The Cornflower Witch Chapter 220

The Fourth Continent, Storm Season, Spring Teewolf Festival.

Mounted herdsmen galloped across the plains, bows in hand, relentlessly chasing and herding springbok, then drawing their bows and shooting arrows, hitting their fleeing prey one by one.

The Teewolf Festival is a time of harvest, not only because of the changing winds and abundant rainfall, but also because springbok are plentiful this season, making for better hunting yields.

Riding up to a dead springbok, a herdsman threw it onto a trailing cart to take it away.

Approximately a week later, these springbok would be transformed into cured meat, stripped hides, and cleaned horn materials.

The herdsmen, well-satisfied with their harvest, sang as they walked across the plains under the setting sun, feeling the great wind blowing against them, and strolled towards the white tent encampment.

Returning home, the wife brought her husband warm water for a bath, then spoke of their recent life.

“Next month, a merchant caravan from the north will come to take away and sell those furs and horns.”

“Are the horns valuable?” the wife asked curiously, remembering that horns used to be difficult to sell.

“They weren’t valuable before, but they are now. They say the caravan will transport them to a very, very distant place, where someone wants them.”

“Oh, where is that, so far away? The shipping costs must be considerable.”

“Indeed, shipping costs are always expensive. For example, a large piece of lamb that sells for 10 Copper coins here would be 100 Copper coins in a big city,” he said with a sigh.

“They say those horns are made into spell components. Only those mages are so wealthy, able to afford such high shipping costs.”

“Mages? I’ve only heard of them, never seen one. Are they really powerful?”

“Of course they are. They say they can conjure beasts out of thin air, launch piercing spears, and summon destructive lightning. Even the knight lords fear them.”

“Mainly because mages have too many tricks up their sleeves. Nobody knows what hidden cards they have. If you’re unaware and get caught in their spell, it’s over,” the herdsman shook his head.

“The knight lords are the most straightforward. A spear is a spear, a sword is a sword. They don’t indulge in fancy tricks.”

“Alright, I’ll lie down for a bit. Remember to add some hot water to my basin so I can soak longer.”

…

The arrival of the Storm Season not only failed to reduce the conflicts in the southern part of the continent but, due to the refreshing weather, encouraged many ambitious forces to launch expeditions and seize territories.

Further north of the Anti Kingdom, amidst the howling winds of the mountains, a cavalry unit wound its way along a mountain path. They were all clad in silver armor, with azure swallowtail banners fluttering on their upright lances.

Walking through the biting wind, they remained silent, their faces untouched by the frost, protected by their cold, hard helmets, revealing only pairs of gray-blue eyes.

This cavalry unit was strictly disciplined, and the accompanying knights exuded a calm, steady aura, like unmelting icebergs. They traversed the vast mountains in the cold wind, gradually reaching the mountainous borders of the northern Anti Kingdom, then halted, standing tall on their horses, overlooking the still-unaware castle of the kingdom.

Soon, a banner with an azure field was raised high, imprinted with a snow-white mountain peak and the ceaseless winter winds.

“Fir Knights, charge!” The voice was not ostentatious, but rather a calm, low tone. After the order was given, the unit swept down the mountain slope, starting as a few small black dots, then expanding into an overwhelming avalanche.

As an object of imitation for the Regas Duchy and a sacred place in the hearts of many knights, the “Fir Knights” had always been a legend circulating throughout the continent.

This time, they finally emerged from the frozen mountains, launching a paradigmatic charge. Their lances stood like a forest, then were lowered straight down, forming a perfectly straight line on the steep slope. With the might of a blizzard, they entered the battlefield.

In just a few weeks, numerous towns in northern the Anti Kingdom were captured. Units that clashed with the Fir Knights were routed, and the knight order was like a horn in the cold wind, striking fear into the hearts of all wherever they went.

Months prior, the Anti nobles, still reveling in their conquest of the Regas Duchy, were forced to immediately recall their southern campaign armies to defend their homeland. They marched day and night, and during this process, the nobles within the Anti Kingdom were defeated and eradicated one by one. Many territories fell, taken over by the armies of the Kingdom of Winter.

Under these circumstances, the Anti Kingdom was forced to request aid from their ally, the Eagle Scorpion Tent Country.

Although the Eagle Scorpions secretly rejoiced at Anti’s predicament, after observing the prowess of the Kingdom of Winter’s army, they also recognized the impending threat to themselves and dispatched their forces into the Anti Kingdom to fight alongside them, jointly resisting Winter’s onslaught.

At this time, the Regas Duchy, which had only recently been conquered, once again became vulnerable.

The old nobles who had survived and surrendered in the previous war began to seek ways to reassemble their forces and reclaim the lands and castles seized by the Anti Kingdom.

Just as these old nobles deliberated under whose name to unite and raise an army, a joyous piece of news emerged.

Prince Jabos, who was thought to be missing, was not dead. He and Princess Misha were still alive and had begun secretly summoning resistance forces in the southern Valley City within the Regas Duchy.

“Hahahahaha.” Wild laughter echoed through the banquet hall. Jabos, in a splendid golden-red military uniform, stood triumphantly before the banquet table.

“I said these guys wouldn’t last long, didn’t I? Look, isn’t this our chance?” Five old Regas nobles stood before him, though their current attire was much shabbier than before.

“Indeed, Lord Jabos is truly sagacious, having predicted long ago that these Anti dogs would eventually be defeated,” a pot-bellied noble effusively flattered.

“These rascals have plundered so many of our Regas’ resources and wealth. It’s truly hateful.”

“As long as Lord Jabos issues the summons, the remaining nobles within Regas will surely respond.”

“By then, rebuilding the Regas Duchy will be effortless,” another noble painted a rosy picture of the future. Many present were filled with fantasies, hoping to gain glory and territory in this process of “reconquering the nation.”

If they could control more territory than before, this restoration might even lead to a better era than the stagnant and corrupted Regas Duchy of old.

Clinking wine glasses sounded everywhere as everyone, their faces flushed, eagerly discussed their ideas. At this moment, inspiring notions emerged one after another, as if in an instant, they could defeat the remaining Anti Kingdom armies and reclaim their sovereignty.

Objectively speaking, their ideas were not wrong. However, having endured previous surrender and suppression, the strength these individuals could now muster was far from formidable.

“So…” On the second floor of the banquet hall, several figures in dark red robes silently watched those below.

“This time, it’s our ‘Hundred-Eyed Cult’s’ turn.” Beneath a hood, a dark and eerie smile flickered across the exposed chin in the chandelier’s light.