For the Golden Dynasty Subjects living on this land, their greatest wish was nothing more than for this drawn-out war to finally come to an end, so that everyone could return to a stable, peaceful life.
"The mysterious hero must be Morgott, and his other self, the Fell Omen Margit. If he's already shown himself, then Mohg can't be far behind, can he?"
Nolan lifted the wine glass in front of him and gently swirled the liquid inside. His eyes, however, never truly focused on the scene before him.
The situation had become quite clear. The Royal Capital was indeed a place where the strong gathered.
Under the command of a capable leader, relying on towering walls and impregnable fortifications, it had even managed to hold off the allied forces of the various lords for a time.
So should he return directly to the Haligtree, or go see Malenia first?
There really wasn't much to deliberate over. Yet when he looked up and saw the innkeeper hesitating, Nolan raised an eyebrow.
"Is there something else you want to say?"
The innkeeper hesitated for a moment before speaking slowly.
"Well… judging by your bearing, sir, you're no ordinary traveler. If you happen to run into the Limgrave army on the road, it'd be best to stay as far away as possible."
Nolan frowned deeply.
It seemed he had spoken too soon. Even beneath the Royal Capital, things were far from peaceful. Could it be that those Demigods had even set their sights on the villagers' pitiful scraps?
"Wasn't Lord Godefroy captured and taken into the Royal Capital? With no one left to rein them in, his soldiers have become even worse than bandits! And…"
Bandits, at least, understood the idea of not completely draining what they plundered. Soldiers turned bandits cared about none of that.
Nolan was just about to ask what else when a vague, indistinct roar came from the sky. The innkeeper's voice cut off abruptly, his entire body freezing in place.
Hm? What was that sound? It felt familiar, like something he had heard before.
Nolan, who had been listening intently, also looked up toward the ceiling. As he caught a sound reminiscent of a certain Carian knight, his eyes slowly widened.
"It's a dragon!" Ranni recognized it immediately. But when she glanced at the innkeeper sitting opposite her, frozen stiff, she said nothing.
A violent gale swept in, carrying with it a distinctive screech she had heard countless times in Liurnia.
"Bad news! It's that flying dragon! The Limgrave army is here!"
The tavern owner across from them let out a terrified scream, his body jerking as if struck by lightning as he sprang violently from his chair.
The sudden movement sent a pile of runes on the table scattering across the floor, but he no longer had the presence of mind to care.
Leyndell upheld the faith of the ancient dragons. How dare those sinners come here and run wild?
Then again, with a Demigod's army blocking the way ahead, there was nothing they wouldn't dare do.
In an instant, the tavern descended into utter chaos.
Panicked patrons bolted for the exit as if demons were on their heels. Clearly, everyone knew the dreadful reputation of Godefroy's forces.
Some even managed to snatch bottles of liquor as they fled, unwilling to miss a last bit of indulgence.
The stables were in even worse shape. Several figures came rushing out in a blind panic, some not even bothering to put on their clothes.
Shouts of terror rang out one after another, intertwining with the thunderous roar of the flying dragon to form a chilling, overwhelming din.
Fear spread like a plague, swiftly enveloping the entire village.
A flying dragon from Limgrave…
Nolan turned his head toward the tavern entrance. He had just been wondering whether this dragon might be Agheel when a torrent of searing flame blasted through the doorway and surged inside.
His gaze swept over the tavern owner, who stood rooted in terror. Nolan seized him by the collar and threw a punch without hesitation.
With a deafening crash, the solid wall was smashed open, a jagged hole torn straight through it.
Nolan drove off the ground, leaping out with the tavern owner and Ranni in tow.
The three burst through the wall and emerged into a village that had descended into total chaos.
In the distance, a well-equipped cavalry force was advancing at full speed, torches raised high.
Villagers fled through streets and alleys in blind panic, their screams and cries overlapping into a miserable cacophony.
Some militia members, barely finished donning their armor, scrambled up watchtowers in a desperate attempt to defend against the approaching threat.
The church doors stood wide open, several priests stationed at the entrance, urgently directing people inside to take shelter.
Flying Dragons were not mindless beasts. This village lay behind the Redmanes Legion's rear lines. That general might harbor ambitions of becoming a Lord, but his relationship with the Golden Order was ambiguous at best. He was not foolish enough to attack a church outright.
Wanting to be a Lord did not necessarily mean defying the Order, just as defying the Golden Order did not automatically mean one sought to become a Lord.
The tavern owner stood there in a daze, unable to process what was happening. All he felt was the sky suddenly blazing with light, as if a second sun had risen out of nowhere.
Another column of fire descended like an arrow shot from the heavens, plunging straight toward the ground.
The tavern owner's eyes went wide with terror. Before he could even react, a brilliant white light flared beside him.
It was the knight at his side. Gripping his greatsword tightly, powerful, frigid magical energy surged from the blade and shot toward the oncoming pillar of flame.
In an instant, ice and fire collided. The blazing column was cleaved cleanly in two, scattering into countless sparks.
Adula's Moonblade!
Nolan looked up to see a massive figure gliding swiftly across the sky.
He couldn't be sure it was Agheel. There was more than one fire-breathing Flying Dragon in this world.
The dragon's body was a dull, dark black, its size comparable to the two Glintstone Dragons of Liurnia.
The difference was that what it spewed forth was not glintstone magic, but scorching flame.
The sky-favored creature soared freely, only for a sweeping arc of magical sword energy to tear past it, carrying a piercing cold that forced the Flying Dragon to retreat hundreds of meters.
Faced with such a massive and ferocious enemy, Nolan showed no fear at all.
Instead, it was the Flying Dragon that seemed wary of him, circling high above and refusing to draw any closer.
Why would a Flying Dragon attack humans? Was it simply moving with the main force? Had the Limgrave army grown so poor that they couldn't even supply their own rations?
Before he could think further, the thunderous roar of approaching hooves answered the question.
Dust rose in the distance as Limgrave's banners snapped violently in the wind, the force closing in fast.
Now Nolan understood what the tavern owner meant by "terrifying." These men didn't just loot everything in sight. They treated human lives as worthless.
To them, killing was probably nothing more than a game.
Just then, the lead rider hauled on the reins, his mount letting out a sharp neigh.
His gaze settled on the exquisite armor Nolan was wearing, and he began to size him up from head to toe.
Familiar. Far too familiar.
He was certain he had seen that kind of armor before, somewhere on the battlefield.