The Gwyndor Road in western-central Estalia.
Leading north to Verin and Marus, then further north into Demontrey and Sahagen, and finally to the largest northern city and port, Bilbali.
The knight tugged the reins, left the formation, and rode forward.
"Whoa~!"
He reined in his horse and looked at the approaching riders.
A group of rangers hurrying north.
"This is the encampment of the Northern Fire Legion!"
"Southern friends, state your business."
He raised his right hand in greeting, his left resting on his sword hilt to indicate danger.
The rangers did not clash with him. The group was travel-worn, almost everyone injured, faces full of exhaustion.
They also carried a heavy, deathly gloom.
The knight grimaced, somewhat puzzled by the state of these Southerners.
A long, deep horn sounded from the camp behind him. The knight turned to look, frowning.
The cavalry reached him and reined in. The leader rode closer.
He removed his helmet. Disheveled hair fell down. His beard was long, seemingly unshaven for many days.
His eye sockets were sunken, his face sallow. He looked extremely tired.
The man stopped not far from the knight and tossed over a scroll.
"I am Wheeler von Regio, centurion of Magritta's 114th Ranger Company. By order of the acting Prince's Council of Magritta, I request to see the commander of the 'Northern Fire' Legion and to proceed to Bilbali to meet the City Assembly and the Northern Eyrie's War Commander."
The knight opened the scroll, scanned it roughly, then turned sideways, looking at the group of rangers behind him whose makeup was disheveled, looking as if they had just suffered a miserable defeat on the battlefield.
"We set out with a hundred men… now only these remain. Sir, if the northern general fears we have ill intentions, let me go alone."
Wheeler could not help but add a sarcastic remark. The knight frowned and shot him a sideways glance. If it weren't for military duty, the two might have immediately started a "verbal duel."
A common way of quarreling in Estalia, divided into four stages: "tiger head," "snake neck," "pig belly," and "leopard tail." From the snake neck stage onward, it would turn into a sword duel.
"Let your men follow."
He tossed the scroll back, pulled his horse's head around, and sneered:
"We northern warriors never stoop to assassination or underhanded tricks, but we are also never afraid when others use such schemes."
The two rode side by side. The knight could faintly smell the stench on Wheeler — sweat, mud, and blood mixed together, fermented over several days of hard riding.
Out of courtesy, the knight did not cover his nose or show disgust, but inwardly he kept wondering what kind of desperate urgency would make these wealthy Southerners — who valued appearance so much that even soldiers would spend their own money to carve exquisite patterns on gunstocks or scabbards to show individuality — including a centurion-level officer, disregard their image so completely.
They even used the direct word "request an audience" to meet their northern brethren, with whom they had recently been on the brink of civil war.
"What?!"
The commander of the Northern Fire Legion's stationed forces, Myrmidia's Silver Shield Guardian, Casson Jean Justin, slammed the table and stood up, almost suspecting the man before him was a foreign spy.
"The Invincible Armada — the Invincible Armada has been destroyed?!" Casson roared as he charged forward, reaching to grab Wheeler's collar, but the ranger centurion slapped his hand away.
"Hel Jones could not possibly be that incompetent!" Another commander was also enraged by Wheeler's words. Although north and south had recently been on the verge of civil war, the Invincible Armada was the pride of all Estalians. They would never allow foreigners to cancel it, and even their own countrymen could not use the word "destroyed" — which naturally carried ill omen — to curse it.
"This man definitely has ulterior motives. Seize him at once!"
He waved his hand to call the guards, but Casson raised his hand to stop them.
Wheeler gave a bitter smile and unwrapped the cloak around his body, revealing armor covered in dents and scars.
There was a large hole at his waist, inside which blood-soaked bandages were wrapped.
"No matter whom you ask among the thirty-seven of us, you will get the same answer."
"The Invincible Armada… the Invincible Armada…" Wheeler's voice could not help but break with sobs. "The Invincible Armada was attacked by greenskins using unknown means at the Tranquil Harbor!"
"Of the ships in port, only the Queen of Glory and the Grail Champion survived, but they are heavily damaged and difficult to sail!"
"The last remaining strength of the fleet is only the Rose Squadron currently patrolling the Great Ocean!"
Wheeler collapsed, sitting on the ground and wailing.
"When we left, Magritta's city walls were about to fall. Please head south immediately!"
"Rescue the kingdom!"
The thunderbolt news quickly spread along the roads to every corner of the country.
Everything had happened too fast. From the greenskin fleet suddenly appearing on the horizon to the Invincible Armada being ambushed and sucked dry, the interval was only a few minutes.
That day happened to be the naval festival in Estalia. To organize the celebration and dispel the gloom of the past few months — the prince's assassination and the north-south civil war — most of the main fleet had returned to port and moored. They were immediately destroyed by that "unprecedented sky-shaking explosion, like a green sun rising over the harbor" (as described by surviving sailors).
Having lost naval supremacy, the greenskin vanguard, supported by fleet artillery, launched a landing. The seawall defenses, already affected by the explosion, fell immediately. The people of Magritta urgently sank ships to block the harbor, preventing the greenskin fleet from sailing directly into the Tranquil Harbor.
At the same time, they hired and conscripted large numbers of militiamen and mercenaries to assist in the defense, barely holding on under the fierce cannon-fodder pressure from greenskins and vampire pirates.
The greatest holy site of the entire Kingdom of Estalia and the Southern Ocean:
"The Southern Eyrie"
was also attacked at the same time. The church leader "Southern Eagle" was assassinated on the spot while seeking guidance from the Goddess. The grand temple was also destroyed to seventy or eighty percent of its area by explosives.
Within a single day, the Invincible Armada was destroyed, the grand temple was bombed, and the Southern Eagle was assassinated. It was as if Heaven wanted to punish the Estalians. From the westernmost edge of the Sombre Forest in the north, divided by the Eber River, another wave of frenzied beastmen poured out, scattering across roads and wilderness, attacking travelers and civilians.
Beyond the Abasca Mountains to the east, greenskin forces mainly consisting of wolf riders and spider riders appeared as if from nowhere behind the Tamoto Pass. After burning Solona, they advanced at full speed along the Tobaro Road toward the northeast of Magritta, sweeping away every enemy and town in sight.
One bad news after another came from all directions. The Goddess remained silent.
Spellcasters suffered successive assassinations. Corruption concentration was abnormal. Casting became extremely dangerous and unstable, making it difficult to transmit messages outward.
As the great trading port of the entire Southern Continent and Ocean, swallowing "one-third of the world" (in Estalian words) of prosperity, Magritta seemed to have been cut off from the entire world within just a few days.