39. Into The Jaws Of A Beast

After Nathanial’s meeting with Captain Morgan, the patrolmen had joined the ranks of the Seventh Army as levies of the Everheart Kingdom, except for Nathanial with his recent promotion.

Their mission from this point on was simple: serve as the second wave after the knights crashed head-on into the army encircling their forces closest to their homelands.

The tactic was by no means anything easy, and whether the army pulled it off successfully was another matter entirely.

Nathanial felt the wooden bench beneath him rattle with an unending tremor that didn’t erase the unease in his heart. He sat with his back straight, crossing his arms while loosely clenching one arm with his hand. All around him, he heard the voices of officers shouting commands.

The world was choking in a fog of dust, and the overwhelming stench of sweat, wet leather, and metal flooded the surroundings. They weren’t just a simple column anymore. Instead, they were a moving continent of iron and bone, marching to the vicious jaws of a beast with no telling how many would survive.

To his left and right, the roads had long vanished, swallowed whole by the march of at least twenty thousand men. A number Nathanial couldn’t even fathom. His eyes lingered on the trembling recruits several meters behind them. Recruits who were spreading rumors of dread and uncertainty.

“Damn… we really can’t catch a break, huh?” Fredrick said, sitting on the bench in front of Nathanial.

He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “Why is it that whenever you take the lead, our situation somehow goes from bad to worse?”

“You should know that if it wasn’t for Nathanial’s quick thinking—we’d be dead by now,” Richard commented. “Everything he’s done has saved our lives.”

Nathanial hid his bitter expression beneath his helm. “I just wish that I could’ve saved more.”

The other men in the wagon held complicated expressions. None of them truly believed Nathanial could have done better. They should have died that night. Even if they found somewhere to lie low, it wouldn’t have mattered. The Empire’s men strangled all life within the outer net.

A noose had already formed, and staying there would have kicked the chair from beneath them before snapping their necks with the rope biting into their flesh.

Chris and Percy didn’t say a word, and Fredrick and Richard were at a loss, remembering the grief they had gone through. Out of the twenty patrolmen that set out from the Sixth that day, seven returned as aura users.

Even if they had the watchmen helping them, it was nothing short of a miracle. Those who heard their tale couldn’t help but be in awe at having taken out a supply line, ambushed one of the hunting parties, and then escaped a six-star knight.

A foe that could manifest part of their world into this plane of existence.

All while being two to three-star aura users.

“Ya folks know that what you’ve accomplished has inspired the footmen of the Seventh?”

They turned their heads to the front, where the teamster sat. An old, burly man with a bald head and a thick gray beard that went down to his chest, and just over his iron chest plate. The man clung to the reins and said those words without batting an eye.

“Here at the Seventh, we respect those who overcome the odds.”

“Respect those who overcome the odds?” Nathanial repeated.

“Indeed! That’s what we like around here. Ya never know when the situation goes from bad ta worse.”

He stared at the teamster. “I take it you’re the one who’s going to give us the debriefing?”

“Debriefing? Bah! There is not much for me to tell ya fellas about what is going on.”

Nathanial stared at the old man and sighed. There really wasn’t much information for them to go off of. All they needed to know was that they were part of the second wave to form a defensive line for what was left of the Sixth Army.

The air grew heavier by the second, with each meter crossed bringing the men toward a hell they didn’t know. Fredrick’s playful demeanor dropped as he clutched onto his sword. Richard checked the edge of his blade once more before sharpening it with a whetstone.

“Old man, what’s your name?” Nathanial asked.

The teamster with tanned skin raised a brow. “Jetson. Jetson Norris, but there is no need for ya to remember a lowly coachman such as myself.”

Nathanial denied the notion with a simple gesture. “No one should discredit themselves like that. Besides, our lives are practically in your hands, Jetson.”

Jetson glanced over his shoulder and examined Nathanial. His emerald eyes noted the scratches on his armor. “Considering how ya folks are on the slightly more pleasant side, I will say this. The moment those knights attempt to break through, this wagon and all the other ones will be doing a sharp turn. I suggest jumping off at that point.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“And if we don’t?” Fredrick asked.

“Well… you’d probably fall face-first into the mud. If you’re unlucky, perhaps die.”

“So, we’ll be straight into the fray?” Richard questioned.

“From what I know, that would be the case,” Jetson answered truthfully. “It’s the first time our forces have ever done anything like this.”

Nathanial nodded. “How confident are you that we’ll pull it off?”

“Fifty-fifty.”

Fredrick looked up. “Like… fifty percent we’ll live, and fifty percent we’ll die?”

Jetson tilted his head from side to side, then nodded. “Mhm.”

A sense of dread painted Fredrick’s face. “Nathanial, you really do have a talent for getting us into one hell of a mess.”

Nathanial held onto his blade. “It’s like they say, god gives his greatest challenges to his strongest warriors.”

“If we’re God’s greatest warriors, then he’s going to need new ones pretty damn soon if you ask me.”

The men in the wagon chuckled. Yet as they were chatting with one another, Nathanial caught a glimpse of a figure riding a mighty warhorse with pitch-black armor faintly shimmering with a pale blue energy. The azure cape over his shoulders bore the sigil of the Seventh Army, and dozens of knights flanked the man in black iron armor.