Chapter Thirty-Five: The Power of the Gods! Leading the Charge Alone!

Good news: Severus has returned.

Duncan now has one more capable man at his disposal. Having apparently just learned of some rumors regarding Duncan, he couldn't help but ask, "Have you been to Avalon?"

Duncan waved his hand, signaling those around him to withdraw, leaving only the Raven Queen, Tris, behind. He nodded solemnly and said, "Yes."

Severus hesitated, wanting to say more, but eventually spoke slowly, "I will find a way to contact the Druid Order of Britain. They should be willing to provide support."

In fact, the Druid Order of Britain had already been acting in the shadows.

Duncan pondered for a moment and said, "Very well."

"Your identity is perfect for dealing with them. See if you can recruit a few more Gallic sworn warriors."

Cullin’s combat prowess was truly impressive. Once armored and equipped with sword and shield, he could take on five or six ordinary soldiers simultaneously. If Duncan could gather a few more experts like him, he could form an elite shock-troop squad.

Severus nodded, "I will depart tomorrow."

Before leaving, however, he looked at Duncan and, after a brief hesitation, said slowly, "Do you know of the Druid Sacrificial Stones?"

Druid Sacrificial Stones?

Duncan looked puzzled, his expression one of attentive listening.

Severus glanced at the Raven Queen, Tris, as if gauging her attitude. Seeing that she showed no reaction, he gathered his courage and continued, "They are relics of the ancient faith of the Celtic gods."

"Sacred sites for the tribes of Gaul."

"These sanctuaries possess very peculiar abilities; they allow trained soldiers to receive the blessing of the gods' power."

Blessings of the gods?

Duncan’s expression was one of surprise. He turned to look at the Raven Queen, Tris, and saw her nod slightly, confirming that what Severus said was true.

Severus continued, "These sanctuaries that serve the gods require priests to maintain their power."

"One of their most important functions is the training of armies."

"Different deities possess different domains. Some are skilled in forging superior weapons and armor, others grant courage to keep warriors’ morale high, but most are focused on honing the combat techniques of warriors."

The great affairs of a state are worship and warfare.

Although the traditional Celtic faith and sacrifices had been eradicated by the Roman Empire, the existence of Avalon in the British Isles meant that as long as Druid Sacrificial Stones were constructed, they could still serve a purpose.

The Raven Queen, Tris, was the authority on this matter.

The temples of Diana and Artemis were capable of training excellent archers, corresponding to the [Hunt] domain; priests serving these goddesses could receive supernatural power from the domain.

Before the Church became the state religion of the Empire, Roman temples all possessed additional divine authority, which was often an evolution of their core domain's influence on the physical world.

This further contributed to the extreme bellicosity of the early Romans!

In the pre-Christian era, the Gallic god of war, Toutatis, was annihilated and consumed; the hunting goddess Abnoba was annihilated and consumed. The gods governing domains like wine, smithing, horse racing, and so on, were all digested by the Roman pantheon, leaving not even a visage behind.

The ancient Roman gods only merged with the ancient Greek gods—a continuation of the civilized era—while they mostly wiped out the gods of other barbarians!

These various Celtic branches and Gallic gods were almost all dead. There was likely only a nameplate left in the Pantheon, but the sacrifices had long since been severed.

During the same period, the situation in the East was similar.

During the Han Dynasty, the Celestial Master Zhang Daoling entered Bashu, met the Eight Ghost Generals, fought against the multitude of ghosts and gods, subdued the heretical demons, and established the Five Pecks of Rice Sect (the predecessor of Taoism).

This was an act of "felling mountains and breaking temples," sweeping away the spirits that fed on blood sacrifices.

In this battle, Zhang Daoling virtually extinguished the indigenous "Shamanistic" faith of Bashu!

The existence of the Celtic branch, the Gallic gods, was equivalent to the primitive "Shamanism" in the eyes of the Empire.

Civilizational assimilation meant destroying old faiths and spreading the ancient Roman gods.

The Gallic branch, the moderate Druids, were a civilizational offshoot that only emerged after being thoroughly beaten by the Roman Empire.

Avalon was also a new faith born from the moderates. It hadn't existed for long—only a few hundred years—which is why the guardian fairies looked so much like the Nymphs of ancient Greece.

The brutal branch of that faith was in Ireland, where it was considered a bloodthirsty barbarian cult.

As time progressed and civilization was cultivated, primitive Shamanism was wiped out.

During the era of the Huaxia regional governors, human sacrifice was common; Ximen Bao’s governance of Ye, mentioned in elementary textbooks, was during the era of Shamanism.

When Taoism extinguished the primitive Shamanistic faith, the early proselytizing Taoists would directly call for reinforcements, shouting, "By the urgent order of Tai Shang Lao Jun," and personally step into the fray with swords to hack people down. They killed shamans and ghosts alike; their style was completely different from the Taoists of today.

It was only after Zhang Jiao of the Taiping Sect that Taoism became much more docile—at least they stopped rebelling so frequently.

"If the sanctuaries of the Celtic gods all have supernatural power blessings?"

"Then what about the ancient Roman and Greek gods?"

As soon as this thought crossed his mind, Duncan couldn't help but look at the Raven Queen, Tris, seeking an answer. No one knew the divine domains and authorities of the gods better than this High Priestess of the Imperial Polytheism.

Inside the tent, the Raven Queen, Tris, sighed softly.

She stared at Duncan and said quietly, "Severus is indeed correct."

"But to borrow the power of the gods will inevitably invite the hostility of the Church."

"I do not wish for you to be drawn into the strife of faiths."

To borrow the power of the gods, one must plant flags and erect temples, rebuilding the sanctuaries of the deities.

Avalon had not yet completely perished.

If Duncan were to erect a Druid Sacrificial Stone, the Church might not pay much attention, nor would they necessarily intervene; it was, after all, a dying, minor faction. But if he were to build a temple dedicated to Diana, the Church would assume the ancient Roman gods were being restored.

These two things held completely different meanings; the faith of Diana was far more likely to attract unwanted attention.

The Raven Queen, Tris, only wanted to protect herself and did not want Duncan to take the risk of summoning the ancient Roman gods back; the danger was too great.

At some point, in her heart, Duncan’s safety had become more important than the survival of Diana’s faith.

In the dimensional space, Duncan suddenly entered a god's-eye view. The contents of the projected screen changed, as if the dimensional space had captured some of the supernatural laws of the real world.

A line of characters appeared on the screen:

—"Faith Faction Unlocked."

—"Avalon Faith (Celtic Pantheon branch)!"

On the screen, a unique faith marker emerged.

—"Avalon Sacrificial Stone (Basic Sanctuary): In Celtic mythology, Avalon is the land of the afterlife. The ancient Druid faith holds legends of the immortality of the soul and reincarnation. This sacrificial stone dedicated to the Avalon sanctuary can strengthen the morale of warriors, making them less fearful of death."

"The land of the afterlife is also the realm of soul reincarnation."

"The souls of fallen believers will enter the mist-shrouded Avalon, just as Germanic warriors enter the Halls of Valhalla after death in the Norse pantheon."

"This temple sanctuary can grant a permanent +1 morale to influenced Celtic warriors; they will be more courageous in the face of death."

[The blessing effect of the sanctuary increases with the temple, sacrifices, and faith strength.]

Interesting.

No wonder the Germanic barbarians were so fearless!

If this were the case, did the Viking sanctuary of the Germanic barbarians, which worshipped the Norse All-Father Odin, also grant a permanent morale boost?

After all, in Norse mythology, a warrior only achieved completion by dying in battle; Germanic barbarians rarely died of old age.

Because of this requirement for a warrior's death, after the Duchy of Normandy was born, the entire tribe converted to Christianity, beginning the Christianization of the Vikings—effectively gutting the home of the Norse pantheon.

"Did only one open?"

Duncan looked at the faith page and saw only the Celtic mythology—Avalon faith. The Norse pantheon had not been unlocked, and the ancient Roman and Greek faiths were already dead. As for the Church’s faith, perhaps because there was no connection, it hadn't been triggered.

"The power of divine faith in this world provides a certain blessing, but it is not the deciding factor."

Duncan quickly realized this.

He could build an Avalon sacrificial stone sanctuary, but the bit of morale it added might not even be as effective as him personally leading the army to inspire them; it could only be described as better than nothing.

The Raven Queen, Tris, clearly did not want him to provoke the powerful Church for the sake of a little divine power from a sanctuary.

Gods could not descend personally.

This tiny blessing of sanctuary faith was not as good as better weapons and equipment, stricter military training, or more excellent commanders. It was a trade with low returns but extremely high risks.

If faith blessings were truly that powerful, Zhang Jiao’s Yellow Turban Army of the Taiping Sect would not have failed.

Yellow Turban Warriors could be considered special units of a temple sanctuary. They existed in the British Isles as well: the Gallic sworn warriors of the Celtic sanctuary, the Druid Order, Gallic totem warriors, and so on.

Though their combat power was strong, their numbers were few, and they could not decide the outcome of major battles.

"The Franks seem to have trained a batch of Frankish Paladins under the support of the Hermetic Order."

Duncan immediately understood what the Raven Queen, Tris, meant.

The witch was considering his future.

He nodded slightly and said, "Don't worry."

"I will be careful."

Duncan did not intend to choose a faith faction for the time being. What he needed was to secure a foothold in the British Isles, not to be drawn into religious strife too early. He could utilize the Avalon faith, but making it the state religion was impossible.

He finally understood.

As long as he was doing well in reality, what did gods or divine factions matter? They would still have to act according to his will!

The fairies of Avalon were clearly clinging to him, using his legendary status to maintain the foundation of a faith that was on the verge of collapse, in order to resist the Norse faith brought by the Germanic barbarian invasion.

This meant that as long as Duncan was strong enough, even the Norse pantheon would have to bow to him in the real world!

………………

Night fell.

Anya was truly hungry.

Although she had deliberately avoided affecting others, Duncan eventually had to cover the mouth of this beautiful witch.

He was, after all, an active participant.

Fortunately, the Medieval era was relatively open; it only became conservative after the Church unified the faith. People at this time still had some of the old Roman spirit and were quite tolerant of such things. One must know that the Germanic barbarians loved strong drink; when drunk, they would brawl, and a group of people would engage in debauchery without caring who else was in the warrior’s hall. Some would even applaud and praise the strong man.

If Duncan ever had the chance to go to a Germanic barbarian tavern, he would hear the songs sung by bards and warriors—the lyrics were truly spectacular.

As the night deepened, the Raven Queen, Tris, released her messenger. She glanced at Duncan’s tent, sighed softly, and squeezed the Diana sacrificial stone in her hand, her face flushed red.

She was summoning the other members of the witch coven.

With a base established, it was time to gather the exiled witches.

Tris did not fully trust Anya, as Anya had too many schemes, but the fact that the fairies of Avalon had suddenly latched onto Duncan made her very vigilant.

Compared to the scheming Anya, the fairies of Avalon were certainly more dangerous. Choosing the lesser of two evils, she let Anya have her fill, lest Duncan be bewitched by those nymphs of the lake again.

She wasn't afraid of Duncan being seduced; she was afraid that the fairies of Avalon would use him to achieve some ulterior motive.

Tris had never thought of pushing Duncan out to confront the Church. She must not let those cunning lake fairies deceive Duncan, leading him to become the secular guardian of Avalon and bringing him into conflict with the Church’s Hermetic forces.

With the Bow of Noden in his hand, anyone with eyes could see that Duncan was connected to Avalon.

This was a blatant scheme.

Avalon was using Duncan’s legend to restore a sliver of its vitality.

Inside the tent, the drums of war beat.

A nineteen-year-old youth, yet so peerless and valiant—his vigor was simply too much.

The Raven Queen, Tris, was bound by a vow of chastity. There were many things she could not do—not that she was physically incapable, but if she did them, she would no longer be able to invoke the power of Diana.

Because for those few virgin goddesses, only a priestess who remained chaste could channel a sliver of divine power.

Everything was just beginning.

Whether for Duncan or for herself, Tris had to hold the line; at critical moments, she would need the power of those goddesses to turn the tide. In the twilight of the mythological era, only those few virgin goddesses of the ancient Roman and Greek pantheons still possessed a remnant of faith power.

If Tris broke her vow of chastity, she would lose the strength to confront those who existed "in the name of the holy."

Those virgin goddesses were authenticated by their domains; they protected maidens who had not yet married.

However, there were other ways.

The next day.

After Duncan led the army away, Tris found the lazy and satisfied Anya and unceremoniously gave her waist and hips a light lash with her whip.

"Tris?!..."

Anya’s charming face still held the flush of the previous night. She started to rise in anger, but as soon as she saw Tris’s mocking expression, she immediately wilted.

No!

I just performed a great service, and you still whip me? Was my contribution for nothing?

Thinking of this, Anya’s confidence surged, and she prepared to rise up and fight back against Tris, but she didn't expect the Raven Queen to narrow her eyes slightly and flick her finger, leaving Anya stiff where she lay, half her body paralyzed.

She simply couldn't win!

A single trick from the Raven Queen could freeze this delicate Roman noblewoman in place.

"Waaaah!"

Anya wore a tearful expression, looking pitiful as she bowed her head, "Lady Tris, I was wrong."

A wise person does not fight when the odds are against them.

Moreover, she had been well-fed yesterday, while Tris had been hungry—hungry for many years. She certainly had some suppressed frustration and might just be taking it out on her. Anya knew Tris’s background better; it was rumored she possessed a trace of the blood of Circe.

The Raven Queen, Tris, sat down slowly, eyeing the flushed Anya from head to toe, and said coolly, "Put your clothes on."

"Don't wear that court gown from yesterday outside."

"How scandalous!"

Within the ancient Roman pantheon, the cults of the virgin goddesses were relatively conservative, while the cult of Venus, or Aphrodite, was more open. Its followers dressed in a more modern fashion, sometimes wearing things more alluring than being naked.

When the sanctuary of Aphrodite held sacrifices in the early days, the female attire would make modern people blush, emphasizing the enchanting beauty of the female form.

Anya replied aggrievedly, "Yes, Lady Tris."

She was a flamboyant person who loved power, loved being in the spotlight, and loved spreading her charm.

Now, the Raven Queen, Tris, had blocked one of her paths.

A breeze blew.

The Raven Queen, Tris, lifted her hand, and Anya’s paralyzed body returned to normal. The opponent possessed not only the power of Diana but also a portion of the power of Trivia (Hecate), Artemis, and other gods.

She simply couldn't win!

It was infuriating!

The tent door closed automatically. Tris’s gaze was deep, overlooking Anya. Her expression was hesitant and slightly embarrassed, but she still whispered, "Tell me about the methods the Aphrodite mystery cult uses to please a lover."

Hmm?

Trigger detected.

Anya was also a smart person. She immediately widened her eyes, looking at Tris in shock, stuttering, "You want to... bypass the vow of chastity?..."

The Raven Queen, Tris, flushed crimson, losing all of her initial arrogance.

She noticed Anya looking her up and down, her gaze lingering quite explicitly on the curves of her body, and she snorted coldly, her narrow phoenix eyes narrowing slightly, which made Anya tremble.

While Anya was surprised, she immediately began to harbor wicked thoughts.

"So you like to bully me!"

Anya tried her best to keep her expression serious, so she wouldn't be discovered, but inside, she was overjoyed.

"Now you've fallen into my hands."

Anya tilted her head slightly, her mouth twitching as she struggled to hide her smile. When she looked back, she wore an expression of extreme sincerity.

"This round must be won back!"

Meanwhile.

Duncan had led the army toward the Dorset region, because he had received some rather ominous military intelligence this morning.

Jill had ridden through the night to arrive, reporting in a panic, "Lord Duncan!"

"It is bad."

"The Duke of Tintagel led his army to battle the Saxon pirates yesterday. The Duke led his elite knights to flank the enemy, but was struck by several arrows from Saxon archers!"

"Fortunately, his elite knights shielded him with their lives so he could return safely, but he is now severely wounded and bedridden."

What the hell?

He was fine two days ago and had even reclaimed a piece of territory; how did he get shot and severely wounded today?

Duncan quickly stood up and asked, "Is the Duke of Tintagel alright?"

"Don't die suddenly, at least hold on until I get my start!"

Jill’s expression was complex, "He is severely wounded."

"But fortunately, his life is not in danger."

That’s good.

Duncan couldn't help but exhale in relief.

No.

"Don't you know your own strength?"

Duncan was so strong, yet he didn't dare to charge into the fray directly. The Duke of Tintagel was only a one-star "whiteboard" level expert; why was he trying to act like a fierce general and charging the army?

After some questioning, the sequence of events became clear.

It must be said that the Duke of Tintagel had improved significantly. In this battle, he had actually seized an opportunity, first breaking a group of Saxon pirate riders head-on, and then, while the battle was deadlocked, flanking around to the side and rear to strike the Saxon pirates' right wing.

Tactically speaking, his decision was flawless.

The Duke of Tintagel was more daring and willing to fight than before.

But the problem was that a cavalry charge was like a glowing hot iron rod covered in lubricant; it had to pierce through the enemy in one breath, preferably by breaking into the rear to form a pincer, making the enemy unable to attend to both ends, which would easily cause chaos and then collapse their morale.

The problem was that the Duke of Tintagel poked in, but didn't poke through; worse, he charged in, but couldn't get out.

A cavalry charge requires a fierce warrior to clear the path in the front row. The Duke of Tintagel’s blade wasn't sharp enough. His cavalry charged in, but didn't break through, and were trapped in the chaotic army.

Then, he was targeted by the elite Saxon forest hunters.

The Duke of Tintagel was struck by six arrows; his shield was riddled with several more. If not for the superior quality of his armor—a standard noble heavy scale mail with neck, shoulder, and waist protection—he would likely have died on the spot.

Ultimately, he was saved by his elite knights who fought to the death, but upon returning, he was bedridden.

He wasn't going to die.

But he had an arrow in his butt, one in his thigh, three in his chest and back, and one arrow had struck the iron helmet on his head, nearly taking him out right then and there.

With the Duke of Tintagel so badly hurt, he couldn't continue to command the army.

Cornwall was only the size of a county. The Duke had no sons, only three daughters, and no commanders under his command who could stand on their own. So, his first thought was to ask Duncan for help, sending his squire, Jill, over. Now, the situation could only rely on Duncan to step in and stabilize things.

Duncan had no choice but to go now.

If the Duke of Tintagel suffered another crushing defeat, he would likely have to face the Saxon barbarian army directly.

In this battle, the Duke of Tintagel could have actually fought to a draw; he had just overestimated his own martial power.

At least a two-star expert was required to lead a cavalry charge. In any era, when cavalry launched an attack, they were led by a fierce general; otherwise, the spearhead wouldn't achieve the effect of intimidating the enemy.

With a thunderous sound of hooves.

Duncan rode at the head of the army, with Crillan, Cullin, and others behind him—sixteen cavalrymen in total. The rest of the infantry, led by Severus and Kveto, would take more than a day to arrive. In this era, infantry marched slowly, and because of the rushed departure, supplies had to be found by wagon trains and conscripted laborers.

In the age of cold weapons, grain and forage were extremely important.

If men were hungry for a day, they would be half-useless.

Most of these sixteen riders were elites. After Crillan was equipped with scale armor, he had become a one-star silver-gray combat unit.

On the way, Jill gave a rough overview of the enemy situation.

The person the Duke of Tintagel was fighting was not Hossa, the brother of the King of Kent—if he had encountered Hossa, he wouldn't have taken the initiative to attack. The opponent was one of the Germanic barbarian generals, "the Virgin Taker" Enfess. He was known as the fighter among fighters, a barbarian commander famous for his ferocity, and also well-known throughout the British Isles for his love of slaughtering cities and taking virgins. One of his most famous deeds was demanding ten virgins when conquering a native tribe in Britain.

He had an elite guard of chieftains under his command, who had started as Saxon pirates in their early years and had shown performance in naval raiding.

"Giddy up!"

Duncan led the sixteen riders straight to Exeter, which was considered the largest town in Devon, possessing a relatively solid wooden wall, similar to a northern town in Calradia—a pile of logs forming a high wall, so there was no need to worry about fire.

Looking at it this way, the Saxon barbarians’ withdrawal a while ago might not have been due to his personal martial power; they might have planned to lure the enemy deep, using a feigned defeat to lure the Duke of Tintagel out.

From the god’s-eye view.

Duncan could already see the situation on the battlefield.

Below the east gate of Exeter, a group of Saxon spearmen were pushing a ram to batter the gate. The city defenses here were far inferior to the fortresses of Cornwall; the wooden gate was already teetering.

—British Legion (Morale shaken) (Heavy casualties) (Commander severely wounded).

—British Coastal Militia (Morale shaken) (Commander severely wounded) (Command in chaos).

—Cantii Auxiliary Legion (Morale shaken) (No command).

—British Militia (Low morale) (Command in chaos).

On the strategic map.

Although the Duke of Tintagel’s troops had not suffered heavy casualties, their morale was shaken. If the city gate were breached, their rout would only be a matter of time. The Duke of Tintagel’s army had lost a small field battle and now had to rely on the Exeter town for defense. Fortunately, there was still a town to hold, or they wouldn't have been able to last until Duncan arrived.

In the age of cold weapons, morale was extremely important, because after the main battle troops were finished, other units would rout on a large scale if they suffered ten or twenty percent casualties.

In the Medieval era, only the main battle troops could withstand a higher casualty ratio.

If this morale wasn't saved, they would lose soon.

Duncan overlooked the entire battlefield.

He reined in his horse, turned to look at Cullin, Crillan, and the others behind him, and said solemnly, "Do you dare to charge with me?!"

Crillan’s blood instantly boiled, and he roared, "Wherever you go, I go!"

Cullin was silent, only drawing his long blade.

These men craved to make a name for themselves, especially after following a valiant commander.

They were capable.

More than half of Duncan’s sixteen riders were one-star warriors, mostly noble riders of the native tribes, whose armor far exceeded that of the infantry, and even their warhorses had simple protection.

"Follow me!"

He took the lead and charged down the hillside!

………………