Knights and Magic Wand
Chapter 492 - 492 231 Emergency Takeoff

492: Chapter 231 Emergency Takeoff 492: Chapter 231 Emergency Takeoff Outside Green Creek Village, the Thorny Flower and River Valley County Alliance Camp.

Ever since accompanying Count Eriv to the high-level meeting at the North Shore Camp, where he proposed the water attack strategy to the assembled nobles of Orland, Leon swiftly returned to the daily grind of frontline camp life.

Lydwen III’s decisiveness was unexpectedly swift.

On the very next day after the meeting, droves of soldiers and civilians arrived at the upper reaches of the tributary, not far north of Green Creek Village, sweating as they dug channels and constructed dam reservoirs.

Leon was impressed—unsurprisingly, a usurper who had triumphed in a civil war.

In some sense, he could even be considered a half-founder of a new era.

Regardless of praise or criticism, the fact remains—he ushered in the turnover of Orland’s dynasties.

But none of that mattered to Leon now.

His duties, much like those of an air force pilot in a previous life, involved daily aerial patrols with the Pegasus Knights, alternately scouring the skies to repel enemy Sky Knights attempting reconnaissance.

Yet day after day, these chases rarely escalated into full-blown combat in the skies.

The Southern Lion Scorpion Knights always traveled in groups of five, never straying alone.

Whenever Leon tried to approach, they retreated promptly and kept their distance.

In most wars, fierce battles are always fleeting.

Whether general or soldier, much of their time is spent in camps, marching, and waiting…

It wasn’t until the counting of gains after the battle at Green Creek that Leon learned they had annihilated nearly a thousand Urian Cavalry while suffering fewer than three hundred casualties themselves.

Apart from various weapons, armor, and other spoils, they had confiscated over two hundred usable warhorses.

This was the first battle since the North-South standoff began—and an indisputable, resounding victory.

Though it seemed Count Eriv had thoroughly exploited his numerical advantage.

But war has never been about fairness.

A win is a win.

Using more to defeat fewer, overwhelming the weak with strength—that has always been the path to victory.

Of course, they could have engaged the enemy in a straightforward and cautious battle, relying on their superior manpower to possibly secure a win.

But such a victory would never yield results as dramatic as these.

Once the grassland cavalry decided to retreat, the North’s heavily armored Felu Knights would find it difficult to risk breaking from infantry lines to pursue deeply.

Such minor victories would not demoralize the Urians.

Only by delivering devastating defeats like this—ones that truly hurt the Southern grassland troops—could they force the fragmented Southern armies to deliberate on the cost-benefit of continuing the war.

Now, those thousand fleeing tribal cavalrymen would likely remain relegated to rear-line duties—guarding camps and escorting supply lines.

For the South to deploy them again, the tribal commanders, having suffered such losses, would rather die than become cannon fodder once more.

This effectively rendered an entire unit combat-ineffective.

In future tough battles, these forces would opt to preserve their tribal power and flee at the first sign of adversity.

Without the dominance displayed by the Great Khan of the Urians who once swept across the West Continent, today’s Urians—fractured and constantly embroiled in infighting—had long since lost their former might.

The impact of this battle could even extend to other Urian forces along the South Bank.

Thinking along these lines, Leon felt relieved that the enemy had not fought to the death that day.

Fewer sacrifices on their side seemed like a good outcome.

Of course, war inevitably comes at a cost of lives.

Hearing his sergeant’s report that around ten men from his own Knight Order had perished, Leon felt a weight settle on his heart.

Unlike defending Longka to protect its homeland, this time, it was he who had to lead his men into a war that was essentially a political struggle between two nations’ elites—one that had nothing to do with his soldiers.

Carrying the weight of their trust, he remembered each of their faces, their warm greetings, and the respect in their eyes.

But now, no matter how they celebrated victory, these dozen men were gravely wounded or dead, reduced to no more than cold, lifeless bodies.

Outside the camp, the wagons carrying the fallen soldiers left deep ruts in the muddy ground.

Watching the convoy fade into the distance, Leon silently vowed to handle their funerals properly, care for their families, and pray for the peace of these sacrifices.

Yet, unlike his past life, in this one, Leon had glimpsed the true afterlife through the Netti Cards.

It was an inexplicable realm that no mortal logic could describe—a place that only imparted a soul-reaching cold to those who experienced it.

After descending, is it truly possible to find any rest?

Back then, Canis’s twisted and restless soul in the Dead Sea, writhing like an evil spirit—it certainly didn’t look like anything peaceful.

Leon’s consciousness had only projected into that realm briefly, yet the memory alone still sent chills down his spine.

Sometimes, knowing too much is far less comforting than remaining ignorant.

To forever remain in that sea of eternal ice, devoid of darkness, light, and the very concept of reality…

Leon couldn’t help but touch the card pouch at his waist.

Lacking both strength and resources—he doubted he could summon ordinary souls even if he had all the Netti Cards he needed.

Let alone these nameless, ordinary soldiers—summoning someone as exceptional as Canis, this Knight of Valor, who had achieved great feats on the Mamor Battlefield, was already a miracle, its difficulty unparalleled.

As for now, even if Azeryan, Lokhak, Olivia, or Kovis—those he held dear—were to meet disaster, he doubted he could use the Netti Cards to bring them back.

Wait…

Upon thinking of the first two names, Leon suddenly paused.

Huh?

Azeryan and Lokhak might actually be an exception!

The poetic ballads of Galliard were widely circulated.

While Leon was the main protagonist, Azeryan and Lokhak also played significant roles in these tales.

Considering the traces the two left in the world, if they ever faced misfortune, reviving them might actually be easier than summoning Canis’s soul.

Given that the second ballad emphasized their roles even more, Leon suddenly felt a surge of excitement.

He seemed to have discovered a shortcut to insuring his companions with an “Aphrodite-brand Death Insurance.”

Determined, he resolved to seek out the True Dragon Bard later and have him craft more stories about his companions.

Or wait—Leon reconsidered—hiring other renowned poets to sing praises of his friends might work just as well.

Leon realized that the fame and glory of his companions held tangible, practical importance for him.

But as he touched the three Netti Cards in his pocket, he quickly calmed down.

No matter how good an idea that was, it remained only the preliminary condition for Netti Card magic.

Right now, he couldn’t even create a single extra Black Card.

The goal of preparing “insurance” for each of his companions remained a distant and lengthy journey.

Spirit Vein Ore, Eternal Ice, and Melted Mountain Gold had promising leads, but Moonfall Silver…

Leon sighed.

Even Princess Ines herself admitted that it would be hard to persuade her father to part with any.

But then, how on earth was Leon supposed to obtain it?

Unless he masked himself, became a bandit in the Capital, and secretly infiltrated the alchemist guild’s treasury for a heist?

“—Mr.

Leon!!”

The faint sound of a military whistle and shouting overhead snapped Leon’s attention back to the present.

He looked up.

Above him, a winged armored horse descended from the clouds, carrying a knight armed with a light cavalry spear and a revolving crossbow on its saddle.

Unlike Dragon Knights, Griffin Knights, or Scorpion-tailed Lion Knights, a Pegasus Knight’s combat abilities depended entirely on the rider.

Thus, all Pegasus Knights belonged to the elite “Dusk Blood Guard” who directly served the King—each one a Knight of Valor with exceptional martial skills.

For warriors of such caliber to lose their composure, the enemy’s approach must be dire.

Wasting no time, Leon donned his Wing Helmet, blew the whistle to call Death Claw, who was resting nearby, and swiftly mounted the high saddle.

He pulled the reins, commanding the great beast to take flight.

Turning to the Royal Guard rider on the Pegasus hovering at a distance, he called out, “An ambush?”

“Over the skies of the western forest—at least ten Scorpion-tailed Lions invading from the south!

We cannot hold them off!” the Dusk Blood Guard reported to the young Baron of the Thorny Flower House.

It was the worst-case scenario for them.

On solid ground, a formation of twenty armored Royal Guard Knights, clad in heavy armor and wielding halberds, could easily withstand the onslaught of ten Scorpion-tailed Lions.

But the vertical dimension of aerial combat severely restricted the knights’ abilities.

The death of a mount would spell disaster—it didn’t matter how skilled the knight was; a thousand-meter fall or more would end the same way: with death.

And yet, the knights couldn’t just stay grounded either, allowing the enemy to freely monitor their vast ground forces.

In battles of this scale, the outcome hinged on the disparity in intelligence.

Taking to the skies on their Pegasi to intercept enemy threats and fighting it out in the heavens was their solemn duty as Sky Knights.

The Dusk Blood Guard could only be grateful that their side didn’t only have the King’s Flying Dragons.

They also had a Griffin in the skies this time.