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Grania wasn’t the only one affected by Nekator’s unexpected attack. The moment he unleashed his power, the Evil Bishop razed everything around him, turning the entire area into scorched earth. In that single rampage, more than half of the city’s garrison and infrastructure had been annihilated.
Had Grania not survived, had Adela and Elahan not devoted their full strength to stabilizing the situation, the marquisate might have fallen in a single day. Even so, with two Masters maintaining order and the Archmage, though weakened, still able to exert his strength, they had barely managed to hold the line.
Grania’s low hum broke the silence. Just as the city was beginning to recover, he had noticed something alarming. There was an army approaching fast from beyond the walls.
Their numbers didn’t exceed ten thousand, but every single one of them was cavalry. From armor to weapons to formation discipline, they were unmistakably elite. This was an army that was too well-trained, too organized to be dismissed as a mere rebel force; even at full strength, holding them off would have been difficult. In their current state, it was nearly impossible.
“Master Grania, is there something wrong?” Leon asked cautiously, seeing the mage’s frown deepen.
“An army is approaching... Around ten thousand...
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