A line of thirteen Cavalry galloped down the snow-covered King's Road.
The lead rider wore a chainmail coif and a nose-guard helmet, with a padded gambeson underneath and a long-sleeved plate-and-chainmail armor over it; he had iron arm guards on his elbows and wore cowhide boots, with a steel dagger and a single-edged short sword tucked into his waist, and a black heraldic cape draped over him; his black warhorse had a horn bow and a quiver of arrows hanging from the left side of the front saddle, a steel long-handled knight's sword from the right, and a leather-covered round shield, a Cavalry short spear, and a battle-axe hanging from scabbard ropes on either side of the back saddle blanket.
The two riders behind him wore nose-guard helmets, half-body chainmail, and padded gambesons underneath, covered by black cloaks; their warhorses had bows and heavy axes hanging from the front saddles, and round shields and saddle blankets on the back, with javelin pouches tied to the scabbard ropes; one of them held an eight-foot-long heraldic banner, its base resting on his right stirrup. Ten riders, dressed in various colored gambesons and cloaks, followed closely behind the banner, all of them either carrying bows and swords on their backs or having lances on their horses.
The dozens of warhorses kicked up hooves of snow from the ground, creating a rumbling sound.
Pedestrians sporadically passing by and troops heading to the front lines for rotation all gave way to this imposing Cavalry, their expressions of disgust mixed with undisguised awe and admiration.
"Earl, how magnificent! I've been with you for over a year now, and this is the most magnificent time," Ron said excitedly to Art, catching up to him while holding the Blood-Eyed Howling Wolf heraldic banner in his right hand.
Art slowed his horse, allowing his warhorse to walk freely and rest for a moment, then turned his head slightly to Ron and said, "We brought so many riders to Besançon this time just to make a show. Others can't tell how much combat power our Cavalry truly has, but don't you know? Besides a few of you scouts, the others can barely even ride a horse, let alone perform mounted archery or sword-swinging. They're all just for show, not truly magnificent."
Ron's pride was not dampened by Art's cold water. He immediately turned to glance at the ten riders behind him. Although he knew most of them were new riders who could barely control their horses and maintain their balance, the thrill of leading a large "Cavalry" charge captivated him. He straightened up, urged his horse forward a few steps, then settled into the saddle and turned to Angus, saying, "Sergeant, when we return to the valley, we must train a true Cavalry!"
Angus kicked his horse's belly and replied with a smile, "Training Cavalry is not something you can do by just talking about it. However, if Sir Art can earn enough money, we will certainly be able to train an elite Cavalry in the future."
"Alright then, I'll definitely join this Cavalry when the time comes, charging into battle on a warhorse, killing enemies and earning merits..."
...
To prevent their warhorses from becoming too exhausted, the group rode for two days on the King's Road before arriving at a small town ten miles southeast of Besançon. Art ordered everyone to rest and recuperate in the town for one night before entering Besançon City the next day.
Although this was just a small town, due to its proximity to the Earl's Court, Besançon City, it was naturally more prosperous than other places. Therefore, the town had a full range of taverns, inns, shops, and workshops. The town's roads were relatively clean and tidy, and most of the pedestrians coming and going on the carriage road wore thick coats and felt hats, looking quite affluent.
"There's a small inn called 'The Homeward Bound' at the other end of this street. How about we rest there tonight?" As a native of Besançon, Angus was very familiar with the area around Besançon.
"You're more familiar with things here than I am. You can decide these matters."
Art stared intently at a general store in the town and asked Angus, "Sergeant, are there general stores even in small towns like this?"
Angus thought for a moment and replied, "Generally, small towns don't have general stores, but this place is close to Besançon, and there are often general merchant caravans and peddlers passing through and stopping here, which is why there's a general store."
"Is it regulated by the guild here?"
"I'm not very clear about that, but a year ago, a general store in a small town north of Besançon was robbed by a group of unknown individuals. Some people rumored that it was done by people sent by Besançon's Trade Guild." Angus turned his head to glance at the general store they had just passed and continued, "This general store must have just opened. I came here last spring, and it was still a tanner's shop then. To be able to open a general store right under the guild's nose, there must be a guild's shadow behind this shop."
Chatting along the way, the group soon entered the inn called "The Homeward Bound." From the innkeeper's slightly flustered expression upon seeing Angus, one could guess that Angus had certainly acted as a city ruffian here before, taking things by force and scamming food and drink.
Angus stared at the terrified innkeeper for a while, smacked his lips, took out a sheepskin money pouch from his Pregnant and threw it to the innkeeper, saying, "Ruhr, this is the money I owe you. Take it. The rest will cover our food and lodging tonight."
The thin innkeeper looked at Angus in disbelief, cautiously opened the money pouch full of copper fenny and small silver coins, and then, glancing up to see a dozen fully armed men standing outside the door, he quickly put the money pouch back into Angus's arms, repeatedly saying, "Sir Angus, please take the money back. Food and drink are on me. I only ask that you don't rob my shop or harm my family." The thin innkeeper's voice was tearful, and he almost knelt down.
Art and Ron, who were closely following Angus, were speechless. Ron whispered to Art, "How many evil deeds did the Sergeant commit before to make the innkeeper so afraid?"
Art just chuckled softly and shrugged.
Angus was very embarrassed by the innkeeper. He had indeed often taken things by force and demanded free food and drink at this inn, and had even beaten the innkeeper and robbed money from the inn. However, he had now turned over a new leaf. In the past six months, his military pay and military rewards had accumulated to over a thousand fenny, and this time he genuinely intended to pay off his debts to the innkeeper.
Seeing the awkward situation at a stalemate, the quick-witted Ron immediately stepped forward and said to the innkeeper, "Standing before you is Sir Angus Doyle, Deputy Officer of the Court's Southern Border Law Enforcement Patrol, under Sir Art, a Knight Aspirant."
The innkeeper didn't understand for a while after hearing this, so Ron patiently explained again, "We are the Court's army returning from the Eastern Expedition. We're here to eat and stay at your inn, and we won't shortchange you a single copper fenny."
The innkeeper's frightened expression finally eased when he realized that the group outside the door were not bandits brought by Angus to plunder the inn's valuables.
Angus was already quite impatient with the innkeeper. "What are you just standing there for? Go prepare drinks and meat!"
The innkeeper quickly put the money pouch into his arms and, chuckling, ran into the back kitchen of the inn to prepare food.
"Sir Art, I've made you laugh~ I'm sorry~" Angus awkwardly scratched his head and led Art into the inn.
The few wandering mercenaries sitting at the longest and largest wooden table in the inn quickly stood up to make room for them when they saw a dozen armored and sword-wielding men surge in.
The group took their seats in order, and soon the innkeeper, accompanied by two barmen, carried a wooden tray and served food to Art's table—half a roasted lamb prepared beforehand, several large wooden bowls of minced meat porridge, a large barrel of onion stew, two basins of apple and frozen pear, and a whole barrel of light beer. The innkeeper dared not offend these Soldiers, so the dishes, meat, fruits, and vegetables in the bowls, plates, and barrels on the table were all filled to the brim.
Art was preoccupied with his thoughts and wasn't very interested in the large basins and barrels of food in front of him. After quickly eating a piece of lamb and drinking two cups of beer, he returned to his room to rest.
The remaining people at the table, especially the common Soldiers who rarely had the chance to dine with Art, only relaxed after Art left. They had been toiling on horseback for the past few days, often eating hard rye bread with roadside snow water while on the road, and their stomachs had long been complaining. As soon as Art left, everyone unbuttoned their clothes, grabbed the meat, vegetables, and wine on the table, and stuffed and gulped them down, loudly discussing the battles they had experienced and the enemies they had slain in Talburg over the past six months. Soon, the other guests in the inn gathered around the long table, listening to the legendary stories that had taken place in the southeastern mountains, while the innkeeper bustled around, adding dishes and pouring wine for everyone, his money pouch jingling as he moved back and forth.
The lively atmosphere in the inn continued late into the night, until the innkeeper's kitchen supplies were almost exhausted, when everyone, with full bellies, returned to their rooms to rest.
The next morning, Ron pushed open Art's door and brought in a steaming bowl of bread and lamb soup. Art got up and, with Ron's help, put on a heavy set of plate-and-chainmail armor, then picked up the wooden bowl and gulped down the lamb soup and bread paste.
Art wiped his mouth and asked, "Have the Soldiers all had breakfast?"
Ron replied while helping Art fasten his belt, "The lads have all eaten. They're resting downstairs now, ready to depart at any time."
Art was very pleased. He had thought the Soldiers would still be sleeping in their rooms after celebrating all night, but they were already ready to depart. "Good, let's enter Besançon City."
When the thirteen Cavalry approached Besançon from the southeast, the Commander of the garrison on the east gate wall of Besançon City literally broke into a cold sweat. This was because there was no Cavalry bearing the Blood-Eyed Howling Wolf crest around Besançon City, and a single charge by a dozen Cavalry could break a hundred peasant Soldiers. Therefore, the sudden appearance of an unfamiliar Cavalry startled the city's Commander, who feared an unexpected alarm. He immediately ordered the Soldiers below the city to raise the drawbridge and tightly close the city gates, while the archers on the wall rushed to the battlements, ready to fire arrows.
Art noticed the commotion on the east gate wall, waved his hand to stop the Team behind him, then called Ron over and gave him a few instructions.
Ron, holding the heraldic banner, rode alone slowly to the city wall and reported their identity to the garrison on the wall, also presenting the Court's official documents. The garrison Commander called the literate tax collector from the gate passage to examine the documents and then carefully verified them before ordering the drawbridge to be lowered and the gate to be opened to welcome this army returning from the battlefield.
After entering Besançon, Art had Angus lead the Cavalry to the military camp in the city's church square for accommodation, while he himself took Ron to the Court to the scribe to complete the paperwork for the end of their military service. When Art wrote his name and affixed his seal on the parchment on the scribe's desk, the war between Burgundy County and Swabia Grand Duchy was temporarily unrelated to him. All that remained was to wait for the Court to find the time to reward and honor this group of Knight Aspirants, and the swallowtail on Art's heraldic banner might soon be cut off.
Art exited the palace gate, retrieved his weapon, and mounted his warhorse, saying to Ron, who was by his side, "Ron, let's go back to the military camp to get the gifts and visit Earl Baldwin. I don't expect those powerful figures in the Court to proactively remember the blood we shed in Talburg."