Heimarian Odyssey

The dissipating 'shooting star' on the horizon left a ghost in its wake in the eyes of those watching. Locke had witnessed countless shooting stars from a young age. Some were brilliant, some were gorgeous, some were colourful, but there were none as 'magical' as these. How could a meteor fly backwards, seemingly ascending into the sky? Apart from this, he had a very strange feeling of pressure. Locke was familiar with this feeling. It might have been in one of the large-scale battles of the past: the bloody meat grinder that was the battle of Gordon Heights. the battle for the Felmo Grand Canyon, or the siege of Farlans not long ago. He had felt this kind of repressive aura had before. Could it be... magic!?

Locke wasn't the only one who noticed. The expressions on the platoon jarls changed visibly. They didn't see the 'shooting star' like Locke, but these knights fought all year round. It was not difficult for them to notice unusual, subtle fluctuations in their environment. Something like this could only be caused by arcane magic.

"Where is it?" Chris, the main jarl of 3rd Platoon asked.

"Not sure, but it doesn't seem far off. Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to see it from here," replied Dale, the deputy jarl of 3rd Platoon.

"The waves are very weak. I don't think it's high-level magic," Karl chimed.

Although the platoon jarls had only seen casters a few times in previous battles, their life experience made up for their gap in knowledge. They were no strangers to the enemy casters either. Those who were still alive were all able to proudly say they had survived all sorts of magic thrown at them over the various battles they'd experienced.

Solon looked curiously at his subordinates. At best, he was only as strong as a low-level Knecht. However, his strength came mostly from the accumulation of redsea flowers, precious potions and food. In the noble circle, Solon could barely be regarded as hardworking, but compared to the group of platoon jarls who fought tooth and nail for their lives, he was still far behind. At least Solon had a lower sensitivity towards danger.

"Over there!" Forgetting about the roast chicken in his hand, Locke chucked it away and pointed to the two large mountains in the northwest.

The surrounding platoon jarls shot a few furtive glances amongst themselves. Should they involve themselves? For there to be traces of magic, something had to be wrong with that place. Wherever there was magic, danger was present. Although everyone was on the fence, itching to check it out, they knew it was better to put themselves at less risk.

"What's wrong?" Solon asked.

"I sense some fluctuations in magic over there." Locke pointed at the big mountain in the northwest direction and said.

After hearing this, Solon's eyes lit up. "Let's go! Something's off over there. Perhaps the person we're looking for might be there!" As a young, naive man, Solon was prone to making brash decisions.

"Only our team has that position in our line of sight. Both the baron's unit and Herr Wyr's unit are far away from us, so they probably can't feel the presence of magic." said Chris hesitantly.

The subtext behind his words was clear. People who approached places with magic were setting themselves up for danger.

Solon was no fool either, naturally understanding what he meant. He didn't want to be in danger, but his desire for battle was stronger than anyone else. Solon had participated in the siege of Farlans, but never without the protection of Locke and Jersson. He did not have much blood on his hands, having only killed a few ordinary men, and at most gotten nicks on his face from arrows that barely missed him. While the facial scars did make him look more masculine, he still felt a sense of inadequacy. He needed to prove his worth. After all, in terms of impetus, Solon's rank was definitely higher than most of the platoon jarls here.

"Then send someone to get the two lords to come here. We'll try to approach and observe. If things seem very bad, we still have time to retreat safely," suggested Locke. Being Solon's age and having spent many days interacting with him, Locke could practically read his mind.

Solon glanced at Locke appreciatively and said, "Yes, let's go over and assess the situation first. If it's the ones we need to rescue, we have to move in. Those were our orders." This subordinate is very capable, Solon thought.

None of the soldiers could refute the last statement. Moreover, Solon was the highest-ranked individual here. Even if he gave no explanation and only barked orders, the platoon jarls had no choice but to comply.

"Arl, Howson, contact the lord baron and Herr Wyr respectively!" Platoon Jarl Dale instructed.

"Yes!" After receiving the order, the two soldiers left without finishing dinner for the baron and Wyr. The three units had been separated for half a day. It was midnight and they were expected to catch up the next morning.

"Let's go!" Solon took the lead.

"Fall in! March!" Locke and other platoon jarls summoned their soldiers and followed closely behind.

In fact, Solon, with his luxurious chain mail, had no worries about this adventure because he did not pick up on the wave of magic at all. Several platoon jarls could feel it because of their honed senses, but the low-level Knecht he was could not detect it, even though they were so close to the location the spell was cast as the level of the spell was too low. Perhaps it was only a low-level Lerhling. If the other platoon jarls weren't able to sense it, what more would he be able to? Low-level Lerhlings were far weaker than low-level Knechts. Solon was confident that such a large group of them would be able to defeat an entry-level Lehrling. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to him, there were many enchanted equipment that could turn the tables.

Angelina was still running away. The princess, who was already on the verge of physical and mental breakdown, refused to give up. She cast Featherweight twice on herself. Angelina's mana had been exhausted, but the Blood Red soldiers chasing her were closing in. If it were not for the Blood Red soldiers wanting to catch her unharmed, they would have used various other means to stop her.

Watching chasing soldiers closing the gap, a trace of despair flashed across her eyes. As a Faustian princess, she must not be captured, for the sake of the dignity of the royal family and her brother, who was fighting at the frontlines. She couldn't be a burden to him.

Angelina recalled her six years of arduous magic training. She could not disappoint her late mother, nor could she let her brother worry. "Featherweight!" She was no longer using her mana, but instead was drawing from her mental power. She got a little faster, but it was useless. The gap between her and the pursuers was still chipping away.

After Angelina and Kenzir's biological mother died of illness six years ago, Angelina started learning magic under a well-known Faustian high-rank Lehrling caster. Kenzir joined the army and served as a commander to hone his strength and leadership. They were pretty decent as far as royals were concerned, and had made remarkable achievements in their respective fields. Angelina's mentor praised her talent more than once, and recommended for her to study under his own mentor, a noble caster from the Aomar Empire. Kenzir also took control of Lion corps, Faustian's elite force. It could be said that the current king was prouder of his children than his achievements in expanding the borders of his nation. He also missed his late ex-wife very much.

After Leit and Kashir dealt with the enemy in front of them, they cursed under their breaths at seeing their unit still having not brought their target back. They then took off in the direction where Angelina had escaped.

When Locke and the others arrived near where the flare was launched, they saw Angelina and the Blood Red soldiers that tailed her. Her clothes were tattered. She looked hurried and panicked, but she still seemed movingly enchanting. Angelina, with fair and beautiful skin, was like a pitiful angel garnering sympathy in the night. The impression she made on Solon felt as if a panicked deer had rammed straight into his chest.

How could such a gorgeous woman exist in this world? thought Solon. There were faint waves of magic around Angelina. The Knechts guessed quite rightly that Solon's imagination probably framed the story as that of a beautiful caster who struggled to resist her pursuers.

"Go! Let's save her!" Solon said, charging in. The son of the baron recalled the bard's ballads heroes saving damsels. Solon was usually not a lustful person. While Locke's women in the care of logistics, Suzanne and Laffey, looked good, Solon had seen many like them, and none of them could make his heart flutter. The more beautiful Glace usually wore a veil and hid in a carriage, so Solon had never seen her. But Angelina had a kind of beauty that made you almost pity her, causing him to swoon protectively over her.

"Master, be careful!" Several platoon jarls had no choice but to take the lead to protect Solon. They weren't fascinated by the beauty like Solon was, being more concerned with the countless pursuers. The platoon jarls spotted a few impetus users ahead. They were asking for trouble by going into this fight. It was quite a bad idea to provoke them!

Naturally, Solon wasn't just captivated by her beauty. He had something else in mind: Cardoj Domain had been lacking a caster. If a natural disaster were to occur, he would have to seek help from his grandfather in the capital for a caster's assistance. If they had their own caster, however, it would be perfect. If he had a caster for a wife, their children might also have innate potential for magic. This would be an incredible benefit to the Cardoj household. Seeing the woman in white not far away, Solon became even more enthusiastic, speeding up and charging in.