Chapter 384 is coming
The Ferros royal family was very confident in their battle plan on the Saga Icefield. The average thigh-deep snow was enough to make it difficult for ordinary horses to move, but snow wolves and bighorn elk could tread on flat ground.
What's more, those soldiers from the south have long been accustomed to the warmth and gentleness of the fertile land. Even without the people of Ferros doing anything, the brutal winter blizzards would be the first to take their lives.
But they were blocked.
It was not the crumbling Northern Legion of the Silver Iris Empire - the Second Legion had already been torn to pieces by them and was exhausted - nor was it even the Royal City Army equipped with elite coal weapons that came from the Royal City in response to the request for help from General Phil Goree, the supreme commander of the Second Legion, but the People's Army that they had never taken seriously and that ridiculously claimed to "fight the enemy together."
When the news first reached them, many of Ferros's generals were dismissive. A mere rebel army of lowly slaves, barely capable of stirring up trouble with the feeble and powerless beasts of the Silver Iris royal family, how could they dare to stray from their homeland and journey to the icy north to fight the brave Ferros?
Yet, even this ridiculous group displayed astonishing adaptability and resilience on the icy plains. Their weapons had been well-modified for cold weather, and their understanding of the icy plains rivaled even that of the Ferros, who had lived in the snow for generations. Clearly, they had gone through lengthy preparations, and this wasn't just a momentary impulse on the part of the Ghost.
But how long had this army been formed? Two years? Three years? Did they anticipate a conflict with the Farrows in the North from the outset?
The Ferros people, having firsthand experience of the might of this slave army, suffered utterly. They exploited the cracks, snow pits, and undulating ridges of the ice to slither across the tundra. They eschewed rigid positional warfare, unconcerned with advancing their fronts. Instead, they continually ambushed Ferros transport convoys and isolated units, even boldly wiping out several small and medium-sized legions. They then carried off as much supplies and lives as possible, leaving behind only the frozen corpses of Ferros soldiers and their mounts.
The Ferros's proud Snow Wolf cavalry suffered particularly heavy losses when confronted with these people's bizarre traps. These damned slaves were utterly cunning and terrifying. Caltrops, lightly covered with a thin layer of snow, would pierce the snow wolves' thick, soft paws, and the dirt smeared on them would cause painful infections. And then there were the explosives buried in the snow, some even deliberately layered with the carcasses of frozen small animals. If a snow wolf approached, they would immediately explode, both the wolf and the people, into the air.
Some experienced snow wolves could smell something unusual, but this also meant that the team's marching speed was greatly slowed down. Either the supplies were exhausted, or they were caught up and surrounded by the enemy after resting. For a while, there was panic within the front-line army of Fairros. When they saw the fluttering scarlet flag, they would subconsciously retreat. The proud Fairros people became prey fleeing desperately on the ice field.
Hunger, severe cold, and gradually declining morale are the best weapons for anyone.
Ferros, the Everfrozen Court.
Deep within the vast stone palace, countless enormous whale oil torches burned, casting flickering shadows on the painted murals on the rough stone walls depicting hunting, war, and sacrifice. King Haakon Feroth of Feroth, wrapped in a thick ice bear fur coat, tall and muscular, with eyes as sharp as a hawk, sat upon the vast, pitch-black throne.
Beneath the throne, the atmosphere was solemn. Several generals, freshly returned from the front lines, knelt before him, their bodies still reeking of blood and ferocity. Their reports, however, were far from pleasant. The term "People's Army" appeared more and more frequently among the bitter speeches.
"The People's Army..." King Haakon chewed slowly on the word in the Common Language. "A rebel army within the Silver Iris Empire, a bunch of slaves and traitors. Instead of seizing the opportunity to tear a piece of flesh from their former masters, they chose to set foot on the northern icy plains at this time?"
There was a brief commotion and whispers in the royal court. The high-ranking officials of the royal court of Fairros had naturally heard of the name of the People's Army. In recent years, they had tormented the royal family of their biggest enemy, the Silver Iris Empire, and forced them to retreat step by step.
"Your Majesty, they're formidable," a Ferros general said solemnly. "Our transport convoys near the Saga Glacier have been frequently attacked lately. Their tactics are extremely despicable, never engaging head-on. They also seem to be well-versed in our patterns of movement and the habits of snow wolves, resulting in considerable losses."
He was silent for a moment, then added with difficulty, "What's even more unforgivable is that a priest disappeared in the attack. Lord Katie Fellowes's whereabouts are unknown, and his life or death is unknown..."
King Haakon leaned forward, his expression finally changing. He had no deep impression of this daughter; he couldn't even remember which concubine or slave girl she was born to. But the fact that she bore the name Ferros suggested that divine blood flowed through her.
This is absolutely a huge insult and provocation.
The temperature in the royal court plummeted, leaving only the king's rumbling voice, tinged with cold murderous intent: "Are you sure it was the Limin Army who did it?"
"It's very likely," the general swallowed. "According to intelligence from the front, no bodies were found at the battle site, but traces of weapons not made by the Silver Iris Empire were found."
After a moment's silence, King Haakon slowly sat back and waved away the generals.
"...Salvatore, my brother, my prophet." The king's voice was deep and powerful, echoing in the silent hall. "I want to know where Katie is now? Who kidnapped her?"
The flames of the whale oil torches suddenly began to shake violently, and a cold and dead atmosphere spread, overwhelming the faint warmth brought by the fire.
Shadows shifted, and a figure gradually emerged from the deepest darkness behind the throne. All the slaves and attendants, save King Haakon, bowed their heads respectfully, not daring to look directly at the figure that slowly emerged.
The air was filled with a mixture of blood, frozen earth, and some indescribable primitive smell, probably belonging to ancient ice and snow.
Great Shaman Salvador.
He was thinner than any other man from Ferros, and his age was unrecognizable, as if the cold had drained all his flesh and blood, leaving only a skeleton tightly wrapped in pale skin.
The Great Shaman wore a thick cloak, woven from layers of fur, feathers, and even scales from various animals. Overlain by the skull of a massive, adult male elk lay the other's head, its deep, almost invisible whites visible only from the dark sockets of the skull's eye sockets.
He slowly raised his hands, looked up at the high dome of the stone hall, and muttered a series of strange and low syllables to himself.
The temperature in the royal court plummeted at an extremely terrifying speed. Everyone's teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. The ancient painted murals, the dark and cold throne, and even King Haakon's fur coat and beard were covered with a layer of white frost in an instant.
"Disgust... shame... fear..." Salvatore repeated slowly, as if he had some empathy with the priestess who was captured by the enemy: "She is still alive... the daughter of the ice field, imprisoned deep in the Saga Ice Field, right..."
Salvador's words suddenly stopped. He bent down without any warning and his whole body began to tremble violently. In the horrified eyes of the people around him, a stream of dark and smelly blood slowly seeped out through the gaps in the white deer bones.
"Salvador!" King Haakon immediately stepped down from the throne and wanted to reach out to hold the other's arm, but before he could touch it, he suddenly pulled his hand back as if he remembered something.
Even so, his fingers were frozen and lost their color in an instant.
"There's a force... preventing me from seeing more..."
The great shaman's voice became extremely hoarse, his head drooped and trembled, more blood flowed down, and before it dripped onto the ground, it had already turned into condensed black ice beads.
Suspicion and anger flashed in the king's eyes. Salvatore's power came from a resonance with the polar ice, an ancient and uncanny one. Ever since receiving inspiration from the sea god Odileus and continuously drawing strength from his faith through countless sacrifices, he had rarely encountered an opponent.
...Did the female saint from the Silver Iris Empire finally leave the royal city? Or did an old god successfully descend into the world?
"Not Sandra." The Great Shaman seemed to know what he was thinking, his voice almost whispering, so that only the king could hear: "Even more... sharper, tougher, and more dangerous... He doesn't seem to be one of the known Old Gods, at least not the sea god Odras..."
"My brother, I must go to the Saga Glacier myself." He hissed, "The will of the glacier is calling me. The foul breath of outsiders is tainting its purity. It must be cleansed with more blood and bones..."
"Your body..." Haakon's voice lowered, with a hint of hesitation that was not out of consideration for rights.
"No problem." But his brother interrupted him rudely: "Countless monuments of flesh and blood, countless sacrifices, are constantly replenishing my strength. Moreover, compared to maintaining the purity of the ice field, the pain of this body is so insignificant."
The king looked at him intently.
The benevolent great shaman uses his own blood and flesh to pass on his power to the ethnic group with sacred blood flowing in their veins. While this strengthens the other party's own strength, it also forces him to endure the pain and loss of digging out bones and cutting flesh.
Haakon Fellos knew why the other party decided to go there in person immediately, but he still found it hard to believe for a moment - just a glance made the Great Shaman believe that the North was facing a threat that required him to take all his efforts and treat it seriously. Who was behind that group of Silver Iris slaves?
Is it an old god that they have never encountered?
...Or is it that a new god is coming?
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