Her Majestic Battle Cry

Chapter 1101

The sound of a donkey’s bell rang out along the main road, clinking in the night. The man had a blade of grass in his mouth, humming a tune. Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

He loved traveling at night.

There was something about the darkness that felt mysterious, as if anything could happen in the blackness. It was a thrill that couldn’t be matched.

It would be perfect to run into a few strange creatures–maybe sit down with them for a drink. His flask was filled with Everett’s wine. To steal some, he couldn’t even ride his horse. He had to borrow one from the Lunar Guild.

But how could the Lunar Guild have a horse? The guildmaster had hesitated for a long time, then reluctantly led out a donkey. She warned him repeatedly to walk with it instead of riding, saying that the old donkey couldn’t carry his weight and might collapse from the strain. It could carry his things, though.

It was ridiculous. If he was going to walk down the mountain, he might as well carry his

things himself and not bother with the donkey.

But he had to admit, sometimes you couldn’t underestimate the elderly. The donkey might be old, but it was faster than a person when it ran, and it had great stamina. All the way from Meadow Ridge to Riverstone, it seemed it hadn’t even gotten winded.

Another two hours or so, and he figured they would be in Riverstone.

Isaac Prince hummed his tune louder. The capital was bustling with life, full of fine wines and plenty of good company. Plus, his little guild junior would also be there–wasn’t that the peak of life?

He lifted his stick and moved the carrot hanging in front of the donkey back a little. Now the donkey could eat, chomping away happily.

Isaac wasn’t planning to stay at an inn. He found a scenic spot outside Riverstone and

/ cracked open the wine, hoping to encounter a strange creature or two to share a drink with.

What could be better than that?

“This mountain’s high, the river’s wide, the donkey munches on its carrot. The night’s so dark, the wind so soft, mosquitoes buzzing along with the song…”

He spread out his mat and laid it on the ground, giving himself two quick slaps to kill four mosquitoes.

He tied the donkey up, lit some herbs to ward off the bugs, and pulled out a wine bottle. Lying down on the mat, he propped his legs up and uncorked the bottle, gulping down a generous swig.

The rose wine–last year’s batch–was crisp and fragrant, a taste that truly intoxicated him.

He was so drunk that he almost thought he could hear the sound of hooves, the steady rhythm of many horses.

He squinted, looking down the small hill. His eyes were strangely gifted, and he could see in the dark–not perfectly, but if there was a cart with a lamp, nothing was hard to make

out.

Strange. Up ahead was Riverstone, so why were the travelers in such a hurry, pushing on through the night? The carriage looked incredibly luxurious, clearly from a wealthy family. Was it necessary for these privileged people to endure such hardship and travel overnight like this?

Isaac looked carefully. No coffin in sight, so it wasn’t a funeral procession.

And then they stopped, pulling off the road to a small grove by the side. They didn’t seem to be resting–more like they were waiting for something.

What could they possibly be waiting for at this hour?

Well, this was something. It looked like a whole squad, maybe dozens of them. From the way they moved, they definitely seemed trained. However, their fancy clothes didn’t exactly scream bandits.

What kind of decent people would be stopping here this late?

It didn’t add up.

Isaac loved a good mystery.

He put his wine away, rolled up the mat, and blew out the lamp. Fortunately, this little hill was nestled in a dip, so it wasn’t easy to spot.

They hadn’t moved. They had set up camp, of all things. Now that was strange. They had passed through Riverstone just as the sun was setting, so they should’ve found somewhere to stay there.

So, why had they set up camp here?

Even stranger, they built only one tent for so many people. Was there just one leader? That didn’t seem right. A few of them were wearing luxurious clothes too. Though it was hard to see clearly from this distance, a few women had their hair adorned with jewels and ornaments–ċertainly not maidservants.

Isaac took another swig of wine and kept his eyes on them.

There was definitely something off about this. He loved a good spectacle.

He had been watching for nearly an hour. Why hadn’t anyone gone into the tent to rest? A whole group of them just standing around, swatting at mosquitoes? That was strange.

Not lighting a campfire made sense–it was so hot. Even in the woods by the road, the air still felt stifling when the wind died down.

Isaac opened his folding fan and waved it lazily, sipping his wine. He was starting to think there wasn’t much left to see and that maybe it was time to lie down on his mat and get some sleep.