Chapter 73: Dignity of Ranger
"Hu… hu…" Elenthor leaned against the wall, panting heavily, his eyes filled with sorrow.
The orcs had launched over a dozen assaults, yet the defenders of Loshanier City had barely managed to slay a quarter of them.
Aside from the orc vanguard that had been mercilessly shot down by the starry elf cavalry, the casualties from the other feints were minimal.
"How is it with King Aranthor?" Elenthor turned to the guard beside him.
"The situation is grim. Their knights are beginning to suffer casualties…" The guard hesitated, aware that even noble knights were falling on the battlefield, let alone the warriors and ordinary soldiers.
"How about our kin?" Elenthor asked darkly.
"Your Majesty, our situation is not optimistic. If the orcs launch another wave, our soldiers will no longer be able to draw their bows!"
"Has it become this dire?" Elenthor murmured to himself.
The cunning Azog was an experienced opponent, fully aware of the cost of a direct assault on a city guarded by an elven army.
Thus, he directed his orc troops to continuously wear down the elves' stamina and morale.
But Elenthor could not take this lightly; once they showed any weakness, Azog's feints could swiftly turn into a main assault!
"Does Your Majesty still not need me to act?" Elandor looked at Elenthor, observing the chaos in the skies over the western wall caused by Caslow.
"It's not the final hour yet. I cannot use our trump card to exchange for the orcs' ace… That would be too much of a loss."
After contemplating the consequences, Elenthor decisively rejected Elandor's idea of engaging.
"Tell everyone to prepare for close combat!" The killing intent radiating from Elenthor made Elandor shudder.
"People often say elves are not good at close combat… Heh, if we are not adept at it, how did we win the last Alliance War? We just don't want to sacrifice ourselves…"
Elenthor looked around at the elven archers and rangers clad in fine chainmail and armor, feeling a profound sorrow.
"Your Majesty…" Elandor also closed his eyes in pain. Only those of their kind who had endured the crushing defeat at the Black Gate understood this deeply ingrained pain and hatred.
"No need to say more. I will not leave… We have never betrayed our allies, and now we will not betray them!" Elenthor said firmly to Elandor, who was showing signs of retreat.
Bang!
"My sword will be aimed in the direction you point. My soul and body will fight for you until the very last moment! My King!" Elandor knelt on one knee and declared with sincerity.
"Rise." Elenthor replied lightly.
"Clang!" The sharp elven curved blade was slowly drawn by Elenthor.
"For our ancestors! For our beliefs! For our homeland! For our kin! Noble stary elves of Singray! We will never yield!" Elenthor stood on the city walls, exuding a tragic heroism.
"Kill!" The rain of arrows fell again behind him…
…
"Have you made a decision?" Lance gazed at his king.
"Yes! My allies are fighting fiercely! We cannot stand by idly; if they fall, we will be next!" Rynar declared resolutely.
"Then… go and take your chance! I swear by my honor and my life that I will protect the safety of Riverguard until your return… regardless of success or failure." The city defense officer Marcus bowed deeply, his words filled with sincerity.
"This is also my answer, Your Majesty." Lance knelt on one knee respectfully.
"Then… What do you need to defend her? Marcus!" Rynar said slowly.
"More Dunwenian Swordsmen, Zaltarion city guards, Battanian archers, and light infantry reinforcements. They are too few; there's no problem holding the city, but they would disrupt command in an open battle." Marcus contemplated for a moment before speaking.
"Bang!" Lance struck his chest.
"As a rightful noble of Zaltarion, I will lead my Rapid Infantry Legion to clear away all obstacles before you.
Only death can end my promise to you!" Lance's eyes shimmered with loyalty.
"May the Dragon God bless you all!" Rynar concluded this heavy discussion.
"Reynard… assemble the knights! And call for Radir and Aivy; we will need them for this war." Rynar waved his hand, giving orders.
For this support to Loshanier City, Rynar planned to mobilize only the Rapid Infantry Legion and the Order of Dawn Knights; other troops were too mixed and would be difficult to command on the vast battlefield.
Rynar donned his gilded lord's plate armor and mounted his tall Shire warhorse, quietly waiting at the western gate of Riverguard for the gathering of his forces.
His gaze was cast toward the west, shadowed by unspoken worries.
As the saying goes, man proposes, but heaven disposes. Rynar had initially planned to lie low on the eastern shore and wait for the right time, but he was utterly defeated by nature.
If they lost now, it would truly be a misfortune of nature! Can you imagine? It's so vast! So wide!
River Running had actually been frozen by the cold front sweeping in from the north!
Just last night! After learning this news, the previously calm Riverguard immediately entered a state of maximum wartime alert.
Marcus had patrolled the walls in full armor all night… The frozen River Running was like the Goddess of Victory dropping her skirts to beckon the orcs!
Come! Come! Come and strike me! Riverguard now called out to the orcs, and Rynar did not believe he could withstand Azog's returning army.
The only plan now was to take the initiative! Rather than waiting for the orcs to besiege the city, they might stand a chance by attacking the orcs!
…
"Hu~ hu… what a tough fight!" Elenthor gasped for breath, just having shot his first arrow aimed at a orc!
He had aimed for the eye but it grazed past its neck instead. Elenthor stared at his trembling hands, forcing a bitter smile.
Even the elven king, known for his archery skills, had missed; one could imagine how fierce the battle was!
Thanks to the elves' long lifespan, 2,000 elves, all professional fighters, were still able to suppress the orcs for now.
The continuous rain of arrows prevented the orcs from advancing, so the army of stary elves had yet to suffer any casualties.
"Rynar! I can't hold out much longer…" Elenthor silently lamented in his heart.
"Your Majesty! The orcs are charging again!" a ranger shouted.
"Can you still draw your bows?" Elenthor looked around, his heart sinking.
"Your Majesty! We will fight for you until the very last moment!" The trembling elven rangers and archers drew their curved blades and short swords, demonstrating their loyalty through action.
"Very well, prepare for close combat!" Elenthor's anger flared up; did they really think the elves had good tempers?
Just wait! orc scum, today you will feel the fear that the elven army instilled 3,000 years ago.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Orcs stomped over the piles of corpses to cross the moat, hundreds of crude ladders erected as if heralding a dawn of victory, and the orcs surged forward to climb the ladders.
"For the dignity of our elven rangers… Singray elves! Kill!" Elenthor roared as he spotted the ugly orc heads emerging from the city walls.
A blue crescent moon emerged behind Elenthor, and in the next second, blood light burst forth! The Moon of Hunt activated!
"Swish!" The elven rangers standing before the elven archers suddenly drew their curved blades in unison.
With the movement of the rangers' arms, the exquisite curved blades began to dance, forming a solid wall of blades atop Loshanier City.
As they swung in unison—dawn broke!
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