Goldos City wasn't all that far from Bodoc Manor Castle—lancers could make the journey in a day and a night. But for the garrison battalion, it would take three days and two nights of marching, and the nearly two thousand peasant militia troops raised by several vassal territory nobles only dragged the whole force's schedule down further.
The army marched for a full day. They had just finished making camp for the night when Count Cobley received a message delivered by a lancer scout. Unfortunately, it was bad news—the Count had lost two more illegitimate sons, one Gold-rank and one Silver-rank. Facing the Count's fury, the lancer messenger who had drawn the short straw and received this miserable assignment shakily recounted the events.
Earlier that very afternoon, the two lancer squadrons serving as the vanguard had discovered an enemy camp at Moz Ridge, which happened to block the road to Bodoc Manor Castle. The lancer commander recalled from William Mills Castle was also an illegitimate son of Count Cobley, with Gold-rank combat force. After scouting the position, he found that although the enemy camp had the advantage of high ground, it still suffered from the same flaws as bandit strongholds always did—rough, crude, and poorly defended.
This Gold-rank illegitimate son commander believed that a single charge from his lancer squadron would smash through the camp and send the bandits blocking the road scattering in defeat. So that was exactly what he did. But when his squadron charged into the crude forward camp, they discovered it was merely a decoy. The real enemy camp, properly fortified and heavily defended, lay behind it. And those bandits had used the forward camp as part of a trap. The moment the lancer squadron charged in, they were met with a concentrated volley from the ambush—long arrows, crossbow bolts, and those enormous ballista bolts...
The lancer messenger presented a long bolt as thick as a javelin, pulled from the body of the dead illegitimate son commander. Even with his Gold-rank combat force, he had been unable to withstand twelve ballista bolts fired directly at him from siege crossbows, and a Silver-rank illegitimate brother standing beside him had perished along with him.
The lancer squadron that had charged into the camp suffered devastating losses. Only two squads made it back, dozens of them wounded. Fortunately, those bandits relied entirely on the camp's defenses and didn't dare pursue beyond its walls. So the other Gold-rank illegitimate son commander, after regrouping the surviving troops, didn't dare make any rash moves either. He could only set up a large camp opposite the bandit stronghold and wait for the main force to arrive.
"Those are siege crossbow bolts..." The battle-hardened Count Cobley, a man of vast experience, quickly identified the enormous bolt laid before him. But what truly enraged the Count was—where had those bandits gotten their hands on such devastating weapons?
Generally speaking, siege crossbows were immensely powerful but bulky, difficult to move, hard to maintain, and extraordinarily expensive. A single siege crossbow, even if barely used, needed its arms replaced every year or two to prevent wood aging from degrading its firing power. The bowstrings were even worse—after firing a dozen or so bolts, they needed replacement, and the strings had to be custom-made at considerable cost. Aside from the Kingdom's regular legions and a few major cities that kept several for defensive purposes, no territory noble would ever bother with siege crossbows. They couldn't afford to play with them, and they were far too much trouble.
The disastrous start, the loss of key officers, and the discovery that the bandits possessed siege crossbows—these pieces of bad news kept Count Cobley tossing and turning all night. Before dawn had even fully broken, he was impatiently urging the garrison battalion to march, leaving behind the peasant militia raised by the vassal lords. By midday, he finally reached the camp established by the lancer squadrons.
After resting for two hours, Count Cobley ordered the sword-and-shield infantry and longbowmen from the garrison battalion, supported by one lancer squadron, to launch a probing attack against the bandit camp. The Count then discovered that seizing the forward camp was easy enough, but once inside, they found themselves standing in an open clearing while the bandits rained down arrows from the rear camp. Count Cobley's men couldn't hold their ground and were forced to withdraw from the forward camp after leaving behind over a hundred corpses.
The Count found no trace of siege crossbows. As expected, that sort of weapon wasn't something bandits could afford. It seemed that after using the siege crossbows the day before, the bowstrings had likely been destroyed, rendering them useless today. This was good news for the Count. Although the afternoon's probing attack had cost him over a hundred men, it had given him a clear picture of the bandits' true capabilities. They were merely relying on terrain and superior bows and crossbows. Once the peasant militia from the vassal lords arrived in the afternoon, with those expendable fodder to throw at the problem, taking the bandits' rear camp would be child's play.
That night, the Count had those peasant soldiers frantically construct about a hundred wooden barricade carts. The next morning, he drove the peasants ahead with the carts to shield them from arrows, and they quickly broke into the rear camp. Seeing the situation turning against them, the bandits fired off a disorganized volley to slow the lancers' pursuit before fleeing at full speed.
This assault on the camp went extremely smoothly with minimal losses. However, when Count Cobley reached the second camp, he was dismayed to discover yet another camp blocking the main road a few hundred meters ahead, and on the hilltop beyond that, banners could be seen fluttering—clearly yet another camp.
Crude as these camps might be, each one sat across the road like a chokepoint, turning every one of them into a critical position controlling passage along the route.
Count Cobley realized with bitter despair that to reach Bodoc Manor Castle, he would first need to overcome ten-odd camps blocking the road ahead. This realization left the Count red-faced with frustration. It was absolutely infuriating. They clearly couldn't match his military might head-on, yet they'd set up all these camps just to annoy him. Ignore them, and they could hide inside their fortifications and rain arrows on the road, making it impassable. Deal with them, and he'd have to assault each camp one by one, wasting time, effort, and lives.
The Count wanted nothing more than to flatten those camps with a full assault. But setting everything else aside, pushing those hundred-odd barricade carts across several hundred meters of road would take hours. Moreover, the peasant soldiers, who hadn't slept the night before and had spent the morning assaulting camps, were completely exhausted. Having the garrison troops and lancers do the fighting wasn't an option either—the Count wasn't willing to expend his own forces. With no alternative, he ordered everyone to rest for the night.
The next day, under the Count's generous promises of reward, the peasant soldiers charged forward and captured three camps in succession. Over two hundred unfortunate souls died in the process, but these were expendable pawns, and as far as Count Cobley was concerned, so long as his garrison troops and lancers suffered minimal losses, that was all that mattered.
But on the third day, the peasant soldiers began dragging their feet. The reason was simple: the Count hadn't honored his promise from the previous day to pay one Imperial silver coin for each camp captured. The Count had no choice—who went on a bandit suppression campaign carrying thousands of Imperial silver coins? He could only promise again that the rewards would be distributed once they reached Bodoc Manor Castle. But the peasant soldiers felt they'd been tricked and lost all enthusiasm. It took them half a day to take a single camp. Though the losses were smaller than the day before, the Count was far from happy—there were still seven or eight camps ahead, and at this rate, the campaign would drag on for another five or six days.
The Count wrote a letter and decided to send a small lancer squad back to Goldos City. First, to prepare a shipment of provisions. The Count hadn't anticipated that suppressing bandits would require capturing fortified camps one after another. Before setting out, he'd only brought seven or eight days' worth of supplies, planning for a quick and decisive campaign. After all, dealing with bandits and rabble should have been simple and straightforward—coming over-prepared would have invited ridicule.
Who could have predicted these bandits would set up so many camps, deliberately bogging him down at Moz Ridge? The Count now worried that by the time he captured all the camps and emerged from the Moz Ridge area, his suppression force would have no food left and be forced to turn back. That would be the true laughingstock. Better to prepare ahead—he instructed Goldos City to send enough provisions and supplies to last the army fifteen days.
Second, to send along some coin to pay the peasant soldiers their promised rewards and keep up their morale so they'd willingly continue serving as cannon fodder. Once the bandits were eliminated, the Count would settle accounts with those money-grubbing peasants soon enough. He'd make sure those greedy scoundrels understood that Count Cobley's money wasn't so easy to earn.
The third order was for the Gold-rank illegitimate son holding down Goldos City to increase the conscription of territory subjects. This stemmed from a nagging unease the Count felt in his gut. The bandits before him had abandoned their usual hit-and-run tactics. They'd actually learned to stand and fight against his suppression force, building fortified positions to resist. What could possibly have given them such confidence? Count Cobley sensed that his expected sweep-through campaign had encountered a serious complication. This suppression battle might prove far more difficult than he'd imagined.
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The small lancer squad sent back to the city with the letter found itself caught in
Lorist examined Count Cobley's letter to Goldos City with deep satisfaction and said with a smile, "With this letter, Goldos City is already in the palm of our hand."
Mr. Tim, clad in a suit of chain mail, flattered him: "Baron
"Heh, it's quite simple. Once Count Cobley's army set out, our scouts noticed he hadn't brought many supply wagons. Add to that the few days we made him waste at Moz Ridge, and his provisions are definitely running low. What else could he do but send someone back for supplies? With this letter, we can walk right up to Goldos City and bluff our way through the gates."
"Now then, everyone change into the lancer and garrison troop uniforms and equipment. We're heading to Goldos City. El, you're responsible for the lancer prisoners—keep a close watch on them. Anyone who tries to escape gets killed on the spot." Lorist issued his orders.
For this operation, Lorist had assembled El and two squads of his personal guards, Terman's knight squad,
They had slipped past Count Cobley's army and positioned themselves behind his lines. After a full day and night of waiting, they finally caught the lancer squad heading back to the city.
At dusk, a small squad of lancers and a company of garrison troops appeared before the gates of Goldos City. The garrison sergeant guarding the gate didn't think much of it. When he learned that the lancers and garrison troops below had been sent by the Count to escort a supply shipment back to the city, he cheerfully lowered the drawbridge and opened the gate. The lancer squad leader entered, asked where the Gold-rank illegitimate son holding down the city was stationed, then waved his hand. The garrison troops behind him surged forward, binding the gate sergeant and his dozen or so men so tightly they couldn't move, stuffing foul, blood-soaked rags into their mouths that nearly made the sergeant retch.
Lorist ordered: "Yuri, El—secure the other three gates immediately. Leave one squad at each gate. Terman, take your knight squad and come with me to the Duke's Palace in the city center. Jossk, you come too. Mr. Tim, keep your soldiers under control. The real payoff comes once we've secured the entire city—don't snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, understand?"
"My lord, rest assured. We won't disappoint you," said Tim.
Perhaps it was because the usually strict Count Cobley was away on his campaign, but the Gold-rank illegitimate son holding down Goldos City had thrown off all restraint. He was indulging in a wild orgy in a side hall of the Duke's Palace with dozens of men and women. When the guard announced that the Count had sent a letter, the illegitimate son—already somewhat drunk—crawled off a pale, naked body, shook his head, and didn't even bother getting dressed. Picking up a wine cup to keep drinking, he ordered the messenger to be brought in.
Lorist and Jossk entered the side hall, while the dutiful guard outside had his neck snapped by Terman.
Taking in the scene of utter debauchery in the side hall—the naked men and women tangled together, even two pairs of men in positions too disgusting to look at—Lorist and Jossk both froze for a moment.
The large man before them stood naked, holding up a silver wine cup with bleary eyes and a wide, drunken grin: "Staring like idiots, are you? Bring me... m-my father's letter. You can strip too and join the f-fun, ha ha... don't worry, we're all... all on the same side. You can pick... pick men or women, doesn't matter..."
Lorist and Jossk exchanged a glance. They didn't bother producing the letter. Instead, they drew their swords simultaneously...