The western frontier of the continent of Icadia.

As far as the eye can see, there are vast mountains and endless coniferous forests.

In September, warm currents rush from the distant endless sea to the western coast, and the moist air rushes happily into the mountains, bringing a long-lost rain to the vast wilderness of the western continent.

In the early Middle Ages, the high priests of the Wu clan and the Great Elf King Lyermo of the High Elf Dynasty who had been divided into the Western Realm jointly signed an ancient contract of non-aggression to divide the vast Western Continent and live in peace with each other for thousands of years.

Peace lasted for millennia until the establishment of the Dragonlance Dynasty.

This behemoth, founded by Charlemagne and the Nibelungen, has defeated the rule of the High Elf dynasty in Icadia with a devastating force, and is invincible and invincible.

In just twenty years, two of the six famous elven kings in the history of the Icadia continent were defeated and died, and the remaining four fled back to the wild continent with the remnants of their tribes, and their tribes have been in ruins.

The world is in chaos.

By the time the Witches, who had spent dozens of long centuries in comfort, realized this, it was too late, and the iron hooves of the Dragonlance Dynasty trampled over the remains of the High Elves Shang Wen and made a murderous march to the northwest, occupying and plundering every inch of land and resources as far as the eye could see.

The generally weak Witch Clan has no army that can compete with the Dragonlancers, and the spells that the priests are good at are not worth mentioning in the eyes of the powerful Dragonlancers.

The battle quickly turned into a one-sided massacre.

In the history of the Wu Clan, it is a painful memory known as the "Scarlet Age".

The army of the dragon lance marched westward, and when the land where they had lived for generations was encroached, the Wu had to start migrating, and countless tribes died of disease and famine along the way, and the population plummeted to one-third of the early Middle Ages.

The entire tribe is in jeopardy, and life and death are at stake.

At this moment, the Battle of Dawn broke out without warning, and the whole world was drawn into this epic battle.

In the face of a world-class crisis, the army of the Dragon Lance Dynasty had to stop, thus giving the Wu Clan breathing space.

At that time, the great priest of the Wu clan, Melton Taoguang, took advantage of the war between the major races and the alien races outside the world, led the tribe to avoid the war and cultivate in the westernmost wilderness of the continent.

In the first ten years of the War of Dawn, the major races of both continents were locked in a protracted and bitter battle, with heavy losses, and the weaker Wu clan became the side that suffered the least.

Under his leadership, the Wu Clan successfully recovered a large part of the tribe's land in the following decades, and even encroached on the elven land that was originally conquered by the dragon lance army.

With the support of his subordinates, Mekaton established the power of the Wu Clan--- the Holy Spirit King's Court, and became the first Holy Spirit King of the Wu Clan.

At this time, the Holy Spirit Court decisively chose to ally with barbarians, orcs and other races to join forces against the alien army, and at the same time deter the dragon lance knights who are eyeing the tiger.

However, the good times did not last long, and after the Battle of Dawn, Mecarton was killed in battle, and the Dragonlance Dynasty fought back again.

Even after the Battle of Dawn, the Dragonlancers proved that their ability to conquer the continent was no fluke.

Under the stormy offensive of the Dragon Lance Dynasty, the royal court was defeated and retreated, and the territory shrank to about half of its heyday.

The Dragonlance Dynasty, which had been badly damaged in the Battle of Dawn, was unable to penetrate after defeating the royal court, leaving only a dragon knight and tens of thousands of subordinate soldiers to guard the western frontier before returning to the dynasty.

As the Golden Age arrived, the brutal wars continued unabated, with the royal court constantly trying to move east to rebel, while the dynasty was ruthlessly suppressed, and the two sides waged a centuries-long tug-of-war on the Western Continent until blood stained every inch of the Western Wilderness.

......

In a wilderness deep in the West.

A small group of men and horses struggled through the muddy wilderness after the rain, the armor they wore was covered in dust and mottled cracks, and the emblem symbolizing the Dragonlance Northwind Legion was blurred.

This squad of knights has been walking the endless western wasteland for three days, with water and food on the verge of being cut off, and danger looming at the sight of the seemingly peaceful wilderness, where the armies of the Witch Clan may appear at any moment.

The officer at the head, the old knight Kabilo who had been in the Northwind Legion for twenty-four years, knew this.

Cabilo looked at the team behind him worriedly, silently estimating the time it would take to reach the fortress of the north wind, and years of intuition and experience presented a cruel prospect in his eyes: the expedition team behind him, if they all returned to the fortress alive, there was very little hope.

Without water, the soldiers could collect rainwater to drink, but without food, it was impossible for anyone to hike out of the wilderness.

The most important reason for the slow pace of the march was the dozens of heavy sacks that were towed in the ranks containing the corpses of the dragoons who had died in battle.

The corpses of their fallen comrades must be brought back to their homeland for burial, and their bodies must not be abandoned like wild dogs in the wasteland or humiliated at the hands of the enemy, a tradition that has been unwavering for centuries.

Even in the most dangerous moments, Cabilo never thought of discarding the bodies of his dead comrades.

But now, looking at the sweaty faces of the young warriors behind him, the always hard-hearted Carbilo was shaken.

The old knight didn't know how long the team would last, and he didn't know if he would be able to see these young faces behind him after another day?

Undoubtedly, by throwing away these burdens, they have a better chance of survival.

But to do so would be to violate the Legion's rules, and even if everyone made it back alive to the Borean Fortress, at least Cabilo, the commander, would be held responsible for the action, and would even be punished with the severest punishment.

But if they don't, sooner or later the shadow of death will fall over all of them.

Dignity or survival? A cruel choice was placed in front of the commander who had endured many vicissitudes.

Cabilo gritted his teeth, the firmness honed by decades of military service swayed under the striage of reality and tradition.

If it were possible, Kabilo would like to pray to the legendary Lord of Radiance for a miracle.

But it is impossible for the old knight to do this, every warrior born in the land of the Dragon Lance Dynasty, from the moment he was born, is destined to have his faith only and will only be given to his own warhorse, his own sword or his own hands, and will never be a god.

This is the pride of the Dragon Lance Warriors.

Just when Cabilo was fighting and struggling in his heart, the billowing smoke and dust in the distance came into his eyes, and the figures of thousands of soldiers appeared in his field of vision, making the old knight's heart beat faster rapidly.

By his eyes, he could see the whole picture of the army, thousands of soldiers lined up in several phalanxes, slowly approaching in the direction of the dragon lancer squad, soldiers in leather armor and holding rudimentary steel swords and spears in their hands.

They resemble humans in appearance, but they are thin and pale, with pale cyan stripes on their cheeks and skin, and their pupils aqua blue.

At the forefront of this group of soldiers was a wooden chariot painted with ornate patterns, and on the top of the chariot, the flag belonging to the Holy Spirit Court was raised high and fluttered in the wind, and the blood stained on it was particularly bright and dazzling in the sunlight.

Seeing this scene of blood clotting, Kabilo's pupils shrank, and he shouted hoarsely: "The enemy is coming, ready to fight." ”