Chapter 270: Another Assault

According to Gawain’s original plan, Sordrin was supposed to stay within the territory for a short time, tasked with gathering intelligence on the Typhon Empire and, if possible, digging up any information related to Gawain Cecil from back in the day. But plans rarely survive contact with reality. The instability of the Great Wall barrier had everyone on edge. To quickly understand what was going on with the elves, Gawain had no choice but to send Sordrin ahead, instructing him to find a way to establish contact with the ancient empire in the southern continent.

Before Sordrin set off, Gawain sought him out and asked, “Which route are you planning to take?”

Sordrin didn’t hide his intentions. “The Silver Empire has only a few barrier monitoring points in the northern continent. The two closest are near Ansusi’s border and the Typhon Empire’s frontier. Honestly, Ansusi is too far. I’m aiming for Typhon.”

Gawain gave him a sharp look. “Given your current situation, aren’t you worried about being killed if you return to Typhon?”

Sordrin’s expression was calm and confident. “A high-ranking ranger like me has a thousand ways to slip past ordinary border patrols without being caught. And even if that little Wolf General does catch me, I’m only a prisoner here, not a traitor. How could she punish me? Besides, I’m just a mercenary, not a Typhon native.”

With no one else around, Sordrin felt no need to hold back in front of someone who knew the secret behind his strength. Still, Gawain’s eye twitched at his bluntness. “You’re sure that living comfortably here with me doesn’t count as surrender?”

“Of course not. I haven’t officially rejoined the Cecil Legion yet, so it doesn’t count as surrender,” Sordrin said seriously, clearly not joking. “That way, the little Wolf General has no grounds to blame me—I can surrender after I return from Typhon.”

Gawain was speechless.

Sordrin’s logic sounded like a wordplay joke, but it wasn’t. Elven reasoning was just peculiar in certain inexplicable ways.

Of course, the Winter Wolf Legion of Typhon might not accept Sordrin’s straightforward logic. He knew that too. After stating his case, he composed himself. “I’ll do my best to avoid Typhon’s watchful eyes. It’s not hard—aside from the Winter Wolf Legion, few there know me. I have a route that crosses the border. Once I reach the Silver Elves’ outpost between the Typhon Empire and the Gondor wasteland buffer zone, I’ll be on Silver Empire territory and safe.”

“Alright, since you have a plan, I won’t say more,” Gawain said, looking Sordrin deeply in the eye. “Good luck.”

Sordrin pressed a hand to his chest and bowed solemnly. “I swear by the name of the Elven ancestors, I will return once the mission is complete.”

He straightened and turned toward the study’s door. Just as he was about to push it open, he suddenly stopped—Gawain simultaneously sensed the presence of Knight Philip outside.

A moment later came a knock, followed by Philip’s serious, slightly urgent voice: “My lord, urgent military intelligence.”

“Come in,” Gawain called out. As Philip entered, Gawain immediately asked, “What’s going on?”

“News from the Dark Mountains watchtower—there’s a mutant horde,” Philip glanced at Sordrin standing by the door, then quickly reported, “About two thousand strong, and still growing. There are also huge individuals we’ve never seen before.”

Gawain’s face darkened instantly. “Huge individuals? Describe them. And how fast are they moving?”

“Bloated humanoid forms, between five and seven meters tall. Not many—only four or five—but the mutants around them are noticeably more agile and coordinated. We suspect they’re commanders, though no signs of intelligence yet. As for their overall speed, it’s similar to the last mutant wave. They’ll reach our borders in three to four days. The first outpost’s sentries have withdrawn to avoid alerting the mutants and triggering a sudden rush. Only the second and third outposts remain, watching through telescopes.”

“Looks like you’re stuck here for now,” Gawain said, looking Sordrin squarely. “I’ve got trouble brewing.”

“I understand. You mentioned those things returning,” Sordrin said with a faint smile as he moved back to the center of the room. “Our old foes, right?”

Gawain smiled slightly. “Seven hundred years without fighting them—rusty?”

Sordrin mimed drawing a bow. “I still remember the feel from seven centuries ago. I could take down at least a hundred of them alone. The other nineteen hundred are yours.”

“Their numbers have passed the threshold. They’ll keep growing, and by the front line, it won’t be just two thousand,” Gawain shook his head with a smile. “But the main fight won’t be you or me. It’s time you see the power of the Cecil Combat Legion. Philip, sound the alarm as planned. Deploy defenses outside the city, recall the southern engineering teams, prepare for battle!”

After Philip left, Gawain turned to the window. “Amber!”

Amber immediately leapt in through the window. “Here, here! I heard everything!”

“Go gather everyone who needs to be called. We’re going to be busy!”

Moments later, the city was filled with the loud, continuous ringing of the alarm bells.

The bells carried a specific meaning, echoing over the entire city. Soldiers, whether on leave or on duty, immediately responded, rushing to their posts according to the bell’s rhythm and their training. At construction sites, foremen quickly calmed workers and ordered team leaders to end work early and return home to stand by. The foremen themselves headed to the nearest emergency assembly points, awaiting further orders.

In an instant, everyone sprang into action—some returned home to wait, others headed to designated gathering spots, some rushed to the southern city walls. Patrol squads poured out from their posts, running through streets and alleys, loudly reciting simple “Emergency Procedures” to the public. Everything unfolded exactly as rehearsed.

Of course, some newcomers—those who had joined the Cecil territory just before winter—panicked at the alarm. Though they’d received basic education, they hadn’t participated in drills involving mutant attacks. But they were quickly reassured. Ubiquitous patrols and carefully dispersed “old residents” explained the situation. Those who had lived through the first Cecil territory defense were calmest. Not only did they remain composed, but they could also interpret the bell’s pattern: two short rings followed by two long ones, meaning the enemy was still far off and would arrive in a few days. The city was now entering an orderly state of preparation.

This was relatively “stable.”

Experienced residents began instructing newcomers on what to do next: maintain order, stay home awaiting the lord’s orders, and be ready to support the territory’s defenses within their means. This was every Cecil citizen’s duty and responsibility.

Since settling in this wild land on the edge of human civilization, the Cecil territory had always prepared for challenges. The first defense battle was just the beginning. Since then, Gawain never relaxed the training and drills for the residents. Unlike peaceful nations or times, this frontier had to be ready for total war at any moment. When war truly broke out, whether the residents had trained enough could determine the territory’s survival. Gawain dared not slack off.

But not everyone understood what was happening.

In the northern prisoner camp on Knight Street, a dozen Typhon soldiers, knights, and mages remained locked in cells.

They’d been held for days. Aside from routine interrogations, they hadn’t suffered abuse. The “cells” were sturdy old barracks retrofitted with magical alarms inside and out. Their living conditions were no worse than regular barracks.

These captured Typhon soldiers had expected harsh treatment from the legendary Duke of Ansusi, but instead, they faced neither execution nor torture. Aside from restricted freedom, their treatment was almost “generous.” Reflecting on it, they suspected Sordrin had negotiated this for them—the elven ranger was clearly an old acquaintance of Ansusi’s founding hero. This favor had earned them surprisingly good conditions. Their feelings were complicated.

With nothing else to do, the prisoners spent their days pondering life and discussing how much longer they’d be held.

Just before the alarm bells rang, they were still talking. When the bells sounded, they immediately fell silent.

A Typhon knight suddenly stood, cupping his ear to listen to the bells outside, surprise on his face. “What’s happening out there?”

“Not sure. Sounds like an alarm,” a mage stood and pressed his face close to the barred, reinforced window. He wished he could summon a mage’s eye to see outside, but the cell was riddled with anti-magic runes and traps. Any attempt to use magic would be self-destructive. “I see many soldiers running out of the barracks!”

“An alarm? Troop movements?” The knight who spoke first froze, then his face lit up. “Could it be our forces attacking? Has the war started early?!”

“Impossible. Even if war started, it would begin at the East Wolf Fortress line. The army couldn’t have advanced this far so quickly,” another knight said. “Maybe they’re suppressing slave labor… after all, this is a newly established frontier.”

A third knight stood and lowered his voice. “Could this… be our chance?”

The cell fell silent. Eyes darted nervously, as if afraid even whispering might alert the Ansusi soldiers outside.

“Our chances of escape aren’t high,” the last mage finally broke the silence. “Ansusi troops are everywhere. Did you notice their discipline? Even in chaos, they won’t give us an opening.”

The first knight was reluctant. “But if we don’t run now…”

Before he could finish, a voice came from the door: “If you run now, I really won’t be able to save you!”

The Typhon warriors were taken aback—they only now realized that Solderin had somehow appeared at the doorway. The high-ranking elven ranger looked over his “subordinates” before letting out a long sigh. “Honestly, I didn’t want to come here.”

(End of chapter)