The flood swept through, turning a thousand li of fertile land into a vast marsh. Countless lives were lost to the natural disaster.
Two days later, as the waters slowly receded, Valient led the remaining Black Thorn Knight Order in gathering the surviving troops.
After sixteen hours of searching, the allied army had recovered only a little over ten thousand men. Most were conscripts who could swim, while a small number were soldiers of his own Black Armored Legion.
Of the Shattered Fortress's more than twenty thousand Fortress Legion soldiers, just over a hundred were found. They had been all but annihilated.
Fewer than two thousand remained of the sixty thousand troops borrowed from the Golden Lion Duchy. Almost the entire force had perished.
What pained him most was that, of the hundred and eighty-three people who had followed him into rebellion, another twenty-eight had left him forever. Among them were veterans of the Black Thorn Dynasty's Third Knight Order, as well as childhood playmates who had grown up alongside him.
After the brutal war ended, a brief peace arrived.
Late at night, the Shattered Fortress was frighteningly quiet. Only the occasional crackle of sparks from the braziers broke the silence, their light flickering in the darkness.
On a wooden bed, Lancelot jolted awake from a nightmare and sat up. Cold sweat had soaked his shirt, leaving it clinging wetly to his back.
Every time he closed his eyes, there were shattered battle formations, banners falling into the flood, the wails of the drowning...
Countless images appeared in his dreams, relentlessly assailing his mind.
Lancelot walked to the window and gazed out at the desolate fortress, his eyes filled with loneliness.
"Ah..."
With a sigh, Lancelot stared out the window and remained there until dawn.
Meanwhile, news of the disastrous