Chapter 94: Golden Legend!

Ever since closing a deal worth over ten thousand gold coins with the commander of Maple Leaf Fortress, Phield had been greeted at the gates with more enthusiasm than if the soldiers were welcoming their own fathers.

Afterward, the First Army of Nightfall Domain used the teleportation array of Maple Leaf City’s Mage Tower to transfer directly to Morning Breeze Province. The Raiding Army split off along the way, moving by night and hiding by day as they headed toward Wind Orchid City in Rick Province.

As for the rebellious Itavon Province, sandwiched between Morning Breeze Province to the north and Rick Province to the south, more than half of it had already rotted away. It had become a living hell.

Morning Breeze Province, an unnamed stretch of woodland.

Phield rode forward toward the agreed-upon fortress.

He drew in a deep breath of slightly damp air. The environment of Morning Breeze Province was excellent. The early-morning mist carried the scent of soil and moisture; when it filled his lungs, it brought an indescribable freshness and ease. Birds and wild beasts could often be seen, along with all manner of fantastical plants.

But the soldiers had already developed a conditioned reflex—whenever they saw mist, they grew afraid.

“Hm, something’s not right. We haven’t seen any other noble armies along the way.”

Phield surveyed the surroundings from horseback, then checked the area displayed on his minimap. There were no large military forces at all.

In his imagination, noble armies from every direction should have converged like streams flowing into the sea—an endless and magnificent sight.

“Could we be late? That shouldn’t be the case. There aren’t even many footprints on the ground.”

In contrast, the First Army’s own tracks and wagon ruts stretched for miles.

“Damn it. Don’t tell me they’re playing me?”

Phield instinctively assumed the worst, then immediately dismissed the absurd thought. Nobles treated war seriously.

“Let’s find someone and ask,” Rosalia suggested through mental communication from within the greatsword.

“That’s the only option.”

Just as Phield was about to ride ahead to question some villagers, he heard the sound of hoofbeats.

“You are not permitted to enter my territory! Get out—cough—who are you?”

A five-man cavalry squad galloped down the narrow path toward them, halting only thirty meters away. Phield could clearly see their weapons.

At the front was a knight clad in plate armor, a handsome green feather adorning his helmet. Beside him rode a squire in half-armor. Behind them were three riders in leather armor—two carrying bows, one bearing a triangular banner. A textbook formation: a knight lord and his lackeys.

The reprimand the knight had intended to deliver died the moment he saw the three-hundred-strong force.

“Too bad I don’t have a cavalry squire. Awkward. And the demi-human cavalry aren’t suitable for showing off.”

Phield muttered under his breath, but on his face he adopted an arrogant expression. He didn’t need to speak—raising a brow and looking down at the man with mocking disdain was enough.

Weren’t you just acting tough? Go on, say it again.

As expected, the knight couldn’t withstand the pressure and lowered his stance. “Good morning, honored sir. This is my knightly fief. May I ask your purpose?”

“I am Baron of the Ross family, marching to Itavon Province to suppress the rebellion.” Phield chuckled.

“So early?” The knight looked as if he wanted to say more, but in the end could only twitch his lips and offer praise. “Your valor and loyalty to Her Majesty are admirable.”

“Early?”

Had he misunderstood something? There were only two days left before the agreed deadline.

“Of course. The summons I received doesn’t require me to depart for the front for another half month.”

“I see.”

Case closed. Phield was furious. Regin was clearly assigning different deadlines depending on who he dealt with.

“I can hardly wait to fight the cultists and earn glory,” Phield said flatly, not looking remotely eager.

As a noble of Morning Breeze Province, Nibelungen naturally looked after his own. Let armies from other provinces go first and clash with the enemy’s main force, then let his own people sweep in for the decisive victory. Quite the clever calculation.

It was only human nature. Phield admitted that if he were the commander, he might do the same.

But since you’re profiting Morning Breeze Province, I’ll collect a little interest from Morning Breeze Province in return.

“Allow me to guide you.”

Phield shook his head. “No need. However, my soldiers are cold and starving. If they don’t receive supplies soon, they may riot—or resort to plunder.”

He glanced back at his troops. There was not the slightest sign of hunger. The First Army’s supply wagons were piled high with provisions. Some of the men had even gained weight. Being a soldier meant eating far better than being a slave.

But if Phield said they were starving, then they were starving.

“Yeah! I haven’t eaten in three days! My eyes are glowing like a night owl’s! My lord, let us loot!” Sam instantly caught Phield’s hint and began shouting.

“Yeah! I want to play games with beautiful women and mature ladies!”

“I want strong men!”

“I want sheep! Three of them!”

“Is there a village ahead?”

The soldiers burst into excited chatter. Someone even started taking off his trousers.

“Fuck!”

The knight cursed inwardly. Could they be any more shameless? Worse still, the three-hundred-strong force in front of him looked genuinely formidable—everyone wore leather armor, not bare-chested vagrants.

Phield himself rode a tall warhorse, dressed in proper noble robes, a greatsword strapped to his back. His strength was impossible to gauge.

A direct confrontation was out of the question. The knight was not a fool.

Even if he reported the plunder to the governor afterward, the governor would merely fine Phield—and keep the money—without compensating him. Then his own lord would curse him out thoroughly.

The knight’s face turned green. The man before him displayed none of the dignity of a noble or knight.

“Of course. Brave warriors fighting for the Empire—I will do what I can to provide food.”

Phield smiled as warmly as a spring breeze. “Ahem. I shall certainly praise your generosity before the governor.”

Soon, Phield received a cart of dark bread, a small sack of sheep cheese, two chickens, and a large quantity of cabbages.

“Heh heh heh.”

The first battle of the rebellion—won without spilling a drop of blood.

Phield praised the knight’s chivalric spirit, didn’t even ask his name or offer his own, and rode off.

He found a scenic spot and ordered the camp established.

Since they had arrived early, they might as well enjoy life—and train the troops in the meantime.

Out of habit, Phield opened his minimap to check for scenic landmarks nearby.

Instead, he saw a golden dot.

“Holy shit. A golden legend. Invincible.”

Phield was stunned.

Ever since Rosalia had joined him, he hadn’t encountered another opportunity to gain a new Divine Chosen.

It had been so long without marked points that he had begun to suspect the minimap was broken. Now, staring at the golden marker, he rubbed his eyes to confirm it was real.

Without hesitation, he swung back onto his horse and spurred it toward the golden mark.

“Make me a pot of chicken stewed with mushrooms. I’ll be right back.”

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