Astartes of the Bear School

Chapter 633 635. Approaching

"Are they really going to give every commander a warlock guard because of your performance today?"

Lincoln had scattered armor pendants hanging on his body, and he was walking "clinking" behind Lan En.

"Those are noble spellcasters. Is this how the Nilfgaard Empire uses them? There are so many spellcasters for them to use?"

Behind him, all the members of 'Ember' looked similar, covered with clothes.

Guerrilla warfare cannot count on stable logistical support, so all supplies must be taken from the enemy.

Lan En called this kind of behavior that the enemy created for us without guns or cannons as a 'good tradition'.

Everyone didn't quite understand how this could be considered a 'tradition', but Lan En said it was a fine tradition, so with their current fanatical respect for Lan En, of course they would spare no effort to do it.

"You still don't know your enemy, Lincoln. Read more."

Lan En spoke without looking back, conveying his thoughts to the young man behind him.

Before he knew it, he was greeting Lincoln as his adjutant.

The witcher continued calmly.

"You can hate the Nilfgaardians, after all, they really don't do much with people. But you shouldn't underestimate the power of a huge empire. They have many warlocks, there is no doubt about it."

"The social structure of Nilfgaard is based on slavery. Spellcasters in their country are high-level skilled workers, just like blacksmiths. The nobles use their rights and interests to 'domesticate' these people with supernatural powers. In their system. If you obey, you will be fine; if you don’t, you will be poisoned."

"So over time, the warlocks of the South learned to obey blood and authority. So there's no doubt about it."

"As long as the commander of this war determines that 'winning the war requires a large number of warlocks,' then it is impossible that Nilfgaard will not be able to recruit people."

Here Lan En is still talking, while Lincoln behind him has already taken out a small notebook to write down.

This awareness that a good memory is not as good as a bad writing is also one of Lan En's admiring qualities.

"about there."

Lan En stopped in the woods. This distance was far enough away from the battlefield just now.

With a 'bang' sound, Lan En threw the man he had been carrying on his shoulders onto the thick humus in the woods. The dry leaves were shaken by the man's body wearing dark and shiny armor.

After being thrown from the shoulder more than two meters high, this person seemed to be shaken out of breath by the impact. He took a long and sudden breath from the dead-like coma, and opened his eyes. .

The eyes under his winged helmet were confused and panicked, and he obviously didn't know what was going on with him.

Lincoln, on the other hand, was already standing beside him with his own notebook, looking ready to record at any time.

"Where is this? You...!"

The man's confused eyes glanced around. He was still confused about the environment at first, but when that face that was beyond normal and even more handsome than an elf appeared in front of him, he immediately recalled it.

This is the 'demon' who slaughtered all his troops!

But wasn’t he already killed by him?

The terrifying sword stabbed the front of his breastplate. Although the blade was not sharp and did not penetrate the armor, the impact alone was enough to rupture his internal organs.

But now.

He touched the noticeable dent in the armor on his chest.

But before he could recover, a big hand grabbed his entire head from the side!

And with a 'bang' sound, the side of his face was pressed into the thick layer of humus on the ground.

In the palm of Lan En's hand, an ordinary person's head is about the same as a large apple.

"Let me state in advance that I don't like torture."

The fierce struggle in the hand seemed to be completely non-existent to the demon hunter's palm.

"If you could simply tell me the approximate time of the battle, I believe it would be easy for both of us."

With his excellent knowledge of human biology, he accurately hit the target on the fierce battlefield until he was almost in a state of suspended animation, just to get information about the battle without concealing it from the warlock.

In the eyes of the senior leaders of both sides, a large-scale battle is as eye-catching and clear as an unstoppable torrent.

But among the chaotic grassroots, they can only feel the increasingly tense atmosphere, but they have no idea of ​​the precise time.

Lan En needs this information.

After all, since the tactical misdirection has been made, it is best to make full use of this misdirection in a large enough scene.

There is no more appropriate occasion than the coming great battle.

As expected, the Nilfgaardian officer who had half of his face pressed into the humus by Lan En was speechless, but his eyes revealed that he would rather die than surrender.

Lan En didn't understand at first how someone who did such an animal act could have the mental support to die rather than surrender.

But later he understood that the created emotions of racial superiority and regional superiority were enough to make some people die for them.

So he threw the officer in his hand into the hands of his companions behind him.

"Leave it to you, let him speak. I will use the seal to confirm the credibility at the end."

Lincoln calmly put away the small notebook he had already opened, nodded to Lan, and walked towards the Nilfgaardian officer who was being held up.

"I'll be done in two hours."

The half-grown boy's tone was firm and relaxed, and the truth was exactly what he said.

Two hours later, Lan En got the exact start time of the battle.

If the fighting does not start, a large number of soldiers gathered together for a long time will not only increase their combat effectiveness, but may actually weaken the organization in the chaos.

Moreover, the logistical pressure on both sides is reaching its limit.

Therefore, even if both sides try their best to delay, the latest start time of the battle can only be within five days.

——

"I never thought you'd get involved here."

In the Northern Alliance military camp in Upper Soden, the Elf Archmage Francesca Fendalbe, known as the most beautiful face in the world, sat on a gorgeous and comfortable red cashmere chair, holding a silver goblet. Ask questions to the person in front of you with interest.

She has smooth and shiny blond hair, braided in traditional elven hair accessories, hanging next to her fair and delicate face.

"Tissaya, was the last time we fought side by side three hundred years ago?"

"Ah, yes. I remember it too."

On the chair diagonally opposite Francesca, Tissaya looked strange and stumbled when answering.

The situation is very different from the situation of the supernatural power controllers in the south. Even in this tense and depressing military camp, the northern warlocks still add a huge social salon in addition to their independent tents. 's tent.

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