Chapter 541: The Fall of Ergel

His thoughts were interrupted when Hadrian Kempten burst through the tent flaps.

"Van! What’s happening out there? The men are panicking! Half the nobles are talking about fleeing to the south!"

Van’s expression twisted with fury. "Flee? Do they think Ryntum will just let them run?"

"There is a plan!" Van slammed his fist on the table. "We’ll draw them in, make them think we’re collapsing. Then we hit their flanks with everything we have left. The remaining knights are still fresh. If we time it right, we might cripple their advance long enough to retreat in order!"

Hadrian’s eyes flicked to the shaking map, then to Van’s face. "’Might’? You’re gambling everything on a ’might’?"

"We’ve been gambling since the day this war started. At least now, I’m choosing the terms."

Outside, the roar of cannons reached a fever pitch. The screams of men and the crash of collapsing defences echoed through the howling wind.

Van looked toward the tent entrance. For a brief second, he could see the horizon beyond.

"Signal the knights! When Ryntum’s infantry moves forward, we ride. We’ll strike their flank and make them bleed for every inch they take."

Hadrian Kempten stood just outside the command tent. For a long moment, he watched the hectic situation unfolding.

Smoke rolled low over the snow-covered plain, veiling the battlefield in shifting shades of grey and red. Blande’s banners lay trampled in the mud.

Van Vernau’s voice echoed behind him, barking out orders with the same intensity he’d always had.

The soldiers, battered and weary, still obeyed the command, dragging cannons into position, reforming lines that had been shattered again and again.

It was a desperate sight. And yet... they still fought.

Hadrian’s eyes narrowed. He took a few slow steps back from the tent, looked toward the frontline with complex emotions.

"...Fool," he muttered, not sure whether he meant Van, the soldiers, or himself.

Then, quietly, he stepped back, away from the command post.

No one called after him. No one noticed him.

Hadrian Kempten disappeared from the battlefield.

On the opposite side, Ryntum’s army surged forward like a tide. Every minute, another wave of shells screamed overhead, bursting among Blande’s crumbling fortifications.

It was as if the entire army had been infused with steroids.

They’re not giving Blande a chance to catch a break, especially not when the enemy’s formation is collapsing.

Every time Blande’s men tried to regroup, Ryntum’s shells fell again, tearing their lines apart before they could even stabilise.

Blande’s defenders were breaking from exhaustion. Their arms were heavy, their lungs burned with smoke and frost, and their morale was stretched thin.

From her command post, Sarika Klover watched the development through her spyglass. "Push the centre. Their formation’s folding in on itself."

Her adjutant, a young lieutenant barely past his twenties, saluted and hurried off to relay the orders.

Moments later, the soldiers move exactly as she intended.

"Good. Now keep moving forward."

Still, amid all the control and order, Sarika’s sharp eyes never left the enemy.

Through the swirling haze, she could see Van Vernau’s banners still fluttering, stubbornly holding the command post. Even now, that man refused to retreat.

"Commander, the third battalion has reached the outer defences. They’re requesting permission to breach."

Sarika didn’t hesitate. "Permission granted. Tell them to use grenades and push through."

....

From the vantage point, Van could see the truth with clarity—Blande’s line was gone.

Everything he had carefully planned was dissolving into chaos.

Soldiers fled in broken clusters, and cavalry units were scattered. Their horses stampeded through the wounded as they tried to escape the relentless Ryntum push.

"My lord! The left flank has been completely breached. They’re pouring in. Our men are in full retreat!"

Van gritted his teeth. "Damn it! Signal the withdrawal! We’re moving south. Ergel is already lost."

The man fell silent, saluted, and ran to spread the command.

By the time Van finished his preparation, the remnants of his army were already streaming southward in disorder.

He cast one last glance back at Ergel. Flames licked the rooftops, smoke swallowing the sky. The distant flash of Ryntum artillery marked the city’s final death throes.

For the first time in a long while, Van Vernau felt old.

"Is this how Blande will die?"

With a sharp tug on the reins, he turned his horse southward.

When the Ryntum army arrived, Ergel no longer resembled a city. Their bombardment has caused large-scale destruction to the city.

Perhaps they themselves realise their action had gone too far.

Regardless, Ryntum’s banners now fluttered from shattered rooftops and blackened walls, claiming the ruins in the name of their king.

Sarika Klover rode through the smouldering avenue at a slow pace.

Around her, soldiers worked in teams to clear bodies, securing weapons, and extinguishing what fires remained.

"Minimal resistance left, Commander," reported one of her officers. "We’ve captured the remaining Blande troops hiding in the lower quarter."

Sarika nodded. "Good. Treat the wounded—ours first. The prisoners can wait."

She turned her horse toward the heart of the city, where the flag was now fully unfurled in the wind.

For a long moment, she watched it wave against the smoke-choked sky.

"Send word to Bideford, Ergel has fallen. The path to the north has opened. The cities are ours to take."

Due to its location, Sarika spends considerable effort fortifying and stabilising Ergel as a forward base.

Engineers began to rebuild the shattered walls with steel reinforcements, while artillery units positioned cannons atop the newly repaired battlements.

Supply depots and field hospitals filled the once-empty squares.

Civilians who had fled began to trickle back.

Sarika oversaw every detail like mapping patrol routes, inspecting logistics, and ensuring discipline.

Within days, Ergel is no longer in a disordered state.

She was in no hurry to conquer the remaining five northern cities, as the initiative was in her hands.

Sarika wishes for the remaining cities to surrender willingly. As such, she decisively sent the letter to each city.