Chương 8: 8：The Empire is in Awe， But I Just Want My Paycheck

Two kilometers away, on the western ridge. A platinum flagpole stood tall, bearing a flag embroidered with the Holy Halycon Empire's crest—a two-headed war eagle. Swirls of magical light pulsed within the eagle's woven eyes. This was the encampment of the Holy Halycon Empire's Third Royal Griffon Knights. They were a trump-card army deployed to flaunt the empire's might, serving as an absolute deterrent against any border threats. At the fortress gates, two Griffon Knights stood guard.

They sat astride massive, twenty-foot-tall combat raptors, completely clad in full-plate armor engraved with their noble family crests. Even the most unremarkable squad knight here had an enchanted longsword resting at their hip. Compared to the shabbily equipped Crimson Moon Knights, this force was undeniably wealthier and far more powerful. In the camp's training grounds, a full five thousand heavy swordsmen in gleaming full-plate armor were conducting night drills.

The mere sight of them raising their blades in unison would be enough to rout any ordinary bandit army. Every single soldier here boasted a combat level equal to the heavy knights that Sylvia took such immense pride in. Furthermore, their flanks were secured by a fifty-man unit of high-tier combat mages, each wearing robes intricately woven with gold thread. In this army, magic scrolls were standard-issue rations, they didn't have to scrounge for low-grade potions like beggars.

At this moment, atop the camp's highest watchtower, stood a handsome young man with short platinum-blonde hair. His arms were crossed over his chest. His name was Alaric: heir to an Imperial Dukedom, a Golden Grand Knight, and the Commander of the Griffon Knights. He let out a faint sigh as he gazed east toward the Storm Rift Fortress. An elderly man dressed in black-and-purple silk robes stood by his side. This was Valerius, an Imperial Court Advisory Mage and a bona fide Archmage.

The distant flames of the Storm Rift Fortress reflected in Alaric's pupils.

"There hasn't been a large-scale mana fluctuation for two hours, " Alaric said, turning to pour himself a goblet of red wine."The Blackstone Orcs' assaults are usually at their fiercest right before dawn. For the magic to cease at this hour means one of two things."

"Either the orcs have retreated, or Leona—famous for her fiery temper—is already a corpse." Archmage Valerius sighed." Regrettably, it is more than likely the latter." He opened a magical ledger." The Crimson Moon Knights are merely a ragtag, mixed regiment. Their so-called Vice Commander, Sylvia, even had to ask our quartermaster for credit last month just to cover the repair costs for three sets of horse armor. They have no coin, and they have no heavy-artillery mages holding the line."

At the mention of their enemy, Valerius's eyelid twitched as a terrifying memory surfaced." Moreover... they are facing the Blackstone Orcs."

"Commander, last week, our Second Griffon Squadron engaged their vanguard during a forward reconnaissance mission. In just ten minutes, we lost fifteen knights. We couldn't even retrieve their bodies. Our equipment is the finest in the entire Empire, yet their heavy-armored axemen cleaved straight through our defensive lines." The usual arrogance on the Archmage's face gave way to deep apprehension.

"Those Blackstone Orcs are mad dogs incapable of feeling pain. And with their Bone Bowmen providing a suppressive ranged net, even our aerial cavalry doesn't dare fly low." Alaric swirled the wine in his glass and nodded in agreement. As a commander educated at the highest Imperial military academies, he respected the enemy's formidable strength.

"Indeed. Just last month, north of this blasted rift, the Silvermoon Kingdom's renowned Fourth Heavy Division—two thousand heavy infantrymen—crumbled under a single frontal charge from the Blackstone Warband. An entire division, butchered. Their war banner was taken by Warchief Blackstone to use as toilet paper."

"Leona has less than three thousand ragged troops under her command. There is simply no way she can hold them back!" Alaric cast another glance toward the distant beacon towers, which had gone completely dark. A hint of regret flashed in his eyes. On his desk lay a military writ from his father, the Imperial Duke. [Observe and Preserve Strength.] Since they were allied forces, Alaric truly did wish to send reinforcements.

However, as the commanding officer of an Imperial family's private army, preserving their military might was his absolute priority. Alaric set his wine glass down." It's over."

"They've been completely wiped out. Sound the alarm and wake the Second Griffon Battalion. If the Blackstone Orcs have overrun the Crimson Moon Knights and continue their march south, we must hold the line." But just as he turned to leave the observation deck... Hummm! A communication crystal tucked within Valerius's sleeve—one set to the absolute highest alert level—suddenly began vibrating violently. Alaric halted in his tracks, his right hand instantly dropping to the hilt of his sword.

Valerius's face paled in sheer panic." Maximum alert level! The Blackstone Orcs must have broken through the Storm Rift Fortress and are heading south! Damn it! Raise the defensive barriers! Those green lunatics are charging straight for us!" The old Archmage's hands trembled. He knew better than anyone just how terrifying the Blackstone Warband was when their morale reached its peak. A screen of magical light projected directly into the air, displaying the urgent text sent by their frontline scouts.

Valerius squinted, reading the glowing letters as cold sweat poured down his forehead.

"Read it!" Alaric commanded sharply. The Archmage swallowed hard and read aloud the most absurd piece of military intelligence he had ever seen in his life.

"Urgent frontline report! The Storm Rift Fortress has not been breached! The main gates are wide open! Leona abandoned all defensive fortifications! The entire Crimson Moon Knights launched a full-scale frontal charge!" Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Alaric stared in disbelief." Is her head filled with dung? She took a few hundred heavy knights and a mob of raw recruits to counter-charge the Blackstone Warband?!"

The Archmage's voice grew louder, laced with absolute hysteria." An hour ago, the frontline was pushed all the way to the orc logistics hub!"

"How is that possible?!"

"They detonated the orcs' explosive reserves from two thousand meters away! Half the Blackstone Warband has been blown into the sky! And that's not all! The entire command structure of the Blackstone Warband has been wiped out!" Valerius snapped his head up, staring at his lord as if he had seen a ghost.

"Commander! That suppressive Bone Bow formation that left us completely helpless? It was shattered! Every single Bone Bow commander, and even the accompanying war shamans, were killed by single headshots deep behind their own lines! They had zero chance to retaliate! Their entire ranged command center was instantly paralyzed!" The air on the tower seemed to freeze. Alaric's eyes widened to the extreme." The command structure wiped out? Assassinated from long range?

Does Leona possess some kind of forbidden Sharpshooter spell scroll?!" Before he could even process the shock, Valerius pointed a trembling finger at the final line of glowing text. [Blackstone Supreme Warlord severely wounded. Enemy forces in complete rout.]"Warchief Blackstone... he's been critically wounded!" Valerius gasped." The intel is verified! The war banner on the overseer's platform has fallen! That massive, one-eyed orc Warchief went down!

The Blackstone Warband is currently fleeing through the swamps, trampling each other to death while the Crimson Moon Knights butcher them from behind!"

"Commander... the Crimson Moon Knights won. It's a complete, overwhelming victory!" Crash. The expensive, gold-rimmed crystal goblet slipped from Alaric's grasp, shattering into pieces against the stone floor. Red wine bled across the stone. Alaric rushed to the railing, snatching the Hawkeye Crystal Spyglass right out of Valerius's hands. Through the expensive alchemical lens, the raging fires two kilometers away were blindingly clear.

Amidst the flames, countless humans wielding chipped swords and broken blades were roaring in triumph. The charred, massive corpses of the orcs completely blanketed the once-white snowfields. The Blackstone Warband—a force that struck fear into the very heart of the Imperial Army—had actually been defeated! They had been utterly crushed in a head-on collision by the Crimson Moon Knights, a force vastly inferior in both numbers and equipment. Alaric slowly lowered the spyglass.

After a long silence, he took a deep breath of the night wind, now tainted with the scent of ash and burning flesh.

"So this... is the true Leona..." he muttered."Throwing open the gates to counter-attack... putting her troops on death's ground so they would fight to survive. What absolutely terrifying tactical judgment." Alaric began rapidly analyzing the battlefield in his head.

"It's terrifying... it's pure art. To think Leona could pull off such a flawless decapitation strike. Was she hiding a high-tier mage strike force? No! The intelligence clearly stated the kills were made with arrows! Longbows!" The Archmage wiped away his cold sweat." That madwoman must have secretly trained a squad of elite assassins! It's the only explanation! But what caliber of assassin can achieve pinpoint sniper shots from thousands of meters away? It's unfathomable!

Could she have hired those reclusive Elves?"

"Exactly." Alaric's gaze sharpened. From the perspective of a high-level commander, he was already deconstructing the'brilliant schemes' of his ally.

"She feigned weakness at first, deceiving the orcs and luring them into a false sense of security. Then, the very instant they let their guard down, she unleashed hell. She must have planted spies to scout the exact locations of their powder kegs. The calculations are simply too meticulous." He suddenly realized his own back was drenched in cold sweat. Alaric shoved the spyglass back into the Archmage's chest and gripped the balcony railing.

His eyes focused on the distant, blurry silhouette of a woman waving her sword beneath a beam of magical light. He felt a profound sense of awe.

"A feral, instinctual genius of war. Ruthless. Decisive. And she hid her fangs so flawlessly." Standing atop the fortress, the young Duke's heir finalized his assessment."We must align ourselves with her."

"Valerius, discard our previous stance of neutral observation." He immediately began issuing orders." Tomorrow morning—no, now. Ready my horse! And bring the chest of Alchemical gifts! I am going to pay a visit to this terrifying woman using the highest aristocratic protocols. To orchestrate a one-sided slaughter like this... she possesses qualities I have never seen in any noble lady of the Empire."

High up on the watchtower, the Empire's finest generals and mages continued to feverishly analyze this military miracle, losing all their usual aristocratic composure in the process. In their minds, they were already kneeling in worship to the brilliant, red-haired Leona. What they didn't know, however... Was that in this legendary battle, while Leona did indeed possess extraordinary battlefield intuition and unmatched bravery, her actual tactical decisions had very nearly led them to a total wipeout.

The true mastermind—the one who had single-handedly turned the tide, the one who had slaughtered an entire elite orc squad using nothing but a low-quality military sword, the one who had calculated the wind resistance to snipe the Bone Bowmen commanders, and the one who had actually struck down Warchief Blackstone... was a mere recruit named Soren. At this very moment, Soren was standing in a forgotten corner of the grand celebration, his hands casually stuffed into the pockets of his leather armor.

Completely drowned out by the thunderous cheers for Leona, he was just waiting to collect his merit rewards from his female commander.