The next day, at dawn.
The rebel army was advancing.
The morning light had not yet completely dispelled the night, and mist hung heavy in the streets of Sendarra.
To the north, the outline of the Pale Tower was faintly visible, appearing cold and distant in the morning light.
Rielian walked in the middle of the procession, his gaze sweeping over the silently advancing Elves beside him.
Their armor was very rudimentary, barely protecting vital areas.
Their weapons were even more varied: iron rods, wooden mallets, machetes, and even a few longswords that looked decent but were clearly poorly maintained, held by some former mage apprentices.
The footsteps of the army were far from uniform, treading on the uneven, stony path, creating a chaotic yet heavy sound.
There was no clamor, no one fell behind; everyone's lips were tightly pressed, their eyes fixed on the Noble District ahead, as emotions of suppression, anger, and determination spread through the mist.
This sight filled Rielian with a strange sense of detachment.
Just one day ago, these people were nothing more than a disorganized mob, with no military training whatsoever.
But now, this force of nearly a thousand people was somehow managing to maintain its formation, advancing towards the heart of the Noble District.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
However, upon closer inspection, one would notice the subtle clues.
This 'army' was composed of several small teams, each roughly ten people strong.
In each team, there were always four or five figures who stood out.
Their movements were more steady, their steps more coordinated, their eyes sharply scanning their surroundings, and the weapons they held were of better quality.
The other half of the force, however, were clearly novices among novices, nervously gripping their weapons, their gazes unfocused, their steps stiff, clinging tightly to the steady figures beside them, like fledglings following old birds.
Rielian's lips curved into an almost imperceptible arc, tinged with bitterness and relief.
He remembered the scene after the motivational speech.
There was plenty of righteous indignation, but when he tried to channel that anger into combat effectiveness, reality struck him hard.
Teaching a group of untrained commoners to maintain formation and cooperate in a short amount of time?
It was a pipe dream.
They barely had anyone with military knowledge, relying entirely on trial and error.
The result was a chaotic mess, a haphazard training driven solely by their fervor.
Seeing this situation, despair almost completely overwhelmed Rielian.
Time ticked by, minute by minute; Lady Lilyel's fate was uncertain in the hands of the nobles, and with each passing moment, hope diminished.
Even if they launched a hasty uprising and stormed the Noble District, what outcome could there be other than adding to the kill count of the Rangers and Mages?
It would be a suicide mission.
Just as Rielian hid in his room, almost crushed by a sense of powerlessness, Sindaiseth appeared.
He had come to inform Rielian of his plan to scout the Noble District first.
And after listening to Rielian's incoherent complaints and despair, Sindaiseth's stern face showed no ripple of emotion, only a calm reply:
"Don't worry, I have some friends."
Rielian had then dismissed it as a meaningless comfort.
Friends? At a time like this, what good could they do?
However, that very afternoon, the answer arrived.
Five hundred well-equipped High Elf, moving in perfect unison, suddenly appeared and silently reached the commoners' rallying point.
They were taciturn, their eyes sharp, and every action exuded the efficiency of a soldier.
Leading them was an Elf who introduced himself as Asulate, with a stern face and a steady demeanor.
He went straight to Rielian and simply stated his identity:
They had once been elite private soldiers under a certain great noble, had long detested the corruption and decadence of the Council, and had secretly converted to the Dragon of Radiance.
Now that the Saintess had been abducted by the Noble District, it was their time to stand up for their faith.
The arrival of these 'former private soldiers' instantly changed the situation.
They quickly dispersed, integrating into various commoner teams, adopting a 'veteran-mentors-novice' approach.
The veterans used the most concise commands and demonstrations to teach the new recruits how to grip their weapons, how to maintain formation, and how to cover each other while moving.
Although the time was pitifully short, this hastily assembled force actually began to resemble a rudimentary army, no longer a mere rabble.
Looking at this army, which, despite its crude equipment, subtly exuded order and killing intent, the almost extinguished flame in Rielian's chest once again burned fiercely.
Perhaps... they really could win?
This thought, like a spark, rekindled hope. Time returned to the present, as the morning light finally dispelled the night and mist, and the rebel army arrived at an open plaza at the southern edge of the Noble District.
This was also the location mentioned in the intelligence Sindaiseth brought back last night, where the Saintess was to be executed at eight o'clock today.
In the center of the plaza, a pyre, piled high with dry firewood, stood glaringly.
Surrounding the pyre was an execution squad composed of well-equipped Rangers and Mages.
Their gazes were cold and merciless, like those of people looking down on ants, fixed intently on the suddenly intruding rebel army.
A chilling aura of killing intent rapidly spread, making it almost impossible to breathe.
This intensified Rielian's sense of detachment; the Queldorei had no tradition of burning at the stake—
The rebel army halted at the edge of the plaza.
Upon seeing the pyre, their suppressed fury could no longer be contained, and a commotion inevitably broke out among the ranks.
The commoners gripped their crude weapons, their eyes bloodshot, wishing they could immediately charge forward and trample the pyre.
"Silence! Maintain formation!" Asulate's deep, powerful command came, instantly extinguishing the budding flames of chaos.
The veterans quickly restrained the agitated new recruits beside them, forcibly stabilizing the army in place.
But the anger and anxiety permeating the air were even heavier than the previous mist.
Rielian took a deep breath, trying his best to calm his violently pounding heart.
Then, he pushed through the crowd and walked to the very front of the rebel army.
He could feel over a thousand pairs of eyes focused tightly on his back, eyes interwoven with anger, fear, and a deeper hope.
Rielian suppressed his inner timidity, stepped forward alone, and slowly walked towards the center of the plaza, directly facing the formidable execution squad.
He trod on the hard flagstones, and the echo of each step seemed overly clear in his ears.
Across from him, the Rangers' fingers quietly rested on their bowstrings, and the gems at the tips of the Mages' staffs began to flash with dangerous light.
On the rebel army's side, there was also a tense sound of weapons being drawn and bowstrings being tautened.
Rielian stopped about twenty paces from the opposing formation.
He forced himself to straighten his back, raised his hand, and gestured to his nervous companions behind him not to act rashly.
"I am Rielian," his voice echoed across the empty plaza, trying to remain steady.
"I represent the Queldorei of the commoner district. We are here to demand the release of Lady Lilyel. She is no criminal, but a bringer of salvation!"
From the opposing formation, a mid-level commander in more ornate attire stepped forward.
His gaze was like that of someone examining an object, cold and devoid of warmth.
"Demand?" The officer's lips curved into a sneer, "Neither commoners nor rebels have the right to make demands."
"The Council's verdict has been rendered: The banshee Lilyel, for bewitching hearts and assassinating the Speaker, is beyond redemption. The burning at the stake will commence at eight o'clock sharp."
The cold words, like a death knell, shattered Rielian's last shred of hope.
Just as the rebel army, due to the breakdown of negotiations, once again fell into a state of agitation, on the other side of the execution plaza, behind the blockade connecting to the Noble District, a squad of fully armed guards slowly emerged, escorting a figure.
Liriel.
------------------------
I've posted 70+ chapters in advance on Patreon.
Webnovel updates will still be daily, as usual.
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
[email protected]/TripleCrown
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"