Titan Beneath the Heavens Chapter 186

In the early morning of the 19th day, Oscar arrived at Saint Hailey, the place where his Red Tigers launched an attack a couple of days before. There was a church located on the right side of the town where a crowd of Imperial Guards stood and were ringing the bell. In a few moments, the priest would bring them to the church for Sunday worship.

Oscar jumped off his horse at the end of the street and began walking to the center of the town by foot. Following loosely behind him was the Persian warriors who never utter a word, but today, many others were following behind His Highness the Prince. He was escorted by a cavalry group followed by an infantry group. There were also more than a dozen carriages of various styles trailing closely at the back.

"Look, how about here?" His Highness the Prince gestured his hand at an open space. Perhaps he thought it was not direct enough, so he added, "A hero was sacrificed right here. Take a closer look everyone, there was still blood traces on the ground."

Those who had alighted from their carriages could not stop making the hand gestures in front of their chest as they prayed to the God of Light. This made the Prince rather impatient.

"Well, gentlemen, I didn't invite you here to cherish the memory of the martyrs. I want to build a monument! Give me some opinions!"

The soldiers stationed in the town gathered around as they heard the word "monument".

Almost every one of them examined the architects' tuxedo with innocent, curious eyes. 

"Your Highness..."

"Master Grarimo!" Oscar shook hands with the man who had just arrived, "I'm so honored, I thought you couldn't make it here on time!"

The architect who was famous for mainstream Titan architecture designs from the capital finally arrived at Saint Hailey after days of travel. There was some sand at the corners of the old man's eyes and his face and neck were also slightly swollen.

"Your Highness, I need to know if you have any demands for the design of this monument. For example, how high should it be? How big is the whole cemetery? And most importantly, what are you going to name it? I can't guarantee the monument will embody the spirit of the heroes if I don't know who these martyrs buried under the ground!"

Oscar's eyes widened, and he smiled at the soldiers around him, "Look, now he's what I call a real expert!"

The soldiers laughed along with the marshal. To be frank, they were extremely curious about the construction of this monument. Marshal Alan had already decided to build a huge monument on the other side of the Buzaberg Jetty in order to commemorate the heroic sacrifices of the great war, but now it seemed like Marshal O'Neil also wanted to build one. No one had any idea who was he building this for.

"Actually..." Oscar grabbed the architecture master by his arm and walked over to the center of the open space, "I'm going to name it...Monument of the Unsung Heroes! This is to commemorate the warriors who have sacrificed their lives for the country without leaving behind their names!"

"Oh, God!" Master Grarimo suddenly fell to one knee, "I feel a deep reverence for your words!"

Oscar helped the architect to his feet and he pulled out several drawings from his arms. "Master, to be frank, I don't care how you design the monument! I only ask for there to be a bronze statue on the top of the monument. It should be a fully-armed knight!"

The prince spread out the drawings to the architect, "These are the faces of the knights, and these are the warhorses. I'll leave the rest to you!"

"Who are they?" the master architect asked when he took over the drawings.

Oscar jumped on his Rayshure and saluted the master, "As I said earlier...they are the unsung heroes."

Grarimo regained his gaze from the prince who had sped away on his horse and looked at the sketches in his hand again. It was produced by a professional artist. The faces of the knights were as true to life, even the horses'. Several of these pictures showed the different profiles of the horses, the military marks on the horses' butt were also easily distinguished to the eyes.

"Okay, gentlemen! Let's begin to work!" the master architect clapped his hands at his colleagues, "I believe we all know the meaning of this work. My God! The Monument of the Unsung Heroes! We will be so proud of it when it's completed!"

The Imperial Guards and Titan citizens would be immensely proud to have witnessed this phase in history. Starting from the Kutzjeline-Forerunner War, the invasion of the aggressors crossed over to the Titan border and reached the depths of the empire. They had actually controlled one-seventh of the territory of this great empire, but it only lasted for a short period of one and a half months. As a matter of fact, the outcome was already clear to everyone when Marshal Alan left the capital for the battlefront with his combat plan.

Historians agreed that Luth VII His Majesty of Kingdom of Hoilland was a narcissist. They also said that His Majesty launched a great suicidal battle in the wrong place at a wrong time. However, the historians were not experts in military affairs, after all. No matter what kind of mistakes the King of Hoilland had made, it was still down to the military strength of both nations to determine the outcome.

Perhaps, one would wonder why was the Kutzjeline-Forerunner War initiated in the first place. For Titan, it was because of the tradition of the Imperial Guards. In other words, the significance of forerunner wars was meant for following the footsteps of the martyrs and showing the aggressors their determination to resist.

After that, there was no longer any large-scale action carried out by the Commander of Imperial Guards Vann Hewitt Alan until the middle of the 6th month, when the main force of the Anti-Titan Alliance arrived at the last stronghold of the Imperial Guards Twelfth Region- Buzaberg Jetty. According to the normal battlefield thinking, the area around Buzaberg Jetty was a situation difficult to launch any offense but easy to defend, as the Titan Imperial Family Army established five strong fortresses throughout that area. If the Anti-Titan Alliance chose to withdraw at this time, it would indeed change the course of the entire war. However, it did not happen, mainly for the reason that the alliance had not had a real battle with the Titan Imperial Guards on a frontal battlefield prior to this. Therefore, in the absence of a major decisive battle, the pace of aggression would not be stopped at all.

It was said that the reputation of the old man Silver Fox Alan had reached its peak after not occupying the Battle of Hetto Plains! In the beginning, the Western media tried to brag about the achievements of the alliance forces among the noble circles as well as the city residents, simultaneously belittling Marshal Alan and his army. However, when the Battle of Hetto Plains came to an end, most people from the west regarded Alan as Titan's own God of War. 

Since Titan had a warrior who protected the country, the failure of the alliance forces was inevitable, but this was just a way to fool the people. In fact, the Anti-Titan Alliance was the root of the failure. This temporary military group did not have any eminent strategic goals, nor did they had the real capability to obtain the final victory.

Many military observers mentioned that the purpose of the first attack launched by the Anti-Titan Alliance consisted of too many uncertainties.

Its force was comparatively weak in front of tens of thousands of Imperial Guards. Although the Anti-Titan Alliance had a basic foundation, it was based only on temptation and exploration which was established out of the uncertain imagination and military adventurous spirit.

Why was it necessary to fight the Battle of Hetto Plains? It was a clear-cut answer from Titan's point of view – Anti-Titan Alliance was certainly not their guest. One way or another, the Imperial Guards had to eliminate them, and Alan chose the most effective and direct strategic trap to participate in the battle.

Speaking of this strategic trap, it was largely associated with the effort of the defense which had been carried out by the Morisette Imperial Family for hundreds of years. It was extremely unrealistic to think that it was possible to resist their enemy out of the nation's border, so instead, Titan had created a vast vanguard against its enemy on the border. The Morisette Imperial Family could only establish an interlocking defense system within the inland, and not display their limited troop forces at the national border because a slight careless mistake would create a hole in their defensive system.

The strategic value and potential strategic significance that could be acquired out of the area within Buzaberg Jetty's close proximity was rather obvious. This natural jetty was not only the hub of the river but also the intersection of land transportation. Its extensive and easy accessibility determined the broad space area that could be useful for the armed force. In other words, the enemy could choose this place to decide the direction and path of their offense, while Imperial Guards on the defensive side could also make the option to escape or intercept.

It was never understood why the Anti-Titan Alliance had fallen into the trap. The large army of more than 300,000 people had a well-established Staff Department. How did they not notice this before?

According to the traditional warfare principle, before and after the main forces encountered each other, all large or small-scale battles were of no significance. Those were only being mentioned briefly in the history of war. However, the tenacious resistance

of the Titan Twelfth Military Region left a deep impression on the high-ranking officers of the Anti-Titan Alliance, especially for the King of Hoilland.

After a hard battle which lasted for a month, the Twelfth Military Region which relied on the convenience of transport of the Buzaberg Jetty ended up losing their troops. Almost everyone would think that the Titan Imperial Guards on the other side of the Shawob River must not have prepared themselves to receive the enemy, hence, the Twelfth Region had to sacrifice themselves to guard the jetty. But, at least Marshal Lavendi Mulierce was skeptical about it before. If this Hoillander marshal had any weakness, it must be that he understood his king too well.

Anyway, there was no use in explaining the eccentric and unreasonable behavior of the King of Hoilland because it did not have much to do with the outcome of the war. Besides, as mentioned before, the pace of aggression would not be stopped before the main forces of the two sides encounter each other. In other words, even if another king had replaced his position, the outcome would still be the same.

Marshal Alan had prepared the troops needed for the great war to station in Hetto Plains as well as the Jebron Fortress. In any event, the Anti-Titan Alliance must force through Shawob River to reach the battlefield. It wouldn't be called a war if both sides kept remaining still, the ancient principle of warfare would also not exist.

In short, Church Calendar year 800 witnessed the first failure of the Anti-Titan Alliance and it was totally self-inflicted. It was not anyone else's fault to blame, just a brief phase that was inevitable in the passage of history. The people from the west lost because they were not well-prepared; Titan won because the Morisette Imperial Family built its foundation for this kind of situation since four hundred years ago. Things just went on as they should have.

The Titan Imperial Guards had an absolute advantage in their strength and tactics. In contrast, the Anti-Titan Alliance had not had any contributions that were worth mentioning at all. If the defeat of the war was a good lesson for the Anti-Titan Alliance, then this lesson should be recorded in black and white in the book of history. 

At the very least, the defeat of this great war resulted in the creation of a young intelligence officer, that was the commissioner of the Faran Kingdom Court Investigation Council – Colonel Karlchette Nierer!

When Colonel Karlchette and his colleague General Bodia Gonvalri met after the defeat, the old general said to the young man who was on the stretcher, "Young man, if we can return home alive, I would notify His Highness the Prince Regent the alliance could get out of the great war with half of our resulted damaged if we had followed your combat arrangement." Colonel Karlchette with a thin and angular face only returned the compliment with a half-hearted smile. He was not in the mood to think about that. What worried him right now was only his injury. The huge Army Group that attacked east consisted of 300,000 people but the accompanying doctors and nurses were only enough to care for 20,000 people. After the decisive battle, the only remaining surgical professor told Karlchette, "Young man, don't complain about me. Neither do I want you to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair but our medicines fell into the river and the Titan cavalry also captured all the personnel from our medical camp. So--"

Karlchette did not dare to think about it further. He had complained about his parents for giving him the appearance of a monkey. He also complained about the King because the Faran King did not take fancy in the investigation department that operated in the dark. Now…just like the doctor said, his ass was only shot by an arrow but due to lack of medicine, that wound festered and an unbearable stench emitted from the wound. Could he really complain about the war? To be fair, he had eagerly participated in it.

Karlchette was not sure what kind of changes would the defeat brought upon to the political landscape of the entire westland. However, he intended to write a report to his royal court when his health condition improved. He wanted to determine the nature of this ridiculous Anti-Titan movement. For the time being, it will be called…Karlchette had not thought of it yet. He had predicted about the defeat, but he could never imagine his peers and that Hoillander King would fail so miserably!

On both sides of the national highway in Bindir Province heading west, the Western soldiers who retreated from the Hetto Plains lined up in a long queue that stretched into infinity. The surrounding wilderness was loitered with disbanded soldiers. The defeated army discarded all the weapons, only a few of the rather complete corps were still holding their tattered flag. However, they knew that these flags would no longer cause them more trouble. The Titans behind them had already captured countless flags so they would not be bothered in getting another one.

Colonel Karlchette lied face down in a huge carriage. He was surrounded by wounded officers whose faces were twisted with extreme pain. Some remained silent while some wept secretly. In short, the whole sight of this made Karlchette fed up.

The retreating camp moved slowly even the Titans' infantry had arrived ahead of them. The aggressors threw their weapons along the side of the road like litters. Titan militias who were guarding along the way would later collect these discarded mess and sell them to the Imperial Guards as if they were some waste.

A team of knights rushed across the national highway. They were dressed in shiny armors, and their military flags fluttered high up in the air with pride. The defeated forces nearby evaded the guards. Even though both sides had agreed to enter a provisional armistice, the final treaty was not yet finalized, so no one would dare to provoke the overbearing Titan soldiers at this time.

This was just a cavalry platoon led by a captain. The knights stopped under a big tree on the side of the road and placed the flag on the tree trunk. The soft silk banner hung down from above. The defeated soldiers kept their heads down when they passed through the shadow of the flag as if dared not look directly at it.

"You! Stop looking around! It's you!" the Captain of the cavalry platoon suddenly pointed at a Faran. The man stood there looking shocked. He was dressed in a tattered Major General uniform and a blanket was wrapped around his body even on such a hot day.

The Major General hurried a few steps and he saluted to the captain of the Imperial Guards.

The captain sized the man up and down before asking, "Do you understand Titan?"

The Major General replied that he understood a little.

The satisfied captain then returned a salute to the other person, "Are all of your soldiers here?"

The Major General pointed behind his back, "The Second Division of the Seventh Infantry Army Corps of the Faran Kingdom is all here, of course...only the survivors." The captain became even delighted when he heard it, "Gather your people."

The Faran Major General was puzzled at the request, but he agreed after seeing that there was only one cavalry platoon on the other side. He gathered his Second Division of the Seventh Infantry Army Corps near the roadbed. There were at least 600 to 700 people.

The captain of the Imperial Guards jumped back onto his warhorse, and his soldiers followed suit. His soldiers also followed suit. The flag bearer re-raised the army flag.

The captain announced loudly at the defeated opponent, "Now, I declare you as the prisoners of the Titan Imperial Guards."

The defeated soldiers were appalled at the news. It was the major general who calmly stepped forward, "Captain, you have no right to do this!"

The Captain of the Imperial Guards looked at the Faran General disdainfully, "Okay then! If you disagree, ask your soldiers to pick up their weapons! If you don't resist, I have every reason to hold you as our captives. Don't forget that this is Titan's territory." The Faran General kept quiet. He turned to look at the soldiers behind him as he did not know whether to accept such humiliation. However, the Titans did not wait for his reply. A small group of knights had pulled out their weapons and began hitting at the captives' heads with the wide ridge of their swords. "Turn back! Turn back! Hurry up! You are now our captives!"

The Major general had no choice but turned his head around. Perhaps he thought of seeking help from those defeated soldiers on the national route. After all, they still had more than 100,000 people. But these soldiers had their heads down all this while, they did not even dare to go look up at the trees when they pass by the route.

The captain of the cavalry platoon ordered the six hundred or more captives around like he was herding goats. Suddenly, a group of children from the nearby village appeared out of nowhere and these wild boys with their faces covered with snot began throwing stones at the defeated soldiers on the national route as they yelled foul words of their village dialects.

The cavalry captain became annoyed. He rode to the front of the wild boys and the latter immediately quieted down.

"Deal with them with real swords and spears when you grow up. Stop trying to be heroes here!"

The children scattered around quickly. When they were far away, these elated youths cheered aloud, "March forward, Imperial Guards!"

Colonel Karchette did not dare to unveil the curtain of the carriage until the Titans were far away. He heard that one of the teams of the Imperial Guards consisted of lunatics. They went around asking who had been to Saint Hailey, and they would kill mercilessly if they could not get a satisfactory answer. It was said that the troops left behind at the jetty were all murdered by them. It was a troop of about three thousand people.

Kalchette smirked and his thin and angular monkey's face became even more horrendous to witness. It was no accident that this brutal and sly intelligence officer was spared from being killed. He was extremely smart, and he was of noble blood. Even though he was likely to spend the rest of his life

life in a wheelchair, he still had great aspirations for life! Kalchette believed that he would certainly do better if he was granted another chance by the God of Light!

"How far is it from the border?" the colonel nudged at his colleague.

"If we keep heading straight, then we are nine days away!"

Kalchette did not say anything. Only nine days later, he could completely get rid of the shadow cast on him by the Imperial Guards. He still had the rest of his life for studying carefully how to repay the pain caused by the Titans.

Jubilant people were seen everywhere along the way. Mixing along with the defeated soldiers who could not keep up with the team, the Titans could not be more bothered about them but was having a good time among themselves. Only a handful of people could not forget about the criminals who had invaded their motherland. They formed a variety of volunteer groups among themselves to help the Imperial Guards restore local order, also not forgetting to bully those defenseless captives and the wounded.

Most of the Imperial Guards soldiers had turned a blind eye to this. Although they had just won a decisive victory, there were still many tasks waiting to be done. For instance, to repair the military facilities damaged during the war.

The old scheduling officer at Buzaberg Jetty was taken aback when he returned to his former post. He complained that the special combat brigade which had seized the jetty was far more outrageous than the dogs from the west because the soldiers from his own land tore down the Buzaberg Jetty completely.

The reconstruction began at night. The Seventeenth Military Region of the Imperial Guards deployed a fully integrated construction corps for this purpose. A large number of constructions materials were transported from the lower reaches of the Shawob River to the jetty. However, these ferries arrived at the jetty only to discover that there was no place to unload the cargo. On the dock, there were piles of stinking corpses as well as the Imperial Guards soldiers who paused for a rest.

Old Berg exhausted himself and at last, succeeded in persuading a team of soldiers who were willing to pick up the dead bodies. They had been occupied until late at night before they finally dumped all the decaying corpses into a deep pit. The soldiers were so fed up with the sight of it that old Berg had no choice but to set the mountains of dead bodies on fire by himself. The raging fire burned for two nights continuously. In the early windy morning, the ashes were carried to the sky above like fog with the help of the breeze. The Imperial Guards soldiers who were on the ferry immediately dispersed themselves. None of them wanted to inhale a breath full of ashes, and they were even more afraid that those things would cast bad luck upon them.

The ferry finally unloaded the supplies. The soldiers of the Seventeenth Region Construction Corps also climbed out of the shed quickly. In only one morning, they established a temporary trestle of more than 30 meters long. However, the commanding officer of the team thought that they would need up to ten days or half a month to restore Buzaberg Jetty to its previous handling capacity.

On the 19th, perhaps in the afternoon, old Berg realized he had done almost nothing for the past few days as he pondered carefully over a piece of bread. The old scheduling officer was waiting wearily. He found the corps commander of the construction team as well as Brigadier General Luke Citel who was responsible for guarding the jetty. In the old Berg's view, General Citel had the potential to become a successful man in the future because he was extremely time-conscious. As for the leader of the construction corps…forget about it! Old Berg did not like to deal with people who speak in full bureaucratic tone. He had made up his mind to create some trouble for the man.

How fascinating was the term "post-war period" especially in the summer? The summer of victory!

A rain poured the previous night and the sky was dyed in bright blue only until the late afternoon. Old Berg loitered on the jetty, appearing to be sunbathing, but in fact, he was looking for trouble. The regimental commander of the construction group was right behind the old man who was chattering on and on. However, the commander could not be bothered, although it was clear that he did not like the Scheduling Officer who nagged endlessly.

Old Berg stopped a captain on the temporary bridge who was organizing the unloading process.

"Young man! Tell the man in charge of allocating and transporting stuff that I only want wood and nails. Why are you giving me sandbags and stones? Are you here to fight a flood?"

The captain glanced over at the commander, and told Old Berg, "Alright, as you wish, only woods and nails!"

Old Berg was delighted, he liked people who were obedient. "Young man, who is the current commanding officer? I know that there has been a change of officer. This one now is much better than the one before!" Old Berg said as he glanced over at the commander near him.

The face of the captain of the Imperial Guards was washed over with a grin, and he pointed to the far end of the trestle bridge, where a young man in a long-sleeved shirt whose rank identified was ordering something to a group of officers.

"Do you want to meet our commanding officer? He is right there, Marshal of the Imperial Guards, His Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette!" 

Old Berg's eyes widened, and he turned to the corps commander next to him in disbelief, and the latter only returned with a nonchalant shrug. With reverence and awe, old Berg walked over to the young man who had never stopped talking. Was this the Marshal of the Imperial Guards? The Prince of the Empire?

In all honesty, old Berg found it rather difficult to believe! O'Neil Andrew Morisette was dressed in short military boots stained in black mud and dust, and the golden thread on his army trousers was already torn. The edges of the pockets of his trousers were full of grease, sweat as well as dirty fingerprints. Besides, old Berg felt that the noble imperial family member's appearance was somewhat common; his hair was sticking together, his beard long and tangled, but at least he had distinct features. It was only his eyes that...oh God! His eyes were looking this way!

"Oh! You're old Berg!"

Old Berg trembled as he knelt to the ground. He looked exactly like the time his ancestors faced the emperor.

"It's alright..." Oscar helped the old scheduling officer to his feet, "I've heard so much about you! You were the last person to evacuate the jetty, is that right?"

"Return Your Highness, this was my post of duty!"

Oscar nodded, "Yes, this is your post of duty!"

The young man's eyes flashed, so did his muscles which were exposed from the sleeves. "Old Berg, let's make a deal!"

"I'll follow your every command!"

Oscar laughed, and he whispered to the scheduling officer, "In a while, find a reason to ask all the laborers and all the rest to leave the jetty, and let them go as far as possible!"

"But..."

The Imperial Prince put on a stern look, "Old Berg, this was your jetty, but now it seems to be mine!"

"Yes, Your Highness!" Old Berg retreated tiredly, but he had a hunch that something was going to happen. As it had long circulated among the Imperial Guards, the veterans predicted that His Highness the Prince's forces were going to revenge the dogs from the west.

The setting sun was casting its brilliance on the surface of the rippling river. The surface of the water appeared as if it was ignited, burning with raging fire. The blinding light made people dizzy. The sailor of Imperial Guards drove the ferry through rapids with experience. A melodious lyrical military song was heard coming from the ferry.

The battalion of cavalry suddenly surged over the south of jetty from the national route, and they soon established a line formation in the open ground near the jetty. Old Berg executed the order of the Imperial Prince faithfully. The entire jetty was empty, not even a silhouette was within sight. There were only a few ferries waiting to be unloaded, and from the open porthole came the laughter of the sailors.

A military officer who looked like a commanding officer inspected the movement on the jetty for a while until he decided that the area was clear of idlers before he waved at the direction of the woodland beside the national route.

There was a sudden anger that surged in the forest. It was too far away to hear what the people were shouting about, but a short while later, the battalion was seen escorting the scattered Faran soldiers out of the wood slowly. The nearby knights were on the verge of anticipating a huge fight. They put on their visors and all their weapons were out of the sheaths. The terrified Faran captives looked around the surrounding as they huddled together like a clutch of chicks.

Finally, an officer scolded and cursed,

and cursed, "You group of pigs! Hurry up each one of you! This is not a funeral!"

The captives moved slightly quicker at last. Among them, there was well-behaved veterans, frightened recruits, and some wounded soldiers on stretchers and in bandages. However, a majority of them looked as if they had just been beaten to a pulp. Their noses bled, and their faces swollen, it was obvious that they had suffered a lot.

O'Neil Andrew Morisette came out of a tent on the floodplain. He tightened his waistband as Captain Kirk Dexton helped him to fasten the buttons, but the impatient Imperial Prince soon ducked away from the aid.

"Big Aunt Spark, I'll have to trouble you again!" Oscar turned to an ugly old man behind him.

The chief executioner of the Imperial Military Court Custody bent over his back like a slave, "Your Highness, it is my honor to serve you!"

"It's not for me. It's for the empire," Oscar suddenly put on a stern expression and Old Spark immediately lowered his head. After forty years in the Military Court Custody, Big Aunt Spark had served before numerous important persons.

What kind of important person had he not killed before? Although he still appeared full of reverence and awe when he encountered any other nobleman, only a few really earned his respects. There was almost no one who he was afraid of!

However, O'Neil Andrew Morisette…No! No! No! Old Spark shook his head again and again. He meant His Highness the Prince adored by the God of Light, the God-chosen. This young man terrified him, his name made him trembled with fear!

Especially the gaze of this young man. It was difficult for one to read his emotions from those eyes. Even if there was, he only showed it for those whom he was familiar with. Otherwise, the Prince of the Empire was used to treating humans and other matters like how he would treat a kitten or a puppy.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, Your Highness!" Spark hunchbacked even lower, and he motioned to Second Aunt who was right next to him. The executioner ranked number second in Military Court Custody immediately handed him a knife.

Oscar tried to feel the smooth edge of the blade with his hand, "Ola! Can this kill?" His Highness's palm slid against the blade, but the thick, big blades did not hurt him.

Spark rolled his eyes the way only a dead fish would and pressed his voice even lower. "Your Highness, if you want to end things quickly, a sharp knife is naturally better. If you want to make the offensive dogs suffer more, then this is the perfect tool for that."

Oscar looked over at the captives who was getting on the trestle one after another, and his face turned even more gloomy.

"I think...slower would be better!"

"Yes, Your Highness..." the old man lifted his head finally. The smirk on his face was colder than the snow-capped mountains in winter.

The execution began and a group of captives was pushed onto the trestle. The soldiers of the Military Intelligence First Brigade ordered them to kneel on the bridge, with head towards the water on the east side of the trestle.

The captives were all tied up by their hands. It seemed that their imagination was not quite wild, or that the captives were just rather innocent. In short, even until this moment, they were still unclear of what the Titans were up to.

Four Persian warriors carried a large sofa, which had been brought over from the ancient castle back in Damorel province. The sofa was wrapped over with several beaver skins that seemed to have just been brushed by oil. It looked like the shiny hair of a West Percy girl.

The prince sunk into the sofa which was placed not far away from the trestle. Then, the Persian warriors hurried forward with a four-cornered gazebo, so they could shade their master from the dazzling red sun.

A few moments later, Colonel Sandinand came over and whispered to the Prince. Immediately, Oscar appeared to be flustered and exasperated. Then he waved his hands impatiently to dismiss his infantry division commander. Devil Sandy knew he had made the situation awkward, but he also knew that was exactly part of his duties.

"Let's begin!" Oscar waved to his left and right, and the Persian attendants immediately served him his dinner. His dinner of the night was served in an exquisitely-made meal box. The attendant opened the cover to reveal another layer, and underneath the second layer was another, and then one more.

"Oh, God! First I need an aperitif!"

The words of the Prince immediately made the nearby officers laughed loudly but the attendant served some wine. What attracted the most attention was the gold ice bucket dripping with cold droplets.

Oscar ordered the attendants to serve a glass for all the officers present, and then he took the lead to raise his glass.

"Soldiers of the Imperial Guards, the victory is ours! This wine represents..."

No one heard what His Highness speech after that because of the deafening wail that came from the jetty.

The execution had already begun. In order to spare Big Aunt Spark from being overworked, Oscar made a special request from Marshal Alan to borrow the executioner ranked second in the Military Court Custody.

Both Big and Second Aunts were indeed experts in the execution business. They were skilled in torturing as how Torry was skilled in playing with women.

The first cut must break into one inch off the back of the head. There was where the central nervous system was attached to the spine, just one knife at this spot could make one paralyze, but the sense of feel of the human body was enlarged several hundred times. The man who was lying paralyzed on the bridge made a perfect example. He felt his blood spraying out and he experienced the most excruciating pain he had ever felt, but no matter how hard he tried, he just could not struggle or move.

The knife was exceptionally blunt that the Second Aunt had to step on the other person's neck in order for Big Aunt to withdraw the knife which sunk deep into the neck.

The blood cascaded down without a stop into Showab River. When the river rose to its limit, the plasma that had not dissipated clumped around into a pool of dark mud color near the pier under the trestle. The color of it was no different from the creamy beef soup that the Prince was enjoying.

Oscar's dinner was a sumptuous banquet. The man could suffer but he also knew how to truly indulge. In front of him were a smoked sea bass, some baked mushrooms, and a flaky and crispy smoked bacon.

His Highness the Prince cut up the bacon to reveal a layer of bloody fat meat inside that looked just like a neck with a large gap. The bloody water spewed out from the gap, but the human was still conscious.

The second cut was landed, and the scream became louder! Big Aunt Spark was an experienced expert, he was an animal who had no emotions with no distracting thoughts! The second cut sunk in through the gap created by the first cut slowly, and then it saw through it up and down like chopping wood. Screams turned into sobbing as the flesh splashed in all directions.

At last, the knife finally finished its task. The skull of the man rolled over and dropped into the river.

Leaving trails of blood behind, it floated downstream silently.

Big Aunt Spark glanced over to His Highness the Prince who was seated not far away, and coincidentally he caught him swallowing down a piece of bloody fat meat.

"Oh God! It's only the first one!" Big Aunt thought as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He had never handled more than three hundred prisoners at once. If he continued at this speed, he was afraid that His Highness would be stuffed to death!

Oscar laid down his cutleries and wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. All the military officers on the scene were relieved at this gesture. They feared His Highness would get indigestion if he continued to gobble down food.

The death penalty on the trestle carried out without interruption. The captives began to struggle and plead but no one paid attention to them. Some of them tried to jump into the river but the Imperial Guards held them back by tugging at their hair firmly.

Oscar finally could not take it anymore when the ninth head flowed down into the river out of his sight. He looked at the grinning Sandy and this short southern man quickly gestured to the captive who was the next to get on the bridge. One of the Imperial Guards then grabbed one of the captives that seemed like a ranked officer.

The man who resembled an officer was pushed into Prince of Titan's bower. He threw himself to the ground even before the soldiers behind him could do so.

"I'm guilty...I'm guilty..."

Oscar frowned, "Only the God of Light knows the answer. Now, tell me your name, your military unit, and your rank!"

"The Third Group of the First Division of the Seventh Corps of Faran Kingdom, I...I am the deputy regimental commander! My...my name is…"

"Stop!" Oscar held his chin as he pondered and finally broke in silence after a long time. "Have you and your team…been to Saint Hailey?"

"I...I'm guilty..." the Faran officer ducked his head.

Oscar rolled his eyes, "Who gave that order?"

"Karlchette Nierer!"

"Karlchette Nierer?"

"Yes! That's him!"

Oscar glanced at his Duty Personnel and he noticed that the other person had already written down the foreign name.

"Who is he?" Prince of Titan asked again.

"He is a court commissioner, but I don't know exactly what he is doing. Our commander only ordered us to listen to the orders of this colonel!"

"What else did this Karlchette Nierer ask of you?" Oscar's face was gloomy as he stared into the bleeding bridge.

The Faran officer also sneaked a quick glance at the same direction, and he witnessed how his soldiers were being slaughtered brutally, just as they had executed the commoners at Saint Hailey! But he did not dare to spill a word to the Prince of Titan in front of him. He did not have the guts, even if it meant risking his life. He had no idea how things turned out like this.

Oscar took a deep breath, "Let me answer it for you!"

Prince Titan lifted the chin of the Faran with a sheath, "You chased the residents of Saint Hailey out of their hometown, and you tied them together, father and mother, brother and sister, and then one by one you pierced a long spear or knife through their body! After that, you hung a Major of the Imperial Guards up high in the arch of the town, and peeled his flesh with a sickle..."

"Where is that man?" Oscar slammed over the table in front of him, spilling over soup and fruits to the ground.

"I...I don't know! He...he returned to the headquarters after Saint Hailey!" 

"Where is he? I'll only ask you one final time!" the Prince of Titan's hand was pressing down firmly on the handle.

"I don't know...I swear to God! I swear..."

O'Neil Andrew Morisette thrusted his knee out violently, and the Faran officer fell to the side as he spurted out blood.

The Prince of Titan turned around, and he grabbed a bottle of wine from the golden ice bucket and fiercely gulped down a large mouthful.

The soldier of the Imperial Guards dragged the bleeding Faran back. Oscar did not take another glance at the man, but he only looked at the officers who were present. The officers quickly evaded the Prince's gaze as if they all had nothing to do with him.

Without warning, O'Neil Andrew Morisette's machete was out of its sheath. The young Marshal of the Imperial Guards grabbed the handle with his forehand and swooped forward, then, as if nothing had happened, returned to his seat in the sofa calmly and kept the knife back into the sheath.

The Faran officer was strapped by his hand, so he couldn't touch his own neck. At the slit where a bloody mark gradually appeared on it, the head fell aside like a string that had been cut off. Thick fresh blood began to spurt out of the smooth wounded surface the moment it contracted the air and did not stop until half a minute later.

Oscar wiped his face in annoyance when he found that there was a drop of dirty animal blood on his face.

"Spark! What an old dog! Change the knife! Stop your shoddy work!"

Big Aunt did not seem to be bothered by it. Instead, he bowed deeply toward the direction of the bower and ordered the Second Aunt to change the weapon into sharp knife immediately. Spark had met many great people and killed many great people. He knew that all the great people had such bizarre quirks and that they were even more neurotic than O'Neil Andrew Morisette.

The Prince of Titan suddenly kicked at Colonel Sandy who had come to collect the corpse. "What are you still doing here? We have the man's name and the man's portrait. Why are you still not out there looking for him?"

Sandy rushed out without a word and soon came the sound of a cavalry team leaving the jetty. Oscar began to search for the next unfortunate man, and finally, he picked on the general of the artillerymen, "Where's your fleet?"

"In the river?"

"What about your artillery?"

"On the boat!"

Oscar grabbed Torry by his neck, "I want you to get on your boat right now and then head straight up to the front of the Westerners and strike them with a few shots from time to time! I don't care how, but you must slow them down! Until we locate that dog-hybrid named Karlchette Nierer!"

Torry immediately put on his army cap and ran towards the nearest ferry without a word. 

Oscar turned to the officers of the Red Tigers and the Military Intelligence System who was standing tall and proud, "Let the whores walk slowly! Have you not heard what I have been talking about?"

The officers dispersed like they encountered a mad wild elephant immediately, as each rushed toward the troops standing by the jetty.

Oscar turned to the trestle as he still wanted to pick some trouble, but a pleasant roar was already coming from the direction of the trestle bridge. Big Aunt Spark succeeded in shutting His Highness's mouth. His hand that resembled a sharp blade set more blood under the fiery setting sun.

A headless body was thrown on a used ferry boat as another fresh life was pushed onto the trestle.

Heads with twisted featured flowed down the river, but the thick plasma still stuck on the side near the jetty. From the swamps appeared some wetland crocodiles with swollen bellies. They had been well-fed for the past couple of days, and so they swam away as they smelt the blood that flowed through the water. The wetland crocodiles of the Shawob River by Hetto Plains would always remember Church Calendar year 800 because they were the only beneficiaries of this war waged by humans.

Chapter end