Chapter 5: The Loss of Skin
The orc army commander, who had stood afar, suddenly changed expression. Mortal magic had always been a nightmare for orc soldiers. With their limited understanding, they could never comprehend why the gods granted such extraordinary powers to these supposedly inferior mortals. For centuries, their bizarre spells had caused the orc armies great suffering in the wilderness and around the city walls—flames, thunderbolts, ice, and wind—all serving as punishments from nature. Today, they once again felt the wrath of mortals wielding natural forces against them.
A violent tornado swept through, lifting every object within twenty meters of its center into the air. Hundreds of orc soldiers didn’t even have time to react before they, along with over a dozen siege engines and scattered stones and bricks, were sucked up into the storm. The grayish tornado turned pitch black as it absorbed more objects, its swirling winds emitting a terrifying howl, as if trying to tear everything inside apart. The powerful winds spun left and right, like those of a storm god, maintaining their intensity even after traveling hundreds of meters. With Kavendy gritting his teeth, the tornado swept through the orc army at the breach before moving along the city walls. Like a monstrous beast intent on devouring the world, anything near it was sucked into its maw and lifted upward along the swirling vortex. In the darkness, the sun and moon disappeared, and the sky and earth took on a strange hue.
Despite the orc officers’ frantic whistles urging soldiers to scatter, the tornado moved too swiftly. The minotaur soldiers barely had time to retreat before it reached them, sweeping up countless half-orc soldiers who couldn’t escape, trapping them and forcing them to struggle and scream as they were lifted into the air. The scene was unforgettable.
Philtamis rubbed his hands excitedly. No wonder magicians held such high status in the kingdom. Though he had participated in many battles against the orcs, he had never realized the importance of magic like this. It was as if a single person could turn the tide. If only the tornado’s range could be wider and its duration longer—then perhaps they could launch a brilliant counterattack and let the orcs experience the power of the Iron Cross Army.
But when she saw CavenDi (Dí) – White (in the context of “Caven White”)White’s pitiful appearance and the sweat pouring down his face, Phertemis realized she had been daydreaming. The two mages also looked pale and weak, on the verge of collapsing. It was clear that the three of them had exhausted every last trace of magic in their bodies; holding on this long was already the utmost of their efforts.
Just as the violent tornado swept wildly at the foot of the city walls and they managed to charge forward, the sky suddenly brightened as if after a rainstorm had passed. The tornado vanished in an instant. The numerous orc warriors, battering rams, and other debris floating hundreds of meters in the air lost their support and crashed down. The force of falling from such a height was immense—most of the orc warriors died on the spot, and not a single one of the more than a dozen battering rams, which the orc commanders valued most, survived; they were all shattered to pieces.
The soldiers of the Iron Cross Regiment had already received orders from the messengers when the tornado struck and retreated outside its range. Although Phertemis knew they had finally overcome the first obstacle, to slow down the orcs’ attack, they had to take this opportunity to counterattack. The cavalry warriors hidden behind the castle gates rushed out and took advantage of the chaos to slaughter the disorganized minotaur and berserker warriors. Despite the commands of their commanders, these orc soldiers, who were facing such a miraculous force of nature for the first time, clearly lacked the composure of seasoned veterans. Their minds were in chaos, and they completely lost their fighting spirit. They could face ordinary soldiers’ swords and spears fearlessly, but facing such a force beyond their comprehension, their fear was indescribable.
No matter how the orc commanders shouted and cursed, the orcian ranks inevitably became chaotic. Though they still had a numerical advantage, no one could turn the situation around. Fortunately, the orc commanders were prepared. A formation of veterans just in time stopped the advance of the human assault forces, thwarting Phertemis’s hope of repelling the orcs in one fell swoop. Thankfully, Phertemis had anticipated this and ordered the assault forces to retreat steadily to the fortress after a fierce battle. Once the orcs regained their senses, escaping would become difficult.
When the orc army, regrouped and ready to attack again the next day, returned, they were shocked to find that the fortress perched on the border was already deserted. Not only was this fortress empty, but all the castles connected by the surrounding walls were also vacant, leaving nothing for the orcs but chaos. The Iron Cross Army retreated at night. Though Phertemis was extremely reluctant, seeing the magician Kavandi in a semi-comatose state and two other magi nearly exhausted, he realized that the battle was indeed as hopeless as Kavandi had said. The orcs had suffered greatly from relying too much on recruits; if they had used more experienced veterans, they would have rushed forward as soon as the storm dragons disappeared, using their remaining battering rams to launch an attack. If that happened, few members of the Iron Cross Army would have survived to escape the Kachaf Fortress complex. The orc army, outnumbering them by many times and possessing combat strength comparable to that of the Iron Cross Army, could not be completely defeated by mere magical attacks. Kavandi had long predicted that magical attacks could only provide a chance to escape; relying on a few magi to stabilize the situation was unrealistic. Even if those seven magi and magi stayed, winning this battle would be extremely difficult.
Bad news kept coming, plunging the Kingdom of Nicomedia into turmoil. If the defeat of the Golden Oak Army had already shattered the nobles’ hearts, the loss of the Kachaf Fortress complex drove them into utter despair. Although the Iron Cross Army had not been defeated and had regrouped in the city of Kayrizman with the support of the kingdom’s court magi, retreat meant they could no longer resist the orc army. If they couldn’t hold back the orcs even with fortress complexes, how could they possibly resist them in the flatlands to the north of the kingdom?
Kakia, with a calm expression, leisurely picked up a cup of coffee—a rare drink from the south that was now popular among the upper classes of the northern alliance countries. Yet she was reluctant to try it. The obese merchant sitting across from her remained as calm as usual, but the suffocating atmosphere in the room proved that neither of them was in a good mood.
“Palermo, are you sure the Iron Cross Corps can still hold off Kajiman City?” Kakiya set down her coffee cup, picked up the fresh flowers brought by the maid from the round table, slowly twisted the petals, brought them to her nose, and took a deep breath. The gentle fragrance was intoxicating; even on bad days, smelling it could lift one’s spirits greatly.
“No, Your Highness. The situation is dire. If it weren’t for that magician named Cavendish’s extraordinary performance at the Kachaf Fortress Complex, the Iron Cross Corps would have suffered heavy losses there. But Kajiman City is far less fortified than the Kachaf Fortress Complex, and it’s said the number of orcs is still increasing. I’m not optimistic about them. Even if the kingdom sends more magicians to help, I doubt they can hold out for long. Moreover, the orcs in the north are gathering forces again. Do you really think the Blue Dove Corps can withstand their attack? Relying solely on the Fire Shadow Knights and the court magicians won’t be enough to turn the tide. Haven’t you heard the discussions in the capital? Perhaps His Majesty should consider moving the capital.”
Palermo, however, wasn’t as pessimistic as Kakiya. In his view, Jazair was too far north; he didn’t like the climate there, and the nobles there were arrogant. In fact, aside from boasting and extorting merchants from other regions, they had no real skills. In Palermo’s opinion, the kingdom was declining because of these parasites. Since the north was about to fall, there was little to hold onto. The kingdom’s central government had made poor decisions and had been outmaneuvered by a few powerful lords, leading to certain downfall, likely irreversible. If they didn’t find another path, the Romanov dynasty might truly come to an end.
“Move the capital? Hmph, where to? In the south, aside from Philip and Zelin, the kingdom’s direct territories make up less than a third of theirs. Moving the capital there would just bring trouble. It won’t be two years before the Kingdom of Nicomedia is replaced by the Duchy of Galay and the Duchy of Homer. His Majesty won’t agree.”
With a soft sigh, Kakiya understood the urgency of the situation all too well. The trap at the Northern Fortress of Saint Nicholas was clearly set up by the two northern lords in collusion with the orcs. It was puzzling to the kingdom’s elite as to when those two lords had gained such audacity.
Over the years, the Ferdinand and Haine families have remained quite low-key among the four great lords, far less arrogant than Zerin and Philip. Yet, at a critical moment, they suddenly erupted, striking a devastating blow at the heart of the kingdom, leaving it almost unable to fight back. It was truly a case of staying silent until making a stunning appearance. There must be some strange reason behind this, everyone thought. Otherwise, the Ferdinand and Haine families would not have held back for so long, waiting until the last moment to reveal their true intentions. They surely understood that peace with the orcs was impossible—had they never heard the saying that without the skin, where can the hair attach?