Finally, two days after Rynar triggered the event, the outermost guards spotted the massive tide of refugees approaching like a flood.
"Your Highness, a signal flare has been fired from the northeast!" A soldier rushed in to report.
"The northeast? What a coincidence... they've perfectly bypassed the Centaurs' territory..." Rynar absentmindedly turned the hilt of his sword, smiling. The system sure had a "keen understanding" of his situation! A wave of refugees crashing directly onto them—how convenient!
"Better notify the Centaurs! It'd be troublesome if they got caught up in this by accident. After all, the Tupet Forest is less than twenty miles from us." The old master Radir suggested.
"Agreed. Let them know. If a fight breaks out, both sides will suffer losses. We should avoid unnecessary casualties." Rynar nodded. He really didn't want the Centaurs and refugees entangling with each other—the sheer chaos of that scenario... it would be too vivid!
"Prepare for battle! Prepare for battle!" From atop the city walls, Marcus was barking orders, directing soldiers to move defensive supplies into place. No one wanted to use them, but they certainly couldn't afford to be without them.
"Do we... really have to do this? They're our people too…" Nyx murmured, her expression full of guilt as she watched the soldiers ready themselves, as if all of this were somehow her fault.
"This isn't your fault, my love... We have no choice. I have to be responsible for the people inside these walls. We don't have the right to sacrifice those who already live in peace just to save those who suffer. No one here is at fault… but I am the king. I have to prepare for the worst… Forgive me... my Duchess." Rynar gently kissed Nyx, adjusted his cloak, and strode towards the battlements.
Nyx stood silently below, gazing at the man standing tall upon the city walls, looking out over the horizon. She could feel the weight on his shoulders, the burden of a nation's hope. With his not-so-broad back, he had to carry the fate of this land.
"I must bear this half of the kingdom. I must protect these walls..." Rynar ran his fingers over the magic-inscribed bricks of the city wall and sighed, his eyes fixed on the northeast.
"Gods! Retreat! Fall back!" The soldiers at the front were shouting, warning everyone they encountered. One knight, riding past, gaped in disbelief when he saw an elderly man still gathering mushrooms with a basket on his back.
"Elder, the refugees are coming! It's too dangerous here! I'll take you to safety!" Without waiting for a response, the knight scooped the old man up and threw him onto his horse.
"Have all the people outside the city been evacuated?" Reynard anxiously paced atop the walls, hand gripping his sword.
"My lord, we're still gathering them! They should be nearly here!" A soldier reported.
"'Nearly'?! We'll be lucky if they haven't already been torn apart by the refugees! Get every mounted soldier out there now! Bring back everyone who was working outside or patrolling—no one gets left behind!" Reynard slammed his fist against the stone wall, his voice booming in frustration.
"Yes, sir!" The soldiers scrambled away.
"Your Highness!" Reynard noticed Rynar approaching and quickly bowed.
"No need for that. What's the situation? Are the residents safe?" Rynar asked immediately.
"Some are still outside. I've already dispatched every mobile unit to retrieve them." Reynard reported stiffly.
"And why are so many people wandering so far away?! Do they think this is a sightseeing tour?!" Rynar's frustration boiled over. "Seriously, do they have to go that far just to keep busy?!"
"Oh, right—our scouts report at least five thousand refugees! They're starving, in rags, but there are imperial soldiers among them. Their armor is worn, their weapons old… must've been used for years." Reynard added.
"Soldiers?!" Rynar was momentarily speechless. What kind of ridiculous "surprise" was this?! Maybe he should try his luck with Middle-earth's lottery next.
"Yes! A significant number of Rapid Infantry! There might be other units too, but our scouts could only identify the Rapid Infantry—those chainmail uniforms are too distinct to miss." Reynard sighed.
"Damn it..." Rynar cursed. Did this mean an even bigger "surprise" was waiting for him?
"Any knights?" Rynar suddenly asked.
Reynard and Rynar stared at each other for a long moment in silence.
Eventually, Reynard couldn't hold back. He hesitated before saying, "Your Highness... as a knight, you should have more faith in our profession… What kind of knight would be reduced to wandering and begging with refugees…?"
Noticing Reynard's increasingly strange expression, Rynar quickly clarified, "I just meant… what if? You know, fallen nobility or something..."
Rynar was actually hoping there were knights mixed in. That would mean he could "recruit" them for free.
Riverguard had no proper knight training grounds, and aside from Rohan and Gondor, there weren't any established knight orders left in Middle-earth. Rynar's knight system was flawed and unsustainable.
The only way he could get new knights was through sheer luck—either someone awakening on their own, or the system gifting him some. As for the system's shop… Rynar glanced at the obscenely high prices and immediately closed the page in disgust.
"Open the gates! Quickly, open the gates! Let us in!" A cloud of dust billowed along the road as a frantic group of riders galloped toward the city, urgency in their every movement.
"Open the gates! They're our knights!" Seeing their comrades approach, Reynard shouted down to the guards.
"They look like they've got a drake chasing them." Rynar muttered, watching the panic-stricken riders with an exasperated sigh.
BOOM! The gates slammed shut behind the last group. The massive locking bar was dropped into place with a heavy thud.
"No one else! We're the last ones...! The refugees are right behind us! Gods, they've gone mad!" One of the knights staggered forward, panting heavily, and saluted.
"Alright, get some rest." Seeing the man drenched in sweat and barely able to stand, Rynar waved him off.
"Stay sharp! They're not here as friends! Even if they are our people, we can't lower our guard! If they breach these walls… we'll all be traitors to Zaltarion!" Rynar declared, his solemn gaze sweeping over everyone present.
"Don't worry. Everything will be fine. They're our people—they won't go too far." Reynard reassured.
"I hope so…" Rynar murmured grimly.
"They're here..." Someone suddenly called out.
A dark "wave" surged over the horizon, a deafening roar of voices accompanying its advance. The sheer scale of the "human tide" sent a chill through everyone's hearts.
"My gods…" Rynar whispered in disbelief.
"Dragon Lord…" Radir instinctively gripped his staff tightly.
"Holy hell…" Caslow, whose draconic eyes saw farther than anyone, had an even clearer view. The first line… was Rapid Infantry?!
"Get down! Shields up! They're armed!" Caslow barked, immediately taking cover behind the battlements.
Despite their tattered linen robes, the broken chainmail and worn leather still marked them unmistakably… as former Rapid Infantry.
"Why aren't they carrying our banner?" A soldier murmured in confusion.
"Perhaps... they are no longer the people we once knew…" Reynard said quietly, stunned.
.
.
.
Guys, do leave some power stones and reviews.
🤞patreon.com/MythosWriter🤞
If you guys enjoy this story, you can support me on Patreon and get access to Advance Chapters, it really helps me to work on new chapters.