The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 85

**Year 791 of the Engelvieg Calendar.**

A gentle rain fell from the sky, baptizing the tumultuous land below, washing away the bloodstains from the knights' iron armor. The knights lifted their heads, letting the rain soak into their divine armor, cooling their overheated bodies. A faint steam rose from their armor as the heat dissipated.

The battle was nearing its end. The enemy formation had been broken by the knights' charge. Most of the enemy wielded outdated weapons, which only sparked against the fine armor of the knights. Only a few enemies possessed divine armor, but they faced highly skilled knights, unable to turn the tide of the battle.

Count Stuart slowly withdrew his sword from the enemy's body. His movements were painstakingly slow, and as the blade left the wound, a torrent of blood gushed from the ruined body. He had dueled with this knight for a long time, seizing the final moment to knock him out with the hilt before delivering a fatal blow to the throat.

He was old, now struggling for breath after such exertion. Leaning on his cruciform sword, he lifted his head slightly, savoring the coolness from the sky.

"Ah... how many days has it been?"

Beneath his helmet, his eyes felt only the heat. Turning around, he surveyed the battlefield strewn with corpses, where smoldering fires still burned. Some knights lay fallen forever, while others struggled to stand.

The count removed his helmet, his weary gaze sweeping across the land. He tried to rally his men, raising his sword. The knights responded, but their blades were battered, a melancholy sight.

It had all begun days ago. Local fishermen had seen a fleet of ships cross the White Tide Strait and land on Engelvieg. They weren't fishermen but armored soldiers. The news quickly reached the nearby lords, including Count Stuart. The old count sensed trouble. Beyond the White Tide Strait lay Gaul Naroth. If it were their army, he would have received advance notice, but he had heard nothing.

Count Stuart was thankful for his vigilance. He assembled his forces immediately, and the next day, the enemy from Gaul Naroth besieged his castle.

They aimed to capture this place. Controlling Stuart's domain would provide the resources for their forces to rest and even use it as a base to advance further into Engelvieg. Thus, Count Stuart made a bold decision to hold his ground against advice to retreat.

He became a nail, firmly pinning Gaul Naroth's army in Stuart's domain. If they attacked elsewhere, it would burden their logistics, leading to their defeat. So, Count Stuart stood firm.

He sent trusted riders to neighboring territories, spreading the news, even to the Platinum Palace in Old Dunling, while waiting for reinforcements.

The knights once again repelled the enemy, pushing them out through the breaches in the walls. More men rushed to fortify the damaged sections.

Count Stuart was too old, feeling the weariness in his bones. Sitting casually on the steps, his squire approached cautiously from the shadows.

The boy seemed timid, not daring to look the old man in the eyes. He skillfully dismantled the armor from Stuart's body. The count sighed deeply, feeling his soul almost leaving his body.

"How are we faring today, Navis?"

Navis deftly removed the last piece of armor, stacking them together, working swiftly as he replied.

"Not well, milord. We've been besieged for four days. Supplies are sufficient, but everyone is anxious, and..."

Seeing Navis hesitate, Count Stuart chuckled, his wrinkles twisting together like an old tree.