Chapter 185: An Invitation into the Trap

Every Black Banner War Lord dreamed of entering Crown territory while its defenders were helpless.

One of Osmund’s trusted men nodded to Kelshore.

"Riftward’s main force has been destroyed. Lord Tervain killed Cassian himself."

He continued calmly.

"But many Crown Lords are scattered through the Regions. There are only a hundred of us. We can’t kill them all in the time we have."

"The Legendary Spatial Lock lasts fifteen days. When it expires, they’ll flee Tidecrown. Lord Tervain hopes you’ll send troops to help finish them."

Kelshore found the explanation perfectly reasonable.

Veterans that strong could not lose to newcomers. Even if he had doubted the report, the seals on space and communication left him no way to confirm it.

"Please convey my thanks to Lord Tervain. I’ll mobilize at once. We won’t let a single Crown Lord escape."

"You’re too kind. You’ve spent days guarding Riftward’s border. Your effort deserves recognition."

The veteran showed him the arrangements.

"Lord Tervain has prepared routes for you. To cover the ground more efficiently, he suggests dividing your army into smaller groups."

"How thoughtful of him!"

Kelshore watched the two men leave, then muttered to himself.

"Galen, look at your brother. He understands how to work with people. Two heirs of the same family, and such a difference."

Fifty thousand War Lords from Kelshore Marches began entering Riftward from the east. Veylan, receiving the same invitation, wasted no time following them.

Everyone knew how rich Riftward was. The resources looted from a single ruined Region could make the expedition worthwhile.

Half an hour later, another force appeared at the edge of the Marches.

Two men and a woman led roughly a thousand troops. Nearly half were Legendary.

The middle-aged man at their head frowned.

"House Frost paid dearly to shorten registration to a few days. And we’ve still arrived too late."

"Marden," the woman said, "who is this person we’re rescuing? Why would the House go to such lengths for him?"

"I don’t know. The order came from the Third Realm."

"Perhaps Lord Darian is descended from one of the ancient ruling lines."

That would hardly have been unusual. Powerful Lords sometimes returned to the Homeworld when the passages opened and left children behind. A parent might have entered the Realm a century earlier, or several centuries, and long since fought through the Heavenbreaking Wars to reach a higher world.

"It’s not our place to ask." Marden’s expression grew firm. "Ignore the Black Banner looters. Straight to Ironwake. We may still have time."

——

Third Realm. Highcrest.

The air in Edran Frost’s hall seemed to have frozen. No one dared disturb the silence.

At last, his voice came, quiet and level.

"You’re telling me my nineteenth may already be dead?"

Merrick could finally bring himself to wipe the cold sweat from his brow.

Few people understood how much Edran favored Darian. Not even his eighteenth son, a thousand years before, had received so much affection. Merrick also knew that the difference had bred jealousy in the eighteenth.

But this was not his fault.

He had urged Darian to leave. He had even passed word to Maren. The young Lord simply would not listen.

*I’d rather die fighting beside my brothers than run away.*

He had been such an obedient child. Less than three months in the Realm, and now he spoke like that.

Cassian was to blame. That damned boy had taught him all the wrong things.

"My lord," Merrick said carefully, "the Black Banner moved with extraordinary speed. But our War Lords have descended. They’ve reached Riftward."

He hurried on.

"Maren is Legendary now. I believe she can keep Lord Darian safe."

Another silence followed.

"If anything has happened to my nineteenth," Edran said, "Tidecrown will have no reason to exist."

"Yes, my lord."

If Darian was dead, there would be no reason left to protect the secret of his identity.

People spoke lightly of accepting death in the Realm. Edran’s anger would cost far more than a million lives.

——

News of Riftward’s supposed fall spread rapidly through Tidecrown.

The Black Banner celebrated. The Crown Lords heard the same report with despair.

"It’s over. I still thought there might be a chance."

"Cassian was the kind of genius we might not see again for a thousand years. He could have helped the Crown rise. And now he’s gone."

"Newcomers really can’t stand against an older sector."

"Leave while we still can. Once those veterans finish in Riftward, it’ll be too late."

Another wave of Lords relocated out of the Province.

Even Cassian’s Gold Battle Name had apparently failed to produce a miracle. What were they staying for?

Only Galen felt a trace of doubt. Sharing the spoils like this did not quite fit his brother’s usual behavior.

He soon dismissed it.

How could Osmund and Tobren lose? And the two men carrying the news really were his brother’s trusted subordinates.

Cassian’s death removed a worry that had troubled him for far too long.

In excellent spirits, Galen sent several messages.

[Cassian is finally dead! I’ve arranged wine at my Domain. Join me in celebrating the end of that pest.]

[And I’ve just recruited two squads of Rare Geishas...]

——

Cassian did not yet know how far the consequences of his false report had spread. He had only been trying to solve his shortage of Battle Essence.

Then Seven returned with news that made his face light up.

"Two Marches. A hundred thousand War Lords!"

Each Marches had close to a million Lords, but many followed paths other than war. Every Region also had to leave enough troops behind to defend its homes.

Drawing a hundred thousand War Lords into the trap was more than he had hoped for.

He made a rough calculation. Even if each Lord brought only a hundred Elite troops, killing them all would earn nearly five billion Battle Essence.

At least twenty or thirty percent of their troops would be Uncommon. There would be Rares, a few Epics, and the Lords themselves on top of that.

"With that much, once I reach Rank XII, I can go straight into Swordheart without another long wait to build my strength. That Sword Tumulus will be mine."

Then he frowned.

"Less than ten days left on the seals. Once they end, everyone will learn the truth. Can we kill this many enemies before then?"

He waited patiently for half a day. Only when the invading Lords had advanced more than a thousand kilometers into Riftward did he give the order.

"Aurelia. Take the Dawnwing corps."

"Celia. Take the Praetorians and the Eclipse Legionnaires."

The seven hundred Legionnaires he had raised to Level 40 were reassigned from the entrance defenses to her force. They would use the fixed entrances to leave the Region.

"Everyone else, with me. Kill as many Black Banner Lords as you can. Crystal Maidens, keep scanning the battlefields. Don’t leave survivors."

"Yes, Lord!"

Kelshore and Rolfe Veylan had been very cooperative. They had divided their Lords into numerous groups, just as instructed.

Cassian soon found one of them.

More than five hundred Black Banner Lords. With their Heroes and troops, the column approached a hundred thousand strong.

"Kelshore?"

Even from a few hundred meters away, Cassian recognized the man leading them.

For a moment, he could only stare. Then he shook his head in amusement.

"What a coincidence. Nessa would be delighted if she were here."

He still remembered how furious the little fox had been when Kelshore hurled those taunts at them.