The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 365 - 309: The Siege of the Royal City (Royal City Gossip)

Chapter 365: Chapter 309: The Siege of the Royal City (Royal City Gossip)

After a brief few days of rest and reorganization, the Rand Legion set out on their expedition once again, but this time not only Rand Soldiers would be going into battle; a large number of Riven Soldiers would be joining them as well.

Renowned for being an elite force, the Rand Soldiers moved with astonishing speed, their feet touching the rough mountain paths as if flying close to the ground.

To the Riven Soldiers, however, just marching in armor and carrying weapons already cost them half their lives, and the incline ahead soon became a dividing line, clearly separating the two groups.

All they could do was watch as the Golden Troop got farther and farther away, their feet as heavy as lead, yet unable to catch up.

"You should slow down, the gap between us is getting bigger," Hull reminded the squad commanders.

As a former hero, even though his strength was nearly at the point of being phased out, his position in the soldiers’ hearts was high, and he still earned a measure of respect.

"Then let them pick up the pace," responded Leith, as one of Lind’s guards, "Perhaps they should be responsible for clearing the trail behind us. We don’t have time to look after them."

Everyone could guess how brutal the war would be; the only purpose for ordinary people to join was to do menial tasks or leap into the fray when the meat grinder of battle started, to make the blood spray even further.

An unexpected downpour suddenly fell, hindering the army’s progress.

Although Lind’s body was strong enough to disregard such elements, he knew the war couldn’t be won by him alone—so he ordered the troops to encamp right where they were.

He stood in the pouring rain looking in Goliath’s direction, the raindrops exploding like beads on his armor before scattering into finer droplets.

He still remembered that winter from over a year ago, when he had hoped to get in touch with Goliath’s hometown, to exchange his face for some food to survive the winter.

"Sir?"

The voice came from behind him, and then the raindrops that had been hitting Lind disappeared.

Overhead, the sound of rain pattered against a raincloth.

Miss Doris was not a good Recorder Officer, as her writings were too subjective and biased. Lind felt that if he ever did retire with graying temples, lying in a rocking chair, reading Miss Doris’s work wouldn’t feel like a history book—more likely, it would be a young adult adventure novel.

She had this talent.

Because he once used his height advantage to look down and see her writings about himself and Lania’s love and hate story.

Doris, her bangs soaked from the rain and her face steamed with moisture, stood next to Lind holding an umbrella, striving to keep it high, even standing on tiptoe.

Lind kept growing taller; although he hadn’t measured himself, he was at least 1.9 meters tall, and he might grow even taller in the future.

He reached out to take the umbrella and stepped closer to Doris—because of his huge stature, it was hard for this lady’s umbrella to cover both of them.

And now, Doris seemed like she was hiding behind a golden wall. Although the umbrella was held high, the rain still pattered down on Lind.

She might not be a qualified Recorder Officer, but she was at least a competent secretary.

By competent, I mean she had a sultry figure, a thin waist, a soft voice—what else could you expect of a secretary? Having her by your side would lift your spirits.

Lind looked towards the tents being set up.

The soldiers hurried to pitch their general’s tent first, but it would take time.

The heavy rain plunged the Expedition Army into a moment of chaos, but fortunately, they did not display more disarray. Otherwise, Lind seriously doubted how his soldiers would cope when faced not with a downpour but with a sky filled with flying fire.

They could not go far with him, and Lind once again thought this.

It was as if someone was forcibly taking NPCs from Newbie Village to fight the final boss; most would probably die on the way.

He felt he should plan for his future direction after taking down Goliath, whether to continue fighting across the Kingdom as a general to restore human rule or to venture into the wider world alone with his sword as a solitary ranger.

The problem was that day would not be far off, so he had to make a decision before The Officials performed the next update.

The rainwater pitted the ground with mud, and the Undead spread out like hounds on the scent of blood, grouping around the Rand Soldiers taking shelter and setting up camp.

Every soldier was filled with anticipation and nervousness at the thought of returning to Goliath, recovering their homeland, retaking their capital—a sentiment common in any world, any country, that required no justification.

They talked about everything concerning Goliath; however, most of the soldiers were from the Second Legion, and they knew little about the affairs of the Royal City.

The Third Legion was the same, even though they were once the Royal Guards. Their duties were limited to inspecting horseshoes, adjusting the direction of the banners, and adeptly raising their lances adorned with dragons when they heard the bugle call, ready to form an honour guard for the King or Her Majesty the Queen as they set out.

Most stories came from the soldiers of the First Legion.

"Soft tacos, pine nut pudding, and..." Old Pete was among the expedition army, and Goliath’s expedition definitely couldn’t do without him—not just to satisfy the palate but also for safety.

He discussed the Royal Palace’s menu, which made Marcus scoff beside him, having stood guard for nobles countless times and having had the fortune to taste it a few times.

The exquisite food made one feel guilt in their heart after eating it; those delicacies Old Pete mentioned were not found on the nobles’ dining tables.

Then the undead, who were listening in for the fun, jumped into the conversation. There were pastry chefs and head chefs from taverns, and they felt it was necessary to teach a bunch of "medieval chefs" who only knew how to fry meat and stew soup how to cook, to tell them what real delicacies are, what is truly a feast for the eyes and the palate!

Despite this, the only food they could eat was dry rations. They would continue on their way after the rain let up a bit.

"Lord Lind once served Prince Cote, but Prince Cote lost in the selection for the throne, and the King eventually chose Her Majesty Queen Lania." Someone brought up a topic.

Then the hot topic of conversation began to digress.

Fortunately, with nothing else to do, listening to stories about Lind wasn’t bad at all.

"Is Lind engaged? But he was exiled to the frontier. Sounds like the three-year agreement has expired?"

"Indeed, three years have passed."

"What’s his fiancée’s name?"

"Miss Tione. If you had ever seen her, you would understand what noble lady’s elegance is," Leith, who hadn’t joined in the conversation, couldn’t help himself.

Though Queen Lania displayed many of the qualities of a noblewoman, most soldiers would not forget her garbed in military attire, charging with a rifle on the battlefield.

Leith tried to use his words to describe Miss Tione, "She is a nun in the church, her smile is like a breath of spring; although she doesn’t wear fancy dresses like other noble ladies, always in plain clothes, she has an infinite charm. She is like..."

"Like a water lily." An impolite voice suddenly interjected, blocking the words Leith hadn’t finished in his throat.

He turned around irritably, and upon realizing it was Miss Chronicler, although he suppressed the urge to curse in anger, his face was void of any smile.

Everyone remembered the female secretary who was always by Lind’s side.

Many undead also claimed that Lind was picky about his food, eating only the best every day.

"Old Pete, the lord has requested that you make a pot of hot soup. Remember not to add parsley."

"I’m on it right away!" Old Pete got up.

"Ahem," Doris cleared her throat, "I’ve also heard about the affair between Lord Lind and Miss Tione."

The undead, originally attracted by her figure, suddenly had their eyes shine brightly, and the same was true for the legion soldiers.

If anyone knew Lind best, it certainly was the female secretary who was by his side all day.

They were about to conquer the Royal City map, so it made sense to listen to gossips related to the Royal City here, didn’t it?

Miss Doris puffed her chest out.

The action was far more effective than shouting aloud, for she successfully drew everyone’s attention to herself.

"However, I think that the story between Lord Lind and Miss Druid is also worth knowing."

Why be a recorder officer if not to be read? If her notes were never lost, they would be stored in the library, waiting decades or centuries to be read—such a mess!

Doris recently understood why recorders always seemed to "inherit" the syndrome of losing notes, even though many recorders weren’t related by blood, yet they inherited the same malady.

Now she understood.

But she dared not lose her notes casually; she didn’t want to anger him at a critical time.

Yet, if she inadvertently said a few things during a chat—no, no, not a few things—she just gently reminded them.

"Yes, Miss Druid!"

Look, someone already remembered.

It had nothing to do with her, not at all. She would just slightly correct the story if someone else twisted it. As a recorder officer, she would never allow anyone to fabricate a story.

But adaptations had to be based on her version anyway, right?