Chapter Eleven: Head-On Collision (1)
Conan rode calmly among the ranks of the knightly order, showing no signs of anything unusual. His exquisite armor made him appear particularly handsome and striking, yet the bitterness and frustration inside him left him in a state of silent irritation.
Whether it was the officers of the infantry regiment, his colleagues in the knightly order, or even the magi of the magic guild, everyone was curious about that anomaly in his family. Of course, they didn’t think Komer posed any threat to them; they were simply surprised that such an anomaly could establish himself in the desolate and terrifying Caucasus and even mix with those ugly half-orcs and barbarians. For knights of noble status, half-orcs and barbarians were as detestable as garbage, and associating with them was seen as demeaning one’s status—a thing nobles would never consider.
Faced with their questions, Conan could only force a smile. To be honest, he knew just as little about Komer, who had disappeared without a trace. He hadn’t returned home since leaving Cyprus, but news about him occasionally reached their family. His actions in the Caucasus seemed to have attracted a lot of attention, but for Conan, those stories were more like contemptible gossip than anything worthy of attention. Forming a half-orc self-defense force, living alongside them, associating with barbarians, and even establishing ties with the jellyfish people of the Catalonia River Marshes—in short, none of his actions could be considered proper for a noble. This made Conan feel embarrassed and humiliated whenever his colleagues teased him.
Although everyone believed this battle would end with an overwhelming victory, that foolish half-orc army couldn’t possibly stand against Homer’s regular forces, let alone with so many knights and magi backing them. Homer’s army would sweep through Leon and the Caucasus like a storm. Yet Karl Liebknecht, the commander of the Storm Infantry Regiment, didn’t agree with this view, though he also believed victory would ultimately belong to Homer.
The crushing defeat of Homer’s army in the last battle kept Karl highly alert. Although that defeat was due to the intervention of magicians who turned the tide of battle, intelligence suggested that the Kingdom of Nicosia had also gathered all its court magicians in the northern part of the kingdom to confront the orcs. Yet this didn’t mean the lord of the Caucasus and Leon relied solely on orcs for support. The fact that this baron was able to establish a foothold in this land cursed by demons in such a short time, and that even the Gray Skulls of the Abyssal Sea could coexist peacefully with him and even provide naval protection—what did that prove? It only showed that this baron, whom all Cypriots considered a playboy, was by no means an easy opponent. Would he just sit idly by and allow Homer’s army to advance into Leon? Karl Liebknecht didn’t think so. Keeping a clear head was the bare minimum requirement for a soldier.
Unfortunately, Sir Conan also seemed to have little information about his brother and knew very little about Komer’s situation in the Caucasus. Karl never fully trusted the introductions these people had given him. Although his own army would be the main force in this battle, with a viscount from the knightly order serving as the commander-in-chief, Karl didn’t mind that. But he was worried that the other party’s arrogance might bring disaster to the troops.
The worried expression on Karl Liebknecht’s face was met with disdain by Viscount Saman, who was in charge of this campaign. Saman considered the concerns of this professional soldier to be utterly unnecessary. Those orcs, who couldn’t even be called peasants, had nothing but sticks and hammers. They would never have such luck again. Without the support of magicians, those orcs didn’t even know how to fight.
“Karl, what are you worried about? We’ll end this battle soon. These damned orcs should be nailed to the roads from Bruce to the Caucasus. Only then will they understand that their lives can only be spent in dark mines. Their luck last time made those ignorant fools overconfident. This time, we’ll show them the performance of our glorious Homer knights and great magicians. We’ll give them a lesson they’ll never forget, so that they and their descendants will always remember not to try to do things beyond their means.”
The scale whip in Viscount Saliman’s hands was clearly more than just a fine work of art. As a knight, one had to consider both the practicality of one’s weapons and their appearance. Such a scale whip commanded a high price even in Jazair or Prague. It was made from the skin of a small fire-elemental earth monster—the fire lizard—and was quite exquisite. Although its effectiveness wasn’t as remarkable as what those magic item merchants claimed, it was still considered a fine piece.
“My lord viscount, I’m not worried about those half-orcs. No matter how well they’re trained, they can’t possibly match our brave infantry soldiers. I’m just a bit concerned that Baron Komer probably won’t just surrender so easily. I heard he was quite arrogant in Cyprus as well. He surely won’t think we’ll stop at Leon. What strategies do you think he’ll use to save himself?” Karl Liebknecht frowned, holding little regard for the arrogant Viscount Saliman.
“Heh, arrogant? Mr. Karl, you’re overestimating him. If it weren’t for Mr. Ramla being the grand duke’s treasurer, he would have long been thrown into the Abyssal Sea to feed the fish. He’s just an ignorant playboy who relies on Mr. Ramla’s connections to swindle people everywhere. Countless girls from ordinary families in Cyprus have been ruined by him and his crew. It was just his luck that Sussor, Main, and Melen were attacked by orcs, allowing him to seize some immigrants. Otherwise, even if the Caucasus invited me to set foot there, I wouldn’t go,” Saliman said disdainfully. “What options does he have? Besides retreating into exile, he can only surrender and beg the grand duke to forgive his arrogance.”
“Viscount Saliman, I’m afraid it’s not that simple. I have a feeling Baron Komer won’t just surrender like that. I hope my intuition is wrong.” Shaking his head, the commander of the Storm Infantry didn’t want to argue further on this topic.
Shatima had been wandering in the Greenland Great Forest for three days. It felt great to be unrestrained. Naked, she ran freely through the forest. Although her primal energy hadn’t fully recovered, she could now restore her true form for short periods. Even if she couldn’t restore it, her dragon aura was enough to make any magical beast or creature back down. No fool would dare insult the dignity of a dragon.
That old guy, Rebrí, seemed to recognize his true self, but Shatima didn’t care. That old fellow hid well, but he didn’t seem to hold any ill intentions toward her, just like that human puppet mage, Mihajić. These guys gathering together—no one knew what Kommer actually wanted.
The Greenland Forest was indeed a paradise for magical beasts, but most of those Shatima encountered were solitary ones, such as giant beasts like golden rhinos and celestial elephants. Though individually powerful, they gathered in small groups of one or two. This was far from Kommer’s demand for thousands of aggressive magical beasts in a swarm. It seemed she still had to target the gray wolves, but finding their lair wasn’t easy. Those beasts had keen senses; they would likely flee at the slightest sign of her presence. Moreover, they seemed to gather around the ice lake, so she would have to go there as well.
If anyone saw such a stunningly beautiful naked woman running carefree through this primeval forest at this moment, they would surely think their eyes were playing tricks on them. Shatima hadn’t been this carefree in ages. Her human body restricted her movements, forcing her to pretend to be a lady as per Kommer’s demands. Eve and Finitz seemed to be her role models, which filled her with frustration. With the Dragon Spear on her shoulder, her full breasts swayed with each light step, her fluffy hair as bright as flames, her hips moving gracefully, and her legs presenting a mesmerizing sight—Shatima had long forgotten she was still in the human world, and that there was a human mage, though older, not far away.
Rebrí watched this unrestrained dragon woman from afar, feeling helpless. Kommer had handed this woman over to him as well, leaving him unable to resist. Though both of them deliberately kept a distance, magic allowed them to stay in touch easily. So far, they still hadn’t found the gray wolves’ lair; it seemed they still had to head to the ice lake.
Vladkov stood at a distance with his arms crossed. He preferred to travel alone. Although the Greenland forest was full of dangers, it was nothing for a Dark Knight. Fighting against some interesting magical beasts could even help improve his martial skills. It was just a pity that he hadn’t encountered any decent magical beasts in recent days. Beasts like the Golden Rhinoceros, though powerful, lacked strong aggression. Vladkov had no interest in killing them on his own. That inexplicable, infatuated woman also left Vladkov speechless. Even from afar, he could still sense the allure brought by her bare skin.