Chapter 63: Seventh Episode: Chapter 8
Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

In the woods where shade blurred out most of the things, a chipmunk was darting around, holding a walnut in its arms. Its cautiousness was as if saying the whole world was its enemy.

The moon was only left with a tiny speck of light through the treetops. There was no wind, only clouds, and chill of hopelessness, everything seemed to be radiating misfortune and pain.

The weather was hot, there was no way to preserve bodies on the battlefield. The Red Tigers could only make a simple fire burial for Lieutenant Colonel de Barry Gol Freed from the Traisen Front. The few people who attended the burial include the military chaplain, Prince O’Neil Andrew Morisette, Division Commander Major General Murat, as well as several followers of Prince O’Neil.

De Barry was laid peacefully in a pile of dried leaves, no one planned to see his face, right now, he’s just another officer who was sacrificed. The Prince took the torch from Major General Murat and sent the Andrew knight off.

"Oh God of Light who art in Heaven! Receive this brave warrior of the Narcissus with thy magnanimity and solicitude…" The chaplain hummed the prayer in murmur, he knew no one really listened, this prayer had been used so many times, most of the knights already had it branded into their mind.

Tree branches crackled in the conflagrative flames, agitating Oscar. The teenager glanced beside his feet, it was de Barry’s armor and lance, the family heirloom of the ancient Gol Freed family of Narcissus. The set would be sent back to his family to be received by his successor, and the successor would continue this century-old fate of their family.

The best lance warrior of the Narcissus Knights, five consecutive jousting champion, he only managed to attack once. However, that was the deciding factor in that battle. The Red Tiger Division believed that, and so did Oscar. It was this belief that roused a sudden, new feeling he had never experienced before. Years after, O’Neil Andrew Morisette found out this feeling had a name, it was called guilt.

"Reporting for duty!" A sudden voice disturbed the silence during the ceremony.

The Prince and the division commander turned their heads.

"Your Highness, Commander! The Fifth Scouts discovered the gathering point of the dead and injured Persians. Scout Captain reckoned we have completely eliminated the enemies."

Oscar and Murat nodded.

"Your Highness, Commander…" The messenger hesitated.

"What else?" Murat frowned.

"I… I am waiting for further orders."

"Bury the dead, nurse the living, place them under observation! Need this even be asked?"

"Yes sir!" The messenger turned around immediately, everyone who overheard knew their division commander was not in a good mood.

"Wait!" Oscar stared at the burning corpse of de Barry and sighed. "Was there any females in the gathering point?"

The messenger shook his head in confusion.

Oscar let out a breath, looks like the Princess had escaped from danger. The teenager didn’t want to see her harmed.

Murat ordered the soldiers to bring them their horses, and everyone left the burial ground.

"Are you blaming yourself, Your Highness?" Murat noticed the teenager was quiet.

"I think so, I don’t really know." Oscar answered honestly. "I know that was de Barry’s duty, but he shouldn’t have died here. He deserves to be like a champion, piercing every single enemy that appeared in front of him."

"It would be nice." Murat laughed, making the teenager to gawk at him in surprise.

"But Your Highness, do you know? There are times it’s not up to us to decide, it’s not your fault, it’s also not the fault of the Persians. The fault is on the God of Light’s summoning of de Barry. As a Narcissus Knight, this may be a relief."

"Relief?" Oscar was confused again. "Even Narcissus Knights would want a relief?"

"Of course, no one liked war." Murat’s face shifted into a dark shade, like the night sky.


"I like it!" Figg Andrew Tibotty rubbed his hands. After a night of rushing, his brigades were close to the appointed battlefield, and according to the current situation, all factors seemed to be favoring him.

"Do you know? I like this defensive stance. If the Persians were still using this stance by tomorrow sunset, I have the confidence to take down at least half of them here." Figg’s eyes were almost glowing when he pointed at the places on the map.

"Is that the Triangle Scorpion formation?" An old soldier shifted beside the young marshal. "Uh… the main cavalry units in the middle rear, a brigade on the left wing slightly forward, another brigade in the right leaning toward deep, I don’t see a flaw there?"

"Wrong!" Figg raised the whole candlestick, illuminating the whole map with its crimson light. "Look here, if the scouts weren’t blind, they would have noticed this, the main Mogadishu cavalry troops were too much to the back, as though they were completely out of the battlefield. Their positioning with the left wing even has a ridge between them, that means the old wolf didn’t even plan to fight us directly, they would retreat at anytime."

"The brigade on its left wing is probably a lure, the Great King of Mogadishu would think that we will attack the left wing, with its forces so spread out."

"Ziyad! You’re completely right!" Figg was satisfied with his assistant’s answer. "It looks like they decided to sacrifice their left wing, and then block off the path with their right, so that their cavalry troops could stroll their way back to the border."

"We can’t let them run away!"

"That’s right, General! Give us the order!"

"Okay! Okay!" Figg stopped his officers’ yelling with his own, "Of course we wouldn’t let them get their wish, so… we attack their left wing."



"General, isn’t this just going with the enemy’s plan?"

Figg quickly scanned through his officers, he noticed only a few people looked like they were giving it a second thought, and the others… Figg shook his head. The guys who lack the mental initiative would be eliminated on the battlefield sooner or later, he only hoped they wouldn’t take their warriors with them.

"Is that wrong?" Figg stopped them once more. "Are we going to attack their main party directly and be flanked by their wings? We can only use the most conservative plan to eliminate their left wing before we find other ways to defeat them."

"That’s it! Listen to my order!" Figg didn’t want to waste his breath anymore.

"Attention!" The officer barked out the command.

Figg straightened himself, "Listen to my order! The Front’s First and Second Cavalry Brigade of the First Mixed Brigade will attack the enemy’s left wing from south, First and Second Cavalry Brigade of the Second Mixed Brigade will attack the enemy’s left wing from north."

"The Army Reserves of the Front will meet with the Infantry Brigades of the First and Second Mixed Brigades and take over the ridge entrenched by the enemy before launching an attack on the main forces of Mogadishu."

"The Front’s Third Army, Second and Third Division, you will be tasked to distract the enemy’s right wing, lock them on their battlefield so they couldn’t support the main forces."

Traisen Front’s Deputy Commander General Ziyad took down the order from his Commander, he reckoned he needed to voice his concerns.

"Commander, will our cavalry forces be intercepted by the enemy’s main cavalry forces when we flank them? Look here, their point of attack is risky, it’s almost showing the enemy their weak spot."

"No," Figg disagreed, "I noticed something, it’s already been a day, isn’t it? The Persians were there without attacking or retreating, this is not normal! They… seemed to be waiting some people or something, so I insist on my suggestion. Mogadishu army will not attack, their main objective is to retreat safely."

"But… But out attacking troops are the similar in number of people with the Persians! I’m not confident a frontal attack could do much damage." Ziyad still looked unconvinced.

"Of course," Figg shrugged, as if he didn’t care. "I reckon we could only defeat the enemy’s left wing, the Reserves and the Third Army would not be able to gain any advantage over the enemy. However… Has everyone forgotten about Second Army?"

Ziyad finally realized what Figg meant, causing Figg to be extremely proud of himself and raised both his eyebrows.

"The Front’s Second Army!"

"Communications officer of the Front’s Second Army, on behalf of the Military Commander of the Front’s Second Army Hyman Kuperman, awaiting order, sir!"

"Okay, tell General Hyman, abandon their immediate enemy and return to defend Neliger Valley pronto! Remind him, his mission is to stop the main Mogadishu’s army’s retreat…"

Figg paused and turned his head sideways in consideration. "Actually, ask him to do his best, he will know what I mean."

After that, Figg turned to Ziyad who was deep in thought, Ziyad nodded, agreeing to Figg’s plan. However, this strategist famous for his foresight had his reserves, Figg’s plan was undoubtedly to diminish the enemy’s power as much as possible, but to completely decimate the Mogadishu cavalry main forces, it’s take all of their powers.

"That’s it for now," Figg saluted his officers, and considered the meeting adjourned.


A light shower washed over the mountain. Even though the Narcissus County was landlocked, their quantity of rain in the mountains and hill areas were ample during the summer.

Rainwater gathered on huge leaves of some shrubs, and when it got so heavy the leaves couldn’t bear it, the water splashed onto the ground.

The sky was dark with barely a twinkle of light, the knights’ torches swayed erratically like a wink of fireflies. In the darkness, they moved slowly, vigilantly, even though the enemies were gone, the two-day operation had left the Red Tiger warriors shaking. To them, it is exciting, of course, to win against strong enemies, but when the enemy’s willpower is as indomitable and as unyielding as they are, the Narcissus Knights would also be a little wary.

The Prince and officers of his direct division found the leftover Persians, these enemies were already harmless to them, they laid on the ground haphazardly, their wounds were infected after exposure to the rain, and they smelled like rotting meat.

Nineteen of them! There were only nineteen Persian survivors in this gathering spot! The knights slowly inspected these survivors who brought them so much deaths and injuries. Weirdly, at this point they could no longer show hostility to their enemy. They cautiously approached the injured Persians, and cautiously checked them for wounds, everything in done in wordless appreciation.

Oscar lowered his body slightly against the leader of the enemy. Using his handkerchief, he wiped the black belt warrior’s face, stained with blood, rainwater, and mud.

The black belt warrior struggled to open his eyes, he looked at the teenager in front of him, then to the machete in his hand. The warrior wanted to say something, but before he could utter a word, he coughed violently.

"Percy, Percy! Quick, take a look at him." Oscar called for his doctor in panic. He was unsure why he didn’t want his nemesis to die just like that.

Big man, Little Godot joined Oscar, he wanted to take a good look at the tough warrior, he knew the warrior was so strong, he was almost a legend.

"Your Highness, it’s no use. He had been hit by my sledgehammer, his internal organs might even have moved, I don’t even know how he managed to survive until now." Little Godot shook his head without hesitation.

"Is it really?" The Prince turned to the poison doctor.

Percy who was checking the injuries on the black belt warrior shook his head.

Oscar sighed, he crouched in front of the warrior. "Can you speak?"

The warrior nodded slightly. "But… what do I say?"

Oscar couldn’t answer. Yes, what should he say?

"Why do we have to do this?" Oscar knew his question was a little weird, he could tell the knights around him were shocked.

"Why indeed?" The warrior’s dull eyes sparkled for a little. "I’m happy, I’m so happy someone from House Andrew would think like that."

"You too?" Oscar got a little excited.

"I have, but I couldn’t find the answer. But whatever the reason is, I was born a fighter, I believe the Andrews are too."

Oscar went quiet again, "House Andrew is the God-chosen warrior!’ This was what was drilled into him since young.

"Looks like none of us had any choice."

"Yes, my true God and your God didn’t leave us much to choose from."

"If that’s the case… do you mind if I send you on your way? I think… there’s no need for you to suffer anymore." The teenager placed his machete in front of his chest. He had found out through his driver, the True God of the Persians don’t allow his believer to commit suicide, this usually had to be done by someone else.

"If it’s you… I’m honored." Sure enough, the black belt warrior closed his eyes."

Oscar raised his machete while mumbling in a language the Narcissus Knights couldn’t understand, The knights were slightly anxious. They clutched their weapons, afraid that their enemies would jump up to attack them again.

"You’re very kind." The warrior who was waiting for his death said. He had realized, one of his nemesis was praying for him to True God in his language.

"Thank you!" Oscar was slightly taken aback.

"If you weren’t an Andrew, our Princess Arayna would have fallen for you." The black belt warrior laughed at himself after finishing his sentence. A Persian princess, and an Andrew descendant, is this even possible?

"Oh?" Black belt warrior’s joke had piqued the teenager’s interest. "Her name is Arayna? It’s a beautiful name! Are you sure she would be interested in me?"

"Of course!" The warrior, usually expressionless, had a pair of smiling eyes. "You’re born into nobility, you could wield your machete really well, and you managed to uncover Our Princess’ veil in a fair fight. If all these combined, Our Princess would be happy to become your wife!"

"But… But I am from your enemy, House Andrew." The teenager’s memory and yearning of the lady disappeared in an instant.

"That’s right… Our Princess hails from your enemy Persia." The black belt warrior’s tone also sank into darkness.

"Are you done yet?" Murat was getting impatient! He couldn’t wait for these two to finish chattering.

Oscar and the black belt warrior exchanged glances and grinned, they were getting a little carried away.

"So then… May True God always be with you!" Oscar raised his machete again.

"Yes, may True God always be with me." The warrior’s eyes closed, this time for good.


Rain was still falling, and it seemed like it’s getting heavier. The brown forest started glimmering with a dim, greenish light. The mountain path had Narcissus buds about to bloom on both sides. With the rain sprinkling on them, it’s likely they will blossom in the morning.

The sky dulled into a boring black, it’s like the sky leaned its weight against the earth like a mountain against people’s hearts. The wide, uninhabited forest stretched toward the far side as if to reach out for bigger space. Pitter patter sounds of the rain echoed in the woods, seemingly bringing some other miraculous sounds with them. The scents of a rainy night blended together into a wholly natural fragrance, spreading out into the skies and lands and the rivers flowing downstream.

The snails started their work, they love wet ground. The rain didn’t seem to impede the snails’ journey, the snails glided across the muddy ground, the mud becoming their food, as well as their excrement. Mud passed through their body, they passed through the mud.

Oscar looked left and right, choosing a fat snail from the ground. It’s not exactly his fault, if anything, blame it on the snail that intruded his personal space. The teenager peeled the snail’s shell open skillfully, and tossed the fat meat into the brazier.

Soon after, the tasty scent of grilled snail wafted out, the sweet smell imploring the young Prince to close his eyes in satisfaction.

"Murat, Snowstorm," The teenager turned around, "Can you please excuse me for a while? I need to be alone."

The duo went outside the tent, Oscar picked the grilled snail out of the brazier with a tong. He tossed the fatty meat into his mouth and start chewing animatedly.

"That’s right! I need the rest." The Prince muttered and slinked away into dreamland. Hopefully there won’t be blood and filth in there.


It’s daybreak, the sky was not very bright, the air was humid, and the knights’ armors and weapons were lined with a layer of dew. Several pillars of smoke carried into the air, attracting early birds. They were scouring for tasty malt seeds dropped by the knights by the pots. However, as the knights attempted to get close to the pots, the timid avians scampered away promptly.

Thanks to the Persians, the Traisen area were full of tall hills and wilderness. Since General Figg’s victory against the Persian, the Persians have identified Traisen as their main area of invasion. General Figg and his Front had stopped them many times in the past, but the constant tug-of-war also caused the area to be the most destruction Narcissus County had seen.

To greet the incoming battle, the knights had woken up really early, almost all of the equipments had been checked, and unnecessary items were all left behind in their own tents. The breakfast was rich, there were fresh malt soup, toasted breads, cured meat, and mashed potato with leek and gravy. The knights knew it might be their last meal, so everyone was really concentrated on their food, not wanting to waste even a drop of soup.

A resounding echo of the signal to gather came. The Narcissus Knights gathered as usual, the flag bearers carried their flags to their predestined locations based on their designations, and the knights gathered after them. It wasn't long before the plains filled up enough to give a sense of suffocation to anyone who sees it. Yellow tents scattered on the a sea of green, with one side covered with fluttering flags of the army and metallic weapons.

Herald officers yelled at their own teams, adjusting their positions and formations. These need to be exact until the point they meet their opponent, so it should be as precise as possible.

A young knight blinked excitedly, his similarly young companion warhorse shifted about with antsiness. The older soldier advised him, "Control your horse, it’s not a good thing he is so excited. Like warriors, horses need to be able to take orders obediently."

The young warrior respected the older knight, he looked at the older knight’s scars, and turned to their horses. The older warhorse was used to moving around with its horse-buddies and doesn’t exude the smallest sense of agitation. They had their heads low, ears perked up, only the loud attack signal would rouse their fierceness.

The younger knights didn’t have the patience for the time before the clash, they turned their attention on their own weapons. Shiny swords could be brandished higher, long lances could reach further. However this would attract a harsher reprimand from the older knights. In a formation, it is forbidden for anyone to brandish their weapons callously, that would only hurt their comrades. Their mission was to tear down the enemy’s line of defense, but of course, if an enemy appeared right in front of their horses, it’s up to them what to do.

"Captain, where are you from? How’s your family doing?" The young knight who got reprimanded desperately wanted to change topic.

"You bastard son of- Don’t you know when it is now? Bringing this up would only annoy people!" Obviously, the question touched a sensitive subject for the older knight. People on the battlefield had always avoided talking about family.

"B-but… Aren’t we battling for our family?" The young soldier didn’t expect an answer like this. "To let my wife I just got married to live a good life! Isn’t that so?"

"Yes!" The older knight nodded snarkily. "I’m here to make sure your young, beautiful wife can lead a good life!"

The older knight’s answer seemed like a retort, making the other knights laugh while the young knight blush. Someone explained to the young knight soon after, "Let it go! Our captain’s family was killed by the Persians. He -is- here for your family, in a way. He’s here for all our families, he doesn’t mean anything about it!"

"Attention!" The old captain hollered as every knight under his team raised their swords against their chest in reflex!

A parade of officers marched in front of the troops, led by the commander of Traisen Front Figg Andrew Tibotty.

"Old Gordon!" General Figg stopped. He saw the fiercest captain of the Rangers of the First Brigade. "I heard you met a beautiful lady during Army Day."

"Yes sir!" Old Gordon answered honestly.

"How was she? Did you spend the night at her house?" Figg’s interest was piqued.

"No, sir!"

"Oh? How come? This doesn’t sound like Old Gordon!" Figg tugged at his horse to chase after him.

"I can’t help it, sir! The lady said ‘General! Don’t touch me!’"

Starting from the commander of the Front, all nearby officers and knights started laughing hysterically.

"Oh, well. I’d wish you a better luck next time, but today is not about luck, you’re in charge of attacking the enemy’s rear." Figg finally became serious.

"Attention!" Old Gordon led his cavaliers for a salute again. "Sir! Second Ranger Squadron of the First Mixed Brigade will not let you down!"

Figg returned the salute, and walked to the next phalanx.

"Captain! What about the lady?" The young knight asked again to the chagrin of Old Gordon.

"Shut up!" This time, there are multiple voices answered him.

The sky was windless, but the plants on the ground trembled, followed by the earth. The hop-clops of the cavalry brought a heavy rumble. In the boundless land, an army of cavalry swept in from the west, grumbling as if the ground and the skies opened. Heavy black shields bobbed along as horses trotted, lances pointing skyward becoming a mobile forest.

Dark clouds opened up as pieces of sunlight squeezed through, the pillar of brightness illuminated parts of the ground. On that part of the ground, swarms of knights received the blessing of the God of Light before surging into the cloudy gloom.

The battlefield was just in front! The Persian horn had sounded! The earth was rolling backward, yet Death came closer than ever.


The Divine Titan Empire, Light’s Year 791, 6th Day of 8th Month, ten o’clock in the morning, Narcissus County, Traisen area, 69 kilometers west of Neliger valley, two whole brigades, an army reserve, and two cavalry divisions belonging to Narcissus Knight Traisen Front entered the battlefield. They have started the attack about five hours ahead of schedule.

The sky was still dark. On a small ridge, a knight slowed his horse to a stop. He stayed still, watching the Persian army approaching from the far east. Finally, he turned his horse around, holding the war flag. In his hand, the tiger on the flag spreaded its posture as if pouncing at its prey, and the blooming Narcissus flower on it was like the tiger’s pearly teeth!

Following that, a row of knights appeared on the ridge, donning their silver armor and deadly lances. It’s as though everything in the land had stopped moving aside from the Fierce Tiger Flag of Narcissus!

The signal horn were blown to signal the start of the attack, and following that, the earth boiled over!

"Andrew Haila!" The flag bearer’s yell was received with thousands of responses! It’s as if some sort of magic had been cast on the tiny hill as countless knights poured out of it into the fields and plains. They were soon met with the light brown skin of the Persians! Those intruders! We will rip those ugly faces into pieces with our swords!

"Ready!" The First Brigade Commander didn’t know if his men could hear him, but he was satisfied as he noticed the first line of offense had raised their lances.

"Rangers, go!" In the deafening sounds of hooved stomps, that order sounded so weak! However, the flag signaller and the bugler carried out the order. Almost immediately, the impact phalanx of the rangers started shooting, their bowstrings bellowing, arrows flew toward the enemy like a burning meteor.

The Persians finally started moving, the cavalry on their left wing started to spread out to the north of the battlefield while the infantry erected a wall of shields to face the incoming arrow shower.

"Rangers, charge!"

As this order was announced, the Rangers phalanx had clashed with the Persian cavalry. In a second, both the troops looked as though they were conjoined. Some half of the knights had been run off their horses from the initial impact, the Persian vanguard had slowly disappeared as the Rangers drove deep into them.

The heavy cavalry of Traisen had been following behind the Rangers, they had charged along when the Rangers started clashing with the enemy. The Persian left wing infantry adjusted their formation according to their direction, but the bugler and flag signaller of Narcissus Knights signalled a new order.

The Heavy Cavalry made up of thousands of people turned around, attacking from the north as planned.

The Persian vanguards finally settled as Narcissus Knights were almost too close, but they didn’t seem like they even flinched. The Archers were still shooting, while the swordsmen and shieldbearers erected wooden stakes to stop mounted enemies.

The heavily armored knights stomped in their enemies’ chest cavities, but at the same time, wooden stakes pierced into their own. The knights’ lances shot into the chest of their targets, but the swordsmen beside their horses managed to claim their lives. Arrows popped into the flesh of their marks, but not before they managed to swing their swords one last time.

Heavy cavalry didn’t tear down the defense put up by the infantry, as the Narcissus Knights whirled past the Persian vanguards killing a number of them, they had to leave some of their comrades behind.

Two of the cavalry divisions from Traisen Front Second Mixed Brigade started their assault and entered the battlefield from the south on the enemy’s left. The Persian archers on the left wing turned around, but they only get one chance to fire their arrows.

The First Ranger Division was clashing with the Persian cavalry in the most intense, most ancient fight, both sides kept switching out their front lines and exchanging blows, however, at a corner of the battlefield, a Ranger squadron had rearranged their formation in silence. Fatigue had started to show on the knights’ faces, but to them, the real battle had just started!

Old Gordon looked at the young soldier behind him, he looked like he’s doing quite well. He took an arrow to his arm, and his thigh was sliced, but no fatal injuries so far.

"Young’un! Remember how I look from the back! Wherever I go, you follow!" The captain ordered loudly.

"Andrew Haila!"

The Persian archers were stunned by the whizzes happening overhead, but when they tried to raise their bows, they realized their enemy had already closed in!

Second Ranger Squadron appeared suddenly behind the enemy, dealing considerable damage deep into their formation. The young knight waved his sword about excitedly, he had already felled six archers, he watched in satisfaction as his enemies scampered away, but he suddenly found himself in a uncongested area, with a warrior wielding a battleax and a shield, blocking his path.

Second Mixed Brigade grabbed the opportunity as the enemy archers were in chaos. They were already in safe zone! They are speeding up! The knights could only hear the wind blowing behind their ears as their warhorses sprinted. Their eyes were dead set on the enemy, when their enemy were in range, becoming as large as life-size, arrows fired, swords slashed, spears shot out! They charged toward their enemy’s flag in bloodied rage! Between the pain and the grunting, they attacked any enemy who were in their way.

"Mogadishu’s main forces had no action, their left wing is finished!" Ziyat said in a low voice. He didn’t seem too ecstatic.

"Yes! I saw that! I think it’s one of our newbies who took down their flag!" Figg let down his hand from his forehead. "Reserve Army, ready! Third Army, ready! It’s their turn!"


"Do you think we will be called?" Oscar asked Murat, pretending to be nonchalant.

"Hm… I don’t think so! General Figg had no reason to involve any troops outside the planned order." Murat reckoned that was the case.

"Major Griffith! What about you?" The teenager turned toward the operations officer under his second brother.

"Not sure, if General Figg thinks it’s necessary, your troops will definitely be included, but of course, that would only happen if we make it in time." Griffith said honestly.

"Ah, that’s true." The teenager gave it a little thought and subconsciously tightened his legs, his Raytheon stallion felt a force asking it to speed up.

"Oh right! I didn’t know how you found us!" Oscar recalled a question.

Griffith smiled wryly, "Your Highness, to be completely honest, your troops was hard to locate. I had been looking for a whole night with a whole squadron of scouts in the mountains before we located one of your scouts."

"Ah… Are you familiar with Lieutenant Colonel de Barry?" Oscar slowed down without much thought.

Griffith was silent. "I… I used to be the operations officer of the First Brigade, it was de Barry who recommended me into the Front’s Military Affairs Department."

"You… were close with him?" Oscar stopped completely.

"If you put it that way. I knew him since young, his archery was the best among the kids in the neighborhood! All of us liked hanging out with him. After that, he grew bigger, stronger, so he changed to lance. As you know, he’s the famous jousting champion in the army!" Griffith sank into his own memory.

"Does… does he have a family?" Oscar felt his lips dry up as he popped the question.

"Yeah, he left behind his old mother and grandfather! His wife is working at Andrew Haila Military Personnel Department as a secretary. He also has two sons! I heard they were not even as tall as a chair!"

"It seems like you know him very well." Oscar was a little confused.

"Yes…" Griffith smiled slightly. "His wife is my older sister."

Oscar didn’t know what else to say, even Murat on the side was stunned.

"I’m sorry!" Oscar apologized, but he knew his apology doesn’t carry much power at the moment.

"Your Imperial Highness, don’t worry, loss is something everyone will experience at some point. De Barry is my brother-in-law, but… but we are soldiers, we are the knights of House Andrew, we cannot be sad, that’s the responsibility of my sister. If it were me, I can only pray for him, hoping he’ll receive eternal peace in the hall of Sapriuses."

The young Prince stared at the young operations officer, before he turned to Murat in doubt.

"Is that true?" He asked.

"Yes sir!" Murat straightened his back. "You should abandon the useless thoughts in your mind. As a soldier, battles are mandatory, sacrifice is guaranteed, tears are pointless, and sadness is superfluous! We shall transform all emotion into our motivation to keep fighting, use all our desires on hurting the ones who hurt us. If we can’t do this, we’ll be struck down by no other people than our own selves. Before our enemies even came in the picture, we would already have lost our courage to fight. You are one of the Andrews, you’re a warrior chosen by God himself! Chosen warriors can only yield to God, the great God of Light had chosen House Andrew to cleanse and protect this world! This is what we believe in, and this is what we will stand fast to!"

O’Neil Andrew Morisette remembered every single word he heard. He felt something deep in his heart being energized, something unfamiliar, but yet he knew it well. Murat wouldn’t know how much he had influenced Oscar with the speech, but in the future, because Prince O’Neil Andrew Morisette believed in Murat Bedoya’s fidelity and loyalty, Murat who understands all the questionable activities his Emperor Andrew had done would survive several major exodus operations.<script>chaptererror();</script>



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