Her Graceful War Song by Summer's Blaze

Chapter 1294

At the Southern Frontier, Oliver could scarcely sit still. He hadn't expected Sandoria's army to really arrive, yet here they were. The letter from the Spencer family had been true.

300,000 soldiers were marching in, their advance relentless. Over the past few days, Oliver had been discussing strategy with Timothy and the others. They didn't seem overly concerned.

"Let them come. We'll fight," they said, their confidence bolstering Oliver, though it didn't ease his mind entirely.

However, the battle ahead would be brutal. Once the fighting became fierce, Oliver knew he wouldn't be able to stay Redstone Manor, issuing orders from a safe distance.

And even more troubling: Did Timothy and the others truly have the strength to win? The Sinclair Army and Hell Monarch Army had long been unruly and difficult to control. On top of that, they had spent the past two years focused more on farming than military drills. If it came down to an actual fight, he believed their chances of victory weren't very high.

Oliver ran his hand over his leg, lingering on his knee that ached every time it rained. A jagged scar ran down his thigh-a reminder of how close he had come to losing that leg on the battlefield. After spending months recovering in the capital, he could now walk without limping, but it still wasn't easy.

He still remembered the feeling of being close to death on the battlefield. Everyone was blinded by bloodlust, exhausted in body and mind. Lifting the heavy saber felt like an impossible task, and his arms ached as if they weren't even his own.

His armor had been too heavy for him to escape from an enemy ambush. If not for the intervention of others, his neck would have been cut by the enemy's sword.

Oliver was a marshal now; he didn't have to lead the charge anymore. But at the Southern Frontier, there was a tradition: even marshals had to lead their troops on the battlefield, not hide away in the marshal's

bad rules Hector

this. They claimed that during the Southern Frontier battle to reclaim the lands, the marshals had gone to the front lines to inspire the troops. That was why they could take back the

Celeste entered with

quickly masked his worry, turning toward her. As his gaze fell on her, he noticed her reddened eyes, the faintest hint of tears still clinging to

asked, rising and speaking gently. "Are you worried about

her eyes growing redder as fresh tears

back into his chair. Then, kneeling before him,

you promised me, my lord?" she asked,

sorrow.

like glass on the verge of shattering before his very eyes. His heart aching at the

marshal. Even if we go

down Celeste's face, her voice breaking she spoke, "No, I haven't told you this... but for days now, I've been dreaming of war at the Southern Frontier. The enemy forces kill you, decapitate you, and hang your head on the gates of Simonton City. They throw me into a brothel camp, and our son is

had these dreams

I even consulted a witch. She said our family faces a grave fate, so that's