Chapter 360: Royal Authority
"Prepare for the third round of bombardment!"
Overlord shouted confidently.
Over a dozen magical heavy cannons were arrayed on the battlefield, their ominous black barrels aimed skyward.
Before them lay the ruined walls, now a wasteland of rubble and terrified defenders, including soot-covered knights stripped of their morale.
—This was Cyril City, a strategic military hub of the Otto Duchy and the second-largest city in the region. Now, it was steeped in the acrid stench of smoke and destruction.
Fengyun waved a hand and remarked, "Guild Leader, let's hold off for now. We need to capture more prisoners. The factories we run are short on labor lately."
"Native workers are better suited for this kind of work. Hiring players is too expensive, and they don't follow orders. These newbie players are getting too clever—if we don't raise wages, they won't even consider joining."
Overlord thought for a moment before nodding. "You make a good point."
"Let the spellcasters and melee units handle this next phase. Oh, and tell the wyvern riders to go easy—don't burn too many people alive."
"Understood, Guild Leader."
[Royal Authority] had grown into a prestigious mega-guild with nearly a thousand members, most of whom were level-five Professionals or higher. Additionally, many were highly skilled specialists.
To claim victory in the [Conquer the Northlands] campaign, Overlord had mobilized nearly 600 members, effectively committing everyone except those in essential logistical roles to the battlefield.
This formidable force of Professionals had already conquered thirteen cities, bulldozing through the weak defenses of the Northlands' militias.
Only special units like the "Lionheart Knights" could resist them. The average Northern soldier was barely equivalent to a level-one Professional. Meanwhile, a level-five Professional was exalted in the Northlands, often serving as a knight or even a general.
An organized battalion composed entirely of such individuals was a terrifying force.
"Mages, cast group Haste; bards, light up the enemy with Faerie Fire."
"Warriors, raise your shields and push forward. Remember, don't kill those who surrender. The guild will reward you based on the number of captives, and capturing a count alive earns extra rewards!"
Fengyun barked through a megaphone.
"For Royal Authority!"
"Glory to Royal Authority! Heroes never die!"
Two hundred players surged toward the city, a mixed force of warriors, paladins, mages, and warlocks showcasing dazzling spell effects.
Druids summoned an array of beasts, while bards cast spells through melodies and harmonies.
The battlefield under the city walls became a kaleidoscope of magical lights.
Flaming arrows, splashing acid, falling boulders, and even flying squirrels all assailed the defenders on the walls.
The commander on the walls bellowed, "Do not falter! Kill them! Fight for the Otto Duchy and protect the city!"
"They're just flesh and blood!"
"Without their bizarre weapons, they're no better than us!"
"Load the ballistae!"
As a military stronghold, Cyril City's walls were equipped with heavy ballistae meant to fend off frost giants and white dragons. Now, they were repurposed to target these "fallen stars."
"Faerie Fire!"
The bards' melodies summoned violet light that outlined every enemy.
Several of Royal Authority's senior mages raised their staffs in unison.
"Slow!"
Instantly, the space on the walls warped, and the soldiers' movements slowed to a crawl, as if someone had pressed the slow-motion button.
A dragon-vassal paladin, empowered by Flight and Haste spells, leaped onto the walls and swung a flaming sword, decapitating the shouting commander.
The soldiers, paralyzed in the slowed space, could only watch helplessly as their leader was slain.
"Surrender, and you will live!"
The paladin held up the still-warm head, shouting from atop the walls.
The soldiers gazed up at the advancing invaders in despair, realizing the war was over—their fate sealed.
Soon, Royal Authority's members occupied the entire city, effortlessly seizing the town hall, armory, and other key locations.
Count Jules Reginaldo, the city's lord, had fled south with a caravan of over a hundred wagons.
However, Royal Authority boasted several Crimson Scaled Conquerors. No matter how fast horses ran, they couldn't outrun winged wyverns.
The count and his caravan were swiftly intercepted and annihilated. Count Jules was captured alive, dangling from a wyvern's claws as he screamed.
"Stay still, or I'll kill you."
"Yes, yes, I'll behave!"
Greatblade, riding a wyvern, landed and casually tossed the count onto the ground.
Jules Reginaldo's corpulent body trembled uncontrollably.
Despite their infamy for killing nobles without hesitation, these dragon-vassals had spared him.
Could it be that they finally understood they needed the nobility to maintain control over the Northlands? Was this an olive branch for cooperation?
A glimmer of hope appeared in Jules Reginaldo's eyes.
"Here we are."
"Guild Leader, I've brought him."
Greatblade flung him to the ground without ceremony.
"Uncivilized brute! Once I regain my position, I'll have you executed."
Jules seethed inwardly, his expression darkening with malice.
Struggling to stand, he noticed a tall, imposing man clad in ornate armor, holding a massive sword.
The man's face lit up upon seeing him.
"This must be their leader."
"My life and wealth now lie in his hands. I should curry his favor for future cooperation."
Jules plastered a sycophantic smile on his face.
"Honorable sir, I am Jules Reginal—"
"Swish—"
Before he could finish, Overlord swung his sword, cleaving the count in two.
Brain matter splattered everywhere, and his innards spilled out messily onto the ground.
Even in death, Jules Reginaldo's face retained its ingratiating smile, though his eyes were filled with shock and disbelief.
He couldn't comprehend why the man who went to such lengths to capture him only did so to kill him personally.
Overlord wiped his sword clean, frowning at the mess.
"Next time, just behead them. This is disgusting."
"Clean this up," he instructed, turning his attention to his status panel with a satisfied grin.
[You have slain a key figure of the Northern United Kingdom, [Count Jules Reginaldo]. Gained 120 faction reputation.]
The entire guild's efforts were focused on farming his reputation to qualify for dragon-blooded nobility.
Fengyun smiled. "Guild Leader, at this pace, by the campaign's end, you'll likely meet the Viscount reputation requirement—maybe even aim for Count."
"Haha, onward to the next city! 'One thousand miles to seize the marquisate, ten thousand years to inscribe my name!'"
Overlord spread his arms, laughing heartily.
Fengyun wiped the sweat from his brow, inwardly grumbling, "The entire guild supports you farming reputation, and you're here spouting grand poetry."