Chapter 284: Gathering Storm

"You coward! Where is your honor as a Warrior?!" Viscount Namisha shot back.

"Challenging an old man is your idea of a Warrior's honor?!"

Chieftain Pomahan opened his mouth, but no words came out.

It was true. Viscount Namisha was only a High-Tier Warrior, and in his fifties, he was well past a Warrior's physical prime. Coupled with years of exhaustion that had left his hair half-white, he genuinely looked like an old man.

Pomahan, on the other hand, was in his peak thirties. Challenging the older Viscount did indeed smack of bullying.

Viscount Namisha's deputy, Ulando, mocked him loudly.

"To challenge a gray-haired elder! And you still dare speak of a Warrior's honor! I've never seen someone so shameless!"

The soldiers on the City Wall erupted in laughter.

Pomahan flew into a rage.

"You cowardly scum! You dare insult me?! Come down and fight me to the death, if you have the guts!"

The High-Tier Warrior Ulando was young and hot-blooded. He was just about to accept when Viscount Namisha quickly stopped him.

"Ulando! Don't fall for it!"

Hearing this, the deputy cooled down. A wave of lingering fear washed over him at the thought of nearly agreeing.

The Barbarian Tribe worshipped strength; a chieftain was always his tribe's strongest Warrior. Chieftains of large tribes generally possessed Master Tier strength. For this barbarian to command such a massive army, he had to be a standout even among chieftains.

A High-Tier Warrior facing a Master Tier powerhouse—anyone with half a brain knew how that fight would end.

Seeing the City Wall fall silent, Pomahan started cursing again, his words exceedingly foul.

It wasn't just the ordinary soldiers; even the well-tempered Viscount Namisha burned with anger. He unslung the Enchanted Horn Bow from his back, drew a feathered arrow from his quiver, and nocked it to the string.

Swish!

The arrow slammed into the dirt right in front of the barbarian chieftain. More than half the shaft buried itself in the soil, leaving only the fletching quivering violently in the air.

"Get lost!"

Pomahan looked at the soldiers on the City Wall, their bows drawn and ready. Provocatively, he launched a slash of qi into the sky.

"Nutless cowards!"

Without lingering, Pomahan turned and left.

Although he was a Master Tier powerhouse, he couldn't block continuous volleys from so many soldiers. Rather than being driven off by arrows like a beaten dog, it was better to retreat on his own terms.

Of course, the deeper reason was the warning he sensed from a Master Tier powerhouse standing behind the City Wall.

As the barbarian chieftain returned to his ranks, several higher-ups hurried over to surround him.

"These damn Rowe People refuse to come out! Stick to the plan!"

"Understood!" they replied in unison.

The army of over 30,000 barbarians was composed of more than a dozen different tribes. The chieftains rode back to their respective camps, and soon, the massive force split into over a dozen separate columns, bypassing Midolan Fortress.

The border between the Kingdom of Rowe and the Great Barbarian Steppe was a stretch of rolling hills. Five great fortresses choked off the five strategic passes capable of accommodating large armies, but right now, the numerous small trails winding through the hills lay completely undefended.

The dispersed barbarian tribes would take these border paths into the Kingdom of Rowe to ravage its villages and towns. This was the battle plan devised by Siegfried, the barbarian patriarch.

Just as Viscount Namisha had anticipated their movements, Siegfried had calculated that the understaffed Rowe Border Guard Army would hole up in their cities. It was true that the barbarians could do nothing against towering City Walls, but pillaging border settlements was what they did best.

This time, they had come specifically for revenge. Kill all, loot all, burn all—that was their strategy. The barbarian upper echelon unanimously agreed that only by carving this lesson deeply into the Kingdom of Rowe would its people never dare disrespect them again.

Up on the gatehouse of Midolan Fortress, Viscount Namisha gritted his teeth as he watched the barbarian forces scatter and march into the distance. For thousands of years, whenever winter approached, the barbarians would cross into the Kingdom of Rowe just like this, plundering food and women.

In the past, border patrols would at least slow them down. The tribes fought independently, sneaking in only in small pockets. Now, a unified barbarian army was swaggering right in.

The scale of this barbarian calamity was unprecedented. Viscount Namisha sighed, wondering how many innocent lives would be ruined this time.

Seventy percent of the Rowe royal family's minor nobility was stationed in the Northern Province. The royal family needed a robust fighting force to form a solid defensive line against the barbarians pressing south, and nothing guaranteed a man's utmost loyalty quite like land and titles.

However, the majority of these nobles were merely knights and barons—lower-tier aristocracy scattered across every corner of the Northern Province.

Generally speaking, a knight might hold a manor or a single village as his fief. A baron would rule over several villages or perhaps a small town, while a Viscount controlled a bustling town or even a small city, along with the surrounding villages.

In the very beginning, Namisha Schimmel's own family, the Viscount Simir Family, had merely been barons ruling over a small town. That town was called Whitebird Town.

Whitebird Town weathered dozens, perhaps hundreds, of barbarian calamities. Fortunately, they had never encountered an insurmountable enemy, allowing the town to miraculously survive.

Through the efforts of several generations, the Simir Family accumulated enough military merit to be elevated to a viscounty. Whitebird Town gradually expanded into White Bird City, eventually growing into one of the top five cities in the Northern Province of the Kingdom of Rowe.

But minor nobles as fortunate as the Simir Family were in the minority. Over the centuries, countless lesser noble houses had been wiped out by the barbarian calamities.

Master Tier barbarians were rare during these calamities, but High-Tier fighters were common enough. Since the peak combat strength of a typical Viscount family was Master Tier, just protecting themselves was a struggle. It was an outright nightmare for barons and knights.

Given the sheer ferocity of this barbarian calamity, even Viscount houses were at risk of annihilation.

Viscount Namisha couldn't help but worry for his own bloodline. The Simir Family had endured for over two hundred years, and its strongest combatant was a Master-Tier Warrior. Yet, if two Master Tier powerhouses were to besiege them, not even their high City Walls might hold them back.

Right now, however, Viscount Namisha could only pray that his family and the four princes would stand firm. If they could just hold out for three days until the reinforcements from White Castle arrived, they could launch a full-scale counterattack.

The mobilization of the White Castle Army couldn't be hidden from watchful eyes, much less the native factions of the Kingdom of Rowe. The four princes quickly received news of the army's movements and instantly grasped the true nature of their trial for the throne. Pushing their speeds to the limit, the four princes rushed toward their respective supporters' cities in the Northern Province.

While the barbarians and the Kingdom of Rowe traded their opening blows, the White Castle Army made landfall at the docks of Bailey City.

The moment they set foot on land, the White Castle Army's commander, the gnoll Hogg Riverclaw, didn't pause for breath. He led a hundred thousand gnoll cavalrymen thundering straight toward the Northern Province.

Although White Castle and the Rowe royal family had jointly sealed off news of the army's arrival, they couldn't hide it forever. The barbarians would catch wind of it sooner or later. Speed is of the essence in warfare, and Hogger intended to ruthlessly exploit that window of time.

Because the barbarians excelled at mounted combat, the White Dragon Lord had dispatched an all-gnoll cavalry force. The Ogres, lacking suitable mounts and weighed down by heavy armor, could only march there on foot.

In the blink of an eye, the gathering storm engulfed the Northern Province of the Kingdom of Rowe.

...

More than ten kilometers outside White Bird City lay a small town known as Greenvine Town. This was the hereditary fiefdom of the Baron Mawei Family.

At that moment, Baron Mavi, who had held his title for less than a year, sat at the head of his castle's great hall with a deeply troubled expression.

Because of its proximity to the formidable White Bird City, Greenvine Town had long thrived under its protection. It was exactly this deterrent that usually kept the barbarians from raiding anywhere near the city.

After all, the barbarians plundered for food; sacking one village was just as good as another, so there was no need to provoke a juggernaut like White Bird City.

But that was the past. Now that the barbarian army had come for vengeance, the powerful White Bird City was far more likely to draw the ire of their strongest warriors than any other settlement. The city's master, Viscount Namisha, was the commander of the border guards—and the "chief culprit" behind the massacre of barbarians just a few days prior.

It was practically guaranteed that White Bird City would face a ferocious reprisal. When that happened, the nearby towns and villages would be the first to suffer.

His everyday protective umbrella had abruptly morphed into a death warrant. The young Baron Mavi wanted to weep but had no tears left.

Now, Baron Mavi was fiercely conflicted. He endlessly debated whether to flee into the mountains and hide, or to march to White Bird City and stand with the Viscount Simir Family.

Yes, Baron Mavi had already abandoned his territory in his heart. This barbarian calamity was no trivial matter; Greenvine Town couldn't possibly withstand it. He refused to wager his own life on some illusory stroke of luck.

If they hid in the mountains, they only needed to bring the townsfolk and their grain. The advantage was absolute safety. But if he did that, the relationship his family had cultivated with the Viscount Simir Family over two generations might not be destroyed entirely, but it would definitely plunge below freezing.

This was because the Viscount Simir Family had already sent an invitation, urging Baron Mavi to bring his people to White Bird City for refuge.

They called it seeking refuge, but no one was a fool. Once the barbarians arrived, Baron Mavi would undoubtedly be expected to lead his men onto the battlefield.

After careful deliberation, Baron Mavi decided to go to White Bird City. Escaping into the mountains ran a massive risk of facing a post-war reckoning.

Kingdom law dictated that nobles were obligated to defend their lands. Punishments for dodging this duty were severe, potentially stripping them of both title and territory. However, a strategic relocation to resist the enemy elsewhere was permissible.

By going to White Bird City, if Baron Mavi could earn merits on the battlefield, he might even receive a promotion in rank. Even if he failed to distinguish himself, it would still deepen his ties with the Viscount Simir Family, paving a smoother path for his future as a noble.

Moreover, his father had died at the hands of the barbarians. If he avoided the fight entirely, Baron Mavi felt he would be betraying his late father. As a newly appointed noble, he also sorely needed a battle to build his prestige and secure his status.

Of course, if the city fell, then everything was over.

But White Bird City possessed towering City Walls, elite troops, and a Master Tier powerhouse guarding it. It wouldn't fall so easily.

Therefore, Baron Mavi decided to roll the dice.

With his mind made up, Baron Mavi flew into a flurry of activity. He first ordered his trusted aides to escort his family, valuables, and the common townsfolk into the mountains for safety. This way, if White Bird City was breached and Greenvine Town was doomed, the foundation of his territory would at least endure.

After hastily arranging his territory's affairs, Baron Mavi marched straight for White Bird City with an army of five hundred men.

Unhindered by the old, the weak, or the sick, his company moved swiftly and soon arrived at the gates.

At the city gates, Baron Mavi received a warm welcome from Viscount Namisha's son, Salok Simir, who personally arranged lodging for his men. Salok had clearly been anticipating these reinforcements for some time.

Around noon, inside the great hall of the Viscount Simir Family's castle, the acting city lord of White Bird City, Salok, convened a meeting with the assembled nobles.

With a terrifying foe approaching and no hope of holding their own lands, most of the nobles from the surrounding region had flocked here. Among them were two barons and seven knights, all sharing the same mindset as Baron Mavi.

As the host, Salok was the first to raise his goblet.

"Gentlemen, thank you all for your trust in the Simir Family. Let us raise a glass to our enduring friendship."

The group downed their fine wine together, exchanged brief pleasantries, and then cut straight to the chase.

"Gentlemen, the barbarians are attacking with tremendous ferocity; the situation is grim. I've already received word from our scouts that numerous border villages have been hit. Fortunately, my father planned ahead, and the villagers were evacuated well in advance."

Salok paused to praise his father, but a moment later, unable to suppress his fury, he slammed his fist onto the table.

"But! Those damn barbarians set the villages on fire! Every single one has been burned to the ground!"

"What?!"

The nobles gasped in shock. In the past, the barbarians had generally kept to killing and looting so they could return to harvest the same fields the following year. They rarely engaged in the shortsighted practice of burning villages down.

Their faces fell as they began to worry whether their own territories would also be reduced to ashes.

"Gentlemen! The barbarians aren't leaving us any way out this time!"

Salok continued.

"According to the scouts, a massive contingent of barbarians is currently bearing down on White Bird City. They will arrive by dusk today!"

Baron Mavi's mouth twitched. He had prepared himself for White Bird City receiving special attention, but now that the threat was imminent, he still felt a sharp headache coming on. The other nobles wore equally colorful expressions.

But it didn't take long for Baron Mavi to compose himself. At this point, it was too late for regrets.

"Salok, you're the city lord of White Bird City now. Just tell us what to do! I'll follow your lead!"

Salok shot Baron Mavi a grateful look. With Greenvine Town being so close, the two of them were naturally well acquainted and even good friends.

The other baron present—a Level 9 Warrior in his thirties named Tedro—also chimed in.

"That's right! Just say the word!"

"Thank you, Baron Tedro."

With the two highest-ranking barons in agreement, the remaining knights had no objections either.

Salok smiled.

"Actually, it's not all bad news. I've received a message from the third prince, His Highness Milem. He is currently on his way with ten thousand troops of the White Wolf Army, as well as reinforcements from other nobles. They should also arrive by dusk."

The news of such powerful reinforcements acted like a reassuring tonic, and everyone secretly celebrated their decision to retreat to White Bird City.