NOVEL NEXT Chapter 377: Chapter 376: The Ruthsia Expeditionary Force
The Old World was celebrating the Winter Festival, marking another year passed.
Humans temporarily forgot the threats of greenskins, chaos, and the undead, focusing entirely on the festivities.
This was true not only for humans in the Old World but also for those in the New World.
In the New World, in the Ruthsia Isthmus and the Pioneer Coast at Plunderer's Port, the expeditionary force from Tillyria had established a massive port town primarily used as a fishing harbor. The town was bustling, with five to six-meter-high walls patrolled by many soldiers.
At the furthest point visible to the eye, lush tropical rainforests covered the entire view. Despite it being the time for the Winter Festival, the average temperature here still hovered around 18 degrees Celsius, sometimes exceeding 30 degrees in the summer. The year-round high temperatures and frequent rains made it difficult for the Tillyrian expeditionary force to adapt. They had been here for ten months, establishing a reasonably solid colonial outpost. They ensured self-sufficiency through hunting, fishing, and farming. Many young soldiers were eager to venture into the forest to search for the endless treasures left by the ancient saints.
The Tillyrian expeditionary force, consisting of several dozen large sailing ships and about twelve thousand people across five legions, had endured months of overseas travel. After multiple battles with dark elf pirates, tomb king pirates, vampire pirates, and natural disasters (such as sea storms), about eight thousand remained by the time they landed on the Pioneer Coast—around six thousand soldiers and over a thousand accompanying personnel, including more than eight hundred women.
Upon landing on the Pioneer Coast of Ruthsia, these greedy and cunning mercenaries and conscripts quickly mutinied. The military factions attacked each other, fighting for supplies and brutally killing their compatriots. Curiosity about the New World was quickly replaced by the fear of being away from civilization. After several failed attempts to explore the forest with no returns, the remaining soldiers began to fear the forest, and the expeditionary force fell into disarray and constant anxiety.
The expeditionary force soon found themselves surrounded by enemies. To the northeast of their landing point was a barbarian tribe that worshiped chaos, called Skogji. This cruel Norsca tribe, for some reason, had settled here and eyed the expeditionary force, wishing to offer them as a lavish sacrificial ritual to their dark gods.
To the northwest was the impenetrable tropical rainforest from which no explorers returned.
To the southeast, greenskin tribes were active.
Along the coastline, vampire pirates frequently attacked and plundered the expeditionary force.
After two consecutive battles, the morale of the expeditionary force was very low, and they faced a shortage of provisions, gradually edging towards collapse.
Just then, a tall human man with the handsome looks of a mythological hero appeared before the expeditionary force soldiers. With his long, silvery hair flowing elegantly without a single split end, this beautiful man called for everyone to unite and follow his command as they neared collapse.
His name was Fergen.
The speeches given by the man named Fergen were mocked by many, with some old mercenaries scoffing that he should be selling his ass in high-end clubs in Tillyria rather than embarking on an expedition, saying a delicate pretty boy like him should not be here but rather back home under his mother's care.
Fergen, the beautiful man, listened to these words without anger or concern. He simply used his flawless demeanor to silence the expeditionary force. When a chaos champion from the Skogji tribe led a large group of barbarian soldiers to attack the expeditionary camp, Fergen raised the military flag high, slew the chaos champion with a single sword stroke, and ensured no barbarian could retreat successfully.
On the battlefield, the godlike performance of this beautiful man won over all soldiers aspiring to achieve greatness. No matter how perilous the battle conditions or how fierce the barbarian attacks, Fergen always stood at the forefront, his silver hair dancing wildly on the bloody battlefield. His sword drank the blood of several barbarian marauders with each strike. His elegant figure remained spotless even in the bloodiest center of the battlefield, his eyes filled with immense confidence and pride. No barbarian could withstand his sword. Under Fergen's bloody struggle and watchful eyes, the soldiers, who were continuously defeated due to fear and internal strife, felt a deep-seated shame in their souls. It seemed that abandoning this man and fleeing would be an indelible stain on their lives.
The forgotten sense of honor and mission finally reignited in the hearts of the expeditionary force soldiers. They unleashed roars from deep within, turning back to the battlefield in large strides. Despite the human soldiers being far inferior to the barbarians, causing frequent collapses at the front, they regrouped under the flag time and again under Fergen
's command, eventually defeating the attacking barbarians completely.
No barbarian escaped, and the chaotic scum paid a bloody price. As all soldiers of the expeditionary force shouted victory amidst the devastated battlefield, they felt reborn. A fresh sense of beginning pervaded the hearts of all soldiers, as if their souls had been cleansed.
The day after this war ended, the soldiers revolted, killing three mercenary group leaders who refused to follow Fergen's command along with their several confidants. Thousands gathered outside Fergen's tent, chanting his name, requesting him to lead them.
Fergen graciously agreed. He reorganized the remaining five thousand people into a legion, naming it the "Ashen Legion," and appointed himself as the legion commander. The only mercenary leader willing to submit, named Fernando Pirazo—a legendary and fierce fighter rich in combat experience—was appointed as the deputy legion commander.
The Ashen Legion thus took root on the Pioneer Coast. The flag of the Kingdom of Tillyria was torn into pieces and thrown to the ground by the soldiers, replaced by the emblem of a phoenix claw, the new standard of the Ashen Legion.
The new commander Fergen did not rush to venture into the forest immediately. He quietly stated that with the current strength of the expeditionary force, even ten times the number would only serve as fodder for the mysterious ancient races within the forest. He asked all members of the expeditionary force to come together for new training, to cultivate farmland, breed livestock, build fishing boats, and turn the expeditionary camp into a town until they could ensure self-sufficiency and produce some simple weapons.
After several months, the soldiers of the Ashen Legion underwent a completely different kind of training. Everyone became proficient in using swords, shields, long spears, and crossbows, learning to form tight formations. Those who were disobedient ruffians were identified, severely punished, reeducated, and exiled. The remaining five thousand troops began to possess formidable combat prowess. When the southern greenskin tribes came to harass, the legion only suffered a dozen injuries before defeating the marauding orc raiders.
As night fell, the hot weather gradually cooled off, and salty sea breezes blew across Ruthsia's coast. The seasoned mercenary leader Pirazo finished a day's patrol, the bright moonlight shining on the ground of the Pioneer Coast. Pirazo, now over forty years old, maintained a youthful appearance thanks to his legendary high-level strength, though scars on his face showed his extensive battle experience.
Pirazo was the only one among the five mercenary leaders not from the mercenary nobility of the Kingdom of Tillyria. He was just a mercenary leader employed by Prince "The Besieger" Pogil of Miragliano. When he witnessed Fergen's indescribable strength and charisma, unlike the other three mercenary leaders (one had died during the ocean voyage), Pirazo did not refuse to submit. He swiftly pledged his loyalty to Fergen without much hesitation.
Pirazo never thought he would so sincerely kneel before an obscure beautiful man, willingly becoming his subordinate and fighting for him.
Whenever he thought of this, Pirazo would laugh at himself mockingly, then shake his head, trying to throw all the foolish things he had done before out of his mind.
Honor, responsibility, a sense of mission, and even conscience—these things had long been discarded by the fierce mercenary leader, thrown far away. It was Fergen who made him realize that although these things had been discarded by Pirazo, they still existed in the world and could be picked up again.
Under Fergen's inspiration, the mercenary leader picked these things up again, placing them back into his chest. He proudly and proudly became Fergen's deputy, helping him manage the territory, train the troops. He became his most loyal subordinate. For Pirazo, Fergen's appearance made him understand the meaning of his life, which was to fight for Fergen.
The mercenary leader's boots stepped on the beach, the pair of crocodile skin boots he had carefully crafted in his earlier days now tattered after more than a year at sea. He still liked wearing these boots.
The Ashen Legion had just been here a few months, and supplies were always a bit tight.
"Shh-shh," the sandy beach was soft. Pirazo followed a path back to the town, the wooden gate half-open. Many soldiers with hand crossbows on the walls saw Pirazo leading a small patrol team back and let them in.
Inside the town, mostly low wooden houses newly built from felled trees dotted the landscape. Many chimneys emitted cooking smoke, Pirazo smiled seeing this: "Soldiers, tough day today, go get some good sleep."
"Yes, deputy commander," the soldiers saluted sharply.
The town's layout was personally planned by the legion commander. He led the expeditionary force... it
could no longer be called an expeditionary force. Since Fergen appeared and united the soldiers, they had long thrown the Kingdom of Tillyria out of their minds.
Everyone firmly believed that only by following under the command of the legion commander could they have a brilliantly bright future.
In the town center, the largest house was a two-story wooden house, carefully designed to be airy and full of elegant artistic sense. Fergen lived here.
Faint sounds of a lute drifted from inside the house, making the cool Winter Festival night feel even more comfortable. The beautiful music reminisced about past glories and a new strength.
Pirazo knocked on the door: "Commander? It's Pirazo, I have something to discuss with you."
"Fernando? Come in."
"Grumble." The door was pushed open.
The stunningly handsome man, almost too beautiful to be human, sat in the middle of the room. A pile of wood on the floor still burned, heating a large iron pot with creamy white fish soup. The commander of the Ashen Legion, Fergen, sat behind the pot, strumming a lute and singing, a golden double-headed eagle pattern appearing on the wall behind him, as if golden wings had spread out behind Fergen himself.
So holy, so majestic, even seeing him every time, Pirazo felt the impulse to worship the man before him. After twenty years of rolling in the piles of the dead, Pirazo still felt this way, thinking no wonder the soldiers so worshipped their leader.
Seeing Pirazo come in, Fergen continued to elegantly play his instrument. He took about ten seconds to bring a perfect end to this beautiful nocturne before setting the lute aside: "My deputy commander, have you had dinner yet?"
"Not yet."
"Then let's eat together." Fergen smiled slightly, greatly flattering the mercenary leader. The commander's face always wore a half-smile, and no one knew what he was thinking: "Alright."
Taking ceramic bowls from a side table, both men filled their bowls. The rich soup made from fat dragonet fish and abalones was very nutritious. The very tall Fergen filled a bowl with a large spoon, then switched to a small spoon to eat, maintaining his noble elegance even in such a wild and uncivilized place.
Pirazo looked at the golden double-headed eagle pattern on the wall behind and then at Fergen, thinking that the man before him must be a high-ranking noble from the empire, likely a duke or higher. He must have been unwilling to be manipulated by his family, choosing instead to embark on an expedition incognito, hoping to carve out his own path.
It must be so.
"What does my deputy commander need to discuss?" After a few bites, Fergen put down his bowl and spoon, his silver hair smoothly falling beside his ears.
"Commander, I think we can venture into the forest now." Pirazo spoke softly: "The soldiers' training has been very effective, and the time has come."
"Do you think the time has come, my deputy commander?" Fergen was still smiling.
"Yes..." For some reason, Pirazo felt very unsure, especially in front of Fergen. To cover his insecurity, Pirazo emphasized: "I think the army's combat capability is sufficient."
"Have you had contact with those primitive races in the forest?" Fergen countered.
"No, the earliest contact with these primitive races was made by a famous navigator named Leonardo. When he came to Ruthsia for exploration, he saw these beings we call 'Lizardmen' in battle with a dark elf army. That was the first confirmation that ancient races indeed existed within the forest." Pirazo explained: "There are many gold and treasures in the forest. Leonardo sneaked into one of their ruins while the Lizardmen were battling the dark elves and stole a chest of riches. After returning to Tillyria, this explorer boasted extensively about his gains, which finally convinced the kingdom to assemble an expeditionary force. However, every time the expeditionary force has gone, they vanished without a trace, only a very few lucky ones returned wealthy. It's been one or two hundred years like this, and we are already the fifth expeditionary force."
"Hmm... I see, so why do you think our combat power is sufficient to contend with these ancient races?" Fergen just asked, not answering: "Our main task is to establish a colony here."
"But we need an excuse to unite and boost morale. We need a goal. The soldiers believe the forest is full of gold, they need gold, and so do we. We need a substantial sum of money to return home in glory and call more people to the New World. We need reinforcements. A five-thousand-strong army can't do much in this perilous place." Pirazo persuaded: "Colonization is important, but wealth is more important."
"I see." Fergen
maintained his smile: "In that case, let the soldiers prepare to depart once the Winter Festival is over."
"Yes!" Pirazo knew Fergen had agreed to the plan. The mercenary leader breathed a sigh of relief, then voiced the doubt he had always harbored: "Commander, are you... a descendant of a great noble of the empire?"
"Why do you say that?"
Fergen and the Ruthsia Expeditionary Force have finally made their appearance! Vote for us!
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