Chapter 160
Even with the warning, Prince Caelan kept his word.
Three days before the warband was scheduled to depart for the Godless Ruins, wagons carrying newly forged equipment rolled into the longhouse compound.
The entire warband received improved armor, replacing old dented breastplates and worn-out helmets with equipment that looked capable of surviving a proper campaign. The atmosphere inside the longhouse immediately became livelier than it had been in days as soldiers inspected their new gear, compared pieces with one another and celebrated the fact that they wouldn't be marching toward one of the deadliest places in the kingdom wearing rusted scraps of steel.
Rayne's party, however, received considerably more than everyone else.
Alongside their armor came a separate crate containing weapons forged from a material called Greystone.
At first glance, they looked almost identical to ordinary military weapons, but the moment Rayne wrapped his hand around the sword and pushed mana into it, he immediately let out a whistle.
The mana flowed through the blade almost effortlessly, clinging to the metal with barely any escaping into the surrounding air. Compared to ordinary steel, the difference was enormous. The weapon not only conducted mana far more efficiently, but felt noticeably sturdier as well, exactly the sort of equipment he wanted in his hands.
Something that wouldn't break in the middle of danger again.
Naturally, the difference didn't go unnoticed.
Both Casper and Captain Edran realized almost immediately that Rayne's party had received equipment different from everyone else's.
Casper even asked about it outright, while Edran simply inspected the weapon for several long moments before looking back at Rayne who replied exactly as he had planned beforehand, explaining that Prince Caelan had rewarded him for his performance during the tournament.
Neither of them appeared particularly convinced, but when the explanation involved a royal prince, neither chose to question it any further.
Although the promised traversal equipment hadn't arrived yet, Prince Caelan had already told him that he would only get them once they were in the ruins.
But another package did accompany the weapons, containing the low-grade mana cultivation manual promised for Bran along with several books detailing everything the royal archives knew about the Godless Ruins.
By then, Rayne had already explained the prince's proposal to the rest of his party. They now knew exactly what waited for them beyond the military expedition, and while the realization unsettled every single one of them, none chose to back out.
They had already agreed to follow him, and there was little point dwelling on regrets now, especially with a prince involved.
Instead, Rayne devoted every spare moment over the following days to reading through the books before relaying the important parts to everyone else.
Compared to the information available publically, these records went into far greater detail, describing the different districts of the ruined city, the environmental hazards hidden within each of them and the countless creatures previous expeditions had encountered over the centuries.
Some of those descriptions were unsettling enough that Rayne honestly found himself wishing he were marching off to fight another necromancer or two instead. At least those would still be easy to hack down.
Still, information was never a burden. Every page he finished gave him another opportunity to prepare both his own party and the rest of his squad a little better who desperately needed it.
After all, once the official marching date had spread around, half the recruits had struggled to sleep, knowing that with every passing day, the Godless Ruins were no longer becoming a distant land they were preparing for, but a destination they would soon be forced to enter themselves.
Unfortunately, they also didn't have the luxury of more training in a safe environment.
Most of the recruits were still somewhere between Levels 10 and 20, with only a handful, such as Sakar, standing noticeably above the rest.
Under normal circumstances, Rayne would've preferred another month or two to polish their fundamentals before throwing them into a real campaign, but the Godless Ruins weren't going to wait for his squad to become ready.
Even the joint training sessions with Hobbs' squad hadn't produced the results he had hoped for.
Part of the problem was simply the difference in experience. Hobbs had inherited a large portion of Axel's former squad after the reorganization, leaving him with plenty of veterans who had already survived a campaign or two.
Against soldiers like that, Rayne's recruits struggled more often than not, frequently losing sparring matches before they even realized where they had made a mistake.
Still, Rayne hadn't been particularly disappointed.
His training wasn't designed to produce immediate victories.
It was meant to rebuild their foundation from the ground up, teaching discipline, adaptability and habits that would hopefully keep them alive months from now rather than allowing them to win a spar today.
That kind of improvement couldn't be rushed.
Fortunately, they weren't limited to training inside the longhouse.
During the week, Rayne had also received permission to lead the squad outside the capital and clear one of the nearby storm rabbit burrows. The creatures were only slightly larger than ordinary rabbits, but the small horns growing from their heads allowed them to release concentrated gusts of wind capable of throwing inexperienced soldiers off balance.
The hunt revealed exactly what Rayne had expected.
More than a few of the fresh recruits stumbled the moment those gusts struck them. Several lost their footing entirely, while others dropped their swords after the sudden impact. More than once, gaps even appeared in the formation because someone instinctively stepped backward instead of holding the line.
Losing your weapon in battle was one of the worst mistakes a soldier could make. Breaking formation wasn't much better.
Under different circumstances, Rayne would've been furious.
Instead, he found himself focusing on the positives.
Not everyone had performed poorly. In fact, more than half the squad handled the burrow surprisingly well, with the forsakens in particular adapting quickly to the chaotic fighting despite their lack of discipline.
More importantly, every single soldier listened to orders. Even when mistakes happened, they corrected themselves the moment commands were shouted.
There was still a noticeable lack of camaraderie between them. Most fought as individuals standing beside one another rather than as a single unit, something Rayne intended to change over time. Even so, compared to some of the stories Bran had shared about newly formed squads completely falling apart under inexperienced leaders, Rayne considered that a victory.
His squad still had plenty of flaws, but at least it was functioning as one.
Even the forsakens, despite looking as though they couldn't care less about the army, followed his orders without creating any serious trouble.
Rayne understood why.
To most of them, the military wasn't a career. It was a punishment.
No matter how hard they worked or how many battles they survived, they would always remain forsakens in the eyes of most officers, little more than expendable soldiers meant to fill gaps in the shield wall. Patriotism held very little value for people who believed the kingdom had already discarded them long ago.
Fortunately, patriotism wasn't something Rayne had ever intended to rely upon.
Part of the reason was the ranking system he had introduced during the very first day. Whether someone had been born a commoner or entered the army as a criminal no longer mattered inside the squad. Every soldier stood on equal footing, with only their own ability deciding where they ranked. It wasn't a perfect system, but it gave even the forsakens something they rarely received elsewhere—a fair opportunity.
The other reason was far simpler.
A man didn't need to love his kingdom to want to survive.
Rayne had spent the past weeks drilling that idea into every one of them. Strength wasn't just about earning promotions or praise. It was the difference between returning home alive and becoming another nameless corpse left for scavengers.
Whether that lesson had truly sunk in, he honestly couldn't tell, but there wasn't much point trying to micromanage every thought passing through their heads.
At some point, they would either understand it themselves or they would be cold forever.
With that in mind, the remaining days passed quickly, and before long the morning of their departure finally arrived.
The longhouse bustled with activity from before sunrise as soldiers packed their belongings, checked their weapons one final time and made certain they carried enough food to last the opening stretch of the journey. Orders echoed across the compound while supply wagons were loaded and formations gradually assembled outside the gates.
According to the route Captain Edran had laid out, the warband would spend the first three days marching toward Ankaila Town. From there, they would receive horses and travel through a series of towns and cities before eventually making a direct push toward the outer reaches of the kingdom and, beyond them, the Godless Ruins themselves.
Rayne had originally assumed they would simply use the kingdom's teleportation network.
To his surprise, that hadn't even been considered.
The official explanation was straightforward enough. Since Prince Caelan had personally chosen to undertake this expedition, the royal family wasn't willing to authorize the use of an expensive strategic resource merely for convenience.
Captain Edran, however, had quietly offered a different explanation.
Politics.
According to him, Prince Caelan's brothers had likely opposed granting him access, unwilling to provide any advantage and wanting to make the journey harder for him.
The more Rayne thought about it, the more believable that sounded.
The only reason the previous teleportation had happened so quickly was probably because House Lanrice had pushed relentlessly for justice after Fredrick's death, while a considerable number of influential nobles had been more than happy to see Rayne dragged toward what they believed would be his execution.
Ironically, they might still get their wish.
The expedition awaiting him carried a very real possibility of ending with his death.
Even so, Rayne intended to survive it.
Not only because he wanted to live, but because every step forward brought him closer to becoming stronger and, eventually, completing the next objective of his monarch quest.
Besides, marching wasn't entirely a disadvantage. Spending weeks on the road would give him far more opportunities to continue training the squad before they reached the ruins. There was also a far more practical reason why he didn't mind walking.
Rayne also didn't know how to ride a horse, so he was willing to use his legs for as long as possible.
Actually, his predecessor understood the basics well enough having grown on a farm, but not well enough to develop the [Horse Riding] skill.
Walking, for the time being, suited him just fine.
It would also make training the squad considerably easier.
Trying to train while simultaneously keeping track of dozens of horses sounded like a headache Rayne wasn't interested in dealing with. As far as he was concerned, the longer they marched before receiving horses, the better.
He was still thinking about that when he suddenly felt a hand land on his shoulder.
“Hey,” Nate said, pointing toward the right side of the street. “Isn't that Atticus' mansion? I passed by here a few days back and the guard told me it belonged to House Arkala.”
Rayne instinctively turned his head.
The mansion sprawled across an enormous estate enclosed by a wall. Multiple floors rose above one another, broad balconies stretching across the front while rows of large glass windows reflected the streets outside. Decorative gardens surrounded the estate and carefully trimmed shrubs and flowering plants adding color to the otherwise imposing residence.
Several armored guards stood motionless beside the open gates with polished spears in hand, carefully watching the passing warband without speaking. Above them, servants and maids busied themselves across the balconies, dusting railings, cleaning windows and carrying baskets from one room to another, making the entire estate seem alive despite its quiet exterior.
Rayne hadn't expected to pass by the place.
Then again, it made perfect sense.
The warband was currently marching through the noble district before exiting through the northern gate of the capital. Mansions lined both sides of the wide avenue, each grand enough to leave many of the recruits glancing around with poorly hidden fascination.
Rayne barely noticed any of them. His eyes remained fixed on Atticus' estate.
Fortunately, the man himself was nowhere to be seen. That, however, wasn't what occupied Rayne's thoughts.
Long before it had belonged to House Lanrice, this had supposedly been the residence of House Frayser. Somewhere behind those polished wooden walls, his father—the former Duke Frayser—had once lived, and planned his failed coup.
For a brief moment, Rayne couldn't help wondering whether the mansion still hid clues connected to his lineage quest.
Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about that now.
The column continued moving, and before long the estate slowly disappeared behind them.
A few minutes later, they crossed a small stone bridge spanning one of the canals cutting through the capital, and beyond it, the massive northern gates finally came into view.
Standing before them there was Prince Caelan.
The prince waited on a horse of his own alongside a small group of armored men and finely dressed women, quietly watching the warband approach. As the distance between them closed, his gaze found Rayne at the head of his squad.
For a brief moment, their eyes met, then Prince Caelan smiled.
And just like that, Rayne's march toward the Godless Ruins finally began.