Chapter 422: The Aslan Tribe’s First Strike [Part 1]

Marco put on lightweight armor over his clothes.

The day had come for them to march toward the Borderlands.

He and his men weren’t affected by the disease that spread within the fortress, so they had no excuse not to go.

More importantly, they handled logistics. It was not an option for them to remain in the fortress during the Britannian Army’s first attempt to cross into the Borderlands.

After ensuring that all his equipment was properly secured, he left his residence and met up with his people.

"My Lord, everyone is ready to go," Marco’s vice commander, Percival, said calmly.

"Good." Marco nodded back as he took the reins of his horse. "Everyone, follow my lead."

""Yes, My Lord!""

Marco then led his men to the southern gate of the Stoneguard Fortress.

It had been several years since an army had set out for the Borderlands to conquer it.

In their previous attempt, the barbarians drove them back and made them suffer losses. Since then, they no longer attempted to expand the kingdom’s territory to the south.

Until today.

Had the Aurelion Empire not reached out to the Kingdom of Britannia with favorable terms, they wouldn’t have bothered mobilizing an army for such a campaign, especially since they were still dealing with the Barbarian King of the West and the Helion Family to the north.

Of course, that wouldn’t have been enough to convince them. They only decided to shift some of their forces toward this secret campaign because the King of the Radiant Empire had agreed to their proposal for a non-aggression pact.

The non-aggression pact was a secret between the two kings. Only they knew about it. No one else.

On the surface, they were still at each other’s necks, which acted as a smokescreen for their real plan.

The Radiant Empire was fine with this arrangement since it allowed them to deal with the Beastkin Kingdom to the west, which had been one of their long-time nemeses.

The continent was rife with war. Empires and kingdoms were waging war on their neighbors. Alliances were being formed, while some were being broken.

Of course, that was just the way the world worked.

Those who could foresee such things would gain the advantage and even profit from the wars around them.

When Marco and his men arrived at the gathering area near the south gate, he immediately noticed a man wearing black-plated armor that covered his entire body.

’I hope he doesn’t give me and my men unreasonable orders,’ Marco thought as he looked at the person who held a grudge against him.

He was none other than the Black Tortoise General, Duran Tortuga, famed for his defensive capabilities.

He was also the one who defended the western border of the Kingdom of Britannia against the barbarians.

So, when it came to wars against barbarians, he was the leading expert.

Currently, his son, Edmond Tortuga, had replaced him as the temporary general of the west, protecting the kingdom from the Barbarian King.

Duran believed that his son was capable enough to hold down the fort until his return. He had been assisting his father since he had come of age, and he had also learned the arts of war from him.

As Duran scanned the faces of his soldiers, his gaze soon landed on the flag of the Frontera Viscounty.

It was a white banner with a golden lion roaring toward the sky. That was the signature crest of the Frontera Family.

On the other hand, Leone’s banner was blue with a golden lion also roaring toward the sky.

Although the color was different, he still maintained the symbol of the Frontera Family, making it the official emblem of the Aslan Tribe.

Duran then approached Marco, who was still mounted on his horse. Seeing that the general of the army was approaching him, he immediately dismounted so that Duran couldn’t say he was disrespecting him by staying mounted in his presence.

"It has been years, Marco," Duran said.

"Yes, it has, General Tortuga," Marco replied.

"I heard that your son was exiled to the Borderlands," Duran stated. "I hope he is still alive. Those savages like to treat the exiled nobles as their slaves and playthings, you know?"

"My son is blessed by the heavens," Marco said calmly. "I’m sure he is alive and well."

"It will be best if you don’t cling to false hope." Duran smirked. "The greater the expectations, the greater the disappointment."

Marco kept his lips shut. It was very obvious that Duran had come to taunt him in hopes that he would do something reckless in front of everyone.

If that happened, then the General would have the right to punish him as he saw fit.

However, Marco was a very patient man when he needed to be. He understood that Duran was the one who called the shots in this campaign. Annoying him would only put him and his men at a disadvantage.

Not seeing the reaction he was expecting, Duran no longer wasted his time and returned to the front of the army.

A few minutes later, he mounted his horse and addressed the soldiers.

"Today, we march to the Borderlands," Duran declared. "All of you are aware that we will be facing barbarians. However, do not fear. We will prevail!"

His voice thundered across the gathering army.

Tens of thousands of soldiers gazed at their commander, waiting for him to continue what he needed to say.

Duran met their gaze and raised his right fist. "You have heard the stories of what happened in the past. How our armies marched into the Borderlands, only to be driven back by the barbarians."

A profound silence descended upon the soldiers who had gathered in the surroundings.

"However, this campaign is not the same as the campaigns of the past!" Duran stated with confidence. "The army that marched into the Borderlands years ago is not the army standing before me today!"

"We are stronger!"

"We are better equipped!"

"We are better prepared!"

"And most importantly..." Duran patted his chest with his fist. "We are more powerful than ever before!"

The soldiers began to cheer. Although some of them were still feeling a bit under the weather after getting sick, they believed that their general was merely stating facts.