Chapter 597 - 364: Not Committing the Slightest Offense (Part 2)

Chapter 597: Chapter 364: Not Committing the Slightest Offense (Part 2)

Several Dragons flew in formation, circling the entire city to ensure the broadcast could be heard everywhere.

"Residents of Delong Castle, greetings. I am Figxin Sutton. Tonight, the Northern Legion will conduct a targeted demolition of all military facilities within the city, including the following locations: the Lord’s Castle, the Arsenal, the Barracks, and the Mage Tower..."

’Targeted demolition? What is targeted demolition?’

Count Medellin had never heard the term, but its literal meaning was easy enough to guess. Those buildings wouldn’t survive the night.

But from what Figxin was saying, it seemed she only intended to strike military targets.

This Princess was far more merciful than her brother.

"All residents, please take note: stay away from these buildings. Tonight, I hope you will remain in your homes to avoid any accidental injury."

This was, in effect, a disclaimer.

It went without saying that anyone in their right mind wouldn’t be strolling down the street when a battle was about to break out.

The problem was, one should never underestimate human foolishness. With enough people, there were bound to be some without a lick of sense.

When the Northern Legion entered the city to clean up the remaining resistance, civilian casualties would be hard to avoid.

If someone tried to make an issue of it later, they could just point to the disclaimer.

"Furthermore, to all Knights, soldiers, and Mages in the city: do not offer pointless resistance. Cherish your lives."

Hearing this, Count Medellin laughed. It was the first time he’d heard a threat phrased so refreshingly.

’Cherish your lives.’

In other words, anyone who resists is dead.

"Lay down your weapons and assemble at the city gate. I give you my personal guarantee that your safety will be ensured."

Figxin’s voice repeated over and over again above Delong Castle.

Inside the Lord’s Castle, the adjutant and guards looked at the Count. They said nothing, and it was impossible to know what they were thinking.

Count Medellin sighed and said, "Go to the city gate. There’s no need to resist any further."

He believed that even if he ordered them to resist, no one would actually listen. They would most likely mutiny.

Hearing their Lord say this, the men’s tense expressions relaxed. They turned to leave, but as he reached the door, the adjutant suddenly asked, "My Lord, what about you?"

"Me?" Medellin poured himself a glass of wine. "I can only die in battle. I cannot surrender. I am the Lord, and a Lord has no choice."

The adjutant’s mouth opened and closed. He swallowed the words he was about to say, leaving only, "Good luck to you, my Lord."

Count Medellin swirled the wine in his glass.

His son was still in the Royal City.

For his only child, it was better to have a father who died in battle than one who surrendered.

Based on his understanding of Sutton VII, surrendering was the same as treason.

"Good luck to me." Count Medellin drained his glass, bidding a final farewell to the adjutant who had followed him for years. This castle would be his final resting place.

Meanwhile, the city had descended into chaos.

A few small, "stupidly" loyal factions, along with soldiers who didn’t believe their safety could be guaranteed, were building barricades, preparing for a final struggle.

As for the civilians, they were desperately searching for places to hide.

Figxin had said a lot, but to them, it all boiled down to one thing: the Northern Legion was coming into the city.

The army was coming.

In the minds of almost all Feilin People, an approaching army meant a great disaster.

Although Figxin had made many promises to avoid harming civilians, no one took her words seriously.

Scarcely a true word ever came from a noble’s mouth, let alone a member of the Royal Family.

Even if—even if she was telling the truth, and this person who sought to overthrow the Kingdom truly wanted to protect civilians, that was just her idea.

How could she control so many soldiers under her command?

To them, the army was the antithesis of morality. People believed that a group of men constantly under the pressure of life and death would naturally have little regard for life.

Therefore, the army’s arrival meant burning, killing, and looting were on their way.

A stablehand in the castle saw the guards drop their weapons and head for the city gate. He understood there would be no counterattack. From now on, he was on his own.

He picked up a weapon a guard had dropped, intending to use it for self-defense. But after a moment’s hesitation, he tossed it back on the ground. He was afraid that if he were found armed, he’d be mistaken for an enemy soldier and killed on the spot without a chance to speak.

There was no time to waste. He ran desperately toward his home.

He arrived home, out of breath, and threw open the door to see his wife huddled in a corner, crying. She was terrified.

In war, civilian women faced far more danger than men.

Those ’master soldiers,’ if they took a dislike to a man, might just beat him up and let him go.

But if they saw a woman, it wouldn’t just be a matter of a beating.

The stablehand was clumsy with words and couldn’t think of anything to comfort her. Besides, comfort was useless now. He simply picked up his wife, hid her in the cellar, and urged her, "Don’t make a sound. Absolutely do not make a sound."

Then, he gathered all the women’s clothes, shoes, jewelry, photos—anything and everything that could prove a woman lived there—and threw it all into the cellar.

He would face the approaching Northern Legion alone.

After doing all this, he dug out every valuable thing in the house, piled it up, and placed it in the most conspicuous spot.

He hoped that those ’master soldiers’ would see how ’sensible’ he was being and spare him.

Finally, he chose a small knife that felt good in his hand and tucked it behind his back. It was his last resort, one he hoped he wouldn’t have to use.

Having completed all the preparations he could think of, night had fallen. He sat on a stool and began the most agonizing night of his life.

The first thing he heard was the sound of explosions from cast Magic.

He now understood what "targeted demolition" meant. It was using Magic to level all the target buildings.

The Magic used was probably similar to what he’d seen bombarding the Protective Shield during the day, only this time it was closer. The immense ROAR made his ears ring.

Not long after, a more terrifying sound appeared.

Footsteps.

He could clearly hear many footsteps moving outside his door.

Then came the sound of Magic Firearms, followed by screams. Something was burning nearby, the CRACKLE AND POP of splitting wood.

All sorts of sounds drilled into his eardrums, but he could only sit there in the dark room, enduring the pressure.

He gripped his trousers tightly, his legs trembling uncontrollably.

Fear was about to swallow him whole.

Soon, the sounds from the street gradually faded. The people who tried to resist had most likely been cleaned up. They hadn’t caused the Northern Legion any trouble at all. Perhaps by morning, their bodies would be hanging in the square as a public example.

Afterwards, the silence proper to the night returned.

The stablehand didn’t know what was happening or why it had become so quiet, but he didn’t have the courage to go out and look.

He remained sitting in his house, forcing himself to wait out the long night.

Yet from the middle of the night until dawn, nothing happened.

The night passed peacefully.

It was completely different from what he had imagined.

’Where is the Northern Legion?’

Sunlight streamed through the window, filling the room. It was morning.

He mustered his courage and peeked out the window. The small path in front of his house was empty.

’Was everything yesterday a hallucination?’

An absurd thought popped into the stablehand’s head.

The silence outside gave him a surge of courage, so he opened the door, intending to see what was going on.

He tiptoed down the path and out onto the street.

And then, he saw the most unbelievable and unforgettable sight of his life.

The soldiers of the Northern Legion—thousands of them, as far as the eye could see—were sleeping on the street, side by side.

These soldiers didn’t look very old. Many still had a childish look on their faces; some weren’t even twenty.

They clutched their guns as they slept, every last one of them.

The stablehand didn’t know what to say. An army of soldiers, armed and fresh off a victory, had entered the city and, instead of looting, hadn’t even entered a single house. They were just sleeping quietly on the ground.

He doubted his own eyes, wondering if he was asleep and dreaming.

But the distinct feeling of the road beneath his feet proved that this was real.

An army that didn’t loot.

The shock of this hit him harder than the sight of those grand Magic Arrays.

More and more people began to appear on the streets. They must have also been awake all night, and they were just as shocked as the stablehand.

The stablehand stood at the street corner in a daze. He could hardly describe what he was feeling, but he knew one thing for certain.

The times had changed.