The Unyeilding pushed across the bridge with Alfred at the back. The Commonwealth had a small defence prepared for them as their supply line retreated from the bombardment. The camp had finally agreed to push across. The Unyeilding struck with callous efficiency. Each thrust of their spear, each step, each breath—all were in sync, leaving no opening for the Commonwealth defenders to strike effectively.

Desperate attacks were thrown out, each blocked by the shield wall that slowly inched forward. It was as if the Commonwealth didn’t exist as they walked forward, trampling over the dead bodies. Alfred had a small smile on his face as he followed behind. ’The perfect soldier.’ Civilisation throughout history has claimed to have the perfect soldier, the perfect warriors. But looking at his Unyeilding, he couldn’t help but take immense pride in them.

An unflinching monster that knew nothing but loyalty to him. Maybe they would drop in quality in the future, but his first generation of Unyielding was amazing. Most of them had grown up and were in there mid to late twenties. It was their prime.

Stepping over the corpses, Alfred looked at them with cold eyes. War. It was a horrid thing. Alfred had learnt of the horrors in his past life, and in this one, he had experienced—no, actively caused them. After every battle, it always left a distasteful taste in his mouth. He would get lost in the heat of the moment only to be dragged back to reality and see the carnage that remained.

’How can anyone enjoy this?’ Alfred shook his head in confusion. Stepping over the last bodies, he crouched down and touched the grass on the opposite bank. "Set up camp. Have constant patrols." Alfred fired out his orders and sat, leaning against the bridge’s support beam. Looking to the sky, he sighed deeply and wondered how long it would take. All he wanted was to go home.

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The situation in Israel’s assault greatly differed from Alfred’s. Standing at the head of her force, she had a bright smile that would make anyone blush. Yet all it did was make the Commonwealth defenders hoorifed. Blood splashed across her face with a second swing of her sword as she let its weight carry her to dodge an attack.

Henryk’s men who came with her held a firm line and carefully ensured Isra wasn’t hurt, but they even felt their minds overloaded with what they saw. To see a woman fight so skillfully and passionately was something they had never seen.

Isra ignored all the eyes on her. Jumping back, she naturally retook her stance and turned sideways. Pointing her sword at them, she smiled like a wild animal, her clear, wide teeth showing like fangs. Before she could charge in again, a Commonwealth soldier stabbed at her.

Isra watched the blade and used her hand to carefully hit it away while also leaning back. With his balance thrown off, the man stumbled forward and became the perfect target. With a quick thrust, her sword pierced through his chest, straight through his heart. Quickly pulling it out, she looked at her enemies, her smile never vanishing.

Snowid watched everything from beyond the bridge. He had hardly ever moved since giving the camp the order to retreat, only watching. Tightening his grip around his claymore, he took a step off the ground and tried to walk towards the bridge, but stopped himself. He could easily kill Isra; she was a good warrior, he could admit that, but before him, she would be like a twig.

She had neither the strength nor the speed to block or dodge his attacks. All it would take was him walking up to her and he could kill the bitch married to his enemy. But Snowid stopped himself and took a deep breath. If Alfred found out he killed his wife, the war would go beyond ambition. It would be revenge. One Alfred would stop at nothing to get.

His home would be decimated in the process. He had seen what had happened when Alfred went mad because those dear to him died. He started a whole war with the church because they killed his guard. If he killed Isra, he was sure that Alfred would forget about any morality he was holding himself to. His Kingdom would never recover, even if a hundred years passed.

Griding his teeth, he contained himself. He wanted nothing more than to kill her, but he knew he couldn’t risk it yet. Maybe at the war’s end, it would be fine, when either side was desperate, but now, Isra had more value alive. If she could be captured, he was sure Alfred could be brought to a stop.

Turning his back, he walked off, following his camp. Alfred didn’t leave any of the Empire’s troops with her. Snowid noticed it instantly and smiled. If he was ever going to have a chance, it was when she was separated from the Empire and with Henryk’s forces.

The bridge defenders looked back in horror, seeing they were the last left. Dropping their weapons, they ran quickly, trying to escape, but weren’t given the luxury. Isra and Henryk’s men quickly chased them down, slaughtering them like cattle. Walking over the corpses of the final men, Isra couldn’t remove her smile as her blood flowed like a raging river.

The high she felt was so nostalgic. The fear of being on the edge of death at any moment and desperately trying to prevent it—there were a few things as great as it. "Set up camp, " Isra casually ordered as Charles walked over with a small rag. The rush he had been feeling slowly died down, and finally, her body relaxed.

Taking the rag, Isra finally wiped the blood off her face. "I wonder when the next battle will be," she said like an excited child, wiping her sword clean and reseathing it.

"We will wait for his Majesty and Duke Henryk before we make any moves," Charles said sternly, leading her off the bridge to make way for the rest of their army. "How was it?"

"Amazing." Isra didn’t hesitate to answer. "I have been looking forward to this day for so long. I was scared it wouldn’t be like before."

"Before?" She flashed a small smile to his question and moved on with the conversation.

"Any word from Issac?"

"Not yet. However, if he sent anything, it will arrive within the week." Isra nodded and wondered if he would include things about her son. Picturing Edward’s face, she softly smiled as her eyes filled with motherly love.

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Ada looked into the distance and saw the Commonwealth camp. While she didn’t know exactly where her father was, she had a rough idea of where she needed to be. "Thank you very much." Ada lowered her head towards Horace and sincerely thanked him.

"If you need anything else, we will be here for the next few days. Come find us if you need another job." Horace smiled and waved at her, departing back. Once out of sight, his face fell, returning to the emotionless husk it usually was. "Keep an eye on her. If she doesn’t leave the camp in two days, we will go back to Torun." Horace turned, took a seat, and closed his eyes. In a second, he fell asleep as one operative jumped out and watched Ada from a distance.

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"Your Grace." A soldier walked in with a confused expression. Snowid just returned and didn’t expect to be bothered already. Sighing, he looked down with cold eyes.

"What is it?" The soldier gulped and lowered his head.

"Someone claiming to be Princess Ada has arrived. We were going to kick her out, but she showed the Royal Family’s seal. We had no choice but to report to you."

"Ada?" Snowid got up and looked at the soldier, baffled. "Send her in." Snowid couldn’t even get angry, as the whole thing was confusing. From what he knew, Ada should have been on her way to the Gotic Kingdom. It wasn’t like the envoys would put themselves in danger to see him.

The thought of it being an impersonator was quickly shattered when he saw his daughter walk in. Her eyes were cold as she stared at Snowid. "Ada." Sowid paused. "What are you doing here?"

Looking at her father, Ada shook her head. "I asked for one thing." Her voice was cold and full of hate. "All I asked was to have a partner I like. I stayed out of politics. I became nothing more than an ornament for our family. And all I wanted was to have a marriage I could enjoy."

"Ada," Snowid called out her name. "Are you a fucking child?" His words destroyed any hope she had. She thought things would be different with her father, but much like him, she saw the same coldness her brother had. "I don’t have that luxury for you anymore. I’m sorry, my girl, but I nee dyou to marry the Gotic’s. You don’t have a choice anymore. Or would you like to defend the palace and become a toy for the conquering soldiers when they come?"

"One thing." Ada clenched both her fists and looked at her father. "You promised me." Clenching her teeth at Snowid’s unbothered appearance, she tried to turn and leave but was stopped.

"I truly am sorry, Ada." There was no hate or anger, but instead, being full of sincerity, but Ada didn’t care. "But you must do this. For the sake of the Commonwalth."

"For the Commonwealth. For the family." Ada ran he fingers through her hair as she threw her father’s hand off. "I don’t care anymore." Her eyes were bloodshot. "It couldn’t even give me the one thing I asked."

"You dare." Snowid threw out a heavy slap across her face. "How many men have died so you can prance about in dresses without care? How many have I killed so you can have one more banquet? You ignorant woman."

"You will go to the Gotics. I will make sure of it." Grabbing her hand, he dragged her outside towards a couple of his best guards. "Make sure the Princess arrives in the Gotic Kingdom. She is to marry the king." Walking off quickly, Snowid grabbed a random noble and dragged him over. "You are to lead the Princess’s return to the Gotics. Make sure not a single strand of hair is harmed."

"Father." Ada looked at him desperately, but Snowid no longer spared her glance after her words. If his daughter couldn’t appreciate what he was doing to save their home, then why should he care about her anymore? He was sorry that he hadn’t fulfilled his promise to her before. But now. He didn’t care. Maybe it would teach her the real world he had protected her from.