Translator: Cinder Translations
...
On the road leading east from the Duke's territory of Manda, a long line of soldiers stretched out like a giant snake, winding its way forward.
Under Commander Schroder's orders, the 3rd Infantry Regiment of the Alden Army traveled light toward a strategic location known as Silver Moon Fortress.
Schroder, however, led the main forces and supply units at a slower pace, intending to arrive later.
According to intelligence, Silver Moon Fortress had gathered a large number of kingdom's deserters, and it might be useful to the Alden forces.
Regimental Commander Joyce was riding his horse, pondering defensive strategies, but his thoughts were interrupted when the troops ahead suddenly stopped.
"Why have we halted? What's happening up front?"
A soldier approached to report, "Commander, there's only one bridge over the river ahead, and it's already crowded with refugees. We can't cross."
Joyce furrowed his brows tightly, cursing their luck.
He then raised his whip, urged his horse forward, and made his way toward the river.
Before reaching the river, he passed by a large group of refugees.
These refugees, coming from the east, were struggling with the little they had left, some with elderly and children in tow, rushing into the Northwestern Bay region in a desperate flight.
Some had already been scarred by the ravages of war, their suffering caused either by the orc armies or the kingdom's chaotic soldiers.
Others had decided to leave early, fleeing before the conflict could reach them.
From their weary faces, it was clear they had endured a difficult journey.
Arriving at the river, Joyce could see a large crowd gathered on the opposite bank, all waiting—or perhaps, fighting to cross—the only wooden bridge.
The situation was chaotic, with shouting, pushing, shoving, crying, making the already slow process even worse.
Joyce grew impatient. If this continued, his army wouldn't be able to cross the river until tomorrow.
According to the map, this was the only bridge across the river.
Frustrated, he noticed a group of knights on the near side of the river, trying to maintain order, commanded by a nobleman.
Joyce rode up to them and took off his hat.
"Good afternoon, sir. Regimental Commander Joyce of the Alden Army greets you."
"That damn river!"
The nobleman cursed, his voice hoarse from shouting, but quickly realized who he was speaking to and turned to face Joyce.
"You are... Regimental Commander Joyce of the Alden Army? Apologies, I was cursing the river just now."
The nobleman's tone became more cautious.
"Joyce... Commander, I am the local lord, Viscount Jefferson Rossi. It's an honor to meet you."
Viscount Rossi appeared to be in his forties, slender, with a neatly groomed mustache, and exuded a scholarly air.
He spread his hands helplessly. "As your subordinate has already mentioned, your troops need to cross the river immediately, but as you can see, the situation here is chaotic."
"Viscount, I must remind you," Joyce said seriously, "The longer we stay here, the closer the orc armies will get to your territory. We need to stop them before tragedy strikes."
The viscount's expression crumbled. "Commander, I am well aware. All my knights are here trying to maintain order. I want your forces to cross as quickly as possible."
"No, that's not enough!"
Joyce suggested, "Have those people waiting to cross stop immediately, and let us pass first. Afterward, they can cross."
"But..." Viscount Rossi glanced at the crowd. "They're being unreasonable, no matter how much we try to persuade them, it's useless."
Hearing this, Joyce frowned and studied the crowd across the river for a moment.
"Viscount," Joyce said, pointing at a row of objects not far away, "Do you see that? Do you know what it is?"
Though covered by a cloth, the viscount recognized the shape.
He swallowed nervously. "That seems to be... Alden's so-called 'cannon'?"
"Yes, Viscount." Joyce replied. "My orders are to reach the designated location within the scheduled time. I will remove any obstacles to complete the mission."
His tone grew colder. "If this bridge is still blocked with refugees in an hour, I will clear a path with artillery."
"You... you can't do that!" Viscount Rossi was taken aback by Joyce's words. "They are all subjects of the kingdom!"
"I am doing this to prevent a greater tragedy!"
Joyce's gaze was intense, and the viscount could feel a sinking feeling in his chest—this young officer might actually go through with it.
"Please wait a moment!"
He turned and hurried to his knights. "Stop the crowd control. Make them clear the bridge immediately. Huey, Dunn, take a few men across the river. Tell everyone that the army is crossing. Anyone who hasn't reached the bridge needs to stay put and not move."
"But..." The leading knight hesitated. "Will they listen?"
"Then make them listen!"
Viscount Rossi suddenly shouted out loud.
"A good beating is better than being crushed into meat paste."
"Yes, sir!"
The knights hurried off.
Joyce and the other officers anxiously waited by the river.
The people already on the bridge continued to cross, but the crowd on the opposite bank suddenly became restless.
Clearly, the viscount's orders had been passed along.
The once densely packed crowd began to scatter, and the entrance to the bridge cleared up.
"Trumpeter, sound the call! Let's cross the river!"
The way was finally clear, and the 3rd Infantry Regiment quickly crossed the wooden bridge, reaching the other side of the river and continuing eastward.
By the next day, they reached their destination—Silver Moon Fortress.
However, to their dismay, the so-called fortress was abandoned, leaving only ruins behind.
Relying on this dilapidated fortress to fend off the orcs was clearly impossible.
Fall back?
No, Silver Moon Fortress was surrounded by dense, dangerous forests, and the only way to continue westward was through here. They had to hold this position and not let it fall to the enemy.
Joyce, once Schroder's attendant, had vowed not to let the honor of his knights be tarnished. He had to assist in winning this battle.
At that moment, a scout came to report.
"A large enemy force has appeared ahead! We don't know if they are deserters or orc vassals, but they'll reach us in an hour."
"What? Already?"
The officers and soldiers of the 3rd Regiment were thrown into chaos.
"Don't panic!" Joyce barked, "Just follow the training and stay calm."
Under his strict supervision, the soldiers quickly regained composure and assumed their positions—three lines, front, center, and rear.
They waited quietly, ready for the enemy's approach.
(End of the Chapter)
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