Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

"What's the panic!" James glanced indifferently at the guards.

"Is Olaf going to die here all of a sudden?"

"Go and fetch the pastor of the Church of the Lord of Dawn at once!"

The guards then realized what was happening. Some ran to find the priest, some went to report to the king, and some hurriedly went to help Olaf up.

Olaf waved his hand, refusing to let anyone help him.

He knelt on the ground, head bowed, blood still seeping from his wounds, and the white bone was faintly visible on his shoulder blades.

Olaf enjoys very high prestige in the Sassanid kingdom.

The palace guards were all too aware of his importance as the only hero-level being in the Sassanid Kingdom.

"General!" "General!"

The guards called out anxiously.

"you……"

"You don't need to help me."

Olaf's voice was hoarse and deep, almost inhuman.

"I'll kneel down myself."

The guards looked at each other, not daring to move.

Before long, hurried footsteps came from the end of the corridor.

King Aldrich Sassan strode into the hall, followed by several ministers.

He saw Olaf kneeling on the ground, paused, and his expression changed instantly.

"What happened?"

Olaf raised his head, his face covered in blood and his eyes bloodshot.

"Your Majesty, I am utterly incompetent." His voice trembled. "Thirty thousand vanguard troops, eighty thousand reinforcements, eleven Exemplary units... all gone."

The hall was deathly silent.

The ministers were all pale-faced; some had their mouths agape but couldn't speak, while others didn't even notice the documents falling to the ground.

Aldridge remained silent for several seconds, then walked up to Olaf and reached out to help him up.

Get up.

Olaf refused to get up.

"Your Majesty, I beg for punishment. I should have died there in battle, but..."

"stand up!"

Aldridge's voice became a little louder.

"Victory and defeat are common occurrences in war; General, there is no need to blame yourself."

"Besides, the general's life is ten times more important than that of 100,000 soldiers!"

He forcefully pulled Olaf up from the ground.

Olaf staggered and almost fell again, but the guards next to him quickly helped him up.

Aldrich looked at his injured body, took a deep breath, and turned to look at the minister beside him.

"Where's the pastor? Why hasn't he arrived yet!"

"Coming, coming!"

An old pastor in a white robe ran into the hall, panting.

He was secretly alarmed when he saw Olaf's injuries.

This injury was caused in close combat. How could someone defeat Olaf in close combat?

He shook his head and quickly began the treatment.

Golden light emanated from his palm and fell upon Olaf.

The wound began to heal, and the rolled-up skin and flesh slowly closed up.

The ministers wanted to speak, but Aldrich drove them out of the hall, leaving only the two core high-ranking officials.

James leaned against a pillar, his eyes closed, as if he were resting.

Aldridge sat on the throne, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest.

"So, who injured the general like this?"

"Alysia Eriland has broken through to the Hero rank."

Aldridge's fingers stopped.

"Heroic rank?"

"Yes, and she was riding a dragon, at least a red dragon of the Exemplary class."

The hall fell silent again.

Aldridge leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and remained silent for a long time.

"Rex's sister," he murmured, "she actually broke through to the Hero rank..."

"What's wrong with my sister... sigh!"

"Your Majesty, your sister has fallen into the hands of the Kingdom of Eriland."

"It's a good thing to let her suffer for a couple of days... and she might not even get to experience it."

No one dared to speak.

"And that half-elf mage." Aldrich opened his eyes and looked at James.

"Master James, did you see him when you went there?"

James opened his eyes and nodded.

"What's your background?"

"I don't know."

James's voice was calm.

"He's very young, looks to be under twenty. But his mental strength is incredibly powerful, which means he's extremely talented, probably above me."

"Not even twenty years old."

Aldridge repeated the word, his expression complex.

"Why don't we Sasanians have anyone like that?"

The ministers all lowered their heads, and no one dared to speak.

Aldridge stood up, walked to the window, and looked out.

"Pass down the order: strengthen defenses in all border cities. Conscript reservists and mobilize the militia; gather as many as you can."

"yes!"

"besides."

Aldridge turned around and looked at a middle-aged man in armor.

"Send someone to Eriland to talk to Rex. See if we can negotiate."

"Your Majesty, they may not be willing to talk."

"We still have to give it a try."

Aldridge's voice sounded tired.

"We can't afford to fight anymore."

The ministers left to carry out their orders, leaving only Aldridge, James, and Olaf in the hall.

Olaf was still standing there, but his complexion was still terrible.

"Your Majesty, I—"

"I told you, it wasn't your fault," Aldrich interrupted him.

"Who would have thought Rex's sister could break through to the Hero rank? Who would have thought such an outrageous mage would appear?"

Olaf kept his head down and didn't say anything.

"You should go and rest first."

Aldridge waved his hand. "Starting tomorrow, you'll be in charge of setting up the border defenses."

"Yes."

Olaf turned to leave, and as he reached the door, he heard Aldrich sigh behind him.

"Hopefully, the Sassanid Kingdom can weather this storm..."

In the following days, the Sassanid Kingdom began to frantically organize its defenses.

The garrison troops in the border cities were urgently mobilized, and trenches were dug one after another, with barricades being erected in dense array.

Olaf stood on the city wall, looking at the gray sky to the north, his expression solemn.

An adjutant jogged up from behind and said:

"General, the reserves from the south have arrived, three thousand men."

"Only three thousand?"

Olaf frowned. "Didn't you say five thousand?"

"We've traveled quite a bit along the way, but there are still a few villages that refuse to come. Should we...?"

Olaf was silent for a few seconds,

"Fine, if they don't want to come, they don't want to come. Soldiers who are forcibly conscripted can't fight anyway."

"General, how many men do we have in total?"

Olaf calculated, "Including the garrisons in each city, we can barely muster 80,000."

"Eighty thousand..."

The adjutant's voice trembled slightly, "There are probably over a hundred thousand on the other side..."

"So what if it's a few hundred thousand?" Olaf glared at him.

"I've fought against 30,000 with only 5,000 men back in the day, what's there to be afraid of?"

The adjutant shrank back, not daring to speak.

Olaf turned around and continued looking north.

He knew perfectly well that it was 80,000 against over 100,000, and the enemy also had a hero-level enemy and a dragon, not to mention that evil and despicable mage...

This war is simply impossible to fight.

But he could only think it in his heart; he couldn't say it out loud.

"Hopefully, the kingdom can reach a positive outcome with the other side..."

He muttered to himself, his voice carried away by the wind.

……

"No way, are these nobles' brains filled with shit?!"

"How dare they report me!"

Lance was deeply shocked.