novelraw Chapter 481 : Blood Rain
Chapter 481 : Blood Rain
Chapter 481: Blood Rain
“Captain Kyle, this isn't what we agreed on. Weren’t we coming to the Northlands to fight a war? Why is it just patrols and railway construction every day?”
The young man complained as he patted the rifle on his back. “The last time I pulled the trigger was back at Castel’s training ground. I came because I heard there’d be a war!”
Kyle let out a sigh and rubbed his stomach. Where once there had been firm muscle, now it had rounded out considerably, layered with fat.
The expedition was indeed not what anyone had imagined.
When the railway extended into the Northlands, everyone’s spirits lifted. Before, they had been within the Prince’s territory, but now, they had stepped into enemy land.
How would those Grand Dukes respond to them? Expulsion? Negotiation? Or direct attack?
The Expeditionary Army had made their preparations.
But the one thing they never expected… was to be ignored.
Yes—ignored. Ever since entering the Northlands, there had been no attacks, no probing scouts. It was as if no one cared about them at all.
The Expeditionary Army hadn’t been laying track solely in the wilderness either. The rail line and armored trains had passed by many towns. But when it became clear they had no intention of entering the cities, the locals simply paid them no mind.
At first, the soldiers suspected it was a ruse by the enemy, and that an ambush would follow once they let down their guard. But if this was a ruse, it was far too elaborate.
So they just kept building day after day, while the Grand Dukes of the Northlands simply refused to acknowledge them.
To be fair, the enemy's plan had succeeded. By now, the Expeditionary Army had grown quite complacent—even the Political Commissar was struggling to rally morale.
No one could figure out what the local lords were thinking.
In truth, the three Grand Dukes didn’t even know the railway had been built this far.
No one had reported it—after all, the Northlands had been in chaos for over half a year. All sorts of bizarre things had happened.
A group of people outside building something? As long as it wasn’t siege equipment, no one cared. Even if they were summoning a Heretical God, nobody would bat an eye.
The lords had far more pressing matters to deal with.
And so, the Expeditionary Army continued their push day after day, growing numb to it all.
“Captain! Something’s up!”
“Oh? Let’s hear it.” Kyle looked up toward the lookout post above with a face full of boredom.
“Another pack of coyotes? Or did a wild boar get stuck on the tracks again?”
At the very top of the steam locomotive, the young man holding the binoculars sounded visibly shaken.
“No, this time it’s different. Really different! There are enemies—enemies!”
Kyle blinked. The word “enemy” felt strangely unfamiliar, swirling vaguely in his mind before finally registering.
In the next moment, like an agile ape, he clambered up to the top of the train and snatched the binoculars from the lookout, peering ahead.
Densely packed soldiers—quite a number of them. There were even cavalry, though they were too far to make out clearly.
Kyle quickly gauged their size through the lens scale, pulled a notebook from his pocket, tore out a sheet, and did some quick calculations.
“Fifteen kilometers away…”
“Captain! A report from the forward scout post!” A mounted sentinel galloped up, face alight with excitement.
“Speak!”
“Enemy troops spotted, approximately seventeen kilometers away—around two thousand strong, advancing in formation!” The soldier handed over a piece of paper.
Kyle looked down. It was scrawled with the composition of the force and its formation, along with a few rough sketches.
“Hmm… That’s Grand Duke Dragonfang’s crest… and this one’s Grand Duke Alvarez’s, and Octavia’s… These damn—where’s my reference booklet?”
“Captain, are they enemies? Are we finally going to fight?”
Kyle’s hand froze, then he grinned.
“They’re enemies! I don’t care which house they belong to—as long as they’re not the Resistance Army, we shoot first!”
Although it was Earl Bazel who delivered Nora’s head, he had done so in the name of the Northlands’ Allied Forces. The other three Grand Dukes never officially corrected that claim—conveniently enough, Hughes had declared war on all Northland nobles.
So Kyle only had to judge one thing: if they weren’t the Resistance Army, fire at will!
“Notify all squads to immediately enter combat readiness. Engineers, return to the train at once. Keep the steam engine running—get everyone off the train!”
Viscount Frey was quite pleased with himself.
Lately, he had been deliberately cozying up to Grand Duke Dragonfang’s faction, successfully stirring dissatisfaction from the other two sides.
Forces that had been growing closer were now again rife with mutual suspicion.
He was the commander of the Allied Forces, and if they truly united, that wouldn’t necessarily be a good thing.
With their growing distrust, Viscount Frey’s role as the mediator became all the more critical—and his position as commander all the more secure.
He, Viscount Frey, was not some brute who only knew how to fight. In terms of political finesse, he was second to none. That was precisely why he had risen to command the Allied Forces.
A man who couldn’t fight at all was trash. A man who only knew how to fight was a pawn. The ability to balance between the two was the very essence of nobility.
Hah. Would that commoner-born Chief even understand such things?
Outside, a few screams seemed to ring out.
Viscount Frey frowned. Something had happened?
No—impossible. He had scouts deployed the entire way, and they had all reported back.
Even if someone had devoured his scouts, any delay in reports would raise alarms among the troops.
He wasn’t some brute. These matters were second nature to him.
And yet, he pressed a hand to his chest. His heart was racing abnormally fast today.
Viscount Frey decided to inspect the situation personally.
The carriage came to a steady stop. His attendant opened the door, lifted the curtain, placed the footstool at the door, and turned to assist him down.
Viscount Frey stepped down. In just this short time, the screams had grown louder—were those… wails?
What was going on?
A deep sense of unease gripped his chest. He shoved the attendant aside and mounted his horse in one swift motion.
His eyes swept the surroundings. No sudden armies. No traps or ambushes. The marching formation was slightly disorganized but otherwise normal.
Everything seemed perfectly fine.
What was going on?
Had Octavia’s men stirred up trouble again? They weren’t good at much, but chaos—they excelled at that.
Viscount Frey listened closely, realizing that the screams were coming from the soldiers ahead.
He looked forward. A few of the soldiers had collapsed to the ground, but there were no arrows in their bodies. He looked up—no arrows falling from the sky either.
Cursed?
Suddenly, something dripped onto Viscount Frey’s face.
Rain? Impossible—it was still sunny. And why was the rain warm?
Frowning in confusion, he reached up and touched his face. He held his hand up for a better look.
It was covered in crimson.
It was blood.