In fact, among the army at this moment, aside from the loyal White Lion Guard, both Lantorilan's allied forces and the noble armies from the north were spreading this claim: Think about it—could Buchi's hatred, and the blood spilled in the First Black Rose War, really be wiped away so easily?
The Eluin people needed revenge. Now, they stood before the Goddess of Victory, yet they had been forced to halt because of a single letter, and even had to form an alliance with their former enemies.
How absurd was that?
Freya was utterly disgusted by such talk. Where was the victory? Eluin was like it was trapped in a desperate quagmire. Manowell's limited advantage alone could never change the final outcome.
Even that feeble advantage had been gained by sheer chance.
Although everyone here respectfully called her the Valkyrie, Freya remained clearheaded and rational. She knew perfectly well why she had won. It was not due to her personal bravery, nor to some keen battlefield instinct, nor to her outstanding command ability, nor to an unshakable determination to win.
The battle's outcome had actually been decided solely by Alvitt's attack when she switched sides at the critical moment.
Yet fanatical people often failed to see that.
Unfortunately, not every Undead Lord was a former companion of Brunhilde and the others. The Queen of the Banshees had been an exceptional coincidence. The very reason something was called a coincidence was that it could not be repeated again and again.
Eluin would not be that lucky every time.
And when people placed blind faith in that, they would pay the price. A mistake might be harmless enough against an opponent like Madara, but if it fell upon this tiny kingdom, it could send it into eternal ruin. Freya did not understand