volume 3 - Chapter 217 Battle at the riverbank 1 (1/2)

“In the name of our Lord’s clemency, I will grant you one chance to lay down your weapons and surrender!” A knight stood on an elevated ground, raised a flag, and yelled to the people below.

“Return whence you came from, and carry my greetings to your lord!” Hank pulled out his longsword and roared back to him.

The knight shook his head as though he had already guessed this outcome. He mounted on his horse and disappeared from the highlands.

“Why did you not consider surrendering?” Hadsh could not help but ask.

“Did you only learn how to surrender under Graudin’s command?” The veteran scout peered back with dull brownish eyes. (TL: Hadsh was introduced in chapter 209.)

Hadsh was at a loss for words. He did not know who the old man’s ident.i.ty was, but he guessed the latter was a direct subordinate of that young lord.

[I heard rumors that he belongs the Red Bronze Dragon mercenaries, but I don’t buy it. This old man moves like he’s an elite military scout. He was the one who managed to discover the movements of Count Randner’s army and led us out of a predicament. But that old knight from the Palas region lives up to his name. He used the native Highlanders as guides and ushered our army into favorable spots for their armies— It’s as if they are herding us up like deer and hunting us one by one.]

It was difficult to discover the enemy’s intentions unless one was a very experienced ‘hunter’.

Hadsh did not exaggerate his thoughts.

The other guards stationed at the watchtowers did not detect any of the enemies movements, other than the old man in front of him. The latter had to be one of the best scouts in the army, if his primary job was indeed scouting.

The old man did not mind Hadsh’s stare and knocked on the latter’s chest: “Stand straight, boy. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Abandoning someone like Graudin is the best decision you ever made. You’re now a true warrior, so bring out the courage a warrior is supposed to have—”

The other scouts immediately laughed for a while. It was remarkable they were still able to laugh.

The enemy Highlanders came late but moved quicker than them. Firburh’s defenders were delayed in this forest and got surrounded by Count Randner’s army that was commanded by a few of his knights.

Hadsh’s face was slightly red. He knew that he had misspoken. Even though he was forced to submit to that young lord, Count Randner would still perceive him as a traitor; the others could surrender to the latter but it was not a choice for him. He was initially someone with considerable pluck, but his willpower was gradually worn down by working for Graudin.

He took a deep breath and determined himself to be as hard as his blade.

Hank was admonis.h.i.+ng the other scouts: “What are you fools laughing at, get ready for battle—”

The twenty-odd riders started moving off to various directions. The new soldiers in the watchtowers were frightened and they had pale faces long ago under this desperate situation, not knowing what to do when they were surrounded. But the experienced scouts held themselves with inscrutable expressions, their breathing even, with bodies on edge as though they were like beasts seeking for a chance to escape danger.

“Study where the enemy is going to attack and find a chance to break out of this blockade.” Hank’s sharp eyes surveyed his surroundings like a hawk and issued an order to his temporary subordinates.

A sudden whistle pierced through the cold air, and Hadsh sensed one of the riders fall from his horse. His hand quickly reacted as he turned around to look, stabilizing that falling rider on his mount. The arrow seemed like it was a signal, as many more fell through the area like rain accompanied with buzzing noises.

Hadsh was distracted by his own action and an arrow was already blitzing towards his head, but one of the riders pulled out his longsword and intercepted its target. The scouts pulled out their weapons to deflect the raining projectiles, creating a cacophony of metallic noises for a period of time.

If these riders were common soldiers that the n.o.bles hired, they would have frozen in fear or scattered like frightened rats.

It was not long before Hadsh and the others noticed that the concentration of fire on their flanks was not as intense. Hank whistled and pointed to the right with his sword. The riders understood his command and turned their mounts without excessive collisions or chaos, rus.h.i.+ng to where their commander pointed to.

Wilson, the knight who conversed earlier with Hadsh, felt a chill in his heart when he oversaw the battle on the high ground. The report stated it was a bunch of rebels who killed Graudin and occupied Firburh, yet when he looked at the quality of these scouts, where and how did they resemble rebels? Some of the highly regarded armies in Aouine did not even have their discipline.

He immediately issued an order to his subordinates to get the other knights to move out, hoping to reach the enemies before they got to the archers who would not be able to fend them off.

But despite his quick orders, he felt uneasy in his heart.

Foot soldiers hired privately by the n.o.bles raised their spears and poured out from the forest. Even though these people were not a proper unit, they were still a threat to the Firburh’s riders.

Hadsh leaned back to avoid a spear that was aiming for him, and his longsword slid past that foot soldier’s neck.

It had been a long time.

The feeling of a sharp sword breaking the fragile skin of the throat, cutting through arteries and causing a shower of blood to spill forth. All the muscles in Hadsh’s body tensed, and he turned his head away to avoid any blood splatter that might reach his eyes, only to see a rider get stabbed in his back by two spears. The latter was someone who had treated him to wine just two days ago, and even though it was not anything good, Hadsh clearly got to know him as a mercenary.

Right now, that mercenary was letting loose a dying gasp and coughing weakly, but his hands still gripped onto the reins and he urged his steed forward, maintaining a charge to break through the foot soldiers. There was a loud crash with shocked cries as men were knocked into the air. The mercenary was hurled off his mount and struck onto the ground, hard, and when Hadsh galloped past him, he was already dead.

Hadsh inhaled deeply when he saw that situation and raised his longsword in fury, cutting down three foot soldiers in front of him. The enemies were low Iron-rankers and there were some who did not even reach that standard. With his current strength, these enemies were not really a threat to him.

However, there was a loud bellow blasting from a nearby horn and trampling noises from horses that came from the right. Ten-odd knights broke through the thin veil of mist and appeared before the scouts.

“Turn around and engage the enemies!” The old scout’s voice rang out behind Hadsh.