"My Lord. You called for us?"
Sir Jorald and Sir Arthur bowed before Viscount Rudious.
Viscount Rudious set his teacup down. "Sit."
Both sat.
"How is the training going?"
"All the knights are working hard, My Lord," Jorald answered.
Viscount Rudious turned toward Sir Arthur. "Sir Arthur — you will prepare the Falcon's First Legion. By Royal Order, your unit is to be dispatched to the northern region. To the Wintermarch fortress in Winterland. As reinforcement."
"Yes, My Lord." Sir Arthur stood and walked out with firm, measured steps.
---
After he left, a look of uncertainty crossed Jorald's face.
"The Winterwatcher Knights already have a full legion stationed at Wintermarch," he said. "So why would they suddenly need reinforcement?"
Viscount Rudious slid the Royal Letter across the table. Jorald read it. With each line, the furrows in his brow deepened.
He set the letter down. "This is far more serious than it appears."
"Hmm." Viscount Rudious said, thinking.
"If the Winterwatcher Knights' main unit has been pushed all the way to the Northern Border," Jorald said, "then something significant must have happened. A barbarian raid, perhaps?"
"It's possible. But we had a non-violence agreement with them."
Jorald's expression grew heavier. "Could someone have used your supposed death as an opportunity to move against this country?"
---
Viscount Rudious leaned back in his chair.
A smile crossed his face. But it wasn't a warm one.
The temperature in the room dropped. A deep, dark aura began to seep from his body — slowly, like a shadow spreading across sunlit ground.
"Then they will face the consequences."
Quiet. But the kind of quiet that made the air feel heavier.
Jorald's breath caught. "Rudious!"
No response.
Jorald released his own aura. "Rudious!"
Viscount Rudious snapped upright — as if someone had shaken him out of a deep sleep.
"Hm... what?" He blinked. "Oh — forgive me, Jorald."
Jorald exhaled slowly. "It's fine, My Lord. Get some rest. I'll go help with the preparations." A pause. "When do they leave?"
"Two days."
---
Two days later.
The entire garden grounds were filled with a long formation of knights. Polished armor. Steady footsteps. The kind of discipline that comes from years of training — not performance.
In their hands — a red banner. On it, in black — a falcon with wings spread wide, set within a wreath of wheat. Behind it, a sword and a wand crossed.
Nothing like the manor's white banner with its golden eagle.
---
Viscount Rudious stepped out to face them.
Every head bowed at once.
*"Greetings, My Lord!"*
"Greetings, everyone. How is everyone feeling?"
*"Well, Sir!"*
"Good." He began walking along the formation. "You know where you're being sent?"
*"Wintermarch, Sir!"*
He continued walking, his voice steady. "For some of you, this will be your first deployment. For others, your second or third. But there is no need for fear."
He stopped. His voice rose —
*"Because you are the brave warriors of Velrend! What are you?!"*
The entire ground rang out as one —
*"The brave warriors of Velrend!"*
---
Sir Jorald and Sir Arthur stepped forward. Sir Arthur stood in full knight armor, the falcon crest gleaming on his chest.
"Is everything ready?" Viscount Rudious asked.
"Yes, My Lord." Arthur reported. "Our numbers have grown this time. Several talented recruits from Sir Jorald's training classes have joined as well."
He stood straight and delivered his full report —
*"Reporting, Sir. The Falcon Knights First Legion — 30 Red Sword Knights, 20 Swordsman Soldiers, 15 Archers, and 11 Mages — including 3 Healers, 2 Ice Mages, 4 Fire Mages, and 2 Earth Mages."*
"Understood. If you need additional support — send a messenger."
"Yes, My Lord." Arthur bowed. He turned to face his unit and raised his sword —
*"Move out, my warriors!"*
*"Move out!"*
The knights mounted. The supply wagons began to roll. At the front — the banner carrier. And Sir Arthur.
---
After they had gone, Jorald spoke quietly. "What do you think? If it gets too serious — should we have sent the Falcon Black instead of the Red?"
"No." Viscount Rudious said directly. "They move only when the family faces a direct threat. If we deployed them now, the Capital would grow suspicious."
Jorald said nothing. He simply watched until the red banner disappeared from sight.
---
The journey was long.
Days passed. Green fields fell behind them. High mountains rose — and were crossed. The weather shifted. Then changed entirely.
The sunlight vanished. Cold winds cut through armor like needles pressing into skin.
---
Finally — they stopped before an enormous stone wall.
A blue banner flew at the top of the gate, something silver on it — but the white fog was too thick to make it out clearly.
A voice called down — *"Who goes there? Identify yourselves!"*
Sir Arthur urged his horse forward and raised the letter bearing the Royal Stamp.
*"I am Sir Arthur — Commander of the Falcon Knights First Legion of Velrend! Arriving as reinforcement by Royal Order!"*
A few moments of silence.
The gate opened.
---
A man stood inside. Knight's armor with a blue cloak over it.
Sir Arthur dismounted and handed over the letter. The man read it — then smiled and extended his hand.
*"Thank you for the reinforcement. I am Sir Rodrick — Knight Commander of the Second Legion of the Winterwatcher Knights... the Wolf Knights."*
*"It's an honor to meet you, Sir."*
*"Welcome to Wintermarch, Sir Arthur."*
---
Rodrick led them to a tent set against an inner corner of the wall. Gear was stored. Tea was served. They sat before a fire.
With his first sip, Arthur asked directly — "What is the situation?"
Rodrick was quiet for a moment. "Our main unit has been pushed directly to the border. Only the estate guards and us — the Second Legion — remain here."
Heavy silence.
"And?" Arthur asked.
"We've already sent word to the Capital. That the corrupted have awakened."
Arthur already knew this. He showed no reaction. He simply asked — "What are the casualties?"
"The civilians are safe inside." Rodrick's voice grew heavier. "But our knights are falling. And those who survive the battle... are dying from the corrupted energy."
---
Then a shout from outside —
*"Sir Commander! Orcs are approaching! Heavy numbers!"*
Both were on their feet in an instant. They ran toward the wall.
---
From the top of the wall, Arthur looked out. Across the snowfield — Orcs were charging.
"These are normal Orcs," Arthur said. "But their weapons..."
"It's a tactic," Rodrick answered. "The normal Orcs come first. Then — behind them — the corrupted follow."
"But the corrupted have no intelligence."
"Yes," Rodrick said. "Which means someone is deliberately controlling them."
The thunder of footsteps was reaching the wall. The ground trembling.
"Mages!" Arthur commanded. "Do not waste your energy — not until the corrupted arrive!"
"Good decision, Sir Arthur."
---
The two commanders looked at each other.
And leapt from the wall together.
A faint blue aura burst from their bodies the moment they landed.
*"Hyaahhhh!"*
*Slash! Clang! Slash! Slash!*
Four Orcs fell apart on the ground.
Archers on the wall released a volley — Orcs stumbled and fell blind. Soldiers moved in to finish them. The rest of the knights crashed into the formation.
It was one-sided. The Orcs were being cut down without mercy. Only the sound of swords. Flesh and bone giving way. The battle cries of knights fighting with everything they had.
---
Then —
One knight driving his sword into an Orc. It got stuck. He looked at the Orc — drool dripping from its mouth, two heads, one of them half rotted away. Its entire body nothing like a normal Orc.
The Orc raised its twisted arm.
The knight didn't step back. He activated the red aura in his blade.
*"Hyaahhhhhh!"*
Two pieces.
*"The corrupted are here!"*
---
Everyone stopped.
The normal Orcs were finished.
Through the snow and fog — twenty-five to thirty corrupted Orcs came into view. Moving forward.
*"Collect the corrupted energy! Don't let it touch anyone!"*
Arthur and Rodrick at once.
---
The two commanders' swords — which had glowed faint blue before — now burned with a deep, terrifying dark blue aura.
*Slash! Slush! Slash! Clang!*
The sounds of flesh tearing open. The Red Sword Knights cutting through the corrupted Orcs.
---
Sometime later — breathing had grown heavy. Everyone pushing against their limits.
The healers arrived from behind — healing the wounded, distributing collected energy.
---
Then —
In the distance. On the mountain.
Something like a black sheet — moving toward them.
Everyone went still.
Countless.
Corrupted Orcs.
*"Prepare to collect energy!"* Rodrick ordered.
*"Mages — form up! Prepare to attack!"* Sir Arthur commanded.
Everyone took their stance as the mass moved closer —
Then —
All at once —
The front wave of Orcs was swallowed in a massive wall of flame. A single instant.
A chill ran through every body on the field. The air grew heavy.
A massive shadow crossed the sky.
And a sound followed —
*"Kwoohhhhhhhhhhh——!"*
Sharp. Piercing. Like iron dragged across something jagged — directly beside their ears.
---
**[Chapter 16 — End]**
*Something has arrived. And it isn't on their side. Add the story to your library — you won't want to miss what comes next. See you in Chapter 17.*
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