The Persuader

Bresen sat down heavily and shot Brando a glance, convinced that the fellow was lying. He and Brando had been militia recruits in the same intake at Ankze. Although they had not met during their time in Brags, they had a rough understanding of each other's experiences.

The son of a miller, even if his grandfather had been a knight in the November War and his mother had a little noble blood, could hardly have had any extraordinary experiences. He had later been transferred to the Guard Detachment, and this fellow was supposedly meant to inherit his father's trade. Yet, for some reason, he had ended up spending a year in Buchi.

That year clearly could not have given him much more worldly knowledge either. Still, if the fellow wanted to lie, he would have to consider whether he could fool Maden. Bresen turned his head and glanced at his captain. Their old captain had an atrocious temper and was stubborn, but he was extremely sharp. Ordinary lies could be exposed in just a few words in front of him.

After all, any soldier who had experienced the November War from beginning to end and survived it was no simple person.

After Bresen sat down, another young member of the Guard Detachment probably noticed the awkward atmosphere and began filling in the details of what Bresen had said. He described some of the events from daytime through the skirmish in the afternoon. The people around him occasionally nodded in agreement or interjected a sentence to add something. Of the whole group, only Bresen and the old captain remained silent.

The Maden Brando knew had a terrible temper and practically cursed people the moment he opened his mouth. Yet at crucial moments, he could settle his mind. That was the quality of a veteran. Still, his silver-gray eyebrows twitched slightly from time to time, revealing his inner anxiety.

As for Bresen, he had decided simply to watch coldly from the sidelines.

After listening to their descriptions, Brando knew who they had encountered. The army that had followed them all the way from Buchi should have been Rosko the Lich. In the game, Rosko was an exceptionally talented necromancer, and players had given him that nickname. His talent was lichcraft—undead summoned from souls were more easily transformed into liches. Thus, his army had one distinctive trait: it could replenish its forces extremely quickly. Although it was not strong at sieges, it was patient and cunning, skilled at using cannon fodder to wear down its enemies and grind away at their morale.

At this point in time, Rosko should still have been only a necromancer's apprentice. Brando guessed that his position in Tagus's order of battle did not exceed that of a squadron commander. In truth, he was not far off the mark. He simply never could have imagined that he and Rosko had already seen each other from afar—on the night they escaped from Buchi.

As for the other army, he did not need to guess. The one who had historically razed Green Village was Cabes. This Bone Frame was not famous in the history of Madara, but he was a veteran. By this point, he should already have been one of Tagus's principal commanders.

That meant Rosko's squadron should number more than two hundred, with at least twenty liches. As a main force, Cabes's army should have contained at least a fifth of Tagus's left wing. An army of that size definitely could not consist solely of Skeleton Soldiers. It might even include Black Knights and Pale Knights.

Fortunately, the Undead Army had to blockade several key routes through the forest, so its forces could not be concentrated in one place. The refugees should have encountered half of Rosko's squadron and one of Cabes's squadrons today. Otherwise, they could not have retreated intact so easily.

Of course, Brando could not explain things in such detail. Otherwise, the source of his information would become highly questionable. The earlier details could still be attributed to some legend, rumor, or story, but knowing the enemy's troop deployments so clearly was simply too implausible. Even a prophet had to know how to do his job.

He decided to start with the previous topic. After a pause, he said, "I don't know whether you've heard of a place called Anser. It's the headquarters of the necromancers. In fact, Madara is divided into three factions. One is the vampires, and another is the necromancers. I won't explain those two—you should all have heard the legends about them. The remaining faction is also a powerful group that holds real authority. We call them the Dark Lords. In life, they were bandits, brigands, Templar Knights who had committed crimes, nobles exiled from the human world, or wandering undead. They worship the Black Codex and are the traditional rulers of Madara."

"That's novel, but it's only a story," a member of the Guard Detachment replied.

"No. Imagine that someone unites those three factions. Madara will be reborn from the darkness. Coincidentally, they have a prophecy concerning precisely that."

"But you said earlier that this kingdom had never truly been unified."

"It hadn't in the past, but that opportunity is already right before us."

"But what does that have to do with us?"

"Of course it does. Have you heard the legend of the Mercury Staff?" Brando suddenly changed the subject.

"The Mercury Staff from the prophecy—the one said to unite the Dark World if someone obtains it?" one of the guards asked.

Brando nodded. "Its full name is Loki's Mercury Staff. Let me tell you who Loki was. He was a genius necromancer who nearly accomplished that great feat during his lifetime—unifying Madara. But he fell just short of success, and the staff's whereabouts subsequently became a mystery. Only a legend remained, claiming that whoever obtained it would once again become the king of the Dark World."

"However, since this spring, someone has reportedly seen the Mercury Staff appear in Anser."

"Wait," Bresen said, his expression changing. "Was that rumor from a few months ago true?"

"A few months ago?"

"Ah, I remember now. It seems a merchant brought back news from there, saying that someone carrying a strange staff had opened some kind of gate."

"The Gate of Sighs." Brando added, "That was Loki's treasury, and also where his throne was located—"

The elderly Captain of the Guard frowned deeply. "Boy, although I don't understand much about the schemes among those powerful figures, are you saying that there's going to be a major upheaval within Madara? That's just wonderful. At the very least, it means Madara must have come prepared this time. I don't know what their objective is, but it certainly won't be some small-scale raid. An invasion? It sounds a little absurd, but it doesn't seem impossible—"

His callused hand rested on his knee, close to his sword. "Bresen, do you know this young man?"

Bresen froze. He knew that if he voiced his doubts now, the captain would not immediately run the boy through with a sword, but he would at least have him arrested, leaving him unable to defend himself.

He could not help shooting Brando a dark look, the mockery in his eyes completely undisguised. But after thinking it over, he did not choose that path. "I know him, and I also believe he's lying. But my reason tells me that this man has no reason to deceive us—"

"What if Madara has bought him off?" Maden asked again.

"I did consider that. But given his experiences with Freya and the others, if Madara's commander could plan things so far in advance, then I wouldn't feel wronged by losing."

"Good, boy Bresen." Maden patted his deputy on the shoulder.

Huh?

It was not only Maden—even Brando could not help glancing at the young deputy captain of the Guard Detachment. It seemed this fellow was not entirely without merit. Of course, the impression that he was detestable was impossible to change. He was also far too narrow-minded to amount to much. With his god's-eye view, Brando proceeded to judge the other man from every angle. If Bresen knew what Brando was thinking at that moment, he would certainly have regretted speaking fairly earlier.

In truth, it would not have mattered if Bresen had denied everything or slandered him. Brando had his own ways of convincing Maden. As someone with foreknowledge of the future, he had already risen to a higher level.

It would merely have taken more talking, and he might even have left behind some leverage against himself.

"All right, let's get back to the main topic," Maden said. "Boy, so you believe Madara's target is Ridenburg?"

"In the Golan-Elson region, the only defensive line Eluin can rely on is Vanmir Fortress. Ridenburg protects the flank of that defensive line, so Ridenburg can only be Madara's target." Brando nodded.

Maden could not help rubbing the tip of his nose before cursing. "If Madara has made up its mind, then the force that latched onto us earlier probably wasn't some nobody, was it? Damn it, why do we have to shoulder all this rotten luck!"

"I don't know the exact situation either," Brando thought. As if I don't know. "But judging from your description, the force that followed you here should have been an Undead Army led by a necromancer. The force that came afterward may have belonged to a Dark Lord—"

"The necromancers organize their armies around liches as the basic unit, so they're easy to identify. From your description, they should number about half a squadron. The Dark Lords are more chaotic, but judging from the forces left behind at Green Village, they should number at least two squadrons."

"About right." Maden nodded.

But he did not know that Brando had already halved the numbers. Even so, hearing the reduced estimate left everyone deeply worried. How could the more than thirty members of the Guard Detachment, leading a group of elderly, weak, women, and children, possibly break through an Undead Army of that size?

The old captain sighed as well. "All right, Brando. Since you've come to tell us all this, may I assume that you already have an idea? Let me be frank. If the battle situation is really as you say, I have no confidence that I can fight our way out with these people."

Freya let out a soft cry.

But Brando nodded. "I have a way."

Everyone's eyes instantly focused on him, including Bresen's. Though his gaze held some distrust, it was still impossible to hide his shock.

Brando drew a slightly nervous breath. In the end, he had only just gained a little confidence himself, and being watched so intently still made the young man feel a sudden surge of pressure. He suddenly realized that every word he said next might determine the life or death of many people. Should he be more careful?

He could not help reminding himself to stay calm and, above all, not to forget anything.

"You can head north and cross Dagger Riverbank," he replied.

"Dagger Riverbank?"

"Why that place?"

Brando hesitated. How could he explain why White Knight Eberton and the Lich Weiton had historically arrived here nearly two days late to encircle them?

(PS: Sorry, this is later than expected. The next chapter may be late as well.)