I Created Scientific Magic-Chapter 284 - 271 Panic of the Kingdom and the Nobles

Chapter 284: Chapter 271 Panic of the Kingdom and the Nobles

[Hadlata] Inside the royal palace, a routine meeting was being held to discuss this year’s tax issues. King Basel was promptly informed by an attendant—that Archbishop Nord was waiting outside the hall, with matters of utmost urgency to discuss.

Before King Basel could respond, Harold spoke with a chuckle.

“It seems the outcome of the war has been decided! Where is Duke Kriman? Hasn’t he returned with the others? Could it be that he is still in the Earl’s territory, slaughtering those hidden mining slaves?”

As he spoke, Harold turned his head proudly to look at his younger brother Hattar, expecting to see a face full of impotent rage, but was unexpectedly met with Hattar’s smile, which seemed to congratulate him on becoming the next king.

The attendant kept his head down and did not reply to Harold’s questions.

“Let him in,” King Basel said gravely, his sharp senses telling him from the attendant’s reaction that things were probably not as simple as they seemed.

...

The grand doors of the palace hall were promptly opened, and Archbishop Nord hastened inside, his face tinted with a trace of fear. Accompanying him were more than twenty knights, their armors incomplete and their bodies covered in dust and blood…

Even Harold, slow to catch on, sensed that something was amiss.

“Your Eminence, what has happened? Could it be that the situation at the front is dire?” Harold asked urgently.

The worst-case scenario he could imagine was that Duke Rickman had been ambushed by the mining slaves, suffering heavy losses, and now the Archbishop had run back to the palace seeking reinforcements…

“There is no front line anymore, Your Highness Harold! Duke Kriman is dead, and several Marquises and Earls couldn’t escape either. Of the ten thousand men sent to subdue the mining slaves, I fear only a few of us remain,” Nord said with a shake of his head, bitterness evident in his tone.

When Kriman fell from his horse, Nord was right beside him. Hesitating for a second between rescuing him and preserving himself to bring the news back to the capital, Nord decisively chose the latter!

After all, the news was too important!

Kriman is dead? Fifteen thousand elite troops annihilated?

Upon hearing these two pieces of news, Harold’s mind went blank, and he almost fainted.

The nobles present were also shocked and in disbelief, almost suspecting that the Archbishop was jesting with them.

In this contest for the crown prince, the supporters of the elder prince had brought out their utmost forces, not only more than ten thousand private soldiers and two thousand cavalry but also the aid of church priests and archbishops.

When these forces assembled outside the capital, everyone was somewhat worried they might suddenly turn their weapons around in a palace coup.

Who could have annihilated such a powerful army?

Even Basel, the king seated on the throne, couldn’t help but stand up, his eyes wide with shock, staring down at Nord and the knights like a majestic lion.

“You must be lying, this is impossible!” Harold’s eyes were bloodshot as he seized Nord by the collar, his voice hoarse with rage. “Those lowly slaves wielding hoes and pickaxes, even with the most despicable and vile tactics, could never possibly defeat my royal guards!”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness Harold, but the truth is as it stands…” Nord struggled to break free from Harold’s grip, and then, under the watchful eyes of those present, he recounted without omission the events that had taken place on the battlefield a few days ago.

The knights beside him also stuttered to add their own experiences, having firsthand endured the horrific scenes of being attacked by muskets and white phosphorus bombs.

Although they had luckily escaped the battlefield, the vision of hell that they had witnessed was etched in their minds, making their narration inevitably carry a hint of exaggeration.

For example, they talked about how, while they were in the midst of a charge, a large group of well-equipped regular troops suddenly emerged from among the ragged miners, wielding powerful magical devices capable of controlling the forces of thunder and flame.

All they heard were thunderous noises, and their comrades fell in rows like wheat being reaped…

The sky raining fire was indescribably terrifying, as though it was the hellfire from the abyss of the Bible, sticky as flesh-boring maggots upon contact, burning people to a crisp…

The narrative of Nord and the more than twenty knights made everyone present uncontrollably shudder, but what followed was skepticism!

“Archbishop Nord, you said that the rebels who suddenly appeared numbered in the thousands, each wielding a magical device? It seems unlikely that there are so many believers of the Evil God hiding underground, even if they were all added together!” a royal nobleman voiced his doubts.

Although there were rumors that the Wizards had been bewitched by demons and the Evil God, possessing unimaginable power and capable of horrific deeds, they were not the easily fooled commoners.

Some nobles had even had private contacts with those Wizards who mastered magical spells, clearly able to distinguish what was an alchemical item and what was magic.

And no matter how powerful a Wizard was, there had to be limits. How could they possibly cast spells continuously for over ten minutes without a break?

The voices of doubt were relentless and growing fiercer, but each of these voices was tinged with a hint of fear because no one wanted to believe that this was true. Therefore, it could only be a lie!

“I swear before God, all that I have spoken is true without deceit; there is not the slightest lie!” Nord’s furious shout was deafening, silencing all the doubtful voices in the hall.

A clergyman willing to swear in God’s name meant that it was impossible for him to be lying!

Nord’s anger-laden words shattered the last illusion of the people… This meant that their enemy had almost perfectly triumphed, annihilating nearly half of the kingdom’s elite troops led by Duke Kriman!

The entire hall fell into a silence as cold as death, fear spreading like a plague. If Kriman had been defeated with so many elites, what would happen if the enemy marched to the capital? Wouldn’t they all just be lambs to the slaughter?

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Harold looked as if he had been struck by bereavement, standing stiffly in the hall; his personal guards and supporters had nearly all died or had been injured in the war, and he understood that he was finished…

King Basel’s face turned ashen, his body staggered, and he fell back into his throne, making people wonder if he would pass out the next moment.

“Your Majesty the King!”

The attendants on either side wanted to step forward to support him, but Basel stopped them with a wave of his hand. He propped himself up with a trembling body and asked Nord with a shaky voice.

“What about Archbishop Anluoke? Does he know about this news?”