The Glory of the Dark Age

The sky was a gloomy gray, and March's climate had yet to break free from winter. A haze shrouded the entire world, as if the gods dwelling beyond the highest heavens had turned their gazes here to watch this war in which mortals had staked the fate of their nations.

That was right. This was a war that concerned the fates of millions. If Reiner won, his empire and the entire Moreland Family would continue on, while gaining supreme glory.

But if they were defeated, the vassals and courtiers who followed Reiner, the retired veterans, and the warriors of the Northern Frontier would all face a great purge. The wealth they had painstakingly accumulated would be plundered.

The Moreland Family would also face a tremendous disaster. Countless people of noble blood and exalted status would lose their lands and wealth, and it would hardly be surprising if they even lost their lives.

Reiner drew a deep breath. He looked at the messenger below, whose expression was nearly twisted, whose voice had turned shrill, and who had humbly lowered his head almost into the mud. Then he licked his cracked lips.

"Wendell!" Reiner shouted.

Wendell, who had always remained at his side, hurriedly stepped forward.

"Take five hundred volunteers and go reinforce Baron Krim on the left wing! Do your best to keep the left wing from collapsing!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Wendell answered loudly. Though he was a lord, he had not led his own army into battle. Instead, Reiner had kept him by his side.

Now that the left wing was in danger, he naturally became the best candidate.

Reiner also began to feel somewhat uncertain. He had only fifteen hundred reserve troops stationed behind the main army. Sending out five hundred now meant that, to some extent, he would