City of Sin-Book 9, Chapter 95

Frozen Cavalry

Richard spent a night in the Flower Trail before continuing the next day. His army was only fifty kilometres into the march when he had it slow down, turning to Greyhawk, “Looks like our elven friends still haven’t given up.”

Low thuds rang out in the distance as a wave of silver rolled in from the horizon. Looking at them, Greyhawk’s eyes narrowed, “Really. They’ve actually brought out the frozen cavalry.”

“Anything I need to know?”

“The knights and horses train as one, the mounts are a special breed that they call nightmares, which are similar to your magic horses, but the real core lies in their frost armour which allows them to blend with their warhorse and dramatically increases speed and defence. Think of them as something like your Savage Knights, but significantly weaker and focused on armour instead of runes.”

“These are supposed to be the most famous soldiers of the elven empire?”

“Well, yes, but they don’t compare to real rune knights. Not anymore, at least.”

Richard nodded, assessing that the frozen knights were around level 15 on average. For there to be more than 10,000 such warriors really was impressive, and there were still 30,000 more regular soldiers right behind.

“Looks like they’re certain of victory this time. And what about those two? Druid and emperor?”

Greyhawk looked into the distance in shock, “Yes, both epic beings… This is a little troublesome, but I might be able to help you contain the druid for a while.”

“Didn’t you say the druid was the weakest of their epics?”

“Mm. It isn’t easy to become an epic being as a druid, and this one is definitely the weakest of their epics. Casir is the second weakest, and the Emperor is a little stronger than that.”

“And the strongest?”

“It’s said that their strongest epic went to explore the void more than a century ago, and this was the person closest to divine laws. But… Wait, why is Casir not here? He should still be able to battle.”

“I guess he isn’t,” Richard chuckled, growing serious before he could be questioned, “You two, take care of the remaining princes. I’ll take care of commanding the army.”

“What about the druid and Emperor?” Greyhawk frowned.

“Them too.”

The mage didn’t refute. He had originally planned to drag the druid away and hope Richard took care of the Emperor quickly, but he was glad to not take on that risk.

Both sides continued their march, only stopping when they were a kilometre apart. The two epics glared from across the sky while the nightmares uneasily scratched the soil; the bloodlust here had materialised into pressure.

Richard flew a few hundred metres forward, still keeping within the range of the archers, and the elven Emperor did the same until they were a hundred metres apart, “How dare you invade Lithgalen? Withdraw immediately and compensate for the losses, and your sins can be forgiven!”

Richard smiled, “I came here to trade. That’s still the plan, but I’m pretty sure the price will go down once I beat you up a little.”

The Emperor’s brows wrinkled, “What do you want?”

“The route you took to enter Arbidis, and any relevant information about the journey.”

“Impossible!” the Emperor refuted.

“Sigh. It’s not like you can mount an expedition again, why would you refuse?”

“The divine footprints are not for humans to see! The branches of the golden world trees as well, all of them are sacred objects of the high elves! That branch belongs to us. Leave it, compensate for our losses, and never return! This is your only way out.”

“Are you actually… Nevermind,” Richard shook his head. He had no response to this overbearing arrogance. Perhaps it would work when the elves ruled all of Norland, but coming from the mouth of a bunch of cowards it didn’t even sound funny. He had hoped that there would be at least some sense in this conversation, but that quickly fizzled away, “Try me.”

The Emperor slowly retreated, prompting Lyren down below to put his helmet on. White fog shot out of the vents in his armour as he pulled out his longsword, “CHARGE!”

The frozen knights immediately spurred on their mounts, getting to full speed in only a few dozen metres as they rushed towards the night elf regiment. Their hooves thundered with terrifying force, as though they could level mountains with their might.

Richard’s soldiers had been packed in a dense formation, and when the opponent started the charge the front row suddenly squatted to the ground. They immediately set up their thunder cannons, aiming at the incoming charge. The gears on the guns started spinning, but they held back from firing. 800 metres… 700 metres… 600 metres… 500 metres…

*BOOOOOOOOOM!* An ear-splitting explosion thundered through the battlefield, hundreds of shots fusing into one long crash as they unloaded full discs into the incoming opponents. Lyren shivered and parried a few of the incoming shots, but the prince’s heart suddenly sank at the force he had to withstand. What would happen to his knights?

The screams of many elves answered that question shortly after. Lyren saw the knight to his right shake at the force of impact to his breastplate; the protective barrier had been activated, but it was shattered immediately by the great force. Although the armour wasn’t pierced, the breastplate did have a huge crack in it and the man slumped with pain. His ribs had been broken completely.

It was like the knights had been hit by enormous hammers that sent them flying off their mounts. Those who were struck in the chest were the lucky ones; all shots to the head only resulted in sprays of blood and flesh. As the thunder cannons whirled around, the first and second row of knights were eliminated almost entirely.

“FORWARD!” Lyren screamed as he saw the gears come to a stop, no longer daring to look around him. However, the front line of night elves quickly walked back and allowed the next set forward. Guns already charged, another barrage quickly doubled the casualties. The prince almost went insane, just rushing forward and cutting down everything aimed at him, but the few hundred metres that he normally covered in moments seemed to be taking forever.

Large thorn vines suddenly popped out of the ground, quickly wrapping around the hooves of the nightmares. They weren’t particularly powerful— most of the knights managed to push and break out with minimal injuries— but the charge was slowed enough for a third volley!

The power of the thunder cannons was far too great, and they just fired too fast. By the time the frozen knights were within a hundred metres of the night elves, the thick formation had been broken entirely, with many sections that were completely devoid of knights. Having suffered through five full volleys, the twelve thousand knights had been reduced to only two.

Lyren screamed as he charged into the night elves and cut four of them down, but four spears suddenly blocked his way and managed to bring him to a halt. The night elves that he had cut down jumped back up and away, leaking blood but not yet dead.

The prince watched in shock as green light covered these soldiers, bringing his attention to a few familiar figures in the rear. Jade shaman! Blood inquisitor! The former was considered the biggest supportive core of the ancient elven empire, while the latter was what high elves hated. Lyren had never even dreamed that two bitter opponents would fight side by side, but the effect was obvious. The level 17 night elves now possessed saint-level strength, which meant his knights were now fighting their number in saints!

Lyren suddenly screamed out loud, going completely insane as he cut apart his opponents in a frenzy, but the wounds on his body quickly increased in number. He was fierce like fire, but the night elves were cold as ice. No matter how many casualties they suffered, they attacked without the slightest drop in morale.

Richard’s troops suffered significant casualties for the first time since they had stepped foot on Lithgalen, but in exchange one of the two mythical arms of the ancient elven empire was crumbling before their might.