Volume Five Chapter One: In Northern (Upper)

  The mountain wind wrapped in residual snow whistled through the pine forest. The spring of the northern country is always much later than that of the south, even if it has already entered March, it is difficult for people to feel any spring intention. The grass and trees have not spit out new green, and the animals have not woken up from hibernation, everything is quiet.

  In the biting cold wind, a crisp horseshoe sound broke the silence between the mountains. Hundreds of cavalrymen in disheveled attire drove their mounts at a rapid pace along the narrow mountain path, all wearing white sheepskin hats, with long and short firearms slung over their backs, and hand grenades and sabers hanging from their waists. From the looks on the cavalrymen's faces, they had been trudging through the unfrozen snow for a very long time, both men and horses were somewhat exhausted, but they still gritted their teeth and persisted, occasionally casting anxious glances towards the distant horizon beyond the mountains.

  "Halt!"

  After arriving at a mountain valley covered with dense forest, the leading knight suddenly pulled the reins hard and signaled his men to stop advancing. Looking at the black smoke rising behind the woods, he knew he was too late, everything that should have happened had already happened, and there was nothing left to save.

  Apart from the quiet trees and the howling cold wind, the valley was extremely quiet, with only the occasional snort of a cavalry horse, but these were not auspicious signs. If there had been gunfire and battle cries coming from over there, he would have charged forward without hesitation, but now...

  "We're late again!"

  This time the fairy army moved quickly, and now they probably took the spoils of war or prisoners back to Stone Fortress or North Pole Port. The leading knight thought dejectedly. He sighed, suddenly feeling very tired.

  This fatigue did not come from the frozen cheeks, nor was it due to the difficulties of the mountain road for tens of miles. It came from the powerlessness and discomfort in his heart - as the highest leader on this land, he could not save the people from the slaughter of the invaders. This place is different from the vast and endless grasslands with no hiding places. The mountains and canyons provided too much cover for the spirits who were not good at riding horses. For these butchers who claimed to be the sons of the forest, the vast coniferous forest was as familiar as their own home. By the time the villagers discovered the enemy's attack, there was usually no time to escape.

  And he had only one or two thousand soldiers in his hands, scattered all over the place, difficult to maneuver, and every time the elves attacked, it was hard for him to cope. By the time he finally organized a team to rescue them, it was often too late.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then raised his right hand and waved it. A cavalryman rode up behind him. He turned around in the saddle and said to his chief guard, "Krieg, take this child back to headquarters."

  He pointed to the little boy who was swaying precariously on horseback. This kid had first ridden over ten miles to seek help, and then brought them back without stopping. Such physical exertion would be hard for even a well-trained regular cavalryman to bear, let alone an eleven- or twelve-year-old child. If it hadn't been for the help of others along the way, he would have fallen off long ago.

  Besides, he didn't want the child to see what was going to happen next, which would be a nightmare for many people.

  "Mr. Speaker, our people will protect him, and my duty is to follow your actions at all times..." Kreig was clearly unwilling to leave at this time, shouting out in protest.

  "That's enough. Execute the order!" The middle-aged man, called the presiding officer, raised his hand to stop him from speaking further, "Go, take him away! This is not a place for children."

  He drew his pistol. With a mighty kick, the warhorse surged forward. The cavalrymen immediately fanned out in skirmish lines behind him, their firearms at the ready to fire. No orders were needed, for the brutal war this year had made it clear to everyone what they should do, even if it meant facing enemy cannons or pike formations ahead.

  The village is just behind the forest, and over a mountain pass is the sea filled with drifting ice. In the long peaceful New Zealand. The defensive capability of this village is actually quite good, there is a circle of stone-built inner wall around the village, and outside there is a temporary outer wall made of rough wooden stakes. Outside the two walls, there is also a moat with spikes at the bottom, which is not even found in ordinary military camps.

  But in the face of powerful magic, these measures did not have any effect at all.

  "Fossil to mud, meteor shower, earthquake technique... and ice storm! So many spells used on a small village. Dammit, are the elves' mages really that cheap?"

  The speaker gazed at the traces of attack magic before him, muttering a curse under his breath. He dismounted and found an opening in the distorted wall, which had been reduced to a soft mud-like state, and stepped over the corpse of a young villager into the village. The cavalrymen also dismounted and followed, leaving only a few people outside to guard the horses.

  Narrow roads between village houses,…

  Eight bodies lay on the ground, most still clutching their rifles or axes. Half of the houses had been burned down, with smoldering embers still flickering on the collapsed beams. Except for the crackling sound of burning wood, there was an eerie silence here, not even a dog's bark could be heard.

  The chairman's face was deathly pale as he walked at the front, although it wasn't his first time seeing such a tragic scene, he still felt an uncontrollable anger and sorrow surging in his chest. He wanted to roar with rage, to kill, to avenge the villagers who had died tragically, but he could do nothing, the enemy had long since left, and he currently had no way to deal with the strongholds occupied by the Spirit Army.

  He could only walk silently among the congealed bloodstains and drifting ash, searching with the soldiers for any sign of survivors, though everyone knew that hope was extremely slim.

  A massive headless torso lay at the entrance of a relatively intact house, still clutching a large and terrifying machete in its hand. The head had rolled to the other side of the alleyway. The Speaker recognized him as the village's militia leader, a warrior who claimed he could kill tigers with his bare hands. Just a few days ago, they had shared drinks together, but now they met again in such a tragic way.

  The chairman poked his head through the doorway and found a girl lying under the dining table, her eyes wide open in death. Her skirt was torn to shreds, and blood mixed with dust formed strange patterns on her body... Judging from her age, she should be the militia captain's daughter... He felt a pang of pain in his heart, sighed, and walked into the room, bending down to close the girl's unblinking eyes.

  As they walked towards the center of the village, there were more and more corpses on the ground. Most of them maintained a fighting posture, some had been charred by magic or bombs, but still did not let go of their weapons in hand. The Speaker closed his eyes, unable to bear looking anymore, but soon forced himself to open them again. This was not the time for weakness, he warned himself.

  In the small square in the center of the village, the cavalry who came to rescue saw the most tragic scene: dozens of women and children were tied to large wooden stakes, their bodies almost reduced to skeletons except for their twisted heads. Some unrecognizable remains were discarded on the ground, and despite the cold weather, they attracted a large group of crows circling and pecking at them. Several young soldiers couldn't help but vomit when they saw this horrific scene.

  "Is the so-called gentle and kind spirit also fond of eating human flesh now?" The speaker inserted his horse knife into the ground with a huff, knowing that this was not the first time the spirit army had done such a thing. Their stored food could hardly last through this winter, and for survival, they would do whatever it took, while the villages in the northern states were their best target.

  I should have insisted that they retreat to the rear, thought the Speaker in anguish, clutching his hair. Last winter when he led the army south, he had mobilized the villagers of the northern states to follow him to the south to avoid the war. However, most people were reluctant to abandon their homes and believed that the elves would not attack remote mountain villages far from their strongholds, so only a small number of people left this dangerous place. The remaining villages, although mostly strengthened their defenses, were still just sheep waiting to be slaughtered in front of the elven magic strike team.

  "Sir." A junior officer walked over, glanced at the bodies on the square with the corner of his eye, and quickly turned to look at the speaker: "Most of the villagers here are dead. Some may have escaped, but we haven't found any yet. The enemy took all the grain and livestock, and they've been gone for a long time."

  "Which direction did they flee in?" The chairman drew out his cavalry sword, wiped it with his sleeve and then sheathed it.

  "In the direction of Shi Bao." The officer nodded northwest, "Sir, shall we go and take a look?"

  "Never mind." The village head waved his hand and turned to walk out of the village, "In the forest, we can't catch up with the elves, and we don't have heavy weapons to attack the stone fortress. You go call a few people to bury the bodies well, then burn down the village!"

  "Burn it?"

  "Yes, this is too far from our garrison. And there's no one left to live here anyway. Since we can't hold out here, it's better not to stay." The Speaker walked out of the gap in the wall again and stopped in front of a large tree at the village entrance. He pulled out his dagger and cut off a large piece of bark, then carved a brief notice on it: Enemy army has retreated, no survivors found, if anyone returns please seek assistance from the garrison. State Speaker Ludwig, DR 1991, Day 37.

  As he finished writing the last letter, he let out a sigh and thrust his dagger into the trunk of the tree with force. He turned his head to look southward, then turned again to gaze in the direction of the eastern sea, and tears actually flowed from his eyes.

  "President Zena, Great Sage of Ilminster, when can you arrive? If this continues, the people of North State will all perish!"