The next morning, the smoke from Grinburg had not completely dissipated, and a faint smell of blood and burnt flesh still lingered in the air.
Linde entrusted the castle's defenses and the care of the wounded to Astaire and Raymond, while he himself, along with the equally exhausted and complex-eyed Lillens, hurried to the Earl of Sutherland's temporary rear camp.
The horses' hooves pounded the muddy road, and the scenery along the way was even more desolate than when they had come.
The scars left by war are everywhere; villages are ruined, fields are barren, and occasionally you can see refugees huddled by the roadside, their eyes numb and desperate.
Linde felt a heavy weight in his heart. The Pyrrhic victory at Grinburg had come at a great cost, but even heavier was the content he was about to report to the Earl.
The atmosphere was unusually somber upon arriving at the Earl's main tent, which was constructed of thick canvas and adorned with the coat of arms of the Sutherland family.
The guards' eyes betrayed their unease, and the officers coming and going hurried along with grim expressions.
Clearly, news of the heavy losses at the front had already reached back.
"Lord Linde, Lord Lirens, the Earl is waiting for you."
A haggard-looking attendant announced in a low voice and lifted the curtain.
The tent was dimly lit, and Count Sutherland stood with his back to the door in front of a huge military map.
His back remained upright, but Lind keenly noticed that his shoulders seemed heavier than usual. A stifling silence filled the air.
"Your Excellency."
Linde and Lillens bowed at the same time.
Earl Sutherland slowly turned around.
The count, who was known for his fortitude and decisiveness, now had an undisguised look of exhaustion and... the paleness that followed his shock.
His eyes, sharp as an eagle's, were fixed on Lind.
"Linde".
The count's voice was deep and hoarse, as if every word carried the smell of rust.
“Tell me, what exactly happened in Greenburg? The Silver Lance Knights… Jeffrey…”
Linde took a deep breath, met the Earl's gaze, and began to recount the events of the Battle of Grinburg in the clearest and calmest tone.
From the successful feint attack to the steady advance of the Bronze Phalanx, and then to the brilliant start of the Silver Lance Knights' flanking maneuver...
Then, his voice grew heavy as he described in detail the appearance of the three unheard-of, terrifying monsters exuding pure black decay—the Shadow Abyss Splits, the destructive power they brought, the loss of control of the warhorses, and the panic of the soldiers…
He recounted how Jeffrey bravely pierced the largest split entity but was corrupted by the black mist. At the critical moment, the Holy Spirit blessed him and turned the tide.
Then, he described the most terrifying scene: the largest split went berserk, devouring its companions, and eventually merging into the even more terrifying Shadow Abyss Aggregate...
"...It is as tall as a tower, forcibly pieced together from wreckage and shadows, and its power far exceeds that of the refined bronze level, even touching the threshold of a higher level."
Linde's voice was devoid of any emotion.
"Commander Jeffrey desperately pinned its head down, creating my only chance. I used some magic to barely manage to kill it."
Lind paused for a moment, then clearly stated the cold, hard numbers:
"In this battle, our army lost more than three hundred brave soldiers, and thirty-two bronze warriors were seriously wounded. The Silver Lance Knights... suffered more than half their losses."
"Commander Jeffrey was corrupted by the Shadow Abyss Mist during the battle and fell into a deep coma afterward. His condition... has temporarily stabilized."
"We captured about four hundred Sassians, and the main force of the garrison was basically annihilated. Greenburg... is now under our control."
As Lind narrated, Earl Sutherland's expression grew increasingly grim.
When he heard that the Silver Lance Knights had lost more than half their men and that Jeffrey's fate was unknown, his tall frame swayed almost imperceptibly, and the veins on the back of his hand, which was gripping the edge of the table, bulged.
The description of the Shadow Abyss monster struck him like a thunderbolt, his eyes filled with disbelief and profound horror.
"Shadow Abyss... Nocturnus's creation... How could something like this end up in the hands of the Sassins?!"
The count's voice carried suppressed anger and a barely perceptible tremor.
“Jeffrey…he…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, as if the name weighed a ton.
The atmosphere inside the tent plummeted to freezing point.
Li Luns kept his head down, not daring to breathe.
Linde could sense the immense grief and heavy pressure emanating from the Earl.
The Silver Lance Knights are the Earl's sharpest spear and an important symbol of his personal prestige. Such a heavy blow is not only a matter of military strength, but also of politics and public sentiment.
Just then, an unusual commotion suddenly broke out outside the tent, accompanied by the uniform, heavy, and rhythmic sound of horses' hooves, and a unique sound of footsteps that seemed to resonate with metal.
The voice, growing louder as it approached, carried an undeniable authority that instantly shattered the deathly silence within the tent.
The attendant, somewhat flustered, lifted the curtain again:
"Your Excellency! Outside...a troop has arrived..."
Before he could finish speaking, a figure ignored the guards' attempts to stop him and stepped directly into the tent.
The newcomer wore a full set of plate armor that shimmered with a cold, mithril-like luster. The armor's lines were simple yet sacred, and a radiant holy emblem was engraved on the chest.
He wasn't wearing a helmet, revealing a face with sharp, marble-carved features, a cold and solemn expression, and eyes as sharp as swords, as if they could pierce through people's hearts.
A large, two-handed sword with an ancient design and sacred prayers engraved on its scabbard hung at his waist. Just by standing there, an invisible, heart-pounding pressure spread out, as if the air in the entire tent had become heavy and holy.
Behind him, several knights dressed similarly, exuding a powerful and cold aura, could be vaguely seen standing outside the tent like silent statues.
Earl Sutherland looked up abruptly, and upon seeing the person who had arrived, his pupils contracted sharply, and a complex emotion flashed across his face—surprise, solemnity, and even…a hint of relief.
"Judge...Price?"
The count's voice carried a hint of uncertain respect.
The newcomer—Prince, the supreme commander of the Holy Punishment Knights—nodded slightly. His voice, like the tolling of a cold holy bell, was clear and carried an unquestionable authority:
"Lord Sutherland, may the light of the Holy Spirit guide your path. The Holy Knights, by order of the High Church, have arrived in the war zone."
"Our purpose in coming here is to purify heresy and evil."
His eyes, which seemed to burn with holy flames, slowly swept over Lind and Lillens inside the tent, finally settling on Earl Sutherland, his tone carrying a hint of profound meaning:
“It seems we have arrived…just in time. Regarding those blasphemous ‘Shadow Abyss Creatures’… Your Excellency, and this young lord, we need to know everything about them.”
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