Chapter 354

"Lord Gervas, what should we do now? The orcs are far more brutal than even the tribal savages!"

"I'd rather face the western savages than fight them!"

"Yes! Lord Gervas, should we refuse to go to the North and head straight to Eagle City to file a complaint?"

Inside Storm Castle.

As dusk arrived, Gervas was visited by Mil and his neighbors.

Their sudden visit was naturally about the conscription order.

"I think we shouldn't even consider refusing to go to the North, because this conscription order is clearly targeted at us!"

"If you fail to arrive in the North on time, you'll be playing right into the schemer's hands!"

"Targeted? But my lord Gervas, we've never offended anyone! Who is it? And why target us?"

"Exactly! We're just minor border nobles, always minding our own business, never daring to offend anyone—who could be so cruel as to send us to die in the North!"

Hearing Gervas's reassurance, the minor nobles grew even more panicked.

They had also sensed something was off.

After all, conscripting nobles who had already served this year's call was rare—extremely rare.

And it was suspiciously precise: nearly all of them were people who knew each other.

So once Gervas spelled it out, they no longer doubted—they immediately accepted they had been manipulated.

But the problem was, they simply couldn't figure out who they had offended!

"My lords, according to what I know, the one manipulating us is Minister Vellard of Eagle City."

"Minister Vellard? This… could it be because of our testimony before?"

"Damn it! That was Farion the Count's own crime—he broke royal law, and we, the victims, merely told the truth!"

"Exactly! For this, he wants us all dead! That bastard!"

Upon hearing Vellard's name, the nobles instantly believed Gervas.

Because Vellard indeed had motive.

After all, Farion's death had been sealed by their testimony.

Watching his indignant neighbors, Gervas's expression grew strange.

He wanted to tell them that, originally, Mithos had deliberately concealed their identities as witnesses to protect them.

And Farion had been so universally despised that nearly every noble had cheered his death.

So Vellard had only learned that Gervas was the main "killer" of his son—he had no idea who else had testified.

But knowing how much more miserable they'd feel if he told them, he decided not to.

"My lords, now you know the truth. You must still file your complaint, but this campaign is unavoidable."

"With Vellard deliberately obstructing us, your complaint won't be heard until after the campaign ends."

"If we refuse conscription before then, we'll be made examples of and executed by martial law!"

"But Lord Gervas, this northern campaign is so dangerous—if we die, how can we file our complaint?"

"True! Lord Gervas, we're not being pessimistic, but the northern campaign is brutal—reports say at least forty to sixty percent of those sent there die under orc blades!"

"In past years, due to unrest in the south, we border nobles were lucky—but any noble from the interior who's fought in the north fears it!"

"Yes! If we die in such a deadly battle, even if we could complain afterward, what good would it do?" Mil and the others felt trapped and terrified.

"So my lords, you must all survive and return!"

"Only if we live can we make Vellard pay!"

"The North is dangerous, but we've formed an alliance—we'll stand together, help each other, and our survival rate will be far higher than normal!"

"Besides, I have a flying beast and two hundred cavalry—we can warn of danger early and bring formidable combat power. Do you think this reduces the risk?"

The nobles paused, eyes wide. "Lord Gervas, you're bringing your Swiftwing and cavalry?"

"Exactly. These elite troops exist to win battles. Don't worry—by working together, we'll return safely!"

Mil and the others' eyes lit up—they finally saw a glimmer of hope.

"Lord Gervas, we're counting on you!"

"My lords, we count on each other," Gervas smiled.

Though the minor nobles were weak.

But more men meant more strength.

Uniting them would increase his own chances.

Thus, the nobles departed.

Time was short.

This conscription was more urgent than the last western tribal invasion.

The western tribes were weak—even if the suppression failed,

the loss would be limited to part of the western region.

Those tribes could never threaten the kingdom's foundation.

But the North was different.

The orc race's strength was nothing like the tribes'.

Had their environment not been so harsh and their metallurgy and farming so primitive, they might surpass humans.

So if the orcs found an opening, they could surge straight through—the consequences would be catastrophic.

Thus, the conscription order gave nobles only half a month.

This journey was even longer than the last one to the west—half a month was already extremely tight.

Had the roads not been so well-developed, Gervas doubted they'd ever make it in time.

…

Deep in the night, a figure appeared beneath Storm Castle.

Like Freya and the tribesmen who had tried to ambush Gervas, this figure approached the castle, then vanished into the woods, silently observing the defenses.

But this figure was far swifter than Freya's group.

Once inside the trees, she leapt lightly, darting between branches without ever touching the ground.

The dim forest became her playground.

"Yes! This is it!" Akali slowly opened her eyes, withdrawing from her perception, her beautiful gaze fixed on the castle ahead.

She had confirmed—the natural aura she sensed lay within the human castle.

Without hesitation, she leapt from the trees and reached the steep cliff face beside the castle.

A drop of over forty meters—nearly vertical. To others, it was an impassable chasm.

But for Akali, it blocked nothing.

She pulled out a short blade, biting it between her teeth, then began climbing barehanded.

With hands and feet working in unison, she scaled the cliff swiftly.

Any protrusion, crack, or ledge became her foothold.

Of course, since the castle relied on this cliff as its primary defense, it wasn't so easily scaled.

Near the top, the cliff curved inward slightly, forming a reverse-sloped overhang.

The surrounding rock had been meticulously carved—no good handholds remained.

But Akali had already planned her move. She bent low, then exploded upward with all four limbs.

Her leap soared over three meters high, clearing the reverse-sloped overhang entirely.

Yet it wasn't enough to reach the cliff's summit—another three to four meters remained above.

At this moment, Akali stood at the brink of life and death.

If she failed to grip the next hold, she would plunge thirty meters down.

Still airborne, she gripped the dagger in her mouth and thrust it violently into the cliff face.