Chapter 620: We’re Known To Be Very Kind To Our War Prisoners
Baiyi stood at the center of what resembled a command room, which was filled with hovering holographic screens depicting the battlefield from different angles. The screen in the middle of the room showed a simplified schematic diagram of the battlefield, which showed that the two battlecruisers had released all suited sorcerers into the field.
The goal of these individuals was to carry out the first few onslaughts. They would bury a concentrated number of magical bombs around the enemy’s soldier’s camp. When the battlecruisers launched their aerial bombings, these enemies would find their reinforcements’ paths blocked and sabotaged, therefore plunging the enemies into more chaos. The sorcerers would also be responsible for eliminating the enemy’s sentries and direct the target of the bombings, as well as cut off their foes’ retreat.
By now, the sorcerers’ stationed within Shensha territory had finished their preparations. Once the dragon knights began to attack, they would launch their own in coordination.
Baiyi looked at a large wall clock in the middle of the hall and waited for it to strike twelve — the dawn of a brand-new day.
“Has our amba.s.sador return?” A question suddenly popped into his mind, prompting him to turn to his secretary and asked.
“Not yet. He had decided to retreat only when the war had commenced,” Baiyi’s gorgeous secretary answered immediately.
“Hmm… Inform the special ops; tell them to keep their eyes peeled for one of our own when they capture Shensha’s royals.”
Way back at the HMS Luminati awaiting her order, Mordred had just received her latest command and turned to her subordinates. “Good news, boys. We’re supposed to take care of Mr.Amba.s.sador later during our mission! That just makes our work more fun!”
One of the youths showed his approval with a wide, wide grin. So wide, it was more like a crack that stretched to his ears and displayed rows and rows of saw-like fangs.
Mordred smacked on the back of his head disapprovingly. “For your fangs’ sake, don’t smile until you’ve mastered your human form!”
As it turned out, he was a dragon too.
“Okay, time to roll. Everyone knows what to do so prep on your own,” She continued.
Mordred’s Special Ops team, “The Imperial Wyverns”, boasted one thousand five hundred members and forty-one dragons including herself. These dragons would carry ten sorcerers and act as their aerial firepower support. Excluding those whose main task was backup and ammunition, the rest of the eight hundred members were used as ground forces geared with mobile suits similar to those used by the sorcerer vanguards.
It was a team comprised of only the crème de la crème among soldiers. Any single one of them held the rank and power of a centurion in a medieval military setting. With their battlecruiser’s very own ranged firepower, the Imperial Wyverns possessed the capacity to decimate the enemy’s capital city by itself, let alone the simple job of capturing Shensha royals. The addition of protecting the Amba.s.sador was only a fun detour for them.
“We only have three hours to finish our job; if we don’t succeed, those eyesores would march into the battlefield and do our job! You and I both loathe those ugly-a** walking junk-metal, don’t we? So let’s save our eyes from their appearance by getting the h.e.l.l on with our work!” Mordred proclaimed.
Rohlserlian sorcerers, even when no longer suave and graceful as they used to, would always be a proud bunch. As the Empire’s corps d’elite with a wealth of legendary feats to back up their pride, battle marionettes — with their brutish fighting style and their unimaginative number-swarming method — were an eyesore. Not helping the sorcerers was the persistent belief that all these years of peace had enfeebled their battle prowess while battle marionettes, owing to their programmings, would one day replace them all. Such an off-putting belief simply would not do!
Mordred and her team would once again prove to these plebs that the Imperial Sorcerers would always be the nation’s sharpest tools! But first, she would have to wait for the clock to strike twelve — just as the amba.s.sador currently in the enemy’s palace.
The New Empire’s amba.s.sador to Shensha Empire was a high-scoring alumnus of the Faculty of War Strategies and International relations from Imperial Da Xue, and one of the Charlatan’s best students. He was also a much bolder man than his master; even though Baiyi approved of his earlier departure, the man insisted on fulfilling his duty right down to the last moment.
To be fair, the amba.s.sador hardly felt he was in danger. Right now, he was somewhat interested in the mural walls decorating the palace’s front hall.
A minute later, the door creaked open. Without lifting his sight away from the art, the amba.s.sador complimented, “Your nation’s sand art is truly an example of aesthetical elegance! Repeated viewing somehow does nothing to dilute its wonders. I truly hope that this art form may be preserved for the future.”
“I fear that your appraisal will be seen as undue exaltation at this time and age, regrettably. Not even the Rohlserlians, who proclaimed themselves as cultured connoisseurs of all things beautiful, learned,” The Emperor of Shensha replied somberly.
“Is that so? A pity,” The amba.s.sador replied with a smile, spying his watch striking twelve.
A new day had begun.
A few hours ago, the amba.s.sador had marched into the palace to deliver his j’accuse against the attack, even going so far as to rattle out names including the Shensha government’s intelligence agency. He had also made a pa.s.sionate call for the country to crack down on the terrorists and to sever their ties with the heads of Anti-Rohlserlian Alliance within three hours.
In truth, those hours were never for the Shensha government but the New Empire herself—no country would have agreed to these demands without a debate. Not even a nation whose head-of-state had changed thirty-odd times since she met the New Empire.
The amba.s.sador could hear the nation’s stance from their deceivingly unimportant exchange and knew that it was time to leave. “It’s late; please excuse me. Good night.”
“No, excuse us. We wouldn’t want you to leave at this dead of night, so please, stay,” One of Shensha Emperor’s men-at-arms growled coldly before stepping in. He shot a meaningful glance at his subordinates wearing Rohlserlian mobile suits before they surrounded him.
The amba.s.sador straightened his back and deadpanned. “Have you heard of a famous phrase from my home? It says, ‘n.o.body could stop a Rohlserlian from going home, because we love her above all else’…”
Right on cue, a shrill shriek tore through the grim silence.
“Rohlserlian dragons!” The captain of the men-at-arms cried. “Defense!”
Before the guards could mobilize, however, the dome above the hall let out a m.u.f.fled boom and broke into a large cavity. A gigantic dragon head garbed in metal reached in and stared into the amba.s.sador’s eyes as the latter brushed a speck of dust off his s.h.i.+rt.
“O’ greatest honor! I did not expect Your Highness,” he said.
“Blah blah blah. Get up!” Mordred replied, retracting her head from the opening to shove her arm between the amba.s.sador and the guards.
The amba.s.sador quickly ascended Mordred’s metallic claw and up her neck. Before he took off, he told a very frightened Shensha Emperor, “You ought to preserve that painting, man. It’s truly exquisite.”
The world outside the palace was already an ocean of flames. Sorcerers continued to plummet close to the palace like bullets before swinging their staves — which looked like any other weapon but staves — around to reap their enemies’ lives. A dozen giant dragons swarmed the sky; some of them launched into swooping attacks, while others stationed close to militarily-significant facilities so that their sorcerer riders could wreck wanton destructions on them.
“These b.l.o.o.d.y Rohlserlian b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! How did they go past our defense without a sign?! How did they not tip off our alarms??!” The Emperor shouted hoa.r.s.ely as he watched his city burn in horror.
n.o.body had the hearts to tell him that their alarms and detection system were made in Rohlserl.
“Sire, you must retreat!” His captain yelled, towing the Emperor to flee. Unfortunately, a hole was blasted out from one of the walls, and a pale-golden armored sorcerer swinging a halberd-like staff strode forward.
“Hi! Here for the big catch.”
Ten of the most fiercely loyal guards instinctively swarmed toward him, raising their firepoker-resembling staves and shooting out beams of technicolor at their enemy. “Protect His Majesty!”
“Seriously, a first-generation GM suit?! I thought these things only exist in museums!” The sorcerer jeered before raising his halberd and running into the guards. With a few swings, one of the guards was split into half by its heated blade.
“Pathetic!” He shouted like a demon king incarnate. He flipped his halberd before hurling it into an arc one the same level as his waist, cutting another guard into two.
“S***. This guy’s suit is way above ours! We need to refocus on getting His Majesty out of here!” The captain screamed, showcasing his wits and clear understanding of the disparity between their mobile suits and their enemies.
If the guards were having a hard time fending off just one enemy, then what else could he imagine to have befallen the soldiers outside? Or the troops in other parts of the nation? The more his mind wandered, the more frightened the captain felt. The best he could do right now was to bring the Emperor to safety.
They had not made it far enough when two crimson red beams shot through their knees. The Emperor and the captain stumbled, cras.h.i.+ng with their faces first and without the ability to run.
“Hee hee! Our captain hates people who flee with a burning pa.s.sion,” A disembodied voice rang.
The captain shuddered, recognizing the voice. An Umbra Sorcerer — the invisible magical a.s.sa.s.sins and Rohlserl’s most feared killer! That was not all there was to their reputation; half of the thirty previous emperors had died on their hands.
The Emperor clutched on his shattered knees with a grimace of agony. Summoning all of his strength, he groaned, “You’re… trying to capture me alive?”
“Rest easy. We’re known to be very kind to our war prisoners.”
The captain in pale-golden mobile suit smacked the ground with his halberd, causing greenish smokes to rise from its slightly reddened blade. Upon closer inspection, though, belied them as vapors formed from blood in high temperature.