Land of Demons

9

The Lord’s eyes flashed. Even if the orcs managed to destroy Boltoy’s reputation as an impenetrable fort, most of them would die to accomplish that feat. This ancient fort would be their grave!

“If they break through the gates, we’ll blow up the fort!” The Lord gave the command and, his cloak trailing behind him, went to his soldiers on the wall. If they were all going to meet their end this night, he would go to his forefathers with his soldiers, fighting right alongside them, and face his ancestors with honor!

***

Hadjar, who hadn’t seen any of this, continued smoking, lost in thought. During the couple of years he’d spent on the battlefield, he had seen more battles that any Imperial Lord. But despite all his experience, he couldn’t figure out why the orcs were marching openly across the steppes in such overwhelming numbers.

They should’ve come in groups to a previously agreed upon location and then delivered a swift and powerful blow to Boltoy. But since they hadn’t done so, they probably wouldn’t attack at all. So what was the army for?

As he thought about this, Hadjar recalled a similar situation. One cold winter, when the snowdrifts had been taller than an average man, he and his army had held against a horde of monsters. Greatly outnumbering them, these creatures had rushed across the territory of the Kingdom of Balium and attacked them. However, they hadn’t come with the intent to take anything or fight anyone, they’d just been simple animals fleeing from a threat that had appeared suddenly. Hadjar’s army had just gotten in their way. By the Evening Stars, this situation reminded Hadjar of that terrible ordeal.

“Let’s go to the walls.”

The trio stopped arguing and looked at the stranger in surprise.

“Did the fall scramble something in your head?” Alea asked. “You actually want to fight in the state you’re in?”

“Alea is right,” Irma said. “The evacuation will begin soon. You should leave while you still can.”

Only Derek remained eerily calm. Hadjar shook the ash out of his pipe and put it back in his ring. With a groan, but stubbornly refusing any help, he got up and hobbled to the wall.

“There won’t be a battle,” he said over his shoulder. “The orcs aren’t here to wage war.”

  

 Hundreds of archers and gunners were already on the wall. Below, at the gates, infantry and cavalry waited in the streets. Looking at them, Hadjar didn’t feel particularly impressed. If he’d still been the Mad General, these warriors, most of whom were at the Transformation of the New Soul stage, would have filled him with awe. Moreover, out of forty thousand of them, approximately two thousand were Heaven Soldiers at the initial and middle stages, and a hundred or so were even at the initial stage of the Spirit Knight level. By the standards of Lidus and the Sea of Sand, such an army was monstrously strong. Two thousand Heaven Soldiers led by a Lord! Such a force could’ve easily conquered the Sea of Sand and all the barbarian kingdoms of the northeastern regions of Darnassus!

However, after his time at ‘The Holy Sky’ School, Hadjar had changed his opinion on cultivation levels. None of these warriors could pass the outer circle disciple entrance exam. The School had about thirty thousand such disciples, which would be enough to destroy Boltoy as easily as a child destroyed a sand castle. Then other schools and even the most prominent Schools would get involved.

And then things would inevitably escalate even further and a war would erupt between the two Empires. And such a war would have only one possible outcome — mutually assured destruction, as their forces were equal in strength. That was why the Empires allowed weak cultivators to fight and die, to ensure that the strong cultivators could become even stronger. If the scales ever tipped one way or another, a real war would break out.

“Who are you?”

One of the warriors pushed the hilt of his sword against Hadjar’s chest. He was a young man, a Heaven Soldier, and not even a Wielder yet. Hadjar wouldn’t have had to even draw his sword to defeat him. Everything around Hadjar was the Sword, and after mastering the Weapon’s Heart, even his will was a sharp blade, and he could send this poor man to his forefathers with a single swing of it.

“Open your eyes!” Derek shouted. “Can’t you see who has come to your aid?”

Only then did the man notice the tokens of their school.

“Honored inner circle disciples!” He saluted and immediately withdrew his sword, letting them climb up to the wall. As soon as they were on the parapet, the warrior ran to inform his senior officer.

“Three inner circle disciples of the ‘Red Mule’ school have come to aid us! Each of them is worth a dozen ordinary Heaven Soldiers!”

Up on the wall, Hadjar leaned wearily against the high battlements. He took out his pipe again and lit it. He gazed at the steppes that merged with the horizon in the distance, lost in his memories. How many years had passed since he’d last stood on a wall and waited for a battle to commence? After travelling through the Sea of Sand, he had forgotten all about his fame as the Mad General and the time he’d spent on the seemingly endless battlefields, back when he’d never known which of his comrades that had stood next to him mere hours ago would be burned on the funeral pyre that same evening. Sometimes, he missed that life. It had been tough, bloody, reeking of pain and sweat, but at the same time, it had been simple as well. It was easy to fight when you had an enemy determined to take your land and life.

“Honorable disciples!” A senior officer, a pretty woman at the initial stage of the Spirit Knight level, saluted and bowed. “Are you the trio that was sent to us by the ‘Red Mule’ school?”

“That’s right.” Derek nodded and held out a scroll sealed with a magic hieroglyph. “We are here to serve in your intelligence gathering and patrol squads for three months.”

Accepting the scroll from him, the senior officer touched the hieroglyph with her ring. The two symbols — the magic one and the engraved one — came together and the seal disappeared in a shower of sparks. After reading the scroll’s contents, she saluted again.

“It is an honor to receive the aid of the inner circle disciples of the ‘Red Mule’ school,” she said in an official manner. “Unfortunately, you chose the worst possible time to arrive. An army of orcs is advancing toward us. We’ll try to hold them off as long as we can, but…” She shook her head, making her polished armor rattle unpleasantly. “You’d better leave Fort Boltoy with the rest of the civilians.”