561 Fine, I'll Make Do

The next morning, a paladin led a battalion consisted of noble-hired mercenaries and individual sorcerers siding with the Church departed from the city of Shamshire where they had made their base. They stopped at a plain about ten kilometers away from Arfin and set up a camp in preparation for the upcoming siege attack.

Through expert commands of magic, a massive temporary fortress rose above the earth within a day. The distance between their new fort and Arfin was so short, yet no one from their enemies had come to disrupt them during the process; the fort was built with practically zero opposition, which shocked even the Church.

The Paladin Grand Cross, who had taken up the mantle as the general of the Church's army, thumbed through the latest report, a scornful smile shadowing his lip. He looked up from the pages and considered the Chief Judge who had come along with the Church's vanguards. "It seems that our enemies are too chicken to try to stop us."