You were made to farm, and now you're the emperor of an empire?

Chapter 347 For My King!

The holy war army launched repeated assaults on the valley side, suffering over six thousand casualties, and was eventually forced to retreat because the losses were too great and the effects were completely ineffective.

Sending ragtag soldiers to their deaths to deplete the enemy's strength and morale is a very common tactic.

After all, if tens of thousands of people surround you and beat you, washing your neck clean for you to kill, until your blade is dulled, who wouldn't be afraid?

As a result, the blasphemers' army really didn't give them any chance at all, with an extremely high margin for error, and they managed to defend against all attacks.

Jet breathed a sigh of relief.

Although our casualties were minimal, the sheer number of enemy troops, stretching as far as the eye could see, created immense psychological pressure.

They found a grove of trees to build their camp.

They dug a pit for trapping horses and cut down trees to make deer antlers.

At night.

Jet contacted the White Steel Princess of Blackburg through the Warcraft Witch.

They came to defend the king, but they were completely helpless against the hundreds of thousands of holy warriors stationed outside the city.

You've broken some heavenly law, haven't you? So many people hate you... Oh, and they hate us too, oh well then.

There's simply no way to get out of this situation.

Jet and Dick were well aware of their own limitations. Facing ordinary rabble followers, let alone tens of thousands, they could easily defeat even millions.

The battlefield has only so much contact area, so what if there are a million people? As mortal beings, they cannot withstand the thrust of a sharp arrow.

However, the enemy forces were not all weaklings.

In the battle just now, none of the Vatican's main forces moved; they were all just watching the show.

Bows and arrows are precious; let the conscripts go first.
Ordinary conscripts are just there to fill gaps; as soon as the morale of the Valley Army wavers or shows signs of collapse, that's when they come into play.

This is the standard tactic of this era.

“What did the princess say?” Dick asked. Jett handed him the note and said, “She said we should wait for other reinforcements.”

Green questioned, "Really?"

The commander's expression was indifferent: "It will happen."

Their arrival was not in vain; it put enough pressure on the Jihad Army to prevent them from launching an attack on the city.

Otherwise, if the river valley army poked you in the backside during a siege, the feeling would be anything but pleasant.

Therefore, the Vatican's leadership hopes to remove the River Valley Army as a thorn in their side as soon as possible.

On the second day.

They then raised troops to attack.

This time, the scale was even larger, with people everywhere, too many to count, and they even brought over catapults and other equipment.

The Vatican's calculations are clear: do you prefer defense? I'll play along with you on a siege-like scale.

Green couldn't help but complain, "These guys can't take a joke, can they?"

The catapult had a slow rate of fire, poor accuracy, and not much power; killing two people was the most it could do.

However, this thing was too damaging to morale, and the catapult had a range of about 200 meters, which was just a bit longer than the range of the longbowmen, so the enemy could throw stones all day long.

"Commander, let's attack!" Kao said grimly.

Yesterday was just a minor skirmish. If we don't give you a proper punch today, do you really think the King of the Valley's army is easy to mess with?

Guards form the vanguard, support troops form the center, snipers are positioned on both flanks, heavy infantry protect the two wings, and spellcasters accompany the army to ensure a margin for error. Thus, a spearhead-like formation is formed.

"Fight!!" shouted the high-ranking officials of the Vatican.

This time, cannon fodder will once again lead the charge.

Let alone the knights of the three major knightly orders, even the training cost of ordinary conquest knights is just as high, making it impossible for them to charge into battle, especially since the two flanks are arrays of heavily armored shields.

Knight-level units are not consumables at all.

However, the fighting ability and professionalism of the cannon fodder are obviously lacking.

The river valley troops, serving as auxiliary troops in the central army and sniper squads on both sides, were firmly protected by heavy armor, avoiding close-quarters combat threats and instead able to unleash fierce firepower from their flanks.

Before the battle even began, a large number of believers were shot dead. Carrying a terrifying rain of arrows, they then faced a spear formation as they approached. The battlefield was filled with cries of despair, and blood nourished the fields.

The high command of the Holy War Army could no longer sit still. A group of conquering knights circled around and began to press forward, attempting to cut off the horns.

The essence of the angle-cutting tactic is deterrence. When the knights rush in, most infantry will panic and instinctively retreat inwards—but as long as they retreat, the angle-cutting is successful.

Once the stability and structure of an infantry phalanx are compromised, the army loses 90% of its combat effectiveness.

But these knights were not facing an ordinary army, but Roman's meticulously crafted heavy armored brigade. They had to undergo various high-intensity military training every day, and it was common for them to face the charging warhorses with a blank expression and raise their psychological threshold.

They possess strong mental fortitude, extensive combat experience, and are also skilled horsemen...

Chamfering? What the hell are you talking about?
You're dead if you dare come any closer!
Don't think you're immune to attacks just because you're a warrior knight!

"Shield Guards!" A terrified voice came from within the ranks.

That was the legendary army.

The shields were as wide as pots, the armor was made of copper and weighed hundreds of kilograms, and each member of the Imperial Guard was at least a third-tier infantry knight.

They pressed forward, attempting to disrupt the river valley army's formation.

"Throw the explosives!" It was Jet who said this.

The auxiliary soldiers of the central army threw out the lit explosive charges one after another.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!!"

The black powder released explosive power, and thick white smoke instantly enveloped the battlefield.

This sudden and shocking turn of events stunned everyone.

Captain Odis of the Royal Guard, however, believed that this was not sorcery, or simply sorcery.

The Orichalcum Shield worked, resisting the explosion without weakening its power, indicating it was unrelated to magic, but that thing was equally evil.

They were initially thrown into a state of panic, having never witnessed such a scene before.

But the Shield Guards quickly regained their composure.

They were on guard, and in that state of intense concentration, their physical energy and the orogen armor seemed to merge into one, greatly enhancing their defensive capabilities. The impact of the explosives could hardly shatter their internal organs.

But the other conscripts around them didn't think so.

That thing is incredibly lethal to unarmored units, even more so than arrows. It mainly deals fragmentation damage and can practically wipe out the entire enemy team.

Without the cover of the conscripted troops, the Shield Guards had no choice but to withdraw from the battlefield.

In the days that followed, they fought every day, from morning till night, killing more and more people, one after another.

The River Valley Army not only failed to subdue the Papacy, but the intensity of their war actually increased. The high command of the Holy War Army showed signs of becoming enraged, launching a relentless and desperate attack on the River Valley Army. What were initially just cannon fodder became a vanguard of a more organized noble army, and later, armored soldiers took the lead.

The three knightly orders were impatient; they desperately wanted to wipe out the Valley Army in one fell swoop.

However, they were wary of the explosives in the hands of the River Valley Army, considering them ominous. They believed that if a ten-pound explosive were to detonate at their feet, even high-ranking knights and shield guards would be injured by the shockwave.

Should the Papacy immediately commit to the three major knightly orders? The Papacy hesitated.

There's no reason to start with a winning hand; once you invest, there will inevitably be losses. Furthermore, half your forces should be reserved to guard against the Blackburg defenders rushing out.

But by the fifth day, they finally couldn't resist anymore.

At first, it was the Judgment Knights who plunged headlong into the enemy camp, but as expected, they couldn't break through at all. The Valley Army was no longer what it used to be; it had long since been transformed and only managed to break through a shallow layer.

Taking advantage of the gap in the defenses created by the Judgment Knights, the Papacy began to deploy its forces.

The battlefield was littered with corpses, and the warhorses could not charge forward, so the Shield Guards charged through.

Seeing that the originally well-structured and stable formation was becoming increasingly deformed and showed signs of collapse, threatening the central army where the auxiliary troops were located, a squad leader picked up a package of explosives weighing dozens of kilograms—originally intended for use with a small catapult.

After lighting it, he grabbed the explosives and charged into the crowd of Shield Guards and Papal Knights.

"For our King!" shouted the unknown apostle who served as a squad leader in the auxiliary army.

Boom!

In an instant, a cloud of minced flesh and blood mist rose into the white smoke.

Both sides were stunned by the bombing.

The two closest shield guards fell to the ground instantly, the man inside the orthogonal armor bleeding from all seven orifices and unconscious.

"Reload! Reload! Push them back! Push them back!!" Jet roared, his eyes turning red.

The heavily armored shield, which was originally on the verge of defeat, suddenly found strength from somewhere and forcefully withstood the shield guards and papal knights who weighed several times its own weight. Its face turned red and it stopped retreating.

This was a difficult and protracted battle, as if every minute and second had been stretched to an unacceptable length.

Until a strong wind blew in from afar.

Like white waves lapping the shore, like the sea washing ashore. Like the chill of late autumn, like winter descending.

"Woo...Woo...Woo..."

It was a tremendous horn sound, loud and terrifying, like a giant roaring in your ear, radiating far across the entire battlefield.

Accompanied by the sound of horns, the banner of the King of Iceland appeared in the distance.

Its emblem is a pair of crossed axes stained with blood, cruel and sharp.

"Barbarian horns?! The King of Iceland's axe guards are here!" roared the knight of the Holy War Army, reining in his horse, which had become frenzied upon hearing the horns.

That was no ordinary army; it was the Icelandic royal guard, who escorted King Yarman of Iceland to the battlefield, appearing on the horizon.

All the axe guards were tall and well-equipped, carrying heavy axes weighing thirty to fifty kilograms.

More than a hundred years ago, before the conquerors conquered Iceland and Ego, they were known as berserkers.

The tallest and most imposing of them all was none other than King Yarman of Iceland.

He was two meters tall, carrying an eighty-pound axe, with arrows hanging from his shoulders. Although he was an infantryman, he was enough to make all the knights who went to war tremble with fear.

Icelanders are of Ego descent, and their physical adaptability is terrifyingly strong. After drinking the secret medicine made from herbs and mushrooms, their exhausted bodies were filled with newfound power. While ordinary people would die instantly after drinking it, they were able to sustain themselves for several hours of battle without being defeated by the side effects. Their physical tolerance is truly terrifying.

"We broke through the armored blockade, our ships capsized, our horses died, but we still made it to this battlefield on foot. Now we're here to support the Black Iron King and the brothers of the Valley. Let these rebel scum see the might of the Icelandic warriors!" Yarman said in a booming voice comparable to that of a giant.

His fighting spirit soared. He took a deep breath and blew the bull horn with all his might again. Due to the excessive force, the horn exploded and shattered.

The horn sounded by the pirate king when he attacked the mainland more than a hundred years ago has completed its final mission more than a century later.

"Head to the battlefield! Charge! Keep your promise! Kill!"

"Fight for His Majesty Yarman!"

"Yalman fights for His Majesty Io!!"

More than a thousand fully armed berserkers swept across the plains, like heavy axes, slashing through the flanks of the holy war army.

Jet finally understood why the Holy War Army attacked them regardless of losses.

Because reinforcements were right behind them.

"Cover the Icelandic warriors! Cover them!!" Jet shouted, drawing his sword.

He took the lead and charged out. The entire professional squad went wild, deeply moved by the heroic bugle call, feeling their blood boil and their energy surge.

On this day, the River Valley Army and the Axe Guard joined forces to inflict a crushing defeat on the Holy War Army, nearly pushing the battle line to the gates of Blackburg.

But the high command of the Jihad Army held firm.

……

A small hillside.

Gale rode up on horseback, while Payne had been waiting for him for a long time.

This was a secret meeting between the two dukes.

Grand Duke Payne said, "Yarman has arrived at the Pegasus Plains."

“Alex covered for the Icelandic Axe Guard,” Gale said, his face looking much older than it had been four years ago, the northern front having taken up too much of his energy.

With the help of the Pirate King, the Cracked Armor Line was torn apart by Yarman, and the Axe Guard suffered heavy casualties, as did the Broken Archers.

He said, "The Igors have a terrifying tenacity; they will not give up until they achieve their goal."

Payne said in a melodious voice, "But they can't change the outcome. The knights I sent out have returned, which also means that Oak will arrive soon. This is the final battle."

Gale continued, "Iolion sent a message to Alex, asking the pirates to come to his aid. He promised to make Alex King of the North and not reclaim the lands the pirates had occupied. But Alex did not agree, which is a very ominous sign."

This can be considered a surrender, and the entire northern front and the Thorn Peninsula are now the land of the Northern King.

In exchange for political favors, Alex would lift the siege of Blackburg and become a champion of the Conqueror's Order.

But Alex did not agree.

Payne looked north, his messy blue seaweed-like hair ruffling in the northern wind, clearly sensing the distant yet imminent threat of the alien race.

“If Alex agrees to come, there’s nothing to be afraid of. He’s just another one like Yarman. If he dares to enter the heart of the Black Iron, those barbarians will suffer a thunderous blow. Those Igor people always think they are very powerful, but in reality, they are weak and vulnerable.”

Duke of Rage said, “But he didn’t come, he didn’t come. He neither helps Blackburg nor can the Papacy tolerate him. What is he plotting and scheming? If his wisdom tells him that taking the northern front is enough, so he’s become complacent, unprepared for the future war, and only wants to be a big landowner, then he’s the most foolish person. Iolion indulges him, but I won’t tolerate any such behavior…”

Gale suddenly said, "Paine, do you want to be the second Ionus?"

He felt as if he had returned to the year he was seven, to a warm spring day, with tender green grass, blooming flowers, and the Dragon Castle bathed in sunshine—a truly comfortable time. His gentle and elegant mother, still alive, was telling him the glorious legends of Ionus. The tall and imposing Ulster had led a gaunt, blue-haired child to him. The child's face was peeling, making him look rather unsightly. His father had told him that this was his brother from another race, and that they must help each other, remaining eternally loyal to one another like the first dukes. Now, the boy stood before him again, his face, weathered by time, rough as a rock, his eyes like a vast ocean that had submerged the earth.

The ocean stared directly at Gale, calm yet turbulent. "I have never coveted that Iron Throne, never," he said.

(End of this chapter)