Outside Shield River City, dust billowed along the Highland Forest Road.
A Castle Self-defense Corps, their banners unfurled, was charging forth. The sound of their hoofbeats, like rolling thunder, shattered the silence.
At their head was a middle-aged Knight with a resolute face and a short beard: the corps’ deputy commander, Adrian Grant.
He looked down at Shield River City and the Fifth Legion’s encampment, not far below. After a moment’s scan, he saw no obvious abnormalities or signs of battle. Only then did he breathe a small sigh of relief and avert his gaze.
They were an elite force of Knights and soldiers under Duke Holmes of the Stormlands, responsible for guarding the Duke’s castle and its surrounding territories. But just a day ago, they had received an urgent summons from Duke Holmes himself, ordering them to set out immediately to reinforce Storm Fortress, with no delay permitted.
The order had come so abruptly that they hadn’t even had time to prepare adequate supplies. They had ridden non-stop for over a hundred miles, finally reaching the vicinity of Shield River City.
But they would not be stopping here to rest. According to their orders, they were to pass directly through Shield River City and continue on to Storm Fortress to assist the Garrison Legion in defending against the coming demonic tide.
Adrian stared straight ahead down the road as he reached into his coat and took out an exquisite silver pocket watch. He flipped open the cover and glanced quickly at the time, but his eyes were unconsciously drawn to a small portrait inlaid on the inside of the back cover.
He had spent a good portion of his savings back then to commission this portrait. He had specially asked his friend Raman, a Mage from Flynn Castle and a graduate of Fey City, to craft it meticulously with Magic.
The black-and-white portrait depicted the profile of a young woman. She had the soft, beautiful contours characteristic of the Aineir People, and her chestnut-brown hair seemed to gleam even in the image.
This was his love, Jessica.
Although the years had passed and Jessica had long since become a gentle, middle-aged woman, this portrait had preserved her in her most youthful and beautiful form forever.
Every time he looked at this portrait, Adrian couldn’t help but marvel at the wonders of Magic. It also strengthened his resolve to one day send his children to study in the scholarly atmosphere of Fey City.
This summons, however, had been too sudden. It could even be described as frantic. He had never seen Duke Holmes—who always prided himself on his noble, unruffled composure—so out of sorts. The Duke had repeatedly stressed in his orders that they "must arrive on time" and that there "could not be a moment’s delay."
This filled him with a faint sense of unease. It was as if something earth-shattering was about to happen at Storm Fortress, and their hastily dispatched corps was perhaps nothing more than a single, hastily moved piece on a chessboard.
’Cadus above, Great Guardian, please grant me a safe return. Jessica and the children are waiting for me at home...’ Adrian prayed silently, carefully putting the pocket watch away.
Just then, he suddenly sensed something was wrong up ahead. He narrowed his eyes and peered down the road.
A lone figure had suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, directly blocking the corps’ path.
Judging by his attire, he seemed to be a Knight. He wore light knight’s armor and held a... *Rapier*?
That was a weapon more likely to be used by the Shield River City garrison or by certain nobles who were particular about decorum.
While such a sword was sharp enough, and its piercing power was greater than that of a standard Longsword, it was a delicate weapon. Against the tough hides of demonic beasts, it would probably snap after just a few blows.
’This man isn’t a frontline Warrior. He’s more likely a city guard from a rear-line town or a noble’s escort.’
He didn’t dare order the corps to halt. If they stopped, their warhorses, already exhausted from the overnight forced march, might not be able to run again. If they missed the Duke’s deadline because of this, he would have no way to answer for it.
"Look at the banner and sigil!"
Adrian abruptly drew the Longsword at his waist and shouted at the figure, "We are the Flynn Castle Self-defense Corps, under the command of Duke Holmes! We are ordered to reinforce Storm Fortress! Clear the way!!"
In case the man couldn’t see clearly, the standard-bearer behind him immediately raised a banner embroidered with the black falcon sigil of the Holmes Clan, letting it unfurl in the wind.
To his surprise, however, the Knight ahead did not step aside. Instead, he began to walk slowly toward the charging corps.
His voice wasn’t loud, yet it cut through the thunder of hoofbeats and carried to every man in the formation. "Stop. Storm Fortress is not a place you should be going."
A chill went down Adrian’s spine. He instantly realized this Knight was no ordinary man. Compelled by some strange impulse, he obeyed the man’s words, sharply raising a hand and barking, "Halt! Entire corps, stop!"
"WHOA—!"
The well-trained soldiers hauled on their reins. Their warhorses neighed and skidded to a stop, just a few paces away from the Knight blocking their path.
The dust kicked up by their hooves nearly engulfed the man. A moment later, and they would have trampled him underfoot.
Yet the Knight’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. He didn’t even blink. He simply stood there, perfectly calm.
Adrian’s sense of unease intensified. He swung himself off his horse, walked up to the man, and performed a standard knightly salute. In a low voice, he asked, "Sir Knight, may I ask... who knighted you?"
The man looked up and said flatly, "Lid Valentinian. No one knighted me."
’Lid Valentinian?!’ Adrian was stunned.