The Cornflower Witch

Book 2: Chapter 71: Prince and Princess in Flight

Vol 2 Chapter 71 Prince and Princess in Flight

At the garrison at the foot of the Darkmist Mountains, construction was in full swing.

After instructing Sylutia, Commander Reginson led the rest of the team, loaded with supplies, and continued onward. They would reach the most dangerous frontlines of the Darkmist range to resupply the outposts there.

After this group left, only a little over sixty people remained in the new garrison. At this stage, whether apprentices belonged to what profession, everyone participated in building the garrison: some helped carry stones, some assisted in laying bricks, and others prepared food or scouted the surrounding area.

Sylutia sat by a temporary pool, closed her eyes and concentrated. A faint halo of moonlight shimmered around her, and then a delicate silver-threaded silhouette materialized behind her.

The hazy figure matched the silver-haired girl almost exactly, but appeared slightly more mature. Her eyes were lowered as she gently lifted a water vessel, drawing the pool’s water into it, and more kept flowing in.

The water within the vessel sparkled as it swirled, and after a few minutes it returned and poured back into the clean pool.

With that, today’s water purification was complete. Sylutia sighed in relief and wiped a few beads of sweat from her brow.

Even for her, purifying so many pools in a short time was draining. Normally the association’s water purification work was handled by Third Tier spring priests;

they specialized in purification and were few in number.

“Thank you for your hard work, Senior Tia.” Two young women approached, wiped Sylutia’s sweat, then draped a white veil that blocked the erosion over her, helping the girl sit down to rest.“I’m not that fragile,” Sylutia protested softly, though she was indeed a little tired now.

After leaning back in her chair for a brief rest, Sylutia regained some energy and stood.

“Let’s walk around the camp and see how construction is progressing.”

“All right.” The two women fell in step behind her. Both were Knight Squires of the Holy White Knight Hall, now assigned to protect Sylutia and attend to her daily needs.

…

While Sylutia explored the depths of the Shadow World, the surface continent was being roiled by conflicts and change.

Regas, White Cliff City.

About a hundred thousand troops besieged the royal city. The tents on the plains stretched endlessly, and silhouettes of giant eagles periodically cut through the clouds, watching the city below.

Inside the royal city, Grand Duke of Regas, Gress Bewilly, sat rigidly on his throne, his expression grim.

He had deep brown hair like his ancestors, and the silver crown on his head was dull and lifeless. The sapphire set in its center had gone dim, its fir-branch motif barely discernible.

“Eagle-Scorpion, Ante…” he ground out the two names, his thick fingers clenching the armrests.

Beneath the throne, generals and nobles stood with varied expressions: some anxious and restless, some with closed mouths and eyes, others trembling.

Everyone realized Regas hung by a thread. Ante and Eagle-Scorpion had coordinated so smoothly this time that it was clear they had already negotiated how to divide Regas between them.

Contrary to some expectations, when two great powers collide, the first to fall is rarely either of the giants. It is the small neighboring countries and weak factions that collapse first.

The high command of Ante and Eagle-Scorpion were not fools;

they knew each other were the greatest rivals, but they also knew that if they fought each other to the death, the surrounding minor states would profit. So why not swallow those smaller states first, since they could not resist?

With that shared intent and tacit agreement, the two powers launched this massive campaign aimed at annihilating Regas and partitioning it, building strength for future southern dominance.

“How much resistance remains in the city?” After venting his anger, Gress’ energy drained and he sounded dispirited.

“We currently have three legions on standby, totaling thirty thousand men, plus another fifty thousand militia called up.”

“How many knights from the Fir Knight Corps remain on duty?” Gress closed his eyes and leaned against the throne.

“Sixty-seven knights remain on duty.” A general answered while resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Only sixty-seven?” Previously, the Fir Knight Corps had 138 official members, all Third Tier knights or higher, the nation’s solid backbone. That it dwindled to half in mere months was shocking.

Some had died in battle, of course, but more had been withdrawn by nobles who refused to have their house knights participate in what looked like a losing war.

Vassals of vassals are not my vassals.

Although the Fir Knight Corps once numbered many, only about forty were directly loyal to the royal family;

the remainder served various noble houses.

In the past, this was manageable: one order from the Grand Duke could call those knights together to fight. Now many nobles, seeing Regas’ fate, acted on self-interest and recalled their knights. Of the sixty-seven knights still in White Cliff City, forty-two were royal household knights;

the remaining twenty-five belonged to other nobles.

Sixty-seven knights forming a charge could still be an unstoppable iron tide of this age, but they now faced an equally formidable iron tide. The Ante royal knights alone numbered over one hundred thirty, and with noble household knights and Eagle-Scorpion’s reinforcements, the allied cavalry outside the city totaled over three hundred—several times White Cliff City’s strength.

“Your Majesty, perhaps we should abandon the city…” Before the sentence finished, one general was interrupted.

“Nonsense! White Cliff City is the strongest fortress in the realm, and our food stores are sufficient. If we abandon it, we become like mangy dogs, run down and crushed.”

His words had their logic, and they quelled those who had entertained the thought. But if they persisted, there was no hope of victory—continuing would only lead to defeat sooner or later.

“Or we could just—” A sharp-nosed opportunistic noble muttered, watching others’ reactions.

What he meant was surrender. If they could not win, surrendering might preserve life, though it was humiliating and uncertain—no one could guarantee the enemy would spare them. If surrender led to disgrace or execution, their families’ honor would be ruined.

In every nation and region, the surrendered are forever scorned.

“Continue the discussion later.” Gress waved his hand, dismissing them for the moment.

Seeing no solution come from today’s meeting, some ministers and nobles left in disappointment. They were running out of patience.

If Ante’s forces truly breached the walls tomorrow or the day after, it would be too late to consider surrender or escape.

That night, after the meeting, Gress went into the palace’s deep underground. There he had a hidden passage that supposedly led outside the city.

“Jabers, Mursa, you two take people and flee through here.” He pointed at Third Prince Jabers and Princess Mursa, the third prince and second princess.

The current Grand Duke of Regas had three sons and two daughters: Crown Prince Leon, Second Prince Higli, Third Prince Jabers, Grand Princess Mathia, and Second Princess Mursa.

Grand Princess Mathia had married far away and was not in the city. The second prince had died on the battlefield last month, so only three children remained with him now.

“Leon will stay with me to continue defending the city. You two take people and leave,” he repeated.

“Go through the passage, leave White Cliff City, and head south to the Gloomwood. Witches live there in seclusion;

they know your identities and will escort you into the Hidden Grove to shelter you.”

“Even Ante and Eagle-Scorpion cannot meddle with the Hidden Grove’s rules. It is an alliance organization far stronger than them.”

“Once there, you’d best not come out for ten years. Live and study quietly there.”

“Do you understand?” Gress spoke sternly so they would remember.

“Yes, Father.” The two bowed, eyes wet as they looked at their elderly father.

After a moment of silence, the old man waved.

“Go.”

He then turned and left.

Third Prince Jabers and Princess Mursa did not hesitate. Escorted by attendants and loyal knights, they entered the deep tunnel and disappeared into the earth.