, the acting deputy commander of the Third Legion, an old knight with gray hair and a serious face, sat in the main seat, but his authority was clearly not enough to completely control the situation.
At the start of the meeting, Sir Barton gave a somber report on the Earl of Sutherland's condition—he remained unconscious and was in critical condition.
A suppressed sigh and whispers immediately filled the tent. He then briefed the tent on the current state of the defenses and the deployment of reinforcements.
The debate began when it was mentioned that the Sassians seemed to be fortifying their defenses, while the Orc reinforcements had arrived but made no move.
"The Orks aren't moving? This is a golden opportunity! We should concentrate our forces and crush the main force of the Sassins first!"
A young viscount, lost in a dream of a thriving situation, waved his arms excitedly.
"Defeat? What can we use to defeat them? Haven't you heard what happened to Grinburg? The Earl himself was assassinated in his own tent! We should consolidate our defenses, hold key points, and wait for reinforcements from home!"
The nobles who advocated retreat immediately refuted this.
"Contract? Wouldn't that mean handing over vast territories to others? The territory of the Vald family must not be lost! We must take the initiative!"
Viscount Wald's voice was loud and clear, carrying an undeniable authority. His gaze swept over the crowd, implying a powerful presence.
"Take the initiative? Who will lead the vanguard? Lord Wald, are you willing to lead your elite troops into battle?"
Immediately, someone retorted sarcastically.
The tent erupted into chaos, with various opinions clashing fiercely, but all remained superficial, filled with self-interest, fear, and unrealistic fantasies.
Sir Barton, the acting commander, made several attempts to control the situation, but with little success, and his face grew increasingly grim.
Signs of chaos are already emerging.
Just then, a calm yet penetrating voice rang out, clearly overwhelming the noisy argument:
"My lords, please allow me, Lind Truk, to say a few words."
All eyes instantly focused on the young baron, who sat in the middle, looking travel-worn but with sharp eyes.
The bloody hero of Grinburg! This identity itself carries a heavy weight.
This significance is even greater now that the banner of the Earl of Truk is also flying in the camp.
The tent gradually quieted down.
Whether they were ambitious, retreaters, or optimists, they all had to give this young nobleman, who had just proven himself with blood and will, a chance to speak.
Linde stood up, his gaze slowly sweeping across the entire room. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable chilling realism honed by the battlefield:
"I experienced the carnage of Grinburg firsthand. The Sassians are no longer the brutes of the past. Behind them lies the shadow of the Shadow Abyss!"
The moment the words "Shadow Abyss" were uttered, it was like ice water being poured into boiling oil! The tent fell into an instant deathly silence! The faces of many nobles changed drastically. This word represented taboo, calamity, and the deepest fears! Even the Holy Church's accompanying chaplain, who had been resting with his eyes closed, abruptly opened them.
Linde gave them no chance to catch their breath, describing in the most concise and impactful language what he had seen and heard in Grinburg:
"They used the lives of their own soldiers as 'fertilizer' to cultivate twisted Shadow Abyss monsters on the battlefield! They are impervious to blades and spears, possess immense strength, and release corrupting power everywhere; only light-attribute energy can effectively kill them!"
"They can create and manipulate pure Shadow Abyss energy servants, silently, powerfully, and mysteriously! The one that attacked the Earl is very likely one of these!"
"Why are the Orks holding back? They're waiting! Waiting for the power of the Shadow Abyss to tear a hole in our defenses, waiting for us to collapse on our own due to fear and internal strife! Then, they'll swarm in like vultures, share the spoils, and perhaps even... reap the benefits!"
Every word struck like a hammer blow to the hearts of the nobles present. Their illusions of a "favorable situation" shattered instantly, and the thought of retreat was replaced by greater fear. Even Wald's assertive stance wavered slightly.
The scene described by Lind was too horrifying, but precisely because it came from the mouth of this blood-soaked hero, combined with the strangeness of the Count's assassination, it was impossible not to believe it!
"The power of the Holy Church has begun to intervene, which is undoubtedly our hope."
Linde changed the subject, affirming the role of the Holy Church, which eased the tense expression on the chaplain's face.
"But distant water cannot quench immediate thirst! The threat of the Shadow Abyss is right before our eyes! The Orc army is eyeing us covetously! If we are still arguing about who should lead the charge, who should defend the rear, whether to attack or defend, and even each of us is pursuing our own selfish interests..."
Linde's voice suddenly rose in pitch:
"Then, we will all become sacrifices to the Shadow Abyss, souls lost beneath the iron hooves of the Orks! The northern defenses that Lord Sutherland protected with his life will collapse completely! Our lands, our families, our people will all face annihilation!"
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