Chapter 68: The Sentry Post

  "Although the Kingdom of Ossetia has no cavalry, if there is a condition, you must at least learn to ride a horse." Stefan Ludwig led a black horse that looked very sturdy and said to Johnny, "Now, it's time to learn."

  Joni gazed at the black horse in front of him. The horse's coat was glossy, its muscles full, and its head was almost as tall as Joni himself, while its back reached about to his chest. Joni didn't know how to judge a good or bad horse, but his intuition told him that this was a fine animal.

  The only depressing thing is that this horse has a saddle, a bridle and stirrups.

  The door of invention and discovery has slammed shut on Johnny!

  When Johnny was busy on horseback, Odara was galloping on the road to the headquarters of the First Army. The roadsides were desolate, but the road surface was clean and tidy, showing that the northern military affairs of the Osdin Kingdom had not slackened - the maintenance of public facilities was also part of the military duties.

  "Will that young whippersnapper from the House of Heinrich assign me to do chores? Like sweeping the entire road?" Odara slowed down her horse, muttering to herself, "Or make me a handyman? He doesn't even need to do anything on purpose, just appointing me as his personal guard would take care of everything."

  "What did you say, sir?" Charlie asked, accompanying Odara on his way.

  "Oh, nothing."

  Audley did not have high hopes for his own future. Although the presence of his father and family could guarantee that Audley would not be subjected to obvious injustice, such as being sent alone - even without a horse - to destroy a tribe like Stephen Ludwig. But there were ways to make his brother happy at home.

  With bated breath, Odala arrived at his destination.

  There was no war in the north for the time being, and the entire army was scattered in their respective garrisons. Even so, as the head of an army, two thousand-man teams were still stationed near the headquarters of the First Army. After passing through layers of sentry posts, Charles brought Odara into the house where Heinrich was. Having completed his task, Charles took his leave and turned around, leaving Odara alone to face her superior officer.

  "Odala, Ludwig?" A middle-aged man with a once-handsome face stood up to greet him - a scar that ran across his entire left cheek decided the "handsome" was in the past.

  "Yes, Odara Ludwig, awaiting your command!" Odara pounded his chest and gave a military salute, answering loudly.

  "I am Ewida Heinrich, commander of the First Army. Nice to meet you, soldier." Ewida suddenly smiled slightly, with that scar, looking a bit ferocious, "Odarla Ludwig, heh, I've heard of you."

  He came. Odara had some misgivings in his heart, but he didn't show it, and instead puffed out his chest with force.

  "My disappointing brother returned and told many stories about the Second Empire of Velsa." Iwida stroked his scar, "You are one of them."

  Should I say something? Odara thought to herself and said, "That's what I should do, Osadin people should unite wherever they are."

  "Uh-huh, well said." Iwida nodded and said, "Makes a lot of sense."

  Aodala's heart became even more panicked.

  "But you've earned quite a bit of money."

  Audra let out a sigh and immediately resumed her standing posture, explaining: "Reporting to the officer, I was a mercenary at that time, and accepting the bounty was very normal!"

  "Alright, alright." Iwida smiled, this time seemingly more genuine. "Stop pretending, what kind of person you are, Ailar and your old man have already told me, don't be hypocritical with me."

  As soon as he heard this, Odala knew that nothing was wrong with him. His upright posture relaxed immediately. Since the other party didn't seem to want to do anything to him, what followed was a routine conversation between two second-generation individuals.

  "May I sit down?"

  "Sit down, make yourself at home." Iwida waved her hand, "Actually, I've heard of you before."

  "But I went south a long time ago." Odala sat down in a puzzled manner and asked.

  Iwida sat down beside Odara: "Yes, you are a model among the children of our big family. The Ludwig family does not produce pastors but warriors, and you are a warrior who has left home to make a name for yourself."

  "Uh..." Odara looked a bit embarrassed, "I was just going out... on some business, yeah."

  "We all know that," Yiwida said with a smile. "To avenge your own teacher, you hunted down and killed the good friend of your childhood. With such a temperament, many children admired you at that time."

  "Really?" Odara didn't think that his impulsive action would have such a reaction, "Then are you..."

  "The Heinrich family is a military family, and they value obedience above all else." Iwida shook her head. "Forget it."

  "Oh." Odala responded with a single word, "Understood."

  "Although the Ludwig family is backing you, let's get straight to the point." Iwida began to speak seriously. "I don't care how you were in the south or how you were at home when you were young, but once you're in my army, you have to follow military discipline. In Osedin's army, military law takes precedence over human feelings, you should know that?"

  "Don't worry, I know what's at stake." Odara nodded, "I'm also an Osadinian."

  Yi Weida stood up, returned to his own desk, wrote something on the file brought by Oudala, dried the ink with fine sand, handled it properly, and then rolled it up and handed it back to Oudala.

  "Morol's outpost, starting from a squad leader, in a year without accident you will be the centurion of the outpost." Iwida explained, "As long as you don't make mistakes and have abilities that match your identity, being a noble son has its advantages in the military."

  "Outpost?" Odala's eyes sparkled with excitement, "Does that mean there will be a battle to fight?"

  Iwida shook her head: "Since your father's heroic feat that year, there have been no major battles on the border for many years. Of course, you can organize troops to go out and sweep, but now you need to walk a long way in."

  "Is that so?" Odara complained discontentedly, "Then the Northern Army would be idle all year round."

  Iwida shook her head: "There are still small-scale disturbances, sometimes two or three tribes will unite to attack and plunder before retreating. But there's nothing like that at the Moro outpost, so you can rest assured and get familiar with the troops first."

  "It's boring." Odala sighed, "Tell me the place, I'll go myself."

  Peace is a beautiful but boring thing. For those who expect to make achievements, peace is the most unbearable. The long peace makes them lose their strength, and the long peace makes them mediocre. However, after all, it is peace, and no one can say that it is bad. The warriors of the Northern Army can only practice martial arts silently in the cold north, gazing at the other side of the border.

  Odin, who advocates for peace, suppresses the hot blood in his followers. He has seen empires that were once prosperous collapse instantly, and he has also seen the second empire with great military power retreat under the feet of its people, eventually disintegrating and losing its divine spirit.

  The people of Aozad, as long as they defend Aozad, why learn from those who have failed and expanded everywhere?

  "The purpose of war is peace. We were once enslaved, and when we recall that period, we dare not forget for a moment. Those who enslave others will ultimately be destroyed, and the spirit of freedom will last forever. People of Osedin, you should remember my teachings, the swords in your hands can only be used to defend and avenge, but never to enslave others!"

  Stephen finished reading this passage and bowed his head devoutly.

  "Sir, I have a question." Johnny thought for a moment, "Now that Osedin has no more enemies, how can you maintain this martial spirit?"

  "This is it." The old man smiled. "This is the hot blood from the severe cold, this is the good fight in the bones of the northerners, this is a nation's imprint."

  It's also a way of saying it, Joanie didn't deny or confirm, she just listened quietly.

  "You must remember that the sword in your hand is never to be used to harm others," Stefan concluded, "Firstly, those who harm you are not human."

  Everything is going on as usual, whether in Ossetia or outside of it.

  "Thank you for your support, in five days, the Ussuri Khan will await your arrival at his tribe." Aizak bowed and bid farewell, leaving the other's large tent.

  It has been five days since he visited the Osiriva tribe. The cold wind is still blowing, with no signs of warming up. If the weather doesn't warm up, the animals on the ice field won't come out of their dens. Even for the richest tribes, their current food storage can only last twenty days at most. Some weaker tribes only have ten days' worth of food left.

  Five days later, they will ally with Ussuri, this is the only choice for the barbarians.

  With the strong men of the tribe, leaving behind as many as possible, the warriors set out on their journey. For the old and young in the tribe, for the wives and children at home, for themselves, for...

  For the sake of revenge.

  "How many of our tribesmen have those southern barbarians killed?" Five days later, the Ussuri chieftain bellowed from a hastily erected platform, his words relayed layer by layer to the entire gathering.

  "How many of us have died since they founded their nation? For a trivial matter that happened hundreds of years ago, these devils set foot on our land and slaughtered our kin. They wore armor from hell and wielded weapons cursed by the devil! All they brought was death!"

  The tribal leader and soldiers below only wanted a full meal, but the Ussuri chief still stirred up the atmosphere of the whole scene. First there was a cacophony of shouts, then gradually unified, and finally, incredibly, the entire venue was filled with the same phrase: "Kill them! Kill them!"

  Having achieved the desired effect, Usuri didn't say much more. He asked the shamans of each tribe to pray for the blessing of the gods for the upcoming conquest. The savage's gods were diverse, but after hundreds of years of mutual attacks and silent assimilation, Azugel had become their only faith.

  "Great Azugul!" The warriors below echoed in praise, involuntarily responding to the shamans' prayers.

  Azog can't help the barbarians, but Azog has a shaman priest.

  This is something ordinary warriors don't need to know.

  "Azugul acknowledges our actions and will safeguard us on our way!" a wrinkled shaman shouted from the stage, "For the glory of Azugul!"

  "For the glory of Azugar!"

  The tribal chiefs and their personal guards below the platform all began to shout, shaking the nine heavens. Even the barbarians scattered around the Ussuri tribe who were not qualified to enter the oath-taking scene could hear it.

  This is a symbolic cry of victory. Everyone gets excited. Although decades ago before that disastrous defeat, they also shouted like this, but at this time, no one cares about such a distant thing.

  Food, revenge. With this belief, the brave tribal warriors are invincible!

  At least they think so.

  Time is pressing, it's time to set out.

  "How boring!" Odara shouted after finishing a round of sword practice, "How boring!"

  Just like he's been doing these days.

  He stabilized his position as a Decurion, earning the respect of the entire outpost with his refined martial skills and great strength. Odara found the outpost's commander, Centurion Tim Muller, on the third day.

  "Sir, I suggest we send a small squad over there to recon!" Odara said seriously.

  Tim Müller, who rose from a commoner to a centurion through his own efforts, was naturally a steady man. He took a look at Odara and shook his head: "The north is cold, there are no barbarian tribes within a day's journey outside the outpost, what's the point of exploring? I've heard many cases of personnel going missing due to advancing in winter during my years of service. You'd better forget it, wait until the weather warms up."

  Audara advised several times, all of which were rejected and could only practice swordsmanship day by day, feeling extremely depressed.

  The whole barracks was like this, with swords and shadows all day long. Occasionally, there were those who asked to make progress, whose minds were quick-witted, and they would also find someone who could read and write to learn a bit randomly.

  Winters are always so unbearable.

  "Alarm! Alarm!" The soldier on the watchtower suddenly shouted, "There's an alarm in the east!"

  The soldiers stopped what they were doing and gathered on the school grounds. They looked eastward and saw a column of smoke rising slowly.

  "What's going on? What's happened?" Tim Müller shouted from the wooden hut towards the watchtower.

  "Report, sir!" The soldier replied, "In the east, in the east a column of smoke is rising!"

  "It looks very far away." Odara said as she approached, "I wonder where it is?"

  Tim shook his head: "I don't know either, it doesn't seem obvious."

  "Why can't it be here?" Odara gazed out at the distant rising black smoke and sighed, "Those guys are really lucky."

  "Knock it off, kid." Tim grunted. "War is about killing people, and I don't want to see any of my brothers die at the hands of the enemy."

  "I'm just sighing, it's really boring." Odara shrugged her shoulders. At this time, the soldiers on the school grounds also gradually dispersed. Everything that had just happened seemed like a temporary performance decided on the spot, adding a bit of seasoning to their dull winter life.

  In the place where wolf smoke rises, there is a Siqin Da beacon tower. The people there don't feel lucky at all.

  "Odin ah." The hundred-man commander sighed absent-mindedly and immediately turned his head to shout loudly, "Hurry up, light the wolf smoke!"

  No longer looking out of the camp, the centurion turned his head and shouted to the soldiers under him: "People of Ossetin, sons of Odin! Take out your courage! Let these damned barbarians pay the price! Odin is watching us!"

  "Fight! Freedom!" With some tremolo, the warriors raised their weapons in hand and shouted.

  "Hah, come on!" The centurion walked down from the wall of the camp, faced the gate and raised his own weapon, "Come on!"

  The number of people is vastly different, and the wooden stockade has lost its defensive significance.

  "Open the door!" he ordered, "Block them!"

  Tens of thousands of troops are approaching.