Shadow of the Evil God

"You're very good at this, aren't you?" Musali nodded. "The cover spreading from top to bottom can effectively block vision. The noise you create is loud enough that they won't realize there are only a dozen or so sword dancers charging into the ranks. The subsequent tribal warriors will keep following suit, which can also cause greater psychological pressure—a steady stream of enemy troops."

"And it can also interfere with musket fire?" asked Monuk.

"That's not to worry about. The first shot from those muskets is incredibly lethal, but reloading the muskets requires over twenty seconds of concentrated effort. Cavalrymen armed with muskets use either a repetitive charge and repeated firing, or, after inflicting heavy casualties with their first volley, they revert to traditional cavalry charging. So, once they're dismounted and their first shot fails, they're reduced to ordinary infantry, forced to engage the enemy in the midst of chaos."

"You really turned the Fran's stuff upside down, Mussari."

They rode back, ready to return to the camp to start the next arrangement. At this time, the news of the enemy attack had not spread, but in order to keep a good disguise, they would not spread the news immediately.

"I think the Franks have something hidden deep enough that even I can't detect it." Musali rode around the mountain they had just climbed. "But I already know all the tactics they've used in actual combat, especially the detailed battle reports from the border region in recent years. I got all this firsthand information from the Dominican royal family. After all, the most famous military leader there, Garcia, is from the royal faction."

"Did Garcia share this with you?"

"No, a qualified military commander would not want to teach his tactics to his former enemy, even if it was a conspiracy."

"Oh," Monuk understood, "his good relative."

"Maybe they're more than just relatives," Musali stroked his damp beard. "I heard the poets over there say that the Queen of Dominy committed incest with her own brother Garcia, and that one of the current princes and princesses might not be the king's child. I don't know if this is a rumor, but their good queen did send her servants to pass on some firsthand war reports to me. Do you know what those reports look like?"

"Don't be pretentious."

"It's like hearing it from the bedside." Musali and Monuk looked at each other and laughed.

"If I were the king whose woman was slept with, and I heard about it myself, I would…" Monuk looked like he was about to strangle her, but then he stopped. He knew about Musali's deeds—he had avenged his mother's death by killing the previous chief in a duel.

"I don't mind your gaffe, old man. After all, this is the custom of the Sassulai people."

Musali glanced back and pointed to a shallow, closer ford on the side of the mountain where a feint attack might be launched. "I hope your ambush will be delayed a little, so I have time to launch a preemptive attack on the feinting detachment. If they see us using a large number of men to stop the feint attack, it will further confirm our judgment that the camp is undermanned and strengthen the resolve of the vanguard to charge."

"But the camp needs to be defended." Monuk looked at the approaching camp.

"I won't be bringing shamans or sword dancers. I only need tribal warriors to accompany me," he replied. "Let the smaller but more capable ones stay behind in the camp and wait in the field fortifications we've dug. They don't need to inflict heavy casualties like your ambush team. They just need to delay the charging cavalry. We'll then encircle them after we've achieved our respective goals."

Musali pondered, trying to find something he hadn't considered. After a while, he added, "Since it's night, if possible, we should concentrate the firelight in the center of the camp and pretend to set up some tents to conceal our newly dug trenches and field fortifications. That way, the further they advance, the deeper they'll be trapped. That's all I can think of. So far, we've been making assumptions based on gaps in intelligence. The only thing I don't know is whether they'll have a magician with them, and if so, what kind of mage he'll be..."

"Sfera said there are three people around here with tempting scents, two very close, and one less tempting, but approaching."

These words came from behind Musali, frightening him so much that the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Turning back, Ajiehe was crouching on the horse like a ghost wolf, staring at him through the white bone mask. When did this guy get up here?

"What do you want to say?" Musali forced himself to suppress his emotions. "It wants to eat our shaman?"

"I know this is not allowed." Ajiehe said, "So, I will deal with the one who is approaching. Sfera will guide me to complete this task while crossing the river, and you don't need to worry about their team anymore.

Wu Li’s military mage.”

"You can do it," he waved his hand, "if you succeed..."

"Then I will thank you on behalf of all the tribes, Princess Ajehe." The sword dance of the Zeker tribe

The reporter suddenly said that he had been silent for so long that Mussari thought he didn't want to speak anymore. "No matter what rumors you have in the past, we will never forget everything you have done for us here," he said.

Musali wanted to ask where the title of princess came from, but just as he was about to speak, he took the words back. It was true that other Guna people said that Iskrig was the child of the last Guna emperor, even if Iskrig himself had forgotten it.

Sooner or later, his beloved mentor would forget everything and become a demented walking corpse.

Then again, should he be proud of having entered the courtyard behind the prince? Iskrig was indeed unforgettably beautiful. Even after all these years, he could not fall in love with any of his wives because they were too...

......

After a mild discussion, two of Askrid's own officers and three other officers "overcame all objections" and successfully branded his opponent as a coward. They then led their cavalry out of the city overnight and launched a surprise attack.

Cesar didn't mind. He knew nothing about the battlefield and his command of horseback combat was extremely limited. He could accept hard work like standing on a city wall pouring pitch, but charging into battle on horseback in the dark of night was out of the question.

If he and his horse fell into the mud before he even engaged the enemy, he would be the laughing stock of the whole city tomorrow.

In order not to completely expose himself as an idiot inserted to make up the numbers, Cesar played the role of an extremely cautious military commander.

Although he commanded only rioting prisoners and the elderly, the weak, and the sick, he was nominally a commander of the same rank as the five. Thus, using this title, he single-handedly defied them, successfully gaining their enmity and the power to hold the city with his own troops. Now, he sat on a tower on the city wall, his back against the light artillery, yawning as he held Firth, ruffling her hair and rubbing her cheeks, biting their fingers.

This place was truly cold. The benches were made of hardwood, the cannons were cast iron, and the floor and walls were all black brick. But being able to bring a female companion for an intimate affair under the guise of a military mage wasn't unbearable. Perhaps he'd enjoy this, violating every inviolable hazard, Cesar thought. Or perhaps, perhaps he'd start by riding atop a cannon and engaging in a fierce battle? He'd never used something like this as a bed before.

As for the five officers who received the intelligence and made the judgment, they could get credit, but they wanted credit, and it had nothing to do with Cesar. He didn't need credit. He was pushed to the position, and if he hadn't been forbidden to resign, he would have gone back to his hotel bed and rolled around.

Anyway, they would take care of things if they came up, so Cesar didn't need to worry about the specifics of the city's defense. As long as they didn't all die overnight, he would have nothing to do until Askrid returned.

Chapter 56 For the Sake of Your True God

Although the troops defending the city were not allowed to bring alcohol, and Cesar was no exception, many rules did not apply to wizards. Fils brought wine in a dark green potion bottle, and as long as she declared it was a magic potion, the soldiers would not check it.

Cesar was sitting on the stone turret, and she knelt on his knees, one hand supporting his shoulder, the other unscrewing the bottle and drinking. She first took a big gulp of the crimson wine, swallowed half, then lowered her head and fed the remaining half to his mouth.

The wine tasted wonderful. While not exactly a fine wine, it had a unique flavor in this place, and for someone as tired and cold as him, it was even more palatable than just good wine. He bit her delicate, wine-scented lips. Because they were so small, he practically bit them into his mouth, and as he sucked, he could taste the lingering sweet fragrance. Before long, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes misted over, intoxicated by this long, lingering kiss.

Cesar asked her how she felt.

"I feel more comfortable than in the hotel, and the pleasure is much stronger." Firth muttered, "Is it because we're doing something forbidden in a city watchtower?"

"Maybe." Cesar put one arm around her waist and the other on her cheek, smoothing down her curly hair and the bangs that reached her ears. She fluttered her long, intertwined eyelashes, not completely lost in the excitement. She leaned her face slightly toward his palm and continued to ask with curiosity.

"Can you be more specific? Although I feel vague and can't explain it clearly, I think you can definitely tell it."

"The pleasure of defiance and concealment—that's what I guess." Cesar leaned back against the barrel of the gun. "In religious legends, didn't the war god worshipped by mercenaries secretly seek love with the goddess of pleasure during ancient wars? All kinds of ancient heroes did this, and all kinds of myths and legends have stories about it."

"That's not true."

"Myths and legends aren't necessarily true, but people who live by their beliefs inevitably regard them as the truest of all truths, just as you have your own truth in life. Do you think we can resist the pursuit of truth? Of course not. In the private pursuit of truth, feelings of guilt are inevitable, and within that guilt comes the pleasure of defying worldly rules and external constraints."

This was really absurd, but also very wonderful, and he even laughed. Perhaps because his laugh was so cunning, Phils suddenly bit him on the mouth.

This guy's sudden outburst of strange temper gave him a headache. Cesar

His cool hands slipped under her waistband, gripping her warm, soft, round buttocks and squeezing them tightly. He held her against the tower's eye. She leaned against the masonry, her head poking out. The cold wind blew, and she shuddered, her teeth involuntarily loosening.

"I just told you a few days ago that puppies shouldn't bite people." Cesar gripped her perky buttocks tighter, his fingers sinking into her delicate skin. Not only did she not resist, but her eyes became even more hazy because of the slight pain.

"I can't stand seeing you laugh like that. And I feel like you're mocking everyone who believes there's truth in the world. - Don't you believe in anything?"

"Guess what?"

"I won't guess," Fils put her arm around his neck and arched her hips slightly in his palm. "Although you said puppies shouldn't bite people, you were just saying it. How can I remember it?"

"what do you want?"

"Bite me," she said.

"A person with dignity shouldn't bite back like a dog."

"Who knows if you're just saying it?" Phils unbuttoned her shirt, hugged the back of his head, and pressed his face against her right breast. He kissed the spot she wanted him to kiss, and it felt like it had risen pliantly, like a soft jade bead. The skin beneath it felt like a peach cut in half, delicate and delicate, like soft velvet, brimming with life. He didn't bite, but just pressed his lips a little harder, and it sank gently along the lip mark.

"What now?" she whispered in his ear, her voice so soft he couldn't hear her even from a step away. "Do you want to throw away your dignity as an elder and suck it like a baby, or do you want to throw away your dignity as a human being and bite it like a dog?"

Cesar raised his eyes, using his eyes to show that he didn't know ventriloquism.

"Although I like hearing you say things that no one has ever said before, I like it even more when you want to say something but can't." Firth smiled ecstatically, but she couldn't hide the pride in her eyes. "You are so tall and I am so short, so every time you look up at me from a position lower than mine, I feel happier than usual."

He pressed his fingers on her lower abdomen, pressing hard, from her belly button to her waist, leaving a clear fingerprint on her skin. She immediately pursed her lips and hugged the back of his head even tighter.

Cesar then pressed his fingers down with a little force, and Phils began to twist her body like a restless water snake, with her legs tightly wrapped around his waist.

She pressed her breasts against his teeth, grinding them to relieve the itch on her skin, and leaned forward, biting his finger a little, but not completely. As she kept grinding, she oozed a lot of sticky juice, soaking his index finger wet.

As their skin rubbed against each other, Fils's nails scratched his back, making him groan in pain. Finally, unable to resist, he bit down. He felt Fils's mouth close to his ear, and a soft cry of pain tinged with pain, a heart-shaking sound. "You're a puppy, you should call me master!" she growled, gibberishly biting his shoulder. Then, her body arched backward, she leaned over the edge of the watchtower and lay on the stone bricks, beneath the vast starry sky.

Cesar bent down, slumped into her body from the lookout point of the watchtower, over ten meters high. The heavy, dark iron cannon lay at arm's length. From here, he could see the hills beyond the city walls and the rolling mountains in the distance. One particularly steep peak faced the Count's castle in the distance. The defenders conversed and discussed on the city walls, their voices echoing from both sides of the watchtower, echoing in the air as if they were right beside his ears.

It must be admitted that having fun in this place is extremely comfortable and exciting. The fact that there are only a wall on both sides of the watchtower and the soldiers cannot see what they are doing makes people even more excited.

He stood still, holding her waist and moving to his own rhythm, while Phils quietly unbuckled his belt and forced it around his neck. With a strong tug, she immediately spun him back, bending him over in front of her. He clasped the fingers of her left hand with one hand, and with the other, grasped her small breast, squeezing until she cried out. From a distance, the soldiers' shouts echoed again. It was the beloved mercenary captain ordering a change of guard.

"Your good teacher will be pushing the door open in a moment." Phils' lips moved to his ear again. Usually silent and dark like a ghost, she was very lively now. "How do you feel now? Are you nervous and want to run away, or are you more excited?"

Before answering, Cesar took a deep breath, intensified his movements, and completed the first time with a lingering, wet kiss. Phils clung to his neck, convulsing, her eyes hazy as she gazed at the stars overhead, breathing heavily. As soon as she'd caught her breath, she unscrewed the potion bottle and gulped the wine down his throat, opening her mouth for him to feed her. The second time, under the influence of alcohol, it was over even faster, her cheeks flushed, and she looked a little dazed. He still had energy, but she didn't want to do it a third time.

"Forget it, put on your clothes and I'll take them off for you with my hands," said Phils.

"You still have some sense."

"I've always been very rational!"

While Cesar was packing his clothes, he watched as Phils sat on the floor and put on the belt she had quietly pulled out. At first she used her fingers, then, as expected, she lowered her head and used her mouth.

Unlike what he imagined, Cesar found it difficult to describe what she was doing. In addition to not biting her teeth all the way through, her mouth and fingers were extremely strong, just like a farmer milking a cow. He couldn't help but slap her on the head, and she finally stopped.

A little bit.

Firth slapped his thigh in protest. Painful as he was, he leaned against the lookout and peered out. After the soldiers on this section of the wall had completed their handover, it finally began to stir, yielding its remaining rations for the night under her rough pressure. As it released them, she swallowed them down, her throat throbbing as she swallowed them down into her stomach, as if to extract every last ounce of nutrients, not letting go.

When the matter was over, she licked the corner of her mouth and leaned against him, nuzzling her face like a kitten. Cesar held her in his arms, patting her back, thinking that the cavalry that had left the city today might not return. At this moment, his unusual senses were touched by the overwhelming aroma of blood.

Uh-huh?

......

Yes, Cesar was deeply bothered. Not only could he not accept the reality that two of his colleagues were dead, and three more were in prison awaiting interrogation, but he also couldn't accept the expectant gaze that Inquisitor Canaday cast upon him. He numbly shifted his hips, feeling stiff and his butt aching. The benches here were more comfortable than the stone turrets in the watchtower, but he couldn't hold Firth and whisper to her, nibble her ear, or be bitten. He could only face the various gazes of pain, sorrow, and expectation.

He'd messed around in the watchtower while others were away fighting, and words like gross negligence, dereliction of duty, and serious malfeasance should have been slapped on him. But what was going on now? Words like gross negligence, dereliction of duty, serious malfeasance, and misjudgment—words that had nothing to do with him at all—were being pinned on the officers who had crossed him.

It was said that over 300 cavalrymen were killed or captured, and only half returned alive, with many more wounded and disabled. This was all because these five men, eager for glory and reckless, had fallen into a trap set by the steppe people's vanguard. Canaday said that if Askrid were still alive, he would have hanged these men in the market place himself.

Cesar wanted to say that he opposed the five of them not because of his unique vision, but because he didn't want to leave the city, was not good at riding, and didn't know how to fight at night, but he couldn't say it. Because the people in the castle urgently needed a hero with vision and courage but also undermined by criticism to face the public and offset the panic and criticism caused by this failed operation.

The truth was, he'd done nothing but drink and have sex in a watchtower while the soldiers defended the city, yet he was being promoted as the tragic hero who should have saved the army but was overruled because of his insignificant influence. As for the five unfortunate souls, the two who died would be deemed the primary culprits of the defeat, while the three who survived would escape punishment by denouncing the culprits and apologizing to Cesar—their survival depended on him.

Especially in terms of his performance.

What are the manifestations?

Of course, it is a performance in front of the public.

Cesar could well imagine the panic and hysteria that would erupt within the city as news of the battle spread. Some would seize the opportunity to break down houses and assault their vengeful neighbors, others would seize boats and flee the Joshua River, causing riots in the harbor. Arson and looting were all to be expected. If public sentiment in various regions wasn't properly controlled, a repeat of the massive riots of the past was inevitable.

"The old man from the Hier Temple will be in charge of the speech—he's happy to do it." After Cesar recovered from the shock, Canaday said, "Of course, we will compensate the temple for its recent material and financial losses. As long as he can use the temple's name to temporarily calm the public anger and let those gathered in front of the city hall and the inner city gate go back to where they came from, we can also discuss more compensation. At that time, we hope that you will show your friendship with the temple, and then these three idiots will come on stage to confess to you and ask for your forgiveness in front of the people. It will be a touching show, isn't it?"

Cesar was completely numb. "I don't know what they have to repent for."

"It's a stopgap measure." Canaday studied him through his white mask. "I know what you're thinking, but that's politics. The dead are worthless, so they're used as scapegoats for the defeat. The survivors find a way to survive, escape the blame, and be portrayed as heroes who have done nothing wrong. That's pretty much it. It's just that you have to bear the burden of this heroic title."

"Please, for the love of your true God!"

"Just keep quiet for a while. You have more than just this fictitious title, don't you?" Canaday said. "I haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

He indeed had more than just this fictitious title. The title of Earl's son was fake, and so was the tragic hero. The only thing that he and a little witch got to the watchtower from the inn was real.

"I hope this is the best part." Cesar rubbed his forehead hard.

"Really? Then listen, before Askrid returns, your position will be promoted to a higher level, and you will be responsible for the defense of the entire lower city and the outer city wall. Those three idiots will be your subordinates from today on."

"No," he glared at the man, "What makes you think I can do this?"

Canaday shook his head. "I don't know," he said, "but it was Askrid who recommended you first, and you did.

You showed the only clear mind in the military meeting, so of course I trust Askrid's judgment more. You know, I originally suggested that you upgrade to the next level, but Sean refused to give you the defense of the inner city. I am really sorry.

regret......"

Cesar was almost amused by him.

Chapter 57 Brother Kallian

"After all, why did Ascled leave the city at this critical moment?" Cesar asked him.

"We follow different rituals, and each of us has uncontrollable emotions," Canaday replied. "Have you not experienced those mysterious impulses? He is conceited and easily angered. He wants to do many things himself and feels that he is the only one who can do them. If Askrid finds someone trustworthy, then that person must be trustworthy."

"What about his two direct descendants? Are they untrustworthy?"

Canaday shook his head slowly. "Calling them direct descendants is just like a blacksmith recruiting apprentices, acquiring a few tools," he replied. "Askrid isn't cultivating direct descendants; he's simply shaping extensions of his own will." He raised his index finger, placing it against the mouth of his mask to silence him. "When the time is right, they will become the new Askrid. That's why I strive to keep his direct descendants alive. Okay, enough about this. What are your thoughts on your own path?"

This statement is extremely strange, and the deep meaning it implies makes people feel uneasy.

"I don't have any ideas. I haven't seen much blood recently," said Cesar.

"Then you'll see blood soon," Canaday said. "From what I understand, they've dug a lot of trenches and fieldwork in their camp, which is more like a borderland operation. Now they've settled behind the hill opposite the castle, and they'll soon expand their gains."

"What's the point of telling me this? Do you think I understand military command?"

"Your mercenary teacher is deeply trusted by Garcia," Canaday always found an excuse. "Since the grassland people are using the borderland's methods of warfare, we can accept handing command to her. But then again, handing command to you is actually the same as handing it to her. I think it's more appropriate to let the city lord's heir be the hero rather than a paid mercenary. This will better appease the people and suppress the riots."

"Well, since you mentioned command, has anyone mentioned using the situation we've already ascertained to bring in more troops to destroy the camp?"

"There's no other way," Canaday said. "It's not for any other reason. The situation in the city doesn't support this. The hospitals and temples are filled with wounded soldiers, some of whom are even the children of local nobles and wealthy merchants. If we suffer another defeat, even if it's just a few more casualties, the situation will get out of control. By then, we'll have to send troops to suppress the riot before the defense of the city even begins."

"You mean we just sit here and wait for the siege, and the so-called command is to find a way to hold out until the grassland people return in the spring?" Cesar asked. "What about food? Equipment and supplies? And what about your port transportation?"

"The port is the only place where the grassland people can't interfere."

"It means that merchants will hear about this and come to the port to sell grain at exorbitant prices. However, given the conflict between you and the royal family, no one will intervene. If you use military means, the merchants will no longer come to the port to sell grain."

"There's enough food in the city to last until spring." Canaday didn't seem concerned.