With Leilin's reputation in these parts, once the nobles saw through his true intentions, they exchanged a flood of pleasantries and then departed as if their backsides were on fire.
Soon the tent grew nearly empty, with only a scant few shadows choosing to remain—among them an old acquaintance of Leilin's.
"Baron
Leilin looked at the middle-aged nobleman before him, who kept dabbing his face with a silk handkerchief, and spoke calmly.
"The orc offensive this time is incredibly fierce, and even the Beastkin are no easy opponents. The grain stored in my territory is no longer enough to survive this winter famine..."
Baron Andrew smiled bitterly. "It's just that I have a humble request... When we pass through my territory, could you let me bring along a portion of my family..."
"As long as the number stays under a hundred, and they bring their own provisions!" Leilin nodded.
"Then I am truly grateful!" Andrew's head bowed deeply.
Though it pained him greatly to lose his territory, Andrew could see the situation in the North far more clearly!
Those idiots and fat pigs actually wanted to compromise with the orcs? Or pin their hopes on the enemy letting them off easy? It was as absurd and laughable as expecting the sun to rise from the west!
"Very well. I'll give you one day to prepare. When the time comes, we leave immediately!"
Leilin made his decision.
...
Across the withered, yellowed wasteland, a massive column trudged forward at a slow pace.
Up ahead, several fast horses bearing knights came galloping toward them, their riders still spattered with blood, exuding a fierce and rugged air.
The knights rode up to a colossal carriage and spoke in humble, respectful tones: "My lord, the trouble ahead has been dealt with. It was a ragtag band of goblin and dwarf bandits... No casualties!"
"Good! Order the column to pick up the pace!"
Inside the carriage, Leilin opened his eyes from deep meditation and spoke slowly.
Once the order was given, the column's pace noticeably quickened.
"Quite the enormous column, isn't it..."
Leilin opened the carriage window and gazed at the bustling crowd outside. Especially the ragged refugees trailing alongside his column—he let out a quiet sigh.
The orc forces were concentrated toward Silver Moon City, and the Beastkin were busy pillaging the territories Leilin and the others had abandoned. Both sides were more than happy to see this group depart.
After rallying Baron Andrew and the other nobles' kinsmen, Leilin's forces once again surpassed the one-thousand mark—enough to make a decent showing.
At this scale, a large army wouldn't bother with them, yet they were more than capable of handling small raids, so the journey south had been entirely safe. The refugees were the only unexpected complication.
The orc offensive's ferocity and their vast forces had utterly devastated the lands north of Silver Moon City, giving rise to massive waves of refugees.
All along the route, humans were fleeing southward, many dragging entire families along. It was utter chaos.
And in the autumn wasteland, this immediately became a feast for bandits, horse-thieves, and goblins. Fighting, ambushes, robbery—the same crimes played out again and again.
One could say that without sufficient armed protection, reaching the South safely was nothing but a dream!
Along the way, it wasn't as though commoners and even nobles didn't come begging for his protection, but Leilin's own food supplies were running low, and he certainly couldn't spare any for total strangers. Aside from taking in a few nobles as supplementary allies, his column accepted no one else.
The refugees simply followed behind Leilin of their own accord, relying on his authority to make the journey. There was nothing he could do about that.
As long as they didn't cause any trouble, Leilin couldn't be bothered to interfere.
"From now on, the prosperity of the North will become nothing but history..."
Leilin stepped out of the carriage and mounted a black steed, surveying the entire column as he rode.
Wherever he passed, whether nobles' family members or his original soldiers, all bowed their heads in respect.
They all knew full well that it was Leilin, master of this army, who shielded their safety and held their lives in his hands. If Leilin were to turn on them and cast them out, those wretched refugees would be their fate!
Moreover, this high-ranking officer was also a High-level
One had to admit, in times of chaos, those who wielded great power could still provide people with a real sense of security. Tifa's identity was, after all, rather sensitive. After leaving the Narses Mountains, Leilin had deliberately kept Tifa hidden in the shadows, and even with the rumors circulating, the vast majority simply refused to believe them.
How could a Legendary powerhouse of such immense power suddenly pledge themselves to Leilin's service?
Besides, most of the Legendary powerhouses in the North had been famous for ages, but Tifa's appearance was completely unfamiliar—not to mention Tifa was using an assumed name.
"Lord Leilin!"
At that moment, Andrew rode up alongside Leilin on a white steed, an ingratiating smile on his face.
Seeing the other man's mount, Leilin nearly laughed.
In his previous life, generals who rode white horses in the old days rarely met good ends—it made them far too easy to pick out.
It was the same here. If there happened to be assassins or archers nearby, Andrew would undoubtedly be the first target. His mount and noble attire were simply far too conspicuous.
"We're at most three days from
Yorkshire was the human territory south of Silver Moon City—the region Leilin believed the orcs would not attack. The vast northern lands were already more than enough for them to digest, and the other powers had no desire to watch the orcish pantheon grow even stronger.
"I still have a few relatives over there. This time, I can go throw myself on their mercy!"
As he spoke, a bitter smile crept onto Andrew's face. "Perhaps I can buy a villa in the city, and a few estates in the countryside. But living as comfortably as I did in the North—that's probably no longer possible..."
The nobles' comfortable lives came entirely from their own territories—from taxation and the squeezing of the common folk.
Once they lost their lands and private soldiers, they lost the very foundation of their power! That was why so many nobles clung desperately to the North. It wasn't that they couldn't see the consequences—they simply couldn't bear to let go!
By comparison, Andrew's choice was remarkably wise and decisive.
"Yorkshire, eh..."
A playful smile crossed Leilin's face.
"Yes, it's the domain of Marquis Lancenite!" Andrew said, then fell silent.
That marquis was an important pillar of the Silver Moon Alliance, yet his performance during this disaster had been exceedingly ambiguous—constantly holding back and stalling, all while maintaining very close ties with the other human kingdoms in the central regions.
Of course, Leilin and the others' own act of fleeing the battlefield wasn't much better, so it was a case of the pot calling the kettle black.
"At any time, as long as you're not foolish enough to openly threaten the central authority, the chances of a regional power being placated are very high—let alone in a world governed by the gods' feudal system of noble titles..."
Leilin had a very thorough understanding of how the minds of those in power worked.
After striking at the Silver Moon Alliance, the southerners would certainly not want the orcs to keep growing stronger. So once Silver Moon City fell, containing the orcs would once again become the mainstream priority.
And that Marquis Lancenite was no exception! He certainly didn't want his own territory becoming a battlefield—seizing this moment to win over other forces was an absolute necessity!
While directly carving out territory from Yorkshire to placate people was unlikely, it was highly probable that he would generously give away others' lands around Yorkshire's borders and use these fleeing power-players as a buffer zone.
"Carve out the lands north of Yorkshire for us, making us the vanguard and cannon fodder against the orc advance..."
Leilin stroked his chin, a peculiar smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Who knows—once we enter Yorkshire, someone might drag me off to a matchmaking session..."
Stripping a noble of his fief directly was far too ugly, but achieving the same through marriage alliances was a far more gentle and socially acceptable approach.
Those great nobles certainly wouldn't want to be accused of eating with poor manners, so this was practically a foregone conclusion.
Three days later, the great column crossed into Yorkshire's borders.
Here, order had clearly been restored. Well-equipped soldiers patrolled everywhere, and large formations of cavalry could be spotted from time to time.
Clearly, Marquis Lancenite didn't trust the orcs to the north too much either. After all, given the orcs' simple minds, the occasional fit of irrationality was perfectly normal.
Moreover, compared to the orcs, the security problems brought by these refugees were even more severe!
At the very least, upon seeing Leilin's fully organized column, the guards' faces all showed expressions of wariness.
At this, Leilin nonchalantly presented his noble and military credentials, then left them to handle things as they saw fit.
"So at last I see it... the power of the Church..."
Leilin could now see, outside the city walls, numerous enormous tents set up in neat order, with a great many priests bearing various different holy emblems and symbols rushing about, working desperately to save the refugees.
Times of disaster were often a bountiful harvest for faith. Leilin watched as many people, after receiving their rations of oat porridge, wept bitterly in repentance and immediately joined the Church.
"These priests—scarcely seen when the North was suffering—now appear here en masse. That alone is enough to represent the attitude of the human gods..."
Leilin thought to himself.
Of course, among these priests, there were also a few outliers.
Leilin noticed small squads of paladins and mercenaries continuously heading north.
"These are the paladins and priests of
Leilin thought to himself: "The human gods' stance is strict neutrality—even the God of Justice can only send his followers to fight under their own personal banners? Laughable infighting..."
Leilin sneered. But this, too, was an opportunity for him.