Chapter 486

Chapter 109: Clash of Iron and Bone, Fiery Blood Burns, Part 8

Under the night sky, the rhinoceros cart passed through the streets where flames burned.

Sounds of running, shouting, and weeping echoed from all directions. The street led to the northern city wall, where the last batch of volunteers heading for the city walls were led by the knight captain and the nobles within the city. By the ruins at the roadside, a woman was crying; her man had died on the wall. Her sobs mixed with the chaotic footsteps, catching people’s attention, but no one could do more than cast a compassionate glance.

Hundreds of meters away, at the north gate, bloodlines spread toward the tower. The traces of fierce battles began from the gap in the wall and extended into the streets and alleys of the city.

The tall and rugged infidels roared madly, their bodies engulfing crimson flames. Leading the infidels and the knights who fought desperately, blood splattered in the dark night. A holy spear shot from the tower pierced his shoulder, but the rugged heretic only staggered slightly before recovering instantly. He leaped high into the air, drawing a blazing fire line, and landed atop the nearly thirty-meter-high tower. Instantly, the monks on the tower shouted in panic as limbs flew in the flames.

A kilometer away from the battlefield, in a barracks in the northern part of the city, Beaumont, covered in blood, got up from his bed, leaning on a crutch to take a few steps. He reached out to grab his sword lying on the wooden table. The white-bearded old steward pushed the door open and hurried over, “Young Master Beaumont, what are you planning to do?”

“Go to kill those beasts.”

Beaumont’s face was stern, his teeth clenched as he pushed away the old man’s hand and turned to walk towards the door. After taking just a few steps, he stumbled and fell. The old man quickly bent down to help him, “Young Master, the rhinoceros cart of the caravan will be ready soon. Sir Williams instructed you to leave through the secret passage with us. You…”

“Do you mean to suggest that I desert in the middle of battle?!”

Beaumont shouted angrily, stood up, and continued walking towards the door, holding his sword in one hand and leaning on the crutch with the other. “My father is still fighting the enemy; how can I abandon him and leave alone! Now, Aletheon City is in imminent danger. All men capable of wielding swords have taken their posts on the walls. Why should I hide like a stray dog?”

“But Sir Williams… your father’s orders…”

“I don’t belong to the Third Knight Order; he has no right to give me orders. You need not say more. Even if I die here today, I will not hide and run away like those women. This is an insult to me and a desecration of the honor of the Williams family!”

Beaumont limped out of the room, the old man following closely behind, trying to persuade him kindly, “Your leg is injured like this; even if you go, what can you accomplish?”

“Even so, I can still kill ten more heretics.”

“Young Master Beaumont, what you need to do now is not rush to the battlefield to throw your life away. You have more important things to do…”

As the old man spoke, he signaled to the guard knights standing at the entrance of the barracks. They slowly approached from behind. Beaumont continued speaking, “What I do is my own decision. The reinforcements from the First Knight Order will arrive soon, and before then, I must…”

Before he finished speaking, two knights pounced on him from behind, knocking his sword and crutch away. Beaumont struggled fiercely, but the knights held his arms tightly, pinning him down. The old man quickly pulled out a packet of powder from his robe and sprinkled it on Beaumont’s face.

“You…”

Beaumont glared at him, his struggles weakening, “This is… mandrake…”

“My apologies, Young Master.” The old man looked at him with a kind smile, “I cannot watch you throw your life away in vain. As Sir Williams said, you bear a more significant mission. You cannot die here; it would be meaningless. Therefore… I’m sorry, Young Master. Out of necessity, I had to resort to such despicable means to get you to safety…”

The old man threw away the empty packet, picked up the sword and crutch from the ground, handing the crutch to one of the knights and keeping the sword himself.

“Young Master, we followed you here, witnessing heartbreaking events along the way. Now, the southern part of Silgaya is flooded, with famine everywhere. The supplies for the knights have been cut off. The reason isn’t because of the vicious infidels, but due to a sudden storm and a carefully planned scheme…”

In the decades he served as the head of the St. George Coinage Bureau, the old steward had deep connections with various nobles. He had seen the rise and fall of different social classes and understood human emotions deeply. He knew how far those at the top would go for their own interests, acting without restraint or concern.

But some things felt different when seen firsthand.

The old steward’s tone became solemn as he continued, “Young Master, your original purpose in coming here was to investigate the reasons for the lack of supplies and the issues with the coinage bureau, and to address them. Now, the true problems, I believe, are clear to you.”

“Why did bandits dare to intercept the grain? Why did Silgaya suffer such severe flooding, yet we heard nothing definite about it in the royal city? Why couldn’t information from here be transmitted…

The timing for the Holy City to send out the First Knight Order was so late…

“Why did the Church’s faith groups arrive from all directions to Silgay months ago, yet they never appeared until the entire Moser coastline defenses collapsed… Where were those people? Why did this heavy rain come at such an inappropriate time and then stop so promptly… Young Master, you know what’s happening.”

“Now that Aletheon is about to fall, many… many people will likely die here soon. The heretics’ assault is so fierce; your father, Sir Williams, must be preparing to die on the battlefield… He wants to uphold the honor of being a knight and the pride of the Williams family. I admire his actions.”

“If he dies here, he might be praised by future generations, and countless people will revere him. But if you go there and die, it would truly be a pointless sacrifice, with no glory, just sheer bravery… ”

“However, now that our people have arrived and things have reached this point, someone in the Coin House… must take the lead. Young Master, you must go out. Once you leave, you should immediately head to the Holy City and report everything that has happened here, the suppression of the Third Knight Order’s call for help, and the truth behind this flood disaster… to the three Cardinals…”

“… More importantly, you must take Sir Williams’ actions, all his efforts, and the reasons behind the battle’s failure to your grandfather, Cardinal Saint George, to the altar, and make them public. This is your mission.”

Clang—

The old man drew his longsword, and the sharp blade gleamed coldly and resolutely under the light of the distant fire, much like his cloudy but sharp eyes.

“Let’s go. Today’s act of valor, let me, this old body, take care of it for you.”

These words sounded like a farewell at this moment.

The old man brushed his sleeves and turned away, the sword pointing downward as he led a group of guards and knights towards the direction of the battlefield.

“… After everything ends, if I am still alive, please blame me alone…”

That voice reached Beaudet’s ears from ten steps away.

Beaudet watched the old man’s back, tears streaming down his face.

…………

Fighting, shouts, spread and boiled under the sky.

As night deepened, fewer and fewer knights were holding the northern city gates, while more heretics infiltrated the city, killing people everywhere. They overturned the bonfires, set ablaze the barracks, and stuck the knights’ severed heads on poles into the rubble. The northern gate continued to resist, but the sin that had sealed the city gate dissipated.

On the high tower where the bishop and monks were located, flames raged fiercely. Below and above the tower, there were countless charred bodies with tragic deaths, and blood stained the ground black.

The living knights were cornered inside the city gate by the heretics, with ferocious faces both in front and behind. They huddled together, backs facing the enemy, swinging their swords in a bloody fight, one after another falling. Soon, a song emerged from amidst the flashing blades and blood, its voice mournful and powerful, like a requiem for warriors.

The cross flag impaled on the wall fell during this song.

In the ruins hundreds of meters away from the city gate, Knight Moore pulled his sword out of a heretic’s chest, kicked the opponent away, stumbled, and knelt on one knee, blood spilling from his mouth.

“Mr. Moore!”

Barry, equally bloodied, ran over, reaching out to help him: “What happened to you?!”

Moore shook his head, spat out a mouthful of blood, touched the cut on his mouth, and struggled to stand up, forcing a weak smile.

“Darn it… that scoundrel smeared poison on the blade…”

He then raised his head and looked toward the city wall, his gaze wandering, before saying after a while, “Barry, did you hear that song…”

“Mr. Moore, let me first stop the bleeding on your wound…”

“The song is getting softer, we’re losing…”

Losing…

The moment this thought rose in Barry’s heart, fear and fatigue surged again. The young knight’s hand trembled uncontrollably, and he felt he could barely hold onto his sword.

Losing means death.

“This is really… not funny, Barry. When do you think the support from the First Knight Order will arrive…”

Knight Moore looked at the young man in front of him, seeing the confusion and fear in his eyes.

“There’s your Papal Knight sister in the reinforcements, right?”

He tried to lighten the mood with a small joke—recently, the knights affectionately called Barry “Barry Brother,” mainly because after drinking too much, Barry cut out the portrait of Miss Silvija from the church gazette and announced in front of everyone that she was his sister. After that, Barry became everyone’s “big brother.”

Naturally, no one took the young man’s boasts seriously. At this moment, Moore said these words hoping to ease his tense emotions.

“What a pity, I thought I had a chance to pursue her… At least meeting her once would have been nice.”