Chapter 407: Darkness

Delivering information was no easy task.

When a great fire broke out at Changfeng Fortress, two dukes far away in the royal capital were still focused on maintaining order within the city. When the Eastern Duke and Prince Edmond’s armies gathered to attack the borderlands of the Holy Spirit Plains, the officials in Saint Suniel City remained completely unaware. It wasn’t until a griffon messenger, risking death to break through the front lines, flew into the capital that the magnitude of this kingdom-shaking upheaval truly became clear to the authorities in Silverhold. Yet even then, they had no idea that a simultaneous upheaval was unfolding in the southern territories—one that would have an even greater impact on the kingdom’s future.

But the distant South and the capital were not entirely disconnected. Outside Silverhold, within Saint Suniel City, agents loyal to the Cecil family lay in wait.

At No. 4 Crown Street, the Cecil family mansion had become a gathering place for the capital’s mages and scholars. Inside, a scholar wearing a woolen soft cap politely rose and bowed to the mage apprentice before him, then followed his attendant out of the room. “The Witch” Jipri let out a faint sigh after the registered capital mage left, stretching her stiff shoulders.

Sitting in such a spacious, well-lit room, dressed in finely tailored expensive clothes, meeting with scholars as an agent of the duke—this was a level of respectability Jipri had never imagined for herself. But only after taking this position did she realize how difficult it truly was. Dealing with the sharp, worldly-wise people of the capital was a test in itself. On top of that, she had to gather intelligence as a secret agent of the military intelligence bureau and transmit it out. The hardships of this role were no easier than the days when she relied on smooth talk to swindle coins from passing adventurers on the street.

The door opened, and “Quick Legs” Pierce, dressed in a knight’s uniform, stepped in. Seeing only Jipri in the room, the young man nodded. “The last registrant has left?”

“Yes, the last one today,” Jipri said, rubbing her shoulder. “Even more than yesterday…”

“The situation in the capital is growing tense. Soldiers and knights are going door to door, checking for suspicious individuals. Just a few days ago, there was a fire in the wealthy district. People are on edge,” Pierce said as he found a seat by the table, recounting recent changes in the city. “Thanks to this, our recruitment has become easier—the Duke of Cecil’s employment certificates allow them to leave the city legally during this period.”

“We’ll have a hundred recruits by tomorrow or the day after, then we can send another batch,” Jipri flipped through the registration book, then looked up at her companion. “Also, orders have come from home: after sending the last group, we must halt all public recruitment activities. We’re to maintain contact with the capital’s mage circle only in secret, gathering intelligence and awaiting further orders.”

Pierce was momentarily curious how the southern lord knew about the capital’s situation—since that intelligence hadn’t yet been sent out. But his training in military intelligence left no room for doubt; he simply nodded. “Understood. Tomorrow I’ll cancel all commissions with the various guilds.”

“It’s time to stop public activities…” Jipri sighed softly. “The city’s situation is deteriorating. Rebels are hiding within the capital. The people in Silverhold will likely soon order a lockdown of all Saint Suniel. We’ve been able to operate freely only under the duke’s protection, but from now on, it’s best not to provoke Silverhold’s sensitive nerves…”

“I wonder what the future holds,” Pierce couldn’t help but sigh. Born in the slums, this was the first time he found himself reflecting on matters that should have been far removed from his life. “This country is getting more chaotic by the day…”

“The current chaos is only temporary. The duke will ultimately bring prosperity and order to this land,” Jipri said, lifting her eyes to Pierce. “That prosperity and order will transcend this era, but perhaps we will live to see it.”

“That sounds like something Mr. Santis once said,” Pierce chuckled. “Though it sounds overly optimistic, I think there’s truth to it.”

…

If the Cecil territories represented prosperity and order, then the lands ravaged by the noble armies showed only decay and chaos.

In the southwest of the Carol Province, the Konsko region, a small village had been almost completely razed. At the edge of the ruins, a small armed unit passed by.

The unit was disciplined, flying a black-and-red banner emblazoned with the Cecil family crest. Half the group wore shining armor and carried combat packs—Cecil soldiers. The other half wore light armor and cloaks, looking less like soldiers and more like non-combat personnel. Their cloaks bore a red triangle, a traditional Ansu symbol for healers and apothecaries.

Among them walked Light Aviken, the only man clad in full heavy armor who was also a physician. His red triangle marked on his breastplate made him stand out even more.

Of course, more striking than the red symbol was his towering frame—taller than even the strongest soldiers.

Now, the strong and tall priest and battlefield medic gazed silently at the ruins before him. After a few seconds, he couldn’t help but sigh.

Every building had collapsed or been destroyed. The village’s grain warehouses had been looted and set ablaze. Wells were filled in. Cattle and sheep had been slaughtered by starving noble soldiers. Anything they couldn’t carry off was burned along with the barns and houses. In some places, Light even saw unpleasant dark red stains of blood.

This village had been destroyed by war—but not by the “enemy” Cecil forces. It was the village’s supposed protectors and lords—the knights of Konsko and the allied noble army under the Viscount of Konsko—who had done this.

The noble army, retreating from the Shattered Stone Ridge front, had laid waste to this place—just as they had to others along their path.

Nobles were synonymous with plunder, especially in war. Yet Light was still shocked by what he saw. He hadn’t expected the looting and destruction during the nobles’ retreat to be even more appalling than during their advance. It was so horrific that he wondered if those fleeing noble soldiers were even human, or just a swarm of skinning termites.

Standing beside Light was a Cecil veteran, the squad commander. Having seen many battlefields and knowing the ways of traditional noble armies, he shook his head and explained, “When they advance, there’s some order—at least then, they still see themselves as protectors of the land and people. They collect a lot of grain and valuables as they pass through villages and towns, but they don’t destroy. But once they’re routed, they become wolves… Unlike the Cecil army, those noble soldiers don’t see ‘plundering’ as a crime. They won’t be whipped for stealing a few loaves from commoners. They’ll do anything to fill their bellies—even burn down places to keep the enemy from using the grain and houses.”

“Do they even destroy their own lands?” Light interrupted. “Do those fleeing nobles really order the destruction of villages in their own territory?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” the veteran sighed. “They’re defeated anyway. By noble war rules, the victors always plunder. They think if they don’t steal all the grain and burn the village, the pursuing enemy will. Better to do it themselves—and they can still take back some grain. They don’t see it as a loss.”

“…”

Light fell silent. The darkness and evil of war left him at a loss for words. He came from the relatively wealthy and stable Holy Spirit Plains. Though he had witnessed some despicable acts by savage nobles during his missionary work, this was his first time seeing a war on this scale. What the nobles did in their desperate flight far exceeded his expectations.

But he was no naive man. Though many called him naive for his adherence to classical holy virtues, he knew better. He was shocked by the cruelty and darkness of war, but he would never foolishly believe the war shouldn’t have happened, nor that Cecil’s victory caused these tragedies.

He understood human greed, noble greed. After reading the newspaper’s commentary and analysis, he knew this war was inevitable. Regardless of who won, those greedy and brutal nobles and their armies would do similar things—plundering and destruction would happen. The only difference was where.

And he also knew the Cecil army was doing its best to prevent the spread of such destruction. The main forces tried to drive the enemy toward wastelands. If they neared towns, they would launch fierce attacks to drive them off before damage could be done. After all, protecting those towns and villages was protecting Cecil’s future assets.

But no matter how hard they tried, the battlefield was always unpredictable and uncontrollable.

So Light could only watch silently, then bow his head and pray quietly for those caught in disaster.

The Lord of Holy Light would not answer his prayers—but he did not expect any response.

The commander glanced at the priestly battlefield medic but did not disturb his prayers. Instead, he began assigning tasks to the soldiers: “You two, search nearby for any survivors or refugees. Find out if anyone escaped. You, and the three of you, look for places where bodies have been discarded. Gather and burn the corpses. The rest, come with me. Let’s see if there’s anything left worth salvaging.”

(End of chapter)