Building a Kingdom and Conquering the World - Chapter 115

Chapter 115: Olaro
Duke Latrel guided hundreds of nobles through the forest that surrounded the White Merchant Road, the one used as a hideout to throw the spears. The anguished cries of those who stood faithfully by the king’s size echoed like ghostly specters, weaving through the forest and making the gray trees quiver in a silent display of sympathy, while the snow covering their leaves met the ground like tears.

“Move faster!” – Duke Latrel’s voice reached the nobles – “We need to leave these lands as fast as possible, they will soon come after us.”

The Duke skillfully mounted his horse, maneuvering through the challenging terrain of the forest. His face revealed no sign of regrets, there was no inner turmoil over his recent treasonous action, as if nothing happened. Despite appearances, this wasn’t a sudden event; the Duke had been meticulously orchestrating everything and waiting for this moment for the past decade. He venomously worked to win the support of the nobles, using a combination of promises and threats, promising to give them more power while threatening them with exterminating their whole families if they didn’t support him.

He used his position as the Right Hand of the King to amass wealth and power, using it to force and bribe the nobles to align with him while discreetly eliminating those who refused to get on his side. He labeled them as traitors, accusing them of planning riots, before exterminating their whole families before they could tell on him. In the end, he used the king’s own power to create a force capable of dethroning him.

However, despite having such a formidable force on his side, the Duke didn’t dare to take a step further and forcefully bring Alonso down. He feared that a faction of nobles could betray him at the last moment, taking a decade of planning to the drains, a blow that could cost him his life. He didn’t want to risk it.

The war served as the spark that Duke Latrel needed to set his plan in motion. However, convincing Alonso to assemble the army and invade Stahl proved to be a difficult campaign and required a considerable amount of effort. Fortunately, the Duke understood Latrel’s weakness. The king was a greedy man who sought recognition, he wanted to surpass his father and grandfather. He yearned to conquer the North and become the first of the lineage to create a massive empire and filled with wealth. Aware of this, Latrel acted like a venomous serpent, whispering tempting promised into Alonso’s ears, enticing him to take a bite of the fruit. He made him envision lands and iron, enough resources to conquer the world.

When the opportune moment arrived, Latrel finally struck. Alonso’s order for Biff and a few other nobles to sacrifice themselves served as the last line, causing those few who still supported the king to fall to Latrel’s side of the game.

“It had taken ten years of being stuck underneath that man’s boots…” – Latrel angrily thought, gripping the reins with even more strength.

Ever since he was a child, he felt disgusted by being ordered around, and that’s why he killed his brothers and betrayed the king. Now, finally, he felt free. He would soon become the king, without a single soul above him. However, before that, there were still things to be done.

“I need to eradicate his entire lineage as soon as I get back. And, I will make sure to throw that disgusting woman to the soldiers” – the Duke couldn’t help but grind his teeth in anger as he though back on the queen of Aritreia, who constantly looked at him in disgust.

Unaware of his thoughts, the hundreds of nobles continued their march through the forest, afraid to return to the White Merchant Road, where they could be easily spotted. The painful cries of their comrades had long ceased, and silence had returned to the forest, an eerie silence that even the birds seemed afraid to break, hiding fearfully in their nests.

Suddenly, the snow beneath their feet trembled, as if a giant was walking miles away from them, stepping hard on the ground. Out of nowhere, painful and desperate shouts echoed through the forest again, filling the cracks of the trees, paying no heed to the surroundings and breaking the eerie silence.

At that very moment, hundreds of figure could be seen running towards the nobles, their eyes filled with fear as if they were escaping from an entire village of hungry Winter Orcs, ready to swallow their bones.

Duke Latrel and a few of the nobles instantly recognized some of those desperate faces. They were soldiers from their army and subjects on their lands, soldiers and villagers forcibly brought into this war. However, at this moment, these soldiers held no weapons in their hands, as if they had discarded them to run faster. Their clothes, once only pockmarked with a few holes, now resembled complete rags, torn by the countless branches hanging from the trees. These people resembled a scared herd, their eyes not even noticing the presence of the Duke and the nobles.

“Stop!” – Duke Latrel shouted powerfully from his lungs as he steered his horse to face the people coming from his left side. Unsheathing his sword, he covered it with aura, attempting to intimidate them. However, no matter how loudly he shouted, these scared soldiers kept running at him non-stop, some even falling along the way and being trampled by others, but never stopping.

The nobles under Latrel also unsheathed their weapons, ready to clash with this crazed herd. The collision happened in the next second, with the nobles piercing their hearts and swinging their swords wildly, attempting to stop them from trampling over them.

“Don not spare a single one of them! We will need their heads!” – A cruel and rough voice permeated the forest. It originated from the direction where Aritreia’s desertors had been running away.

“Retreat!” – Latrel’s voice reached the ears of the nobles, the duke’s gaze were directed at the horizon, seemingly piercing through the trees and clearly seeing what laid beyond it.

Soon, the horizon was filled with hundreds, if not thousands, wearing leather armor with a furry black cape atop them, resembling a fully armed and organized army. Although they lacked the chainmail that covered the cavalry, they were still far better equipped than those of Aritreia. These new figures were like ferocious and cunning wolves; their steps seemed to follow the beat of a heart, marching in unison as they mercilessly slashed at the fleeing people, sparing not even a single soul.

The most striking figure of all was a bald man holding two axes in his hands, boasting a long red beard that stretched to his chest. Like the calvary units of Stahl, he wore a long black mantle over a simple iron chainmail, but contrary to those units, he had no talent for horse riding.

Olaro had finally caught up and reached the battlefield, his eyes scanning the whole forest in front of him. His gaze eventually settled on a lonely figure sitting on top of his horse, reigning it to run away at full speed, rapidly swerving from the trees. He immediately recognized that figure; it was the man that accompanied Alonso when he appeared in front of the gates of Mirante with his army.

“You won’t escape!” Olaro’s powerful shout pierced the air.

With a swift motion, he raise one of the axes in his grasp, his arm arcing up like a drawn bow while the other hand extended forward. He brough the axe all the way back before hurtling it with all his strength. The axe shot like a comet, chopping down a few branches on his way without losing speed or strength.

Suddenly, the battlefield resounded with the agonizing neigh of a horse as Latrel’s silhouette plummeted, unable to maintain stability and land securely on his feet.

-x-

“Calm down!”- Henry urged, attempting to soothe the desperate barbarian standing before him, who appeared on the verge of banging his head against the trees or plunging into a pit – “What do you mean by saying that those beasts are departing the Inner Layer?” he inquired.

“They are coming!” Gedhe exclaimed incoherently. “The barrier that the ancestors erected has fallen, and it will take some time for the boundary between the ancestor’s world and ours to be strengthened again. We need to leave…No, there is no time…we need to hide, we need to put out the fire.”

Gedhe, who had been locked in a gaze with Henry until a moment ago, abruptly shifted his attention toward the large bonfire, located in the middle of Orsus. The dancing flames produced only a thin wisp of smoke, making Gedhe ready to resume his task of tossing snow onto the fire until it extinguished. However, just as he was about to take a step toward the bonfire, Henry grabbed his shoulders, standing on the verge of his toes thanks to their difference in height.

“GEDHE!” Henry’s voice echoed forcefully. “WAKE UP!”

Upon hearing about a barrier, Henry recollected a memory inherited with the sword, revealing that every few decades or centuries, the protective barrier around the forest would weaken.