“Move aside!”
Bladebreakers bellowed as they took their commander into the camp under the watchful eyes of other soldiers.
Alec was behind him, his expression cold as ice.
Adam and Paul also followed as they took Lambert into the infirmary tent, where some soldiers who couldn’t be healed instantly still lay on their beds.
The beds were made of wood and a cloth draped upon the wood.
Lambert was gently dropped on one bed, and the apothecaries and two priestesses came over. The apothecaries quickly removed Lambert’s chest plate, pauldrons, couter, and his gambeson, revealing his skin.
They could see the gruesome damage done to his right chest, spreading to his shoulder and right arm.
The sight of the wound made Adam, Paul, and Alec squint, their eyebrows furrowed.
“Will he live?”
Adam asked. At this point, Lambert was barely alive. It was the vitality of the sacred-ranked knight body that kept him alive, or the destructive might of the lightning would have completely destroyed him.
There were still flickers of lightning, showing that his body was in a constant battle against the lightning.
“I have no idea, commander. Such an element is hard to extract with my current rank.”
A priestess replied, causing the commanders to sigh. Although they won the battle, slaying over 2,500 heavy cavaliers at the cost of 600 men, the loss of a commander would change the result.
The death of a commander could be compared to the loss of 10,000 soldiers. This was because the soldiers depended on the stele to grow, whereas the commanders are dependent on their talents.
Right now, Lambert, who has a B-ranked talent, had reached the peak and would never exceed this rank unless there was a miracle.
However, that did not make him useless, for he was a sacred-ranked knight! A fearsome leader of a dreadful cavalry.
They all had dreams of being nobles and starting their own heritage of knights that would serve House Ashbourne, but Lambert’s story might end here.
Outside the wall of Tiberias.
“We can contain the lightning.” An apothecary said, causing everyone to turn toward him.
“What did you say?” Alec asked.
“His Lordship made sure Baron Flameheart imported relics we would need for tough situations, and we have a magical container for trapping elements. It can withdraw the lightning from Commander Lambert’s body.”
“Is that relic here?”
The apothecary nodded. “It is.” As he spoke, another apothecary walked into the tent with a jar locked inside a metal.
The metal was just like a shelf, so the jar was still visible. Runes were carved into the metal, and it had a transparent crystal.
That crystal was called the void crystal. It was a crystal that had just formed but had not contained an element.
Crystals like these were rare since most crystals form with an element. These void crystals first form before absorbing the element in their surroundings and losing it after a while.
Placing the relic beside Lambert, the apothecary, took an ink pen and drew a strange symbol, the same that was prominent on the relic.
In the next moment, they saw the lightning in Lambert’s body rise up and flow into the relic. When all the lightning was out, they looked and saw it inside the jar.
An apothecary took the jar out of the room while the others cleaned up the burnt part of the wound.
Seeing this, the priestesses aimed their staff towards Lambert’s wound, radiating a green light.
Time trickled by, yet the commanders and generals hung by, waiting for the result. Unfortunately, in the end, Lambert’s wound remained almost the same.
The healing energy of the priestesses wasn’t enough to counter the aftereffects of Slade’s destructive might.
“Magic can’t work anymore. Magic caused this, and magic respects hierarchy. Someone of lower rank can’t undo what someone of a high rank did. We need the apothecaries to stitch up this wound.”
Adam and Alec turned toward Paul. They knew he was right.
“Stitching up his wound will kill him. His body is fragile, and he won’t be able to hear the pain.” An apothecary replied.
Sighing, Adam turned and left the tent. Not long after, Alec and Paul also left.
…
Late in the night, when two crescent moons were high up in the dark skies, Adam sat before a table, looking at the paper before him.
The ink pen had been in his hand for a long while now, but he didn’t know who to relay this unfortunate news to, Asher.
According to the apothecary’s full report, which was given to him hours after he left. Lambert’s right arm was completely severed from his body.
The tendons connected to the arm were shriveled and the veins scorched. The arm was in the process of dying!
His right chest was another matter that could only be managed.
Without a doubt, Lambert would step into the spirit world come sunrise.
This news was so heavy that Adam felt like the ink pen had the same weight as a boulder.
While he pondered with furrowed brows, one of the servants from the logistics department walked into the room holding a tray.
A cup of steaming Moonlit Starhorn milk!
The scent of it alone made Adam lift up his head.
He stretched forth his hand, wrapped it around the cup, and was about to drink when his eyes caught a mole above the servant’s lips.
A gleam flashed through his eyes.
He could vividly recall Katarina speaking to him about a dream she had concerning the war.
His eyes widened to the limit.
A cold gleam flashed through his eyes as he pretended to drink a little and gave the cup full of milk to the servant.
“Drink.”
The servant had a shocked expression. “My lord, I can’t drink from the same cup as you. I’ll turn it over into my cup when I get back. Thank you for your kind gesture toward this lowly one.”
Adam smiled.
“I want you to have a taste of what the general drinks. It’s a privilege.”
His tone proved there was no room for rejection. Knowing this, the servant suddenly dashed forward.
His form twisted, and he became a slim man with talons for nails.
His hands like the trunk of a large tree, hard, rough, and scaly.
‘An assassin.’
Adam’s eyes flickered. He slammed his knee against the table, launching it upwards. It hit the man and broke into two.
The man crashed on the ground but sprang to his feet in the next moment. Like a black phantom, he flashed for the exit but bumped into a man almost as muscular as Adam.
He had a wolf cap on.
It was General Paul.
Shing!
Adam got the chance to reach out for his cleaver and unsheathe it.
Shing! Shing!
Paul unsheathed two daggers from his waist.
“Who sent you?”
Adam growled.