Frontline (12)

After more than half a month of travel, Ang's party finally arrived at the fortress where they had briefly stayed before—the fortress of Count Brandon Morgan.

They had endured dust and hardship all the way, especially the female warriors, who had long grown tired of dry field rations and crude camps. When they saw the familiar high walls and heavy fortress gates, they nearly jogged forward in excitement, hoping to enter the city, rest their feet, and enjoy a good meal.

However, the fortress gates were tightly shut, and the guard towers were empty.

They shouted outside the gates for a long time, yet received not the slightest response.

"They should have retreated to Fortress of Will already." Ang stood atop a rock and gazed into the distance for a while before speaking calmly.

"How is that possible?" A female warrior frowned. "Count Brandon went through so much trouble to take this fortress. Why would he retreat so easily?"

Ang smiled faintly, as though listening to a child's confusion. "The Empire's main front is now at Volgograd. Litchfield Plains has already been divided up among the major nobles. When the lizardmen invaded, the imperial capital sent no reinforcements. That means the current defensive line can only be held by the nobles themselves."

His words drew a round of quiet snickers from the female warriors. Clearly, they did not buy Ang's analysis and even looked somewhat disdainful.

At that moment, Janice spoke. Her voice was not loud, but it carried a calm and firm persuasiveness. "Perhaps my lord is right. The lizardmen may be warlike, but they also know they cannot remain on the plains forever. Count Brandon probably feared that the lizardmen's army would besiege this place, so he withdrew to the safer Fortress of Will."

"Janice, you can't keep