The Path to Lordship Begins in the North

The gray-robed man had barely stepped out of the cabin when he realized something was terribly wrong: the route to the Sea of ​​Mist had been blocked by the enemy.

Sure enough, the smooth journey was all a lie; the intelligence had already been leaked, and Castile was riddled with holes.

"Protect the little princess!"

After the gray-robed man finished speaking, he boarded the bow of the ship. Before he could even begin casting a spell, a cannonball landed squarely beside the main ship.

It resembles artillery used in areas where the magical environment has been destroyed, but it is different; it seems to be powered by magic.

Does Avar still have something like this? Looking at the endless barrage of artillery fire, the gray-robed man suddenly felt a sense of despair. He could set up a protective shield to defend himself, but how long could it hold out?

But it was far from time to give up. Enemy ships began to appear and disappear, and suddenly another round of cannon fire erupted, the deafening roar seeming to tear the sea apart.

"Full sail, quick!"

With a command from the grey-robed man, the sails of the fleet were all drawn, and the grey-robed man waved his wand.

They died in this unpredictable sea, but there was no one to collect their bodies. The hastily recruited sailors did their best to carry out the orders.

A powerful wind pressure descended instantly with the incantation, roaring and propelling the fleet forward at full speed.

Fortunately, the enemy's artillery was clearly designed for land use and had been moved to the ship without much modification. Moreover, the enemy's gunners appeared to be unskilled, and their accuracy was questionable.

But seeing that the flames on the other side showed no sign of stopping, the gray-robed man couldn't help but curse inwardly. These cannons were even more exaggerated than those used by Avar on the continent of Soron.

Using his far-sight magic, the gray-robed man could clearly see that the enemy gunners not only had very stiff aiming and firing movements, but also had to pause and adjust their position after each shot. It was obvious that the enemy's artillery was of poor quality.

Even if it's a substandard product, it doesn't diminish the weapon's power.

For a moment, the gray-robed man was somewhat enlightened. Even if these weapons could not be used in the land without magic, they could still completely determine the course of the battlefield. Faced with such an Avar, did Castile really have a future?

"National Division!"

Seeing Rosalyn rush out of the cabin in a panic, the gray-robed man immediately sobered up and scolded, "Your Highness, go back to the cabin and protect yourself!"

"Only you can represent us, Castile. We will do everything we can to get Your Majesty to the continent of Mu!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the enemy's cannons seemed to suddenly jam, giving the Castilian fleet a chance to catch their breath. The grey-robed man instantly used all the remaining magic in his body to increase the wind pressure.

At this moment, the Grey Robe prayed in his heart that the storm of the Sea of ​​Unpredictability would come quickly, only then would the Castilian fleet have a chance to break through in the chaos and get closer to the coastline that was already within reach.

At that moment, the most despairing thing happened. Although the enemy's artillery had somehow become ineffective and its firepower was much weaker than before, the dragon descended.

Although the dragons are nominally allies of the Avars, they are actually quite neutral. After all, the dragons are equally vicious to all nations and demand tribute from all nations equally.

However, with the development of the Mu Continent shipping route, the dragons and the Kingdom of Avar have become increasingly close, more like true allies.

A single breath from the dragon was enough to destroy more than half of Castilian's fleet.

It's all over, it's all over. That was the only thought in the gray-robed man's mind. It was just a pity that little princess Rosalind would have to go down with him to the sea.

Although the coastline of the Mu continent can be seen, the grey-robed man has no way of knowing where it is. The worst-case scenario is that the coastline is full of Avar strongholds.

Moreover, the giant dragon overhead seemed to be intentionally driving the Castilian fleet toward a certain location, and the grey-robed man's far-sight magic could clearly see that Avar soldiers were already gathering on the shore not far away.

Thinking of the Kingdom of Avar, Grey Robe felt that perishing at sea with the little princess might indeed be a better choice.

But looking at the little princess who was anxiously watching him through the window in the cabin, the gray-robed man gritted his teeth. No matter what, he was a high-level professional. Although there was a dragon watching him, they were just a group of Avar soldiers. He might have a chance to break through after landing.

The grey-robed man made up his mind and led the fleet in the direction the dragon had guided.

A cloud of despair hung over the entire sea. The scenery along the shore became clearer and clearer. Fortunately, the coastline did not seem to be Avar's stronghold. After all, Avar probably only had a rough idea of ​​where the Castilian fleet would land. He could only let the dragon drive the Castilian fleet in the direction closest to them.

However, Avar soldiers were also gathering towards the landing site. Clearly, the enemy knew that there was a high-ranking professional named Grey Robe on the ship. The Avar soldiers were fully armed and ready for battle.

The man in the grey robe sighed heavily. He might be able to escape, but could he escape with His Highness? Or should he wait until he escaped and then find the elves to rescue His Highness? By then, it would probably be too late.

Seeing the cannon fire stop, Rosalind also came out of the cabin. The young Rosalind seemed to have realized what had happened. She came to the gray-robed man's side, tightly grasped the hem of his robe, and watched as she and the Castilian fleet headed toward the nearest shore.

No, that was not the shore, but the abyss of hell. In Castilian records, those captured by the Avar rarely met a good end.

"Imperial Preceptor, will my father redeem me?"

Rosalyn seemed to already know her fate, her hand gripping the gray robe unconsciously tightening.

"Yes, it will, it will just cost more money. His Majesty values ​​Your Highness so much, of course it will."

The grey-robed man knew that from the moment they set sail, the little princess was already dead on Castile's royal list.

The grey-robed man didn't know what His Majesty was thinking, but those nobles certainly wouldn't help pay for the ransom—there's no reason to ransom a dead person.

As the first member of the Castilian royal family to be captured, the nobles would likely only criticize His Highness for not committing suicide before being captured, which is exactly what Grey Robe is thinking now.

His Highness is still young and certainly wouldn't be able to bring himself to commit suicide. Since that's the case, I'll just do it myself.

Anyway, as a high-level spellcaster, if Grey Robe wanted to leave, it would be difficult for Avar to catch him without going all out. Once he escaped and sought help from the elves, Grey Robe would not only be the royal advisor but also a hero of the kingdom. No one would care about a dead man who was kicked out first in the political struggle. No one would.

The man in the gray robe pulled a dagger from his sleeve.

Does nobody really care?

No, the Grey Robe himself cared a lot; he wasn't the only one who had been kicked out of political struggles and died.

The man in the grey robe sheathed his dagger and gently patted the little princess who was trembling with fear.

"It will be alright, Your Highness. Everything will be alright. Pray to the elves, and a miracle will happen."

"Imperial Advisor, is it true?"

"That's right, just like the ancient records say, the elves will perform miracles at the most critical moments to save the kind warriors."

Such a fairy tale was of course impossible, but the Grey Robe had already decided to let His Highness escape, no matter what.