The Miracle Boy Lord

Platinum firelight shone from behind the ruined wall, falling across the blood-and-mud-caked faces of every defender.

For a moment, the battlefield fell silent.

Someone raised his head from Trench Two and confirmed that the remaining strands of Gray Blood had stopped coiling back. Then a hoarse cry rose from beneath the ruined tower.

"We held—"

More voices quickly took up the cry.

"We held!"

"Grasshawk's still burning!"

"Lord Shien is here!"

From the trenches, gun positions, Purification Pits, and the shelter of the half-collapsed tower base, the survivors rose one by one and shouted Shien's name.

"Long live Lord Shien!"

The cheers were hoarse and broken, but they grew louder and steadier.

Moments ago, they had truly believed they had been left here to offer their last breath to the Sacred Flame.

Yet they held no resentment. An outlying fief like Grasshawk was often left until last.

Blackpine was barely holding on itself, pinned down by the tide of corpses. Everyone knew how hard it was to send help.

But Shien had come anyway. He had brought the Blackpine Mobile Cavalry and the Whiteflame Holy Knights to their aid.

Shien waved to the crowd, but did not linger in their cheers. He dismounted and entered Grasshawk's Inner Fortress with Castian, Raymond, and several Blackpine Knights.

Ryan was waiting at the gate.

Thick bandages wrapped his left arm. Gray Blood acid had etched a pale patch across his shoulder armor, and blood and mud still clung to his face.

When he saw Shien approach, he started to offer a formal salute, but his raised hand paused.

Then he dropped to one knee, struck his breastplate hard with his right fist, and gave a military salute of the Most Holy Church. "Ryan, Lord of Grasshawk, salutes you."

His voice was rough and