Kemmler's head fell to the ground. The eyes of the grand necromancer who had wreaked havoc in the Grey Mountains for decades gradually turned dull. His gradually scattered pupils reflected the La Messenelle Monastery in the distant mountains and valleys.
There was the Staff of Nagash that he had been pursuing his entire life.
But everything had ended.
The long history of him and his ancient grave army had come to an end.
The moment Kemmler died, the entire undead army began to crumble. Those powerful graveyard guards and skeleton warriors, those undead creatures, those Undead Chaos Chosen Warriors, all of them crumbled on the spot and turned into a pile of bones.
Without the supply of mortal energy, Gul's body gradually disintegrated. He continued, "My master is …"
"Na …" Before the champion of the Four Gods of Chaos could finish his sentence, he dissipated on the spot. Without the support of Kemmler's necromancy magic, Gul's body turned into a wisp of grey smoke and dissipated into the air.
This was actually a little strange. Other than Gul, even if the other undead lost the supply of magic, they would at most disintegrate on their own. But Gul's disappearance left nothing behind.
It was as if some power had forcefully moved Gul away.
On the plains outside the monastery, there were only large patches of corpses and blood pits left.
"Victory!"
"Victory!"
"Victory!"
It seemed that the human army only realized their victory after five minutes. François was the first to stand in front of Kemmler's corpse. The duke himself first looked at Kemmler's head. François's face was ferocious. He grabbed the grand necromancer's head and slammed it on the ground. Pa!
Kemmler's head fell into the pool of blood and was stained with blood.
Immediately after, François's iron boots stepped on Kemmler's head.
Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp after stomp, until the head was a bloody mess.
"Kemmler! Years of hatred! Father's hatred! I've finally avenged it today! "
"Father! I've finally avenged you! "
Laing had never seen François lose his composure like this. Duke Winford's bone-deep hatred was revealed in front of everyone, and then the duke burst into tears. His father-in-law wiped his tears with a handkerchief, unable to control himself for a long time.
François's father, Tancred I, was killed by Kemmler during the Battle of Montfort Bridge and was resurrected as an undead. To flaunt his victory, Kemmler removed Tancred I's face from the former duke's face and sewed it onto his robe.
This was a great disgrace to the House of Francois and the House of Vanford. Since Francois had succeeded to the dukedom, he had sworn to avenge himself, and the first battle of La Mesenelle, some twenty years before, had been his masterpiece of vengeance.
But that was not enough.
It wasn't over yet!
Until today, François had finally completed his revenge. Duke Winford let out a long sigh of relief, his face filled with joy. He pulled out the unicorn sword and shouted, "Victory! Everyone, let us revel in this great victory and enjoy the glory to our heart's content! Today's victory will be recorded in the annals of history, and our glory will be passed down forever, even until the end of the world! Our enemies will never forget it! "
"Victory!!!"
The Battle of La Mesenelle Abbey ended with the death of Grand Necromancer Heinrich Kemmler. Kemmler, who once rampaged across the old world and left many wounds on the Empire and Brittany, was completely defeated in this battle. This represented the collapse and destruction of the Ancient Tomb Army, and the forces of order in the old world had one less strong enemy. The humans, dwarves, and even wood elves of the Grey Mountains worked together to ensure the peace of the mountains. Since then, the south of Brittany had completely shaken off the shadow left by Kemmler, and finally obtained a stable and peaceful environment for development.
The defenders cheered loudly together. Everyone was firmly united. Many soldiers were crying tears of joy, feeling the supreme glory. The whole mountain was filled with scenes of revelry of victory.
François laughed heartily in the midst of the cheers. He first nodded at Laing. There was no need for words between father and son-in-law. Then, François took the initiative to extend his hand to Duke Theodoric of Bereon. "Your Excellency Theodoric, I'm really surprised and happy that you came to support us. Thank you very much for your support!"
Theodoric shrugged and expressed to François that his arm was injured, so he couldn't shake hands with him. It was obvious that he was very proud of his performance. "When I heard the news, I knew that this place needed me. The kingdom needed me, so I came. So far, the results are not bad."
"Yes, the results are not bad." François retracted his hand. His father-in-law was in a good mood after getting his revenge.
He didn't have a good relationship with Theodoric, but they were still fellow humans. They were also the knights of the Lake Nymph, so they had a common understanding of the situation.
"Hahaha, Your Excellency Theodoric, you came at the right time." Laing appeared from the side, his body covered in wounds. He smiled and said with a hint of mockery.
"I had no choice, Laing." Theodoric understood the meaning behind Laing's words. He was taking advantage of his age to flaunt his seniority. "My men and I only had about two hundred. Now, there are only about eighty left. I had to choose the right time. Otherwise, I would only be providing more soldiers for the undead."
"Hmm …" Laing didn't have much to say about this. Just as Theodoric said, when the scales of the battle swung left and right, Theodoric and his two hundred knights successfully played their part.
Then, the duke's fearless charge caused Kaimler a lot of trouble. Kaimler, who had gathered his troops to block Laing, had no choice but to divert his attention to fight with Theodoric.
Don't underestimate the battle that lasted only twenty to thirty seconds. Theodoric's effect was similar to that of Laing and Gul's duel. Kaimler, who was forced to divert his attention, lost the best chance to escape. Otherwise, the necromancer might have been able to escape.
This was how the battle between saints was. It was easy to defeat the opponent, but difficult to kill the opponent.
Laing's expression softened a little. No matter what Theodoric's personal character was like, his timely assistance had played a decisive role in this battle. Perhaps this was an opportunistic move on Theodoric's part, but as the main beneficiaries, François and Laing had to owe him a favor. Therefore, the old man should be proud of himself.
After coming to Brittany for ten years, Laing began to understand the court and the bureaucracy. "Thank you for your help, Lord Theodoric."
"No need to thank me. If you really want to express your gratitude, then help me pay a pension." Theodoric shook his head. He looked back at the knights who had followed him. They were wounded, but still looked at him with loyalty. Now, there were only eighty of them left. "They are the backbone of this kingdom! Knights can't shed blood and tears. "
"Yes!" François had no objections. Duke Winford quickly agreed to pay the pension.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Bellegar led the dwarves of the Angran clan. The King of Eight Peaks was the first to arrive. "Hey! You Brittany! How come you're done already? You didn't even give the dwarves a chance to show off! "
"There will be a chance for you to show off, King Bellegar." Ryan bared his teeth and said to Bellegar. The Chosen One of the Lake Fairies had suffered heavy injuries in the duel with Gul. He was covered in blood. "You and your people have shown us the glory and tenacity of the dwarves. It's my honor to be able to fight alongside you."
"Me too," François said with a smile.
"Hey, hey! I killed 159 of them! I still remember! " The King of Eight Peak Mountain was very proud of himself. Belega raised his Hammer of Angrund and said, "Dwarves never disappoint their friends. Tell me, Brother Leon, how many have you killed?"
"It doesn't matter how many I killed. What matters is that I'm happy to see you safe and sound." Laing didn't want to argue with Bellegar. "My friend, King Bellegar."
"Me too, brother Laing." Hearing Laing's answer, Bellegar was stunned for a moment. Then he muttered in a strange tone, "Well, I admit that your words are better. You must have smeared our secret barbecue sauce on your mouth."
"Hahahaha!" The battlefield was full of laughter after the battle. Even the solemn Lord of the Wood Elves, Aralus, couldn't help but smile.
After laughing, François's face became serious. He walked to Kemmler's headless body, took his storage ring, and gave it to the Lake Fairies to purify. Then, Duke Winford held the black arrow in Kemmler's chest. "Who did this arrow belong to? Who shot Heinrich Kemmler?! Stand out! "
"It's me, my Duke. This is my black arrow." Bertrand, the commander of the Chalon Forest Patrol Battalion, came to the front of the crowd with some fear. He felt his heart beating fast. Seeing François, who was a high-level Saint and had even made a step forward due to the knot in his heart, Bertrand licked his lips and hurriedly bowed. "This is my black arrow! Everyone can testify! "
"That's right. This is Bertrand's black arrow. He once showed it to me." Laing also testified.
"Hmm … It's made from the tendons of a viper's heart. This is a dragon's heart arrow that specializes in anti-magic. No wonder it could pierce through Kemmler's body." Aralos extended his hand and pulled the black arrow out of Kemmler's body. The Wood Elf Lord inspected it and said something nice, which was rare of him, "Humans can actually create this kind of arrow. Although it's still a waste of resources, it's still useful."
"Yes … Yes!" Bertrand faced the Duke directly. This "Green Arrow", who was quite famous in Laing's territory, was trembling. As a peasant bandit who was born a serf, he felt extremely honored to be able to speak directly to the Duke.
Many serfs would never have the opportunity to speak to a Baron in their lifetime. Now, they could actually talk to a Duke face to face. What kind of honor was this?
"Kneel." François's face was serious.
"Pa!" Almost immediately after hearing the Duke's order, Bertrand immediately knelt down. François clapped his hands, and his attendant brought up a shining unicorn medal.
"Wow!" Everyone realized what was about to happen. Almost all the serfs who were watching this scene instantly had their eyes turn red with jealousy, unwillingness, envy, and desire.
A shining medal! A noble Lord! Almost all the serfs swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
"The descendant of Pure Redmond will never go back on his words. I remember my promise." François took the silver plate from the attendant and handed it to Laing. "He's your subordinate, Laing. I'll leave him to you."
Laing's flag bearer, Armand, took the silver plate. Laing unsheathed his sword, and the Goddess of Vengeance, which was burning with platinum flames, pressed down on Bertrand's shoulder.
"I, Count Glamorgan, Baron Jean, and Lady's Chosen Champion, Laing Macado, officially confer the title of Honorary Lord Bertrand Winford! I hope you will continue to protect this country with your performance and honor, and fight for the light and glory of Brittany! "
"Yes!" Bertrand's body trembled. With tears in his eyes, he knelt down and kowtowed to François and Laing.
The medal was pinned to his chest, and the ceremony was completed.
No words could describe Bertrand's excitement. From serf to thief, from sergeant to lord.
From today onwards, there would be no serf Bertrand, no thief Bertrand, no sergeant Bertrand.
There would be Honorary Lord Winford, Sir Bertrand!
The story of this hero and thief was destined to become another legend!
That night, the whole army drank and chatted merrily. Everyone at the grand banquet was drunk. Even François, who had always been elegant and calm, was drunk. Everyone sang "Lady Bless Brittany" together. The knights celebrated their victory loudly, and the whole monastery was in a sea of joy.
Halfway through the drinking, Laing came out of the banquet alone. The cold autumn wind blew across his face, making the somewhat drunk count sober a little. He sighed and exhaled a breath of alcohol. "Wow!"
The bustling La Messenell Abbey was filled with joy and light. Leon looked at the distant snow-covered gray mountains and nodded. Then he stretched out his hand and caught a bag that was coming at him. "What's this?"
"You are very brave, Lord Laing." The Hero of the Wood Elves, Aralos, appeared from the side with a calm expression. "Aislin is satisfied that we have chosen you as our trading partner. Aislin is delighted with this victory. This is venison jerky that we, Aislin, have processed and blessed. It represents our friendship with you.
"Thank you. Unfortunately, I don't have anything to give you in return." Laing knew how precious the dried venison made by the Wood Elves was. In Brittany, this kind of thing could only be seen at the annual royal banquet.
"This victory is the best reward." Aralos nodded and walked to Laing's side. "What are you thinking? You seem to have something on your mind. "
"I'm thinking that we are celebrating too early. Matthew Bard and his Mu Xilon … Forget it. The army is very tired now, and we have suffered heavy casualties. Humans are not dwarves. After this battle, Matthew Bard and his undead will be quiet for at least a few years." Laing frowned. "Victory is always short."
"The world is like this. But at this moment, we can still celebrate victory."
"Yes!"
The two chatted for a while. Morgiana, the Lake Goddess witch, appeared. "Laing?"
"Yes?"
"Come here. I have something to tell you."
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