Chapter 148

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Chapter 148: Isabella’s Way of Speaking

Military strategies like “a cornered beast will fight back,” “sorrowful soldiers will surely win,” and “burn the boats” are often hailed as classics. However, in reality, such victories only occur under the rarest circumstances—when time, place, and people align perfectly.

A miracle is called a miracle because it defies the odds.

The battle on the Western Front was one such event. The clash erupted and concluded within an hour, leaving many stunned.

Contrary to speculation, the army that acted so decisively wasn’t a hidden force prepared by the Demon Army to ambush the Holy Alliance.

Though the Demon King had largely united the Abyss, armies were still necessary to maintain order there. Without proper oversight, the volatile and combative nature of the various demon races would lead to chaos. To prevent this, the Demon King left trusted forces in the Abyss.

The army deployed on the Western Front consisted of Abyss Warlocks and Fallen Mages—a formidable force previously tasked with maintaining peace in the Abyss. Temporarily borrowed by the Demon King, this battle-hardened unit had fought countless high-stakes battles against rebellious demon factions. Their battle-readiness surpassed even some of the Demon Army’s elite legions.

For the Holy Alliance’s ambush force, the odds of victory were slim to none.

Even the legendary commander of South Sotua sensed their impending defeat.

“I only escaped because they held back,” he muttered bitterly. “Damn demon race… and damn traitors. When I find out who leaked our plans, they’ll pay dearly!”

Little did he know, his final suspicion was correct.

The demon forces had deliberately held back.

At the command post, leaders of the Fourth and Ninth Legions reviewed the Demon King’s orders with puzzled expressions.

“Why would we let them go?” one commander asked.

“We could have captured them all easily,” another remarked.

“I heard it was Lady Lolth’s idea,” someone chimed in. “She suggested to the Demon King that sparing some of their top fighters might yield surprising results.”

“Surprising results? What could those be?”

“No idea. But if Lady Lolth proposed it, and the Demon King approved, it must be a good plan.”

“True. The Demon King is wise, and Lady Lolth is full of clever ideas. Let’s trust them and wait.”

At Dragonspine Mountain, the demon commanders watched the Holy Alliance’s forces retreat in disarray. They made no move to pursue.

Meanwhile, the mastermind behind this unorthodox strategy, Lolth, was miles away, enjoying meat pies with Isabella at a quiet restaurant.

Earlier, Doyle had visited Lolth to discuss her plans with Kanor. During their conversation, Lolth casually remarked that it might be better not to capture too many Holy Alliance commanders at Dragonspine Mountain.

Unbeknownst to her, this offhand comment was taken seriously by Doyle and transmitted directly to the Demon King, ultimately influencing the decisions on the battlefield.

Lolth, however, remained blissfully unaware of the impact her words had.

As she took a bite of the rich, juicy pie, she gave Isabella a thumbs-up.

“Isabella, this recipe for the minced lamb and mountain short-tail chicken filling is genius! It’s so flavorful. Who would’ve thought a knight like you knew so much about pies?”

Lolth was genuinely amazed by the knight’s unexpected culinary expertise.

Isabella, taking small bites of her pie, smiled modestly.

“Do you think all I can do is swing a sword? I’ve also been trained in hunting, food appreciation, music, and dancing.”

Lolth nodded thoughtfully.

“That sounds very noble. But Ryman’s meat pie… isn’t that considered common folk food?”

Isabella’s expression softened as she reminisced.

“One of the Schwarzwald family’s mottos is, ‘A surname and bloodline are not things to be proud of; luxury and waste are not things to be praised.’

“My mother came from a humble background. Before marrying my father, she worked as a cook in her family’s restaurant. Even after becoming a duchess, she’d sneak into the kitchen to make pies for me when I was a child.”

Isabella looked down at the pie in her hand, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

“What you’ve made tastes a lot like hers.”

Lolth’s eyes lit up.

“That’s wonderful! I must visit your mother someday,” she said eagerly before realizing her comment might be inappropriate. “I mean… as a guest, of course. Maybe after the war ends.”

Isabella couldn’t help but laugh.

“A truce would be nice. But even if you visited, you wouldn’t meet her—my mother passed away long ago.”

Her words were accompanied by a faint smile as she took another bite of her pie.

Lolth froze for a moment before her expression softened with regret.

“I’m so sorry…”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Isabella said, looking at Lolth with a hint of amusement. “She’s probably in the Republic of Seychelles by now… Seychelles is closer than Ryman, isn’t it?”

Lolth blinked, taken aback by the knight’s nonchalant remark. She shook her head helplessly, suppressing a smile.

“Alright, I misunderstood. This one’s on me.”