“It’s Lord Silver Fang! Lord Silver Fang has arrived on the battlefield! That crest is…”
As the golden wolf-head crest appeared, the soldiers’ cheers rose like waves, each wave surpassing the last, and morale visibly soared.
In fact, when Lita had revealed her crest, the soldiers were already excited by the presence of a Crest Knight on the battlefield. However, the situation had been too urgent for Lita to pay more attention. Not far away, an even more imposing force was racing across the snow, and Brownie’s appearance was merely the vanguard of the reinforcements.
The wight holding the battle axe had retreated when Lita and the young Death Knight were fighting. Its icy blue eyes glanced at the giant lying in the distance, then it asked the Death Knight, “Ke Xia Er, what now?”
“Let’s go. It’s unwise to recklessly engage two Crest Knights.” Ke Xia Er closed her eyes and let the sword in her hand fall to the ground.
“After losing so much, you’re just going back like this?” The wight’s face showed displeasure, but as if wary of the armored girl before it, it dared only to glare at her angrily.
“Armies can always be replenished. Let’s go.” Ke Xia Er waved a hand, directly turning her back to Lita.
The other party was unwilling to fight her, and she was equally unwilling to engage them like this. Lita might not understand grand strategic intentions, but retreating like this was probably an excellent choice for both sides.
‘No!’
Lita was about to relax when she felt a killing intent rushing toward her. Ke Xia Er, who had been about to leave, suddenly twisted around and swung her greatsword, bringing it crashing down on Lita’s head.
BOOM!
The sword pressure, like an exploding bomb, blew away massive amounts of snow and ice, but the deadly icy blue blade failed to advance even a fraction under the two colors of gold and silver. Lita’s boots sank deep between the frozen earth and snow. The sound of ice cracking came from beneath Ke Xia Er’s feet; the recoil from that strike also embedded her war boots deep into the ground.
The two of them were locked in a stalemate for a few seconds, and then the powerful attack that had made Lita’s arms go numb finally withdrew.
“A Crest Knight isn’t someone you can kill just like that. An opponent who made me miss twice—do you want to try facing them?” Ke Xia Er said to the wight.
The latter let out angry growls from its throat, then stood up and jumped onto its mount, a Ghoul Mammoth. The mammoth immediately swung its trunk, letting out a long WOOOOM. The ghouls all seemed to receive a signal and began retreating toward the distant frozen ground.
“Alright, this should be the last batch.”
Brownie pressed his hand on his sword, gazing at the roaring flames rising several meters high, and wiped the sweat from his brow. This was neither a celebratory bonfire nor a warming campfire, but a merciless blaze devouring the remains of the soldiers.
“What a huge task.”
Lita hugged her sword as she stood beside Brownie, murmuring softly.
The towering flames reflected in Brownie’s pupils, but then he lowered his eyelashes to shut out the unbearable scene, and his tone became much calmer.
“There’s no choice. The dead beyond the Great Wall might all be cursed, becoming ghouls or even wights. That’s why all corpses must be uniformly cremated to eliminate that possibility.”
“I know.”
After uttering these words, Lita also fell silent.
Even Brownie, who usually wore a sour expression, showed such a look. It seemed this land was subtly changing everyone who set foot here.
The ghouls wore all sorts of clothing; a quick glance told Lita what they had been before becoming ghouls. One was a servant, another appeared to be a member of some tribe, and the one in the distance was just an ordinary girl.
But the most numerous were soldiers in armor. In the war against the wights, many Northerners had given their lives to defend the Kingdom, yet their corpses were now being used, forcing the soldiers to fight their former comrades.
Lita had lost count of how much equipment she had helped recover. Armor and weapons were precious resources—not something you could buy indefinitely with money in a game, especially in the Northlands with its poor transportation.
The flames rose in silence, devouring the last pale faces. Brownie seemed to sigh, then glanced at Lita, and Lita immediately followed him.
The Great Wall’s massive gates slowly opened before the two of them and the soldiers clearing the battlefield behind them. Lita stepped through with heavy footsteps.
The Gate of Despair’s gate, though large, had four layers, all embedded in ice. One had to pass through all four to truly cross the wall. It had only been a few hours since she arrived, fought, and cleaned up the battlefield, but now that she was back inside the wall, Lita felt as if a lifetime had passed.
The moment she stepped inside, Lita saw two figures standing there, looking somewhat out of place. One was the Second Princess, Rosalia, with her rose-gold hair tied in a single ponytail, a thick scarf around her neck, and the rest of her attire quite practical. The other was Cecilia, from whom she had parted not long ago.
Lita was a bit surprised, and the soldiers behind her were even more astonished. They all put down their equipment or weapons and bowed to the two princesses.
“No need for formalities now. You’re already exhausted—go to the mess hall; there’s hot food prepared for you.”
Rosalia said without moving.
But the soldiers remained with heads bowed until Cecilia also spoke: “I’m not one to care about formalities either. Go on.”
Only then did the soldiers stand up and grab their belongings, heading off to their tents.
“Lady Cecilia.”
“Princess Rosalia.”
Lita and Brownie both knelt on one knee.
“I said I don’t care about formalities—didn’t you hear me? I can’t teach you anything, and now you suddenly remember this?”
Cecilia pouted slightly.
“Isn’t this fine?”
Rosalia shrugged.
“It took me a long time to teach Brownie manners too. Take it slow. Well, I’ve said it before—there’s no need for this in front of Cecilia.”
Brownie nodded and stood up without a word. Lita, on the other hand, was a bit confused. It seemed Cecilia and Rosalia’s relationship was much better than she had imagined?
Lilia went without saying—she looked like she wanted to kill Lita and Cecilia. And when traveling with Eliya, Cecilia’s every move was full of etiquette.
Not just politeness, but etiquette—there was a world of difference between the two. As for Amelia, she wasn’t familiar.
“Stop kneeling. If you kneel again, I’ll make you freeze here all night.”
Cecilia’s voice came from above Lita, and only then did Lita climb to her feet.
The group crossed the camp and entered a relatively independent building. Judging by the smell drifting out the door, this was probably the mess hall. The mess hall was crude: a few large stone tabletops, some half-rotten wooden benches, a fireplace crackling with wood against the wall, and a chandelier of a few candles swaying overhead—that was all.
A few soldiers sat on the benches, wolfing down their food, washing down dark bread and grilled meat with beer full of ice slush, then chatting about something funny, occasionally bursting into laughter. Lita actually liked this atmosphere; it reminded her of… the Royal Capital was much more relaxed.
The group walked straight through the mess hall to the frontmost seats. This table didn’t look any different; it just seemed that being placed at the front indicated the diners’ high status.
Brandon and Shirley had been sitting there for who knows how long. Seeing the group arrive, they immediately stood up and bowed.
After the formalities, everyone sat down at the table, with Cecilia and Rosalia on one side, and the remaining four squeezed on the other. It was clear that the Northlands really didn’t care much about etiquette; elsewhere, it would be unimaginable to bring two princesses to dine in the mess hall. After all, even under harsh conditions, it would have been possible to send food to their rooms or prepare a separate room.
When the server brought over grilled meat and dark bread identical to the soldiers’ tables, Lita was even more convinced of this. The only difference was a bucket of meat soup brought to the table; when Lita ladled a bowl for Cecilia, she found it really was just soup, with hardly any trace of meat.
“After a great battle just now, the hospitality is lacking. Please forgive us, Your Royal Highness the Fourth Princess.”
Brandon spread his hands, but he only addressed Cecilia. That meant—was the Second Princess always like this? If so, with so little princessly airs, personally charging to the front lines to fight, and having a good relationship with Cecilia, Lita’s opinion of Rosalia rose considerably.
“From the moment I set foot in the Northlands, I was prepared to endure the elements. It’s rare to be able to dine by the fireplace like this.”
Cecilia replied.
“Alright, Cecilia is not one to be bound by etiquette. It’s getting late, so let’s not stand on ceremony.”
Rosalia was the first to raise her glass and drank half of it without waiting for anyone to clink glasses.
After Rosalia finished speaking, they finally began their meal. The entire dinner was deathly quiet, completely at odds with the clamor of the soldiers outside. But it was indeed rare to dine in such a lively atmosphere, and Lita ate quite happily.
After dinner, Cecilia began to feel drowsy. Days of travel plus today’s unexpected battle—even Lita felt exhausted, let alone Cecilia. Others also noticed Cecilia’s fatigue, and not just Cecilia; Lita saw tired expressions on everyone’s faces, as if they could fall asleep sitting up.
On Rosalia’s suggestion, they called it a day. With a heart full of questions, Lita supported the unsteady Cecilia and led her to their lodging for the night.
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