The covenant was finally signed, and there were no waves except for the fact that Salander killers had infiltrated and assassinated the main generals of both sides.

Count Atlas arrived at the door of the Lord's Hall with his right arm stabbed by the killer, and stood in the passage waiting after requesting a briefing from the guards.

The attendants and guards who came and went saw him saluting from afar, and he nodded happily to them one by one.

You know, he was in a very happy mood at this time, although he was almost stabbed to death by the Salander killer at that time, but as a loyal servant who blocked the knife for King Graves, he regained the trust of King Grimivus and the friendship with several other great lords, and even the stupidity he had done a year ago seemed to have vanished with this feat.

Perhaps, he will soon be back at the center of power, Count Atlas thought secretly in his mind as he responded to the greetings of others.

Just as he was thinking about it, a Sergeant Rhodok came out of the hall and opened the door: "Your Majesty, Lord Count, please come in, and please give me your weapon, and don't embarrass us." ”

Count Atlas smiled and nodded at the guard, and immediately flattered the venerable guard, and after taking the sword he handed over, he graciously opened the wooden door for him and invited him into the hall.

It was not the first time he had come to the hall of the lord of the castle, to be exact, he had responded to the lord of the castle countless times to attend banquets here, so the count of Atlas was very familiar with this place.

King Graves sat in the chair in the center where he had sat in the previous meeting, his head bowed, not knowing what he was thinking. Count Atlas didn't dare to disturb him, so he stood silently and waited for the king to finish his thoughts.

After a while, King Greyfus, as if he had finally remembered that he still had a guest, nodded apologetically to Count Atlas, and ordered his attendants to carry a chair for him.

"Your Majesty, our army has been resting here for five days, and according to our scouts, the Salanders have reached the vicinity of Chelez. If we don't attack again, I'm afraid that the nobles and citizens of the Cherez region will be in danger! “

King Greyfus nodded silently, and reached out to hand a letter on the arm of his chair to his attendant, motioning for him to give it to Count Atlas to read.

Atlas took the letter from the squire's hand and read it carefully.

Before he could finish reading, he unconsciously let out an exclamation: "What! Are the Nords crazy enough to dare to declare war on the Swadians at this juncture? Aren't they afraid of being crushed into powder by Swadias and Wikiians! “

Graves shook his head with some distress: "Actually, I just got a piece of news, although I am not sure, but based on the analysis of the current situation, what they said should be true." “

"What news, Your Majesty?" Count Atlas hurriedly asked.

"A caravan at sea has seen a Nord force of about 40,000 men sailing from Greenland to Calradia, and I think that's why they dared to go to war on both Vecchia and Swadia. Oh, these Nord barbarians, it seems that they really can't live in Greenland. “

Count Atlas thought for a moment and asked cautiously, "Then Your Majesty, are the reinforcements promised to us by the Svadians still counted, and will they not be affected by this incident?" “

Graifus glanced at him with slanted eyes, and said a little tiredly: "Naturally, it has an impact, originally they promised to support our three hundred Swadia knights and two thousand heavy cavalry, but after this incident came out, the allied army shrank to one hundred knights and eight hundred heavy cavalry, the key is that we can't accuse them of anything!" “

Atlas thought for a moment, and finally stood up: "But Your Majesty, no matter what the current situation is, we can't stay here and still, the threat in the Cheles region is imminent, if we let the Salanders burn and loot while knowing that there is danger there, your reputation and power will be greatly affected!" “

"Okay, all the troops are attacking!"

——————————I'm the handsome dividing line——————————————————

On a plain thirty kilometers east of Elbuk Castle, three thousand Nord infantry lined up in a neat line against five thousand Vikyans, and if any outsiders were to come here at this moment, they would be very surprised at the current situation, because everyone knew that very few of the Nords knew how to line up.

It is well known that the Nords are generally very strong in personal combat, and they have always been fearless of death, proud of their death, believing that only warriors who die in battle are eligible to be led to their ideal temple - Songad. Even every Nord takes pride in being at the forefront of the charge. So this leads to the fact that every time there is a battle, they rush to the enemy.

Maybe at first they can maintain a little formation under the orders of the commander, but in the end, even the commander will lose his mind, and then it can be said that they are fighting on their own.

But at this time, this group of Nords gave people a completely different feeling, as if they were not Nords at all.

"Fifty steps forward!" Someone in the Nord army shouted loudly.

The Nord infantry were silent, heavy leather boots on the meadows of the southwestern continent of Calradia, constantly pushing forward like a hurricane.

"Hold on to this place!"

The Nords stopped in response to the order, and the soldiers in the front row raised their round shields, forming a solid barrier.

"Vicchia! Charge! “

A Vecchian knight in scale armor raised his spear and roared loudly.

"God is with me!"

Behind him, the Vecchian soldiers also roared angrily, and under the cover of the Vecchia archers, they kept a wedge formation and charged towards the Nords.

The clanging sound kept ringing in my ears, and the shields of the Nord soldiers in the front row were already full of arrows, and from time to time a Nord soldier fell from an arrow, but soon the soldiers behind were replenished to resist the rain of arrows from the Vekians.

"Throw a spear!"

Finally, the Vecchian charge was close enough for the Nords. The soldiers in the front row squatted down with their shields held high, and the soldiers wearing chain armor behind them took a big step forward, throwing out the spears in their hands vigorously, and the sharp sound instantly resounded through the world.

Countless spears whistled and arced across the sky, shooting straight at the charging Wikibians. Seeing this, the noble knight of Vecchia at the front hurriedly erected his cavalry shield, but the shield that was originally very strong was as vulnerable as paper paste under the attack of the heavy spear, and it was easily pierced, and the huge force pierced his flesh after piercing the shield, and flew backwards with his body.

Just the first round of spear throwing by the Nords had already caused the Vikians to lose nearly six hundred combat power, but before the Vikians could recover their strength, another round of spear throwing followed.

After three rounds of spear throwing, the Wikibians were less than half as strong as they had been at the beginning. But that wasn't the end of it, and before the last of the third round of spears had had time to fall completely, the Nords were already charging.

The galloping warriors swung their axes and threw them forward as they ran, and after all that was done, they were finally ready to engage the Wikibians. Countless Nord soldiers, wielding spears and sharp axes, let out their own war cries loudly, holding their shields high, slammed into the Vikyans' military formation, knocking them to pieces in an instant.

Roaring, colliding, slashing, severe, bloody.

In just over twenty minutes, the nearly 4,000 Vekia stormtroopers were completely crushed by the Nords. The roars and slashing ceased, and when viewed from above, the battlefield was as terrifying as hell. And the remaining 1,200 or so Nord infantry standing in the middle of it were like demons.

Volbolatpoye swallowed his saliva fiercely, his palms were covered with cold sweat, and even the legs that were clamping the horse's belly began to tremble slightly at this moment.

The Nords in the battlefield had begun to regroup, silently reforming the impenetrable shield wall, and then silently approaching the Vicchian shooters on the hill with heavy and powerful steps.

A veteran stared blankly at the approaching Nords and muttered, "Oh God! They...... Are they the devil? “