CHAPTER 83: BLACK SEA
FIRST DEFENSE LINE-REAR CAMP - INNER CAMP- COMMANDER'S TENT.
"I am never surprised to receive reports of a group of mercenaries arriving at the camp, seeking a 'War Merit Badge,' only to instigate conflicts with a knight or two over trivial arguments. Such behavior is as to be expected of mercenaries... But, none! has done what your group dared to do."
Commander Lieutenant Balt Clayledge declared, his voice slicing through the air like a sharpened blade, his words heavy with disdain. As he spoke, his icy glare swept over Gerald, Gray, Keal, Little John, and Thorne, who knelt before him, their hands unbound but their faces drained of color.
'Forgive us! lives milord!"
Gerald pleaded desperately, his voice trembling with fear as he sensed the gravity of the situation from the Commander's tone. Without hesitation, he slammed his head onto the ground, bowing deeply in a gesture of submission, his heart racing with the fear of what punishment might await them.
*SWOOSH*
*BANG*
" My friend spoke those foolish and stupid words because he had been drinking, he did not mean to insult the imperial knights. Please, Forgive us, Milord!"
Gerald pleaded again, his voice trembling with desperation as he remained on his knees, head bowed low in shame. Blood trickled down his forehead from where he had injured himself.
"Yes, please Forgive us, milord!"
Gray, Little John, Keal, and Thorne pleaded in unison, their voices blending into a chorus of desperation and fear. In synchronized movements, they followed Gerald's lead, bowing deeply before the Commander, their bodies trembling with the weight of their plea.
"Forgive you?!... What crime did you think you have committed? that you think you deserve to be Forgiven?"
Commander Lieutenant Balt Clayledge questioned, demanding an explanation, as he gazed upon the five mercenaries who knelt before him.
"What crimes...? It seems he's not planning to let us off easily with a simple apology," Gerald thought to himself, his mind racing as he observed the stern tone the commander
.
"He wants us to admit to what we did. But even though insulting a knight is a crime, it should only merit minor fines per the law. I wonder why- It doesn't matter why, we just have to do what he wants and appease him."
Gerald reasoned silently in his mind, his thoughts racing as he contemplated their next move. Understanding the importance of compliance, he searched for the right words that would placate the Commander.
"We–"
Gerald's words were abruptly cut off as the tent's flaps were forcefully pushed open, revealing a knight striding in with purposeful steps. The sudden entrance startled everyone in the room, momentarily freezing the air with an aura of urgency and anticipation.
"...?!"
Commander Balt's surprise was evident as the tent's atmosphere shifted abruptly with the unauthorized entrance. His expression morphed from stern to one of shock as he recognized the knight who strode in as his Vice Commander, 'Lieutenant August Starfrost.'
"Commander!"
Vice-Commander August called out urgently as he entered the tent, his voice echoing through the space with a sense of urgency. His brows furrowed, eyes wide with concern, and his breathing rapid, despite the mild weather outside. Beads of sweat glistened on his face, evidence of the haste and anxiety driving his movements.
" Sir August is a knight known for his intelligence and always having a cold, unfazed expression. He is one to remain calm even in a dire situation. That's why I chose him as my vice-commander and head of the 'First Defense Line Rear Intelligence Division.' But, for him to be in such a state... it means something incomprehensible must have happened ."
Commander Balt thought to himself, a sense of crisis welling up within him. The sight of his typically composed and level-headed subordinate in such distress signaled that whatever news Sir August brought was undoubtedly grave.
"Leave us!"
Vice Commander August ordered, his voice cutting through the tension in the tent.
"Yes, Vice Commander!"
The knights responded in unison, their movements swift as they began to make their way towards the exit.
"Commander Sir, what should be done with these mercenaries?"
a knight inquired, turning to Commander Balt.
"Lock them up in the 'Pen' for now. I'll deal with them when I am done here,"
Commander Balt instructed firmly.
"Yes, Commander."
The knight acknowledged before turning his attention to Gray, Gerald, Little John, Keal, and Thorne.
"Come on, get up. You heard the commander, to the 'Pen' with you lot,"
The knights ordered, their demeanor stern as they escorted the mercenaries out of the tent.
"Spare our lives, milord,"
one of the mercenaries pleaded desperately.
"Milord! I can't be locked in the 'Pen' or I'll miss my only opportunity," another protested.
*BAM!*
The sound of a heavy hand silencing the protests echoed through the tent.
"Shut up and keep moving,"
the knights commanded, their resolve unwavering as they urged the mercenaries forward.
***********************************************
A FEW MOMENTS LATER.
"So... what's going on? From your expression, I can tell it's nothing good,"
Commander Balt said, the concern evident in his voice as he and the Vice Commander remained alone in the tent.
"..."
Silently, Vice-Commander August strode towards the war table, where the map of the Giggadon Empire and its strategic positions were laid out, represented by an array of figurines. Without a word, he approached the miniature that signified the Southern Front First Defense Line fortress and deliberately knocked it over.
*SWOOSH*
*THUD*
"Does that mean what I think it means?"
Commander Balt asked, his tone grave, as he directed his serious gaze towards the fallen fortress figurines. The significance of what the fallen figurine represented was not lost on him.
"...Yes. The report just arrived moments ago. The First Defense Line has fallen. Surviving knights recount that the fortress was besieged last night and succumbed to the enemy's onslaught in under twenty minutes. Our forces, comprising three hundred thousand knights and fifty thousand mercenaries, suffered devastating losses, leaving only fifty thousand wounded survivors,"
Vice-Commander August delivered the grim news, his expression weighed down by the gravity of the situation.
"What!!? How could the fortress fall so easily?!! Even though it's the first defense line fortress, its formidable walls, fortified gates, and a garrison of three hundred and fifty thousand men should have been more than sufficient to repel any invading army." Commander Balt exclaimed incredulously.
"Well, it did. And with this new development, we'll need to weigh our options carefully—either retreat to the second defense line or coordinate with the defeated vanguard army to reclaim the fortress as quickly as possible before the enemy army solidifies their hold on it. As they could use it as a springboard to encroach further into our territory. However, we lack concrete intelligence on the enemy's strength beyond the troop numbers reported from the first defense line two days ago. And even that information may not be entirely accurate."
Vice-Commander August stated with a serious expression.
"...DAMN IT!"
Commander Balt yelled in frustration, slamming his fist down on the table, then turning his gaze to Vice-Commander August.
*BANG!*
"Send word of the fortress's fall to the capital immediately, and commence preparations for our retreat to the second defense line. We must be ready to depart before noon tomorrow,"
Commander Balt commanded with a resolute tone, leaving no room for hesitation.
"Yes, Commander,"
Vice-Commander August replied with a brisk nod, turning on his heel and striding purposefully toward the tent's exit.
"Wait, Vice-Commander August,"
Commander Balt called out, halting him in his tracks.
"Any other instructions, Commander?"
Sir August inquired, turning back to face Commander Balt after halting his departure.
"Yes, send a quick and stealthy scout tonight to count the number of enemy troops at the First Defense Line fortress."
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MEANWHILE AT THE GIGGADON EMPIRE'S- EASTERN FRONT-FIRST COASTAL STRONGHOLD.
As the shocking news of the Southern front's first defense line reverberated toward the capital, the Eastern front transformed into something akin to the 'BLACK SEA'. The once serene blue waters now ran black with the blood of the fallen. Amidst the chaos, explosions rent the air, black smoke billows into the sky, and the anguished screams of men echo throughout the heavens.
"COMMANDER! WE CAN'T HOLD THEM OFF ANYMORE! THEIR FIREPOWER IS TOO MUCH FOR THE SHIP'S DEFENSES TO RESIST."
"DAMMIT! WHEN DID THORKA EMPIRE POSSESS THIS MANY SHIPS AND MAGES?!!!"
Commander David Blackport roared, his voice drowned out by the deafening explosion as a fireball streaked across the air, striking a Giggadon ship with devastating force.
*WHOOSH*
*BOOM!!*
[COMMANDER OF THE GIGGADON'S FIRST COASTAL STRONGHOLD AND CAPTAIN OF THE BLACK-BRIAD FLEET.]
"HA-HAHAHAHA! IS THIS THE GREAT FLEET OF THE GIGGADON EMPIRE! I THOUGHT THIS WOULD BE MORE OF A CHALLENGE!"