Goddess Hunt 1-6

Chapter 1 The Battle of Tortos

On August 17th, in the year 988 of the Holy King's Calendar (616 of the Night Emperor's Calendar), a battle broke out in an unnamed valley in Tortos.

The Night Elf army appeared suddenly and without warning from the left flank of the human army. The human soldiers were caught off guard, watching helplessly as the overwhelming enemy surged towards their ranks.

Bedier, standing in the middle of the column with his personal guard of knights, was stunned. The moment the enemy appeared in his field of vision, he felt as if his breath had stopped. Although the march was hasty, his caution had not neglected the deployment of scouts, yet they had still been ambushed. What had happened to the scouts? Perhaps they had gotten lost, or perhaps they had been wiped out by the enemy scouts, but that no longer mattered. He saw the Night Elf spearmen charging down the hillside, striking his left flank of light infantry like a powerful punch. The light infantry, merely hastily armed peasants, were routed by the valiant night elf spearmen at the first encounter.

The heavy infantry at the head of the column, led by their standard-bearer, attempted to retreat to the flanks, but Bedier saw the night elf longbowmen, positioned high above, already aimed at them. A deadly rain of arrows followed, scattering them in just three volleys. In the very first engagement, the human army had lost nearly a third of its fighting strength. The

light infantry on the right flank, though untouched, were in a rout like the left, their disarray even breaking the formation of the rear light cavalry. "By the Goddess of Order, this is hell!" Bedier cried out in anguish, covering her face with her hands, unable to bear the sight of the chaotic carnage. But the shouts of his guardsmen quickly jolted him awake. Looking around, he saw thirty-odd knights at his command.

"Follow me! Knights of the Goddess of Order, may the glory of the goddess be with us!" This was a last resort. He led his guardsmen into the Night Elf spearmen slaughtering the fleeing soldiers, hoping to temporarily repel the enemy and buy time for his rear guard to regroup.

Although few in number, the knights, clad in chainmail or plate armor and wielding lances and longswords on their tall horses, were still a formidable force. Bedier's leading from the front further boosted their morale. While the Night Elves were a pure warrior race, they were still flesh and blood, and with virtually no protection, the heavy cavalry's advance was a bloodbath.

After the initial surge weakened, Bedier led his knights out of the fray, regrouped, and launched a second charge. This was repeated four times. Despite heavy casualties, their bravery and fearlessness had driven back an enemy ten times their size.

Although utterly exhausted, the enemy's retreat gave Bedier a glimmer of hope for victory. "Thanks to the goddess's protection, knights of the Goddess of Order, advance! Defend the holy land of Sarnofok!" He raised his longsword, loudly rallying his troops, only to find few echoing his call. He turned to look at his knights, only to find them looking behind him, just as he was, towards a fresh force of night elves slowly entering the battlefield from the left rear.

Hope instantly turned to despair. Bedier's face darkened; he knew victory was now completely out of reach. The morale of the human army plummeted at that moment, and the previously stalemate quickly turned into a crushing defeat for humanity.

For both sides, victory and defeat came far too quickly, so quickly that neither was psychologically prepared to accept it.

"Spearmen, press forward! Longbowmen, unleash all your arrows!" The night elf war priestess, Shatika, shouted hoarsely to her messenger. "Tell Mei to stop pursuing the fleeing troops. Have her rangers intercept the human light cavalry." An uncontrollable smile played on her lips, her long ears twitching with excitement. She pointed two fingers to the sky, declaring as the earthly representative of the Chaos Goddess: "The will of Celushiel, the protection of Limuris, this is a victory bestowed by the goddess! This is the divine will's bloody revenge against the foreign heretics who have defiled the holy land for a century!"

"The divine will of Celushiel!" "Limuris's revenge!" The night elf warriors, their eyes red with fervor, shouted various sacred slogans, advancing towards their enemies with disordered steps. Amidst the shouts of battle and cries of agony, the main force of the human army was quickly and completely divided and surrounded by the night elves.

The human soldiers stared in terror, their hands trembling, unable to grip their weapons or control their shaking legs. "Almighty and all-knowing Goddess of Order, save your followers!" "This is the goddess punishing our sins!" They tried to turn and flee, but found themselves surrounded by enemies. Many had already given up resistance, kneeling on the ground and whispering prayers for a miracle.

At that moment, the battlefield, previously filled with the deafening sounds of battle, fell silent. The people of Celushivel silently thanked the goddess for granting them their chance for revenge, while Platina's followers silently hoped for the goddess's redemption in the impending calamity. They all knew what was about to happen. The night elves of the Arapacha Forest, who worshipped the vengeful goddess Limuris as their protector, were prepared to wash away the shame of their ancestors with human blood.

In the chaos, Bedier was pierced in the thigh by a night elf spearman. The few knights remaining carried him and his banner to a hilltop, where they placed him under a tree and surrounded him, preparing for a final stand.

By this time, Bedre had fallen into a state of delirium due to excessive blood loss. With hazy eyes, he surveyed his last knights, their faces stained with blood, their armor dented in many places, their swords nicked, yet they stood steadfastly before him. This was a knight, he told himself. Courage, loyalty, piety, and the willingness to sacrifice—this was a knight. In an instant, Bedre felt his strength return. He had his knights help him to his feet, and the dignity befitting a great nobleman returned to his face.

"Knights of the Goddess of Order!" he said slowly but steadily. "Just over a hundred years ago, following the Goddess's will, our ancestors took up arms, left their castles and manors to join the sacred Northern Expedition. After nine years, they finally drove out the demons that had infested the Holy Land, bringing back the Goddess's glory and the Holy King's favor. They established the Goddess's earthly kingdom on this sacred land. This unparalleled achievement earned our ancestors the Goddess's redemption; their souls ascended to the divine realm after their deaths to remain with the Goddess. A hundred years later..." "Heavens, we stand here on the sacred land of Tortus, where our ancestors first set foot, to once again take up arms to defend the earthly kingdom of the goddess. This, too, is a war of redemption. If we fall on this land, our souls will surely ascend to the divine realm with our ancestors. Knights, remember the sacred principles bestowed upon you by the goddess: Knights, remember the oath of loyalty sworn before the goddess; Knights, remember the noble mission entrusted to you by the goddess. May the goddess bless the kingdom of Sarnofok, may the goddess bless the king of Sarnofok, may the goddess's blessing be with us."

"May the goddess bless the kingdom of Sarnofok, may the goddess bless the king of Sarnofok, may the goddess's blessing be with us." The knights followed Bedier in reciting the prayer. They knew this would be their last prayer.

The night elf warriors gradually gathered around, and Bedier pushed away the knight who was supporting him. Although the action immediately made him dizzy, he still tried to straighten his body. As the enemy drew ever closer, he mustered the last of his strength and shouted to them, "I am Marquis Dedbor, son of King Cain of Sarnofuk, Bedje de Andor Guderian! I cannot die at the hands of soldiers! I demand a death befitting my status!"

The night elf warriors stirred. Unable to discern banners and emblems, they only knew they were surrounding a human nobleman, never imagining he would be the prince of Sarnofuk and the most powerful nobleman in Dedbor.

From within the enemy ranks, a female warrior with long, crimson hair and a spear stepped forward. She bowed to Bedier and then said gracefully, "Good day, Your Highness. I am Mina, the great warrior bestowed the spear by Queen Alia of the Arapuch Forest. Celucisell has taken pity on the valiant warrior, so I will grant your final wish."

Bedier, now too weak to even support himself, staggered and finally collapsed into the arms of the knight behind him. With his last strength, he managed a weak smile: "I've heard of you, Mina, the favored warrior of the goddess of vengeance. That's good. When I go to the realm of the gods to meet His Majesty the Holy King, at least I can tell him that I died at the hands of a divine messenger, and moreover, this messenger is a rare beauty." This was the last joke of his life, a joke he had always made.

"It was all Celucisell's guidance." Mina raised her spear and pointed it at Bedier's throat. "Rest in peace."

"Marquis Bedier has been summoned! " A chorus of wails rose from the battlefield; both those still fighting and those who had given up wept bitterly.

Thomas, the standard-bearer of Bedier, had been in the rear guard protecting Bedier's younger brother, Viscount Belian of Tortosa. When Bedier was surrounded, he had attempted to break the encirclement with his newly formed light cavalry, but they were quickly scattered a second time. By the time news of Bedier's death reached him, he had lost contact with all his standard-bearers. He fought his way out of the battlefield, leaving only his sister on horseback.

"Goddess of Order, protect the Kingdom of Salnorfok," he cried. He removed his necklace and kissed the V-shaped pendant, then turned and handed it to his sister, Maria. Before him lay a face etched with boundless sorrow.

"Maria, escape," he said calmly, "follow the valley to Galleri." If the goddess of order favors Viscount Belian and allows him to escape this calamity, he should be there. I failed to protect the Marquis, but at least I sent you to protect his brother.”

Maria choked up, “But, but…” She opened her mouth, but couldn’t finish her sentence.

Thomas smiled, his right hand stroking his sister’s face, wiping away her tears. “I know what you want to say, things like ‘we’ll die together, we’ll live together’ don’t suit our family. I am a knight, I have a duty to be loyal to my master, but you are not. You should live on strongly, find a reliable husband in the future, and pass on the swan pattern on our family crest.”

A small squad of night elf rangers had spotted the two riders at the edge of the battlefield and were rushing towards them. “Alright, run.” He reached out and ruffled his sister’s hair one last time, his tone revealing reluctance, but he still gritted his teeth and pushed her away, slashing her horse’s rump hard with his sword.

“Thomas!” "Maria cried out in alarm. The horse, in pain, galloped off, reaching dozens of meters away in seconds. "Thomas!!" The sister, her voice hoarse from running away, cried out her brother's name, but the brother no longer watched her go. He picked up his longsword again, faced the enemy, cried out for the goddess's protection, and charged back into the battlefield.

On May 4th, 987 of the Holy King's Calendar (615 of the Night Emperor's Calendar), the Battle of Tel Bashir resulted in a crushing defeat for the human alliance. Count Joseph of Ainsta and his son were killed in action. Half a month later, the tribal alliance army began besieging Ainsta City. By early October, Ainsta City surrendered, and the Ainsta County was destroyed.

At the end of October, news of the fall of the County of Einsta was first brought back to the Holy Empire by merchants, causing a nationwide uproar. A few days later, Archbishop Tro of Einsta arrived in Einsbrook, the capital of the Holy Empire, seeking aid. That same day, he delivered a speech in the square in front of the Church of Holy War, calling on the human nations that worshipped the Goddess of Order to immediately cease hostilities and unite for a second northern expedition. Three days later, Pope Lucineta I, the female pope of the Goddess of Order, delivered a public speech in St. Anne's Square and issued a decree to launch the northern expedition the following spring. On the same day, the Holy Empire Emperor... Frederick I addressed the Senate, and then, with the Senate's authorization, announced his response to the call for holy war.

Having received promises from both the Papacy and the Holy Empire, Archbishop Einta continued his southward persuasion of the human kingdoms. Queen Rita I of Silesia, King Philip II of Francisco, and King Hendry II of Ingrid, along with his daughter, Duchess Eleanor of Elgittein, all announced their participation in the Holy Northern Expedition.

In May of Holy King's Calendar 988 (Night Emperor's Calendar 616), Holy Knight Egremartine and Prince Vabia... Frederick (who shared his father's name) led 35,000 men as the western route of the Second Northern Expedition. At the end of the month, they crossed the Dud River, and on July 17th, they captured Tirgowest, a city held by barbarian tribes. After a brief rest, the western army advanced towards Bilad, the capital of the Orcish Khanate of Kruman, aiming to open a path to the Holy Land.

Upon learning that the Northern Expeditionary Army had already set out, the leader of the Thirteen Clans Alliance, the chieftain of the Demon Wolf Clan, and Sultan Salahel Ad Ding Maayou of Edith, secretly regrouped the disbanded tribal alliance army. He rose up, preparing to seize the opportunity to gain the upper hand in the upcoming war with the Northern Expeditionary Army.

His opportunity soon arrived. In early August of the year 988 of the Holy King's Calendar (616 of the Night Emperor's Calendar), to coordinate with the Northern Expeditionary Army, King Kain of Sarnorfolk assembled 6,500 soldiers in Safield, preparing to attack the Night Elf territory of the Arapuch Forest. On the march, he was ambushed by a superior force of the Horde Alliance led by Salahel. Although the Holy Knights fought valiantly and temporarily repelled the enemy, he was subsequently besieged in the city of Safield.

…Because he sent messengers to his vassals seeking aid, his son, Marquis Bedre of Tidebor, led an army of over a thousand to Safield. Upon reaching Tortos, they were intercepted by the all-out night elves of the Arapacha Forest, and his entire army was annihilated. Bedre himself fought to the death, and his brother, Viscount Belian of Tortossa, fled the battlefield before the enemy could completely encircle him. Seeing that all was lost, he could only hastily flee back to Galilee to prepare for a siege.

The Battle of Tortos, as one of the preludes to the Second Northern Expedition, did not leave much of a mark on historical records.

HG Trivia: Composition of Human Armies

Light Infantry: The main body of human armies, generally composed of farmers or serfs who have undergone short-term training, equipped with a variety of strange weapons ranging from wooden clubs and flails to longswords and chains, and minimal armor. They have low morale and no discipline, and except for archers, they have no advantage over any other unit type, but fortunately, they have excellent cost-effectiveness.

Archers: They have an advantage over heavy units, but except for longbowmen, they are generally only effective in the initial stages of a war.

Crossbowmen: Heavy crossbows or crossbows can easily penetrate metal armor, giving them a huge advantage over heavy units. Therefore, the Church of the Goddess of Order once issued a ban on their use in wars between humans, so you can only see this unit type in the Northern Expeditionary Nation or the Northern Expeditionary Army.

Heavy Infantry: Generally urban residents. Or, the propertied class in the countryside, whose weapons and armor were far superior to light infantry, making them effective against other infantry units.

Pikemen: Equipped with extended lances or halberds to counter cavalry, but also performing well against other units.

Light cavalry: Generally knights who couldn't afford full armor, knights' squires, or squires' squires; their speed advantage, gained at the expense of armor, allowed them to fight against most other units. Heavy cavalry

: Nobles or knights from the upper class and their high-ranking squires; well-trained, highly motivated, and well-equipped. They possessed an unimaginable advantage against non-cavalry units; only pikemen and crossbowmen could barely inflict equivalent damage. Their high cost was a fatal flaw, making them impossible to assemble or only usable on a small scale in many regions.

Chapter Two: Galleria

Galleria, located in the northeastern part of the Viscount Tortus's domain, is not only the largest town within the domain but also the seat of government for generations of Viscount Tortus. Galleria Castle, the most fortified castle in the southern part of the kingdom, sits atop a hillside on the west side of the town, complete with a church, blacksmith's shop, stables, and other ancillary facilities. A semi-circular residential area, housing over three hundred households, is scattered across the flat land below the hillside, surrounding the castle. A narrow market town lies at the foot of the city wall on the side furthest from the castle, while the square for townspeople's festival gatherings is located on the residential area closer to the castle. A stream flowing through the valley was deliberately diverted during the city's construction, becoming a natural moat. Combined with five-meter-high double-layered walls and sixteen evenly spaced towers, these excellent defensive structures effectively protected the daily lives of the town's inhabitants. Since the founding of the Northern Expeditionary Kingdom, enemy forces have besieged Galleria seventeen times, each time failing to breach the city walls and retreating without success.

In the early morning of August 18th, 988 of the Holy King's Calendar (616 of the Night Emperor's Calendar), a cacophony of hoofbeats startled the unguarded guards at the gates of Gallerli. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" Still half-asleep, one of them demanded, holding a torch to illuminate the approaching figures below the gate.

The torchlight first illuminated several faces covered in dust and blood, then their tattered clothes and tattered equipment, and finally their exhausted warhorses, foaming at the mouth. They were all wounded, some with untreated wounds still oozing blood; the sight was horrifying.

The guards' sleep vanished instantly. "By the Goddess! What has happened? What kind of ordeal has tormented you like this?" they cried out.

A hoarse voice, weary and thirsty, answered his question: "We are knights accompanying Marquis Bedell on his campaign. The Night Elf army is advancing here. The situation is urgent! Please take us to Lady Aischivius immediately!"

The alarm bells rang throughout the town. Early risers and those awakened by the bells, though unaware of the gravity of the situation, scattered in panic. Those who caught a glimpse of the knights' miserable state near the city gates and in the streets immediately began spreading rumors—some absurd, others remarkably true—through the streets and alleys. The once quiet town quickly erupted into chaos.

The bells also awakened the castle's mistress. "What happened?" she murmured, slowly sitting up in bed, her eyes still heavy with sleep. The silk quilt slipped gently from her upper body, revealing her ample breasts and firm abdomen to the bright silver moonlight. "Viscount, something terrible has happened!" The head maid burst through the door, intending to immediately report what had just occurred, but instead was met with this unexpected sight. "My goddess! Viscount, why aren't you wearing pajamas to bed!"

The current lord of the Viscountate of Tortos, Saron, and Lady Eschivie de Tiborie, of Tortos, are dual vassals of the Duke of Turan of the Kingdom of Francisco and the King of Sarnofok. Anyone seeing this young, powerful noblewoman for the first time would immediately question their previous accounts. They couldn't imagine that such a silver-haired, blue-eyed beauty could be the defender of Amon and the legendary knight who nearly killed Sarahair in the Battle of Elmona Forest.

Thirteen years ago, at the age of fourteen, she entrusted her newly inherited fiefdom to her relatives and left her homeland of Francisco to come to the Holy Land alone. In less than two years, she was again ennobled for her military achievements, becoming a trusted and relied-upon minister of the King of Sarnofok. Over the years, nobles and knights, whether admiring her reputation, adoring her beauty, or coveting her fiefdom, have constantly proposed to her, all of whom she has ruthlessly rejected without discrimination. This icy beauty, accustomed to keeping everyone at arm's length, has, in the past two years, shown a keen interest in Prince Bedier's younger brother, Belian, which has drawn much private criticism, but she remains unmoved and goes her own way.

"Alright, someone tell me what happened." When Eschivy, having finished washing and grooming, saw the knights struggling to stand with the help of servants in the drawing room, the usually calm and composed Eschivy showed no emotion at their pitiful state. Instead, another lady who entered the drawing room a step later was immediately shocked and turned deathly pale.

“Let me explain, Lady.” It was that same hoarse voice; he held a higher position among the knights. “I am Gerald, son of Aubury, the paladin of Capone, and squire of Baron Charles Shaller. My master and I were summoned by Marquis Bedier to accompany him to Saffield to reinforce our king. On the way, our party was suddenly attacked by night elves. We fought desperately, but my master was killed, and many of my companions perished. By the goddess's grace, that place became a hell for the followers of the Goddess of Order. We fought valiantly and barely managed to break through the encirclement. We didn't want to desert; we just didn't want to die in vain. The goddess bears witness, I personally killed three night elves.”

“And the prince? How is he?” Gerald tried to continue his explanation but was interrupted by the panicked voice of the woman who had been standing in the shadows behind Eschivy. “Tell me the prince is safe. Please, tell me!” She rushed to Gerald, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him violently, her voice trembling with tears.

"Goddess! Madam, it's you!" Gerald stared in astonishment at the noblewoman's face, filled with despair and helplessness. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but ultimately lowered his head. "We weren't with the Marquis when the enemy attacked. Madam, I'm sorry, none of us know how His Highness is doing now."

The sun slowly climbed over the hills, but Galleri did not open its city gates for the townspeople as usual, and the drawbridge, which was not usually lowered, was raised. A small number of guards were scattered on the city walls and towers to monitor the movements along the main road.

"Alert! Cavalry approaching!" Just past noon, a guard noticed dust rising at the end of the road and immediately shouted a warning. There were only four riders approaching, and they soon arrived at the city gate.

"Who are you?" a voice shouted down from the city gate.

A voice, aged yet resonant and full of confidence, answered his question: "I am Lord Louis, the steward of the Viscount of Tortosa, and riding with me is my master, Viscount Belian of Tortosa. My master is ill; please lower the drawbridge and open the city gates to let us in."

The drawbridge was quickly and slowly lowered, and the city gates reopened, allowing the four horses to slowly enter the city. The already unsteady Viscount Belian was quickly helped off his horse and placed on a stretcher. Without exception, the city gate guards stared impolitely at the young nobleman, even though most of them had seen their lord's rumored boyfriend before.

Viscount Belian de Tortosa was a genuinely handsome young man; anyone who had seen him in person could not deny this fact. He possessed dazzling, flowing blond hair, and while his skin wasn't exceptionally fair, it was smooth and delicate. His features were refined and gentle yet undeniably masculine, with red lips, white teeth, a small nose, and a pair of aquamarine eyes that often held a hint of melancholy. His voice, still clear and resonant before puberty, was not loud, but it possessed a captivating and penetrating quality. Although not raised in the palace, his theological education in a monastery had imbued him with the same elegance and poise, making him in no way inferior to any nobleman who had received a full set of etiquette training in the king's court. Even more astonishing was his extensive knowledge, which had earned the admiration of many wise men from near and far.

This peerless beauty was only twelve years old at the time, and the thought of what kind of splendor he would possess in a few years made the lonely noblewomen of the Kingdom of Salnofok feel restless and feverish.

Two years ago, after completing his studies at the monastery, he was taken into the court by his brother. Since then, his striking good looks, his tragic fate, and his ambiguous relationship with Lady Eschivy, who was more than twice his age, have been a major topic of conversation in the high society of Salnofok. They lamented that such a distinguished nobleman was burdened with the stigma of being an illegitimate child, while simultaneously praising Prince Bedell's generosity in accepting his half-brother. Sometimes they would privately speculate about the identity of his biological father, who dared to cuckold the king, and sometimes they would shake their heads at his strange secret love affair with Lady Eschivy. However, talk was just talk; apart from his mentor, St. Beatrice, Eschivy, and Prince Bedell and his wife, no one truly cared about this unfortunate child.

And now, fate, already quite unfair to him, had played another cruel joke on him.

A sudden defeat and the subsequent relentless escape had already pushed his body to its limits. Just half an hour earlier, Maria, who had been chasing him from behind, had informed him of the devastating news of his brother's passing. Although he had mentally prepared himself, the double blow of exhaustion and grief immediately overwhelmed him.

Now, lying on a stretcher, he had a low-grade fever, his moist eyes slightly open, his mouth panting, his face flushed from the heat. This pitiful, delicate image, like that of a little rabbit, would be pleasing to the eye for anyone, and some fanatics might even feel their blood boil instantly. He was carried into the castle amidst the stares of onlookers, leaving behind only whispers and murmurs.

"By the goddess above, such a beauty is actually a man."

"Yes, if I were a woman, I think I would also go mad for him."

"Only a man like this could be worthy of our eccentric lord."

Upon entering the castle, realizing he was temporarily out of danger, Belian, due to a moment of mental relaxation, immediately fell into a semi-conscious state. Disoriented and losing his sense of time, he initially felt a chill, but then, without warning, something warm and soft enveloped him, making him feel a little more comfortable. In his dazed state, he realized he was hallucinating.

His soul seemed to have left his body and entered a void, where he saw a colossal, luminous ship sailing through nothingness. It was so enormous that he felt like a speck of dust compared to it. Then he felt something shatter beside him, and a sudden flash of white light blinded him. The light vanished in an instant, and when his vision returned, he found himself before the ship, along with a gigantic, fluorescent, azure-blue sphere many times larger.

Just as he was trying to figure out what he was seeing, his soul was suddenly dragged away, and both the ship and the sphere vanished in an instant, replaced by a magnificent hall before him.

He saw two women standing in the hall. Due to the distance, their faces were not very clear. One was dressed in a white robe, holding a scepter in one hand and a golden apple in the other. The other was dressed in a black robe, holding a spear in one hand and a book in the other. Then he noticed that many women were also standing on both sides of the hall. He looked around at them and saw that they were all dressed in white or black robes and holding various objects in their hands. Some held longswords, some held scales, some clutched money bags, and some held water cups. Most of them looked familiar to Belian. He quickly recognized Beatrice and Essie from among them, and even more so... He was puzzled, but his soul once again flew away. The next scene was a dimly lit room. Belian was amazed to find that he had experienced dark adaptation

. After a few seconds, his vision returned, and he found that a scene that made him blush was unfolding in the room. In his understanding, this should be an underground dungeon, because there were many "torture instruments" in the room, and a scantily clad green-haired girl was tied to these instruments and being "tortured". Although her face constantly displayed expressions of pain or endurance, Belian could sense that she was actually enjoying the torture inflicted upon him. Belian was utterly astonished. Although the girl before him looked only a teenager, he recognized her as the same girl who had appeared in the previous scene who had attacked him.

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