Farewell, Karl
After saying that, he stopped looking at Konrad, as if afraid that even a second glance would shake his resolve.
He turned to Brendan, his voice regaining the composure of a commander, though tinged with deep weariness. "Brendan, come, let's move the Master's body to the back, to be placed with the rest of our fallen comrades. We cannot... we cannot let the Sauron defile their spirits."
His meaning was clear: in their final moments, they would burn everything, including their own remains, leaving nothing for the enemy to desecrate.
Brendan nodded heavily, silently stepped forward, and together with Karl, carefully lifted Master Andrei's still-warm body and carried it towards the place at the back of the hall where the fallen soldiers were temporarily piled up.
Their movements were slow and solemn, as if they were performing some kind of solemn ceremony.
Konrad stood there, watching his brother's exhausted yet ramrod-straight back, watching him and Brendan carry the body into the darkness with unwavering resolve. His lips moved slightly, but in the end, he couldn't utter a single word.
He sighed deeply, a sigh filled with helplessness, heartache, and a complex mix of emotions that were hard to describe.
He took one last look around the hall, shrouded in death and despair, and glanced at the people preparing for their final struggle. Finally, he turned around and, with slightly heavy steps, climbed the stairs alone to the second floor.
In the room upstairs, the teleportation array flickered faintly; it was the coordinate of survival, and also... the starting point of farewell.
He knew that this parting might very well be their last.
Surrounded by his generals and guards, Harald ascended the outer fort of Carnford, a fort that had just been captured and was still filled with the smoke and blood of battle.
The location is elevated, offering a clear view of the battle situation throughout the inner city.
His gaze, like that of a falcon circling high in the sky, coldly swept over the scorched battlefield below.
His black torrent was visibly eroding the last strongholds of resistance in the inner city.
The shouts of battle, the clash of weapons, and the sounds of collapsing buildings served as a cacophony of background noise, announcing the progress of the conquest.
His gaze finally settled on the tallest and last building in the distance, the Lord's Castle of Carnford, which was still putting up a fierce resistance.
The castle windows were broken in many places, and the walls were covered with charred marks, but one could still vaguely see figures moving and the glint of weapons.
However, in Harald's view, this resistance was already at its last gasp, and the fall of the castle was only a matter of time.
The young Lord Karl von Schmidt, who had caused him so much trouble, must have already died in battle, or was about to die in those ruins.
Thinking of this, Harald felt a slight relief from the anger and frustration that had been building up due to the huge casualties, and even felt a strong sense of accomplishment after crushing a powerful enemy.
Since he inherited the position of Great Chieftain and led the Sauron army south, he has encountered countless famous generals from the Goldflower Kingdom, including many renowned and experienced veterans. However, in the end, they all fell to his iron hooves, either dying or having their clans wiped out, or surrendering.
This is the first time in recent years that I have encountered an opponent like Karl, who is so young yet so tenacious, whose tactics are so cunning, and who has made me pay such a heavy price.
"However, even the fiercest generals ultimately fell to my hand." Harald's lips curled into a cold, satisfied smile.
Defeating such a formidable foe is a far greater testament to his strength and wisdom than crushing a group of cowards.
He turned his head and instructed the surrendered general Leon, who stood respectfully to his side, "Pass down the order: after capturing the castle, capture as many craftsmen as possible alive, especially those who know how to make cannons and gunpowder. These people are useful to us."
He had already begun to consider post-war resource integration. After giving his orders, he was about to turn around, step down from the gun emplacement, and return to the central command tent to await the final victory report.
However, at that moment...
Several Sauron soldier, covered in blood and with tattered armor, came running in panic from the direction of the inner city, only to be stopped by the guards below the fort.
After a series of urgent inquiries, a captain of the personal guard rushed up to the gun emplacement, knelt on one knee, and reported with a hint of disbelief and fear in his voice, "Reporting to the Great Chieftain! The battle inside the Lord's Castle... has reached a stalemate! The defenders are putting up an extremely tenacious fight, especially an old knight whose swordsmanship is superb. Our warriors have suffered heavy casualties, and we are finding it difficult to break into the core hall!"
"What?" Harald's brows furrowed sharply, a genuine look of surprise flashing across his face.
Karl was still persisting? He had thought the battle was over long ago; this tenacity was truly beyond his expectations.
However, this slight surprise was quickly replaced by a cold decision. He had long lost patience and was unwilling to waste any more precious elite soldiers' lives for this isolated city and this dying enemy.
He waved his hand casually, his tone indifferent, as if deciding on a trivial matter. "Order the frontline commanders to abandon the assault and launch a fire attack. Set the entire castle ablaze with Molotov cocktail, burn Karl and his last stronghold to ashes. A swift victory is needed; there should be no more unnecessary sacrifices."
"Yes, Great Chieftain!" The captain of the personal guard responded sternly, immediately rising and rushing off to relay the order.
Harald once again turned his gaze to the distant Lord's castle, which appeared even more lonely and resilient in the twilight, his eyes deep and thoughtful.
He truly hadn't expected that Karl could hold on this long; his resilience and leadership were the best he had ever seen in his life.
"What a pity..." he murmured to himself, a hint of regret for a worthy opponent tinged with barely perceptible emotion, but more of a condescending judgment in his voice. "Farewell, Karl von Schmidt. You were indeed an excellent Lord, a rare talent in military strategy."
His gaze seemed to pierce through space, reaching the figure still fighting inside the castle.
"Unfortunately, you were born in the wrong country, serving a King who was not worth your life. He didn't even send a single soldier to rescue you."
This silent farewell is both a lament for Karl's personal fate and a contempt for the corrupt and incompetent Goldflower Kingdom.
In his eyes, Karl's fate was irrevocably sealed the moment he chose to hold out in Carnford against Sauron army.
It was a one-way street to destruction, filled with futile struggles and inevitable sacrifices.
He himself was merely the ultimate executor of this tragedy.