North of the Old World, northeast of the Frost Kingdom of Kislöw, Empire Year 2514, Kislöw Calendar Year 999, late September, the most important fortress in the Alpine Pass, Vos Glade Fortress.
The Alpine Pass was the most important fortress in the Old World against the invasion of the Northern Barbarians and the Kurgan Tribe on the other side of the Ridge of the World. This was because the Alpine Pass was one of the few paths that allowed one to pass through the Ridge of the World with relative ease. On the other side of the Ridge of the World was the Kurgan Prairie that stretched for tens of thousands of miles. There, tens of thousands of Kurgan Nomadic Tribes roamed around, ready to invade the civilized world in the South. Mrs. Kiesler had migrated from the Alpine Pass to the Old World.
However, ever since the ascension of Tsar Katarina, the Kurgan Tribe no longer attacked the Alpine Pass from the East. Only the Barbarians from the North and the Barbarians from the Chaos Wasteland would occasionally invade the South. Therefore, the garrison of Vos Glade Fortress was reduced from 3,000 to only 2,000. It was enough to last until Prague's reinforcements arrived.
(What no one knew was that it wasn't that the Kurgan Tribe didn't want to invade the Alpine Pass, but that the Black Orc Warlord, Grimgor Ironhide, had led a large group of green-skinned tribes to block the other side of the Alpine Pass. They enjoyed slaughtering the Kurgan Tribe, Chaos Champions, and Chaos Gods. The Kurgan Tribe couldn't defeat Ironhide, so they couldn't invade the West.)
It was a bumper harvest this year. Of course, the joy of a bumper harvest was delightful, but that was only Kislöw, especially a small part of the territory south of the Linsk River. It had nothing to do with the people north of the Linsk River. On the contrary, after September, the North of Kislöw had lost its warmth and was once again covered in ice and snow.
The army stationed here had a hard time. Not only did they have to face the cold, loneliness, Chaos raiders and barbarian warriors who would come south from time to time, many terrifying demons and even filth, they also had to face the whispers of Chaos and the erosion of corruption.
Some of them grew extra fingers, some of them had enlarged skulls, some of them had forked tongues, some of them had grown scales and fur, some of them had fluorescent hair, and even some of them had grown extra limbs, extra eyes, and extra heads. If it was a mild mutation, it would not affect their service. These soldiers would voluntarily charge to the front to seek a glorious death and relief. However, if there was a serious mutation, the officer would immediately execute the mutated person.
Was it bitter? Yes, very bitter.
Was it sad? Yes, it was also very sad.
However, Mrs. Kiesler was proud. They were the children of the Bear God, the people of the female Tsar. They were willing to sacrifice everything to protect the kingdom, just to survive the destructive tide of Chaos.
Very few soldiers could live past the age of 35, and most of them had no chance of rising up the ranks. Perhaps becoming a staff sergeant was their life's greatest goal. Kislöw could not provide more salary or special treatment to these soldiers, but they had no regrets.
Everything was for the sake of survival in this dark world.
It was late at night, and the snow was howling outside. It was extremely cold inside the fortress. The soldiers of Kislöw who were not on duty were all hiding in the rooms inside the fortress to warm themselves by the fire. The stone floor and walls were as cold as ice, and the soldiers did not have a coat to wear. All the cotton-padded clothes and animal skin cloaks that could keep out the cold were given to the soldiers on duty. The rest of the soldiers wrapped themselves in blankets and blankets, shivering in the dark.
Even though the conditions were so harsh, rationing was also very difficult. Normally, the soldiers in the fortress would need at least two and a half pounds of rye bread a day, which was about 1250 grams of rye bread. However, the soldiers in Vosglade could only get about 600 to 700 grams of rye bread a day and a bottle of vodka a month. They also lacked fresh vegetables and salt. Only the nearby Ugor Nomads would occasionally provide them with a small amount of meat, eggs, and milk.
The soldiers along the northern border had been in arrears for more than six months. Most of them could only get half of their pay on time. It was not easy to get a good harvest this month, and the country's finances were slightly more relaxed. Many soldiers were counting on their full pay this month.
"Artyom!" A few soldiers had just finished their duty when a young soldier was called. His face was covered in snow, his lips were trembling, and there were frostbites on his ears. When he heard someone calling him, he forced a smile. "Sergei, what's the matter?"
His friend, Corporal Sergei, who was also a pikeman, strode over with something in his hand. He stuffed it into Artyom's hand. "To celebrate the millennium celebration of our motherland, Her Majesty Tsar Katarina has sent us some gifts! To celebrate the millennium celebration, Artyom, this is your share! "
"Oh, oh, oh! That's great! There's vodka! " The young pikeman looked at the gifts and shouted excitedly. The tiredness of his duty seemed to have disappeared.
There was only a bottle of vodka, two pieces of black bread, and a piece of bacon that was obviously cut in half. This was the reward for the millennium celebration from Her Majesty Tsar Katarina.
The next step was very simple. They got a large piece of snow from outside the house, lit a fire, and boiled the snow in an iron pot. After filtering out the impurities, the soldiers on duty sat together. They put the smoked meat and black bread in the boiling water and began to prepare for dinner.
Everyone was shivering from the cold and wrapped themselves in blankets and quilts. The snowstorm outside seemed endless. After the smoked meat was thrown into the big iron pot and boiled for half a day, the meat finally melted and a little oil appeared in the pot. A few soldiers carefully sprinkled a little salt with a small wooden spoon and prepared to eat tonight's dinner with hot water.
"Поешали!"
"Поешали!"
The soldiers picked up the vodka. Although it was said to be a bottle of vodka, it was actually a small square glass bottle. Each bottle was only 150 milliliters. They carefully poured out half of the vodka and prayed together to thank Her Majesty Essun and Her Majesty Tsar Katarina for giving them this precious vodka. Cheers! No one would finish this bottle of vodka in one go.
For the soldiers on the northern border, vodka was a hard currency.
There was not much to eat. For the soldiers who were like wolves and tigers, half a pound of black bread was not enough to fill their stomachs. If the soldiers of the Empire, Rick, Nur, Ivy, or Laing's Brittany had a lot of meat, agricultural products, and ale, it was fine. For the soldiers of the northern border like Artyom, they could only rely on black bread to fill their stomachs.
By the way, if a Holy Grail Knight only ate black bread, they would eat at least five pounds a day. It was normal for them to eat seven to eight pounds. There were many who could eat ten pounds.
After the meal, they were not full, but there was not much to do. Artyom let out a long sigh. When would these days come to an end?
It was not that the young soldiers were unwilling. After all, people had to be sacrificed in order to protect the country. This was the call of duty and glory. However, at the very least, the soldiers' pay and food should be guaranteed. The soldiers had been half-starved for almost a year. Moreover, the soldiers' pay had not been paid in full. It was a problem for them to survive.
It was useless to think too much. Artyom took off his jacket and crawled under the cold blanket. He soon fell asleep. The soldiers had two shifts. They had to train and go on duty the next day.
However, not long after Artyom fell asleep, in the coniferous forest around Vosglade Fortress.
A huge army of Chaos was gradually approaching the fortress.
Leading this army of Chaos was the champion of the Nurgle Selection, the High Saint Witch Doctor Festus, the Pestilence Doctor.
Few people remembered that Festus used to be a surgeon with excellent medical skills and a compassionate heart. He used to build many almshouses all over Nord. He was good at using healing ointments and cured hundreds of patients every year.
Under the guidance of Doctor Festus, Nord was able to overcome many outbreaks of plagues: malaria, black foot disease, and even the extremely harmful smallpox.
The doctor's long-cherished wish was to cure all diseases and let the disease leave the mortal world so that the mortals would no longer be troubled by illness.
However, Festus's efforts attracted the attention of Nurgle. The kind father appreciated the useless efforts of the mortals and poured the plague soup in his pot into the mortal world.
An apocalyptic fever raged in Nord. No matter how hard he tried, he could not stop the spread of this new and highly contagious disease. He locked himself in his laboratory and worked day and night to create a cure. After countless sleepless nights, Festus was still helpless.
Those who were quarantined because of the plague faced death, but there was nothing he could do. When the last group of patients died in agony, the doctor fell to his knees and cried for help.
Suddenly, one by one, the jaws of the slack-jawed corpses in the laboratory turned to look at Festus, and the feeble voice of Nurgle, from the shrivelled throats, seemed to offer Festus a lifetime's service in exchange for the knowledge of curing not only this fever, but all the diseases of the world. In despair, Festus consented.
Henceforth, the doctor who bemoaned the state of the universe and pitied the fate of mankind vanished, leaving behind the Nurgle shaman who had obtained endless knowledge of the plague. All that was left in his life was the vast and filthy knowledge of countless diseases, as well as the endless desire for plague experiments.
Now, he was back. He was going to bring the plague of Nurgle to the world and share the blessing of a loving father with all mortals.
At 3: 45 in the morning, Festus led a large army and approached the fortress of Vosglade.
The tide of destruction of Chaos was approaching Kislöw.
It was the morning of Sunday. The churches of Kislöw were just preparing for their services and the millennium celebration.
The organ band was gathered, and the civilians would sing along with their music to celebrate the harvest.
The Karim guards of Kislów Castle went to the Ice Palace as usual.
The citizens of Praag were going to the Linsk River to get water.
The Örengrád Docks were still busy.
At 4: 30 in the morning, the sun rose from the Roof of the World in the east.
An army of more than sixty thousand Chaos soldiers had arrived at the outskirts of Vosglade.
Fifteen minutes later, the cannons of the Chaos army were fully loaded. Dozens of Chaos Dwarf Demon Cannons, Chaos Dwarf Lava Cannons, and Chaos Infernal Cannons opened fire.
Demon flames and cannonballs fell from the sky like raindrops, landing all over the fortress. The defenders and the seemingly sturdy walls were melted into pieces.
The alarm rang throughout the entire Voss Glade Fortress.
The great war to protect the country had begun!
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