Whispers of the Gods

Chapter 98 Rudomir III (1)

In the morning, the breeze on the city wall was as gentle as a whisper, brushing his strands of blond hair from the south, and he took a deep breath of the fragrance of the sea breeze, forgetting the sultry heat of the inner fireplace and the smell of rotting corpses.

The seagulls flew towards the dawn, and the sun poked its head out from the sea level, covering the cast iron city with light gold tulle, the mountain peaks were kissed by the morning light, and the foot of the mountains extended to green fields, brown land, silver streams, and black moldy forests.

Smoke rose from the thatched and tiled roofs, blending with the morning mist.The town center was crowded with people, and the spire of the temple on the square stretched into the sky, like a beacon of faith and hope in the gradually brightening light.

Although it is not as good as the Hall of Ashes, it is still a prosperous city, Rudomir Korva thought to himself.

But the heart of Ironcrown City is not in its center, but in the iron mines on the west side of Ironcrown Mountains.

The miners opened low tunnels on the hillside, and then dug several shafts protected by wooden sheds and wooden supports for ventilation.Next to the shaft stood a small cart, and not far away was a lever hammer pulled by mules to break the newly dug ore.

Despite his dislike for the Hastza, Rudomir had to acknowledge their skillful craftsmen.They used their ingenuity and skill to create efficient tools to use animals and water instead of human power. Although they have been driven out of Vivaria, their marks are everywhere in this land.

Suddenly, a cold arrow struck from below and passed over his head, startling away the birds around him, causing him to burst out laughing.

This group of white iron hooves has accompanied him to appreciate the beauty of this early morning for five days. Their commander Stiboll Koch asked them to erect a large tower shield made of wooden piles on the street to prevent the black army from entering the city wall of the Lonely Cliff Fort. The shooting on the ground is also for myself to find opportunities to harass the defenders on the city wall.

"Give me the bow."

Rudomir ordered to the Black Army soldiers beside him.

The soldier in black armor took the longbow from his back, hid behind the city wall and handed it to him. "My lord, please be careful."

"Yew? It's a good bow." Rudomir raised his eyebrows and took the longbow.

The longbow was nearly five feet long, with a smooth surface and tightly wound hemp strings.He took a steel-headed goose-feather arrow from a quiver leaning against the city wall, and nailed it to the bowstring.

He turned sideways and aimed the arrow at the tower shield on the street under the city wall, slowly closed his left eye, and drew the bowstring.

Rudomir knew when he should let go of the bowstring, it had become a kind of intuition, his mind didn't need to tell him when to shoot the bow and arrow, because his hands would make the choice for him.

He was as still as a stone statue, breathing slowly and evenly, waiting for his prey to appear.

When his right eye observed the first movement, Rudomir had loosened the string and shot out the feathered arrow. With a whistling sound, the sharp arrow drew a graceful arc in the air. With the south wind, it directly pierced half of the The archer neck from the body.

"Artur, what is my current record?" He turned and returned the yew wood bow to the soldier, asking him plainly.

"Counting this time, it's eight out of nine, my lord."

A satisfied smile appeared on Rudomir's face, he patted the soldier's shoulder, and quickly walked down the city wall along the stone stairs.

Wounded soldiers of the Black Army were scattered on the grounds of the castle like autumn leaves, being cared for by captured doctors.The labored breathing of the soldiers filled the air, and the pain and torment of the wounds echoed in Rudomir's ears.

These people had suffered like this because of his decision. He secretly swore to Athenos, the star god of war, that he would definitely bring them victory in the end.

He went straight into the armory, a vast room dominated by the black forge that stood, its iron bellows now asleep for no blacksmith.Weapons and armor on wooden racks reflected the flickering red light of torches on the stone walls.

Soldiers of the Black Army are polishing their black leather armor or sharpening their weapons. Some of them have changed into chain mail and thick felt robes found in the armory or taken off the guards of Lonely Fort. .

"Lord Rudomir."

Jaroste Sagan bowed his head respectfully to him, and he found himself a suit of flexible blue plate armor with the white iron hoof of the Wilk family on it.He and others are gathering around a temporary oak round table in the center of the room, on which are some blueprints and chess pieces for the championship game.

"You'd better have someone wear steel plate armor for you, Yaroste." Rudomir shook his head and said, "Your current attire will create doubts on the battlefield, be careful that you will be shot through the ass by your friendly soldiers."

"I'll be wearing a black cloak then." Yaroste said with a chuckle, his chin was flat enough to be used as a table. "But if you will give me the good plate armor, I will certainly obey."

"When the time comes, you can choose one yourself." Rudomir waved his hand and walked towards the round table.

"grown ups."

The commanders and captains around the oak table saluted him one after another.

Rudomir nodded and asked them, "Have we heard from anyone else?"

"Not yet, my lord." The infantry commander Emmanuel shook his head and said, "The white iron hooves of the Iron Crown City are always guarding outside the Lonely Cliff Fortress, and no one can slip out under their noses."

Emmanuel wore black leather armor and black wool robes, with the mark of the Black Army on the chest-a dragon holding a long sword, and their motto written in Vivaria-"Nothing Fear" (Wn Crirfydd).

Over forty years old, he has short blond hair and a pair of calm and sophisticated blue eyes. His jawline is rough and well-defined, with stubble that hasn't been trimmed for a few days.

"The pigeons are still with other people." Rudomir touched his forehead. "We only released three before the attack. The Hall of Ashes still doesn't know what's going on here."

(End of this chapter)