The southernmost reaches of the Katepa Region.
Heye Valley.
A force of several hundred men was stationed here, arrayed in full battle readiness.
Armed with blades, spears, and other weapons, they wore light leather armor, and on their chests hung the winged sun holy emblem common to the Kingdom of Thrace.
"Captain, are we to keep holding this ground?"
"We are. This was Count Fabrique's direct order before he marched south. That northern empire poses a threat to the Kingdom of Thrace; we cannot allow them to seize land while our attention is elsewhere."
The man addressed as "Captain" wore finely crafted iron armor and carried a gleaming silver sword, speaking with firm conviction.
His name was Piotr McGrath, captain of this scouting unit and an extraordinary-tier fighter.
Regrettably, he still lacked seniority and had never undergone the Solar Rite.
Yet such was the heritage left behind by Holy Fadlan; with his martial prowess, he could have served as a general in one of the northern duchies of Anzeta.
Count Fabrique was a god-blooded noble stationed at the northernmost marches of Thrace. But as the war for the Holy City grew increasingly ferocious, he had been summoned south by royal decree, leaving behind only a handful of trusted retainers and garrison troops.
"Still..."
The vice-captain's voice carried a note of hesitation. "According to the treaty the kingdom signed, we're right on the edge of the border. One more step and we'll be treading on that empire's territory. Won't this provoke a conflict?"
"No."
Piotr shook his head, honing his blade as he spoke with disdain. "They're nothing more than a pack of savages from a barren wasteland. They've never witnessed the glory of Holy Fadlan in its prime, yet they dare call themselves an 'empire.' How laughable."
"Very true."
The vice-captain nodded in deep agreement.
After all, Fadlan had been a true holy empire.
Whether Thracian, Cassandrian, or Seleucian, they all looked back with immense nostalgia upon Fadlan's past magnificence, each convinced that their own people were the true heirs to the empire.
This pride belonged uniquely to the people of Fadlan. Over the past century, Holy Fadlan had held dominion over the entire Feanso Continent; dwarves, elves, giants, and fiends alike had prostrated themselves beneath the empire's radiant light.
At the mere thought of Holy Fadlan's century of glory, even the poorest and most destitute commoner would puff out their chest with pride.
Piotr raised his gleaming longsword, letting it catch the brilliant sunlight.
"Besides, they've barely been in Katepa for a month or so. I doubt they can even establish a foothold here. Heh, this isn't that barren Anzeta—terrible beasts and monsters lurk everywhere. Building a city here won't be nearly as simple as they think."
The vice-captain remained slightly uneasy. "Still, the commotion coming from the north lately has been anything but quiet..."
*Thump. Thump...*
A series of heavy, muffled thuds rumbled down from the north.
The earth trembled, and even the warhorses in their ranks let out panicked whickers.
Piotr's brow furrowed, and he turned to face the north. "Could that be..."
"How is this possible?" he muttered under his breath, his expression warping with shock.
Over a hundred wyverns swept through the air, beating their wings in wild disarray as they unleashed discordant shrieks, their wings brushing against one another like an encroaching black thundercloud rolling in from afar.
And upon the earth, dozens of land drakes moved like creeping hills along the distant horizon. Fixed to their flanks were cannons, while atop their backs sat hobgoblin cavalry.
"Long live the empire!"
"Long live His Majesty Cassius!"
The shouts of the imperial advance legion's cavalry and infantry echoed like thunder, shaking the very sky.
Then, a sharp, commanding roar cut through the battle lines like a sudden lightning strike:
"Arrogant Thracians!"
"You have crossed the border!"
"This is now the territory of the Cinder Empire—the land of the great Emperor Cassius!"
"Take one more step north, and you infringe upon the empire's sovereignty! You will face the imperial army's merciless wrath!"
Perched atop the largest of the land drakes, Jesai turned on a magic amplifier supplied specifically by the empire, allowing his voice to reverberate across the wilderness.
*A remote wasteland... How could such an army appear here?*
Piotr stared at the imperial vanguard in utter disbelief. The power of this "empire" from the north vastly exceeded his wildest imagination.
Judging by the sheer might and presence displayed before him, perhaps only the kingdom's Godblood Legion, Arcane Legion, or Iron Colossus Legion could hope to vanquish them.
Ordinary troops like theirs had virtually zero chance of victory.
Moreover, in Piotr's past experience, the armies raised by the northern nobles of Anzeta were utterly fragile, barely fielding a handful of classed individuals across a regiment of a thousand men.
There had never been any need to mobilize a force of this caliber to deal with them.
*Wait...*
A realization struck Piotr, and cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
Earlier, thinking nothing of it, he had sent a man north to scout freely for intelligence, and that scout had not yet returned. Could it be—
"Captain, save me!"
A voice choked with sobs rang out.
Sure enough, the missing soldier appeared within the imperial ranks, his hands and feet bound tight by hobgoblin infantry, tied up at the very front of the line.
And Jesai spoke once more.
"If anyone dares set foot upon the empire's soil again without authorization—"
The hobgoblin paused, slowly drawing a finely crafted pistol and leveling it before pulling the trigger without the slightest hesitation.
*Bang!*
A gunshot cracked through the air. The soldier collapsed forward onto the ground, lifeless.
"Wait, let's talk—"
Piotr's pupils shrank, his face frozen in pure disbelief, his outstretched hand stalling midair.
That hobgoblin had actually killed him?
How dared he execute a soldier of the Kingdom of Thrace in broad daylight!
This was an open humiliation!
Glancing coldly at the fallen soldier, Jesai continued, "That is what awaits you!"
"Have I made myself clear?"
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
The hobgoblin count fired three consecutive shots into the air, silencing the surroundings into terrified stillness.
The vice-captain whispered urgently, "Captain, what do we do..."
Piotr stared at the imposing imperial army marching from the north. After a long silence, he gritted his teeth and ordered, "Fall back! We leave immediately! There's no point in throwing away lives for nothing."
"Do not come near the border again. As it stands, the Kingdom of Thrace... cannot afford to provoke an empire like this."
"Move!"
Panicked and shaken, the Thracian soldiers gathered their warhorses and baggage and retreated south in a hurried rout that bordered on full flight.
Standing atop the spine of the land drake, Jesai watched the departing army with narrowed, impassive eyes.
"The Katepa Region is the primary staging ground for the empire's future southward conquest."
"Absolute control over it... must be guaranteed."
A major reason the empire had demanded Katepa was to shatter the Kingdom of Thrace's encirclement. To the southwest, it opened a path to the Free Trade Confederation around Silvermoon Bay; to the east, it connected to the Mountain Kingdom of the dwarves.
Once the Cinder Empire consolidated its grip over the Great Anzetta Waste, it would march through Katepa to truly step onto the continent, cementing its place as a formidable force on the grand chessboard of Feanso.
Chapter 414