Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 696 - 695: History Marches Forward

When the signal flare suddenly rose near Position Four on the highlands, Sir Philip realized things were spiraling out of control.

The battlefield is composed of countless incidents, both accidental and inevitable, plans, and unexpected events.

The well-trained professional soldiers of the Iron Throne responded in the shortest time possible. The smaller auxiliary cannons in the arsenal and tactical divisions roughly aimed at the direction of the rising signal flare within seconds, followed by a series of roaring artillery fire—the rail cannon shells traced a pale green trajectory in the air, then erupted into fierce flames over the highlands, illuminating the dark, gloomy wasteland amidst wind and rain. Yet everyone knew this round of counter-fire was merely a salvage attempt in the wake of a failed plan.

The fired signal flare was impossible to intercept—in the dusky sky, that bright scarlet light illuminated the entire highland and the vast plains nearby. The main forces of Typhon on the Longwind Defense Line had surely already seen it.

The urgent bombardment from the auxiliary cannons lasted only thirty seconds before Sir Philip ordered a ceasefire for the entire convoy—as a no longer green commander, he knew the group of Typhon forces on the Palamere Highlands had likely already relocated before the signal flare went up. The area covered by artillery was likely left with only a few daredevil members.

Perhaps only a brave signal soldier.

"General, should we force the gryphons to take off for reconnaissance?" the Deputy Sergeant of the Iron Throne cautiously asked, "Or send a batch of Steel Cavalry Scouts..."

Listening to his subordinate’s suggestion, Sir Philip sighed inwardly.

He knew it was likely too late... the enemy’s commander was a troublesome figure, cautious and rational, and had probably already gained some insight into the Cecil Clan’s equipment and combat methods. They wouldn’t linger nearby. He also understood how these weather conditions would weaken the scouting ability of the gryphon knights and ground troops. Likely by now, the enemy had already distanced itself from the Iron Throne. To search the entire Palamere Region for a cavalry unit that had slipped into the rain would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

After all, compared to the large, conspicuous armored train, individuals moving sparsely and using trees as cover are much harder to find.

But even so, he cautiously ordered the gryphon knights to be dispatched—the gryphons refused to take flight in such adverse weather, and their riders struggled mightily to have them perform a low-altitude circling, conducting a reconnaissance that was better than nothing, with results just as Sir Philip expected: the enemy had already vanished without a trace.

Upon learning this, the young army commander maintained a calm expression, turning to instruct the Chief Artillery Officer beside him: "Direct all auxiliary cannons to the fourth, sixth, seventh areas, and the northeastern junction, and perform a free bombardment for ten minutes."

"Yes, General."

The magic unit of the Iron Throne began operating again, and amidst the buzzing sound and noise of mechanical devices running, the booming rotation of firing auxiliary cannons echoed deeply within the tactical section of the train. Sir Philip ordered the opening of one side’s window armor, and in the dim flashes and rain, he focused his gaze toward the distance.

Tonight, the Cecil Clan’s Magical Mechanized Legion encountered the most caution-worthy foe to date, and in that dusky curtain of rain, Sir Philip saw the Empire’s true adversary.

Before today, the Cecil Legion faced a variety of opponents—private soldiers of the old aristocracy crumbled at the first engagement, traditional knights were brave but in their twilight, legions created by evil cult followers were immensely powerful but ultimately reduced to cannon fodder, and even the man-made gods were merely powerful monsters, destined to fall into man-made traps...

Until today, in a clash amidst wind and rain, everyone brushed past the edge of a blade—the two blades gliding by each other’s throats, missing by a hair’s breadth, in an interaction formed by countless unexpected and coincidental events, and after the Cecil Legion utilized the advantage of timing and intelligence to construct a nearly perfect trap, the Typhon Empire almost unscathedly exited the battlefield.

Though a bloody battle didn’t erupt, everyone broke out in a cold sweat.

...

The thunderous sound of explosions erupted from various distances, bright lines piercing the sky fell upon the Palamere Highlands, the flashing bursts of explosions rising and extinguishing continuously in the rainy night, the ground trembling, and the air quivering, indicating the terrifying momentum akin to a saturated bombardment by an entire Mage Corps, making one’s heart pound with fear and ears ring incessantly.

The Winterwolf First Cavalry rapidly repositioned in wind and rain, amidst the dazzling flashes of explosions lighting up different areas and the successive bolts of lightning illuminating the knights’ rain-soaked swords and armor, beneath each helmet sat a pair of somewhat nervous eyes.

Yet the cavalry maintained order meticulously, executing the fastest transfers with the utmost silence under the command of their leader.

Andresha rode her horse, seeing the flashes of explosions abruptly appear nearby, her lips tightly pursed, silent.

The Cecil Clan launched a formidable attack, whose intensity proved her prior assessment correct—the power of that steel monster was extraordinary, and a regular cavalry unit was fundamentally unable to confront it head-on, strategic retreat was the only choice for self-preservation.

Perhaps only a consolidated Mage Corps and well-prepared Iron River Knights could contend with that level of monster.

The young Wolf General looked back, the red magic signal already faded in the clouds, in the rain-drenched darkness, only the continuous bright lines slit the sky.

She found herself slightly relieved.

Despite the ferocity of the enemy’s attack, one could surmise from its dispersed nature that they were no more capable than Typhon’s reconnaissance means on this rainy night. They have already lost track of her cavalry unit’s position, and their current blind assault was simply a stab at luck.

The rainstorm that once hindered the Winterwolf Knights’ actions now served as a shield for Andresha and her troops amidst the shelling.

Going forward, her and the Winterwolf First Cavalry’s safe exit from this rainy night would depend on the same luck the Cecil Clan relied upon.

May the heavens favor Typhon.

The young Wolf General raised her head, observing the lines of rain continuously falling in the darkness, softly muttering to herself, "Hope the rain doesn’t stop..."

The accompanying adjutant beside heard Andresha’s muttering but didn’t catch the content, instinctively asking, "General?"

"Nothing," Andresha shook her head, looking one last time at the direction where the steel monster docked, then turned to her adjutant, "That decayed and weakened kingdom is now history, the newly risen Cecil Empire, is a formidable enemy."

Tonight, the Empire’s elite legion encountered the most vigilant enemy to date, amidst that dim rain curtain, Andresha saw the true opponent of the Empire.

...

The Typhon forces retreated, halting abruptly just before entering the Longwind Fortress defense district, and then returned to their original position.

Fully armored Maryland left the castle, arrived at the city wall facing the Typhon side of the Longwind Fortress, and gazed silently at the dark plain.

The exposure of the iron throne was an accident, the battlefield itself is a place never lacking in accidents, but according to General Philip, the exposure of the iron throne might be related to the Typhon side conducting targeted reconnaissance out of caution—this made Maryland involuntarily associate it with the situation where his meticulously planned "deception tactic" was seen through.

He laughed lightly, shaking his head, "That ’little wolf’... truly deserves his fame."

"General," adjutant Payne arrived at the wall, came to Maryland’s side, "The iron throne has sent information that they have ceased firing, preliminary judgment suggests they did not leave behind the Typhon unit."

"... This time, fate favored the Typhon," Maryland said calmly after a moment of silence, "Summarize the intelligence and send it to the King, how the situation develops afterward... is not something we should be concerned with."

"Yes, General."

The rain stopped unknowingly, accompanied by refreshing but cold autumn winds blowing over the wall, the clouds in the sky quietly dispersed, this drama lasting from afternoon till night falls along with the wind and rain, starlight sprinkled onto the earth through gaps in the clouds, chill cold.

"It was truly a good rain..." Maryland softly said, "came just right, stopped just right."

...

Intelligence from the eastern border was transmitted immediately to St. Soniel, in the study of Silver Castle, Gawain summoned his three Grand Governors.

"Our border is safe, at least the east," Gawain said directly, "The iron throne has reached the border, after a dramatic contest, the Typhon forces have retreated back to their defense line."

"Here are the detailed intelligence reports." Amber’s figure appeared beside Gawain, she held several copied documents, and distributed them one by one to the three Grand Governors.

Victoria took the intelligence and quickly skimmed through it, though the language used was very concise, it was enough to illustrate everything that happened, after a rough glance, this Ice Duchess couldn’t help but lightly sigh, "Opportunities passed by everyone."

"This is quite fair," Baldwin Franklin put down the printed paper in his hand, "Regardless, the Typhon realized the Longwind Fortress defense line has been reestablished, they should quiet down."

Gawain shook his head, reminded, "Temporarily quiet down—an empire entering the industrial age does not possess the attribute of ’mild restraint,’ but for now whether to fight is no longer for them to decide themselves. Aunt Heidi, what do you want to say?"

Heidi, who had been silent since earlier, raised her head, looked at Gawain, "Ancestor, Minister Norris has already led the Agriculture Department expert group into the Plains of the Holy Spirits pollution area, assessing plans for agricultural reconstruction there—for long-term consideration, we indeed need a period of rest and recovery."

Faced with Heidi’s serious yet slightly solemn gaze, Gawain nodded, "You’re right, we do need a period of rest and recovery... especially for agricultural reconstruction."

The situation appears smooth, the empire is established, the coronation ceremony greatly encourages the morale of all social classes, the order in the royal capital is pacified, aristocrats everywhere have signed to express support for reform, the powerful Cecil war machinery on the border has thwarted Typhon’s plot, even gaining the upper hand—this might induce misleading optimism, an optimist might think the Cecil Empire is already a mighty giant, ready to sweep across the land, but everyone in this room knows such "smoothness" is only superficial.

It’s consecutive victories that boost morale, it’s the temporary redistribution of gains that conceals internal emptiness, beneath the surface fact is half of the grain-producing area in the Plains of the Holy Spirits is destroyed, numerous refugees need resettlement, cities and villages post-war need reconstruction...

If prior warfare was making this ancient dilapidated kingdom reborn from ashes by removing rotten flesh, then the current Cecil Empire needs not to sweep across the land, but to grow new flesh in the areas where the rotten flesh was cut off.

Food is of utmost importance—according to the just-completed emergency statistics, currently, except for the southern borders and the West, the Cecil Empire generally lacks food, even if national reserve grain is fully mobilized, it can only barely sustain until the next harvest season, to prevent large-scale famine, Duke Baldwin has already begun negotiations with the tribal country of Augari in the west to discuss grain purchases, under such circumstances, the empire must rest and recover.

"I also agree with the opinion of Aunt Heidi, but the key issue is what response Typhon will have," Duke Baldwin first affirmed Aunt Heidi then furrowed his brow, "The ’contest’ at the Longwind Defense Line was very close to open war, just a step away from full-scale legion combat, everyone took a walk by the edge of the cliff... this walk can be interpreted in many ways."

"It was them who actively approached the military defense zone, from a moral standpoint, the Typhon does not hold the advantage, while our disadvantage lies in not leaving behind that troop; we lack sufficient evidence, this is the current situation, but for both countries, as long as the evidence is insufficient, everything can be evaded," Gawain said, "Furthermore, from the willingness to wage war, Typhon after today should be more inclined to sit down and have a proper conversation with us... today’s Typhon, the situation is already different from the past."

Heidi furrowed her brow, "Is it due to their industrial and economic transition?"

Gawain gave Heidi a glance, his gaze slightly appreciative, "Correct, they have a new ’cake,’ now those small and medium aristocratic families whose interests were impaired by the reform are busy redistributing gains, Typhon’s greatest internal pressure is temporarily relieved, before they encounter the next bottleneck, Emperor Rosetta Augustus has no reason to persistently push for war; his current focus should be to control the process of industrial and economic transition, prevent his empire from losing control during this process..."

"Then..." Baldwin Franklin pinched his temples, "King, we should send Typhon a signal."

"Of course," Gawain smiled, looking at Aunt Heidi, "Immediately notify Patrick, give Typhon the next batch of new orders. Then... we patiently await the response from Emperor Rosetta Augustus."