War is never as grand and inspiring as bards portray it, making one's blood boil; after the initial surge of passion, all that remains is endless fear and torment.
On the fifth day after leaving Kitzby, the convoy of over 120 people traveled without rest, reaching a small village on the outskirts of the Osta War Zone by evening.
It was here that everyone truly felt the destructive power of war.
This village, named Hades, was originally a large settlement with over two hundred permanent residents, only a two-day journey from Aosta. Supported by the north-south trade route, it had become a temporary stop for traveling merchants and travelers. Had there been no war, it might have become a prosperous trading town in the near future.
Now, the former inns, taverns, shops, and trading houses had all turned into piles of charred mud and charcoal. The once-flat village roads were covered in rusty brown bloodstains, remnants of rain wash. The bustling streets of yesteryear were now home to only two or three red-eyed, snarling, emaciated wild dogs dragging out and gnawing on partially decomposed corpses from the ruins. The wild dogs were almost insane, showing no fear of the crowds pouring into the ruins, continuously tearing at the corpses, pulling out rotten livers, intestines, and lungs from the bellies and devouring them.
“Swish~”
“Woof~ woof~ woof~”
An arrow flew from Jason's cavalry bow, piercing the belly of a wild dog, causing it to howl and struggle. The other two wild dogs, startled by the sudden arrow, retreated two steps, their blood-red eyes fixed on the approaching group. Their nostrils flared, and low growls emanated from their throats. Seeing too many enemies, the two wild dogs confronted the crowd for a moment before, with a glance at the unfinished corpse, they fled into the ruins.
“My Lord, this… it’s too… I remember early last autumn, though somewhat chaotic, this place was still prosperous. In just over half a year, it has become a hell.” Ron was too stunned by the sight to speak for a long time.
Art did not answer Ron. He knelt on one knee with Baron Belian, clutching the cross around his neck, making the sign of the holy cross on his chest, and reciting a prayer to God. The others behind him also made the sign of the cross, bowing their heads and praying softly.
Baron Belian stood up and returned to Art's side, instructing, “The main force will camp here tonight. After you arrange the sentries, select two clever cavalrymen to scout south with me. We have now entered the Lombardy army's control zone. Be careful in all things, and do not be careless in the slightest.”
Art accepted the order and asked, “My Lord, should the main force find a hidden forest outside the village for a camp? Is camping here a bit dangerous?”
Baron Belian looked around and replied, “The Lombardy army cannot control all areas around Aosta, which is why those Bastards turned this place into scorched earth and ruins. Since they have already burned it, they should not return here easily. Have someone find a few intact houses and let the Soldiers all sleep indoors to rest well. Be careful when making fires; try to let the broken walls block the light as much as possible…”
“Yes, My Lord!”
Art turned to arrange the camping, rest, and scouting matters.
Night had fallen, and six cavalrymen, with their warhorses' hooves wrapped in cotton cloth, appeared on the trade route to Kalk Fort.
It was only a day's journey from Hades to Kalk Fort, but the closer one got to the core of the war zone, the greater the possibility of encountering enemies. To prevent the convoy from being targeted by large enemy forces, Baron Belian decided to take people to scout out the enemy situation under the cover of night.
Baron Belian and two others, along with Art, Ron, and Jason, who were unfamiliar with the route, formed three two-person scouting teams. One team went south along the trade route, and the other two teams scouted south, two miles away from the trade route. The three teams agreed that they must return to Hades before sunrise, regardless of whether they encountered the enemy.
Art and Baron Belian personally took charge of the most dangerous trade route.
The two rode south, reaching a small manor ten miles outside Kalk Fort when the moon was high in the sky. This was originally Kalk Fort Lord's private farm and manor, managed by the steward Borg. The main part of the manor was a stone tower about thirty feet high, with a few small houses within the low walls below the tower. The civilian houses outside the walls had all been burned and razed to the ground.
There were a few lights in the tall tower, and a few shouts from drunken men drifted out.
Two torches were stuck on the battlements at the top of the tower. A miserable fellow, ostracized by his superior, was squatting by the battlements, dozing off. Smelling the wafts of beer and meat rising from the tower below, the miserable fellow had cursed them many times in his heart.
The half-closed eyes of the fellow did not realize that two fully armed enemies had already sneaked to within two hundred yards of the manor.
“My Lord, has Kalk Fort been besieged? Otherwise, how could they set up a checkpoint here to cut off the road to Kalk?” Art asked, staring at the manor tower, which served as a checkpoint.
Baron Belian was not sure either, but he knew that the Lombardy army was understaffed. Even besieging Aosta was somewhat difficult; how could they have the spare capacity to send troops to set up a checkpoint here while besieging Kalk Fort?
“Art, I don't think Kalk has been besieged. I guess they just want to cut off Kalk's communication with the outside world, making the people in the fort lose hope of outside assistance, and then concentrate their forces for a strong assault.”
“Let's go. We'll bypass this place first and scout ahead. If there's indeed no siege, we'll come back and figure out how to take out these watchdogs~” Baron Belian said.
The two retreated to the haystack outside the manor where they had hidden their horses, led their horses around the manor, and rode towards Kalk to scout.
The result was as Baron Belian had expected: Kalk Fort was not besieged. However, the surrounding key routes were gradually blocked by the Lombardy army, and many surrounding villages were massacred. The enemy attempted to cut off all supplies and personnel to Kalk Fort.
When Art and Baron Belian rode back to Hades, the sky had already begun to show the first light of dawn. The other two scouting teams had already returned to Hades.
“My Lord, we reached about a mile outside Kalk Fort at midnight. We didn't find any enemy checkpoints or patrols along the way. We passed two scattered small settlements, both of which had become ruins. Jason's team had a similar experience.”
After confirming that Kalk Fort was not surrounded, Baron Belian gathered his attendants and several Commanders from Art's Patrol Team in the tent to discuss how to remove the watchtower blocking the trade route to Kalk Fort.
As daylight broke, after discussion, everyone formulated a relatively feasible action strategy.
Around noon, the southbound convoy leisurely broke camp and set off. By the time they reached a hill two miles north of the manor watchtower, the sun had already set, and the surroundings were only dimly lit by the afterglow of the sunset.
Most of the convoy stopped behind the hill in a sheltered spot, hidden. Tuba's squad and one of Baron Belian's attendants guarded the food and newly recruited Soldiers here. The rest of the Patrol Team, led by Baron Belian, pulled a four-wheeled wagon loaded with food, salt, ale, and other goods towards the manor south of the road.
In the dim twilight, on the battlements of the manor tower, two Soldiers with bows and crossbows were laughing and talking about their wonderful experiences of burning, killing, looting, and raping women in Provence in the past.
As they were arguing about who had slept with the most women, a four-wheeled wagon and two wagon drivers appeared north of the road.
“Stop!!” A Soldier shouted loudly in broken common tongue. The other Soldier quickly went downstairs to report to the checkpoint Commander.
The four-wheeled wagon stopped, and from about forty paces away, a voice shouted towards the manor, “Is that Lord Borg? We are merchants delivering food to Kalk Fort. Please let us pass.”
Standing at the manor gate, the checkpoint Commander, dressed in iron scale armor and a pointed iron helmet, grinned widely. He had only been stationed here for seven or eight days, and a fat sheep had delivered itself to his doorstep.
“Haha, Lord Borg is already a dead dog. You don't need to go to Kalk Fort either. Just leave the goods here.”
The Commander's words, clearly with a Lombardy accent, woke up the bewildered drivers. They realized that this place had been occupied by the enemy Lombardy army and quickly turned their horses around, galloping back the way they came.
“Leave two people; the rest of you chase them!!”
“My Lord, could it be a trap?” A Soldier next to the Commander reminded him.
Just as the Commander hesitated, the Soldier on the tower pulled the trigger of his crossbow. The crossbow bolt, propelled by the immense tension of the crossbow, rapidly plunged towards the wagon. A jar full of ale on the wagon was shattered by the bolt, and the fragrant liquor flowed down the wagon to the ground, soon wafting into the Commander's nostrils at the tower.
The Commander looked up and loudly asked the Soldier on the battlement, “Is there an ambush ahead?”
The Soldier on the battlement looked in the direction the wagon was slowly moving away, but the dim distance was impossible to see clearly. He looked at the slowly receding wagons, a surge of anxiety in his heart. “My Lord, there's no ambush. You should hurry and chase them; otherwise, they'll get away.”
The Commander no longer had any qualms. He called out the six disheveled Soldiers from the tower, mounted the only three warhorses in the stable, and the three riders, four men, one after another, chased northward along the road, following the scent of ale spilled on the ground…
As the seven enemy Soldiers chasing them left the tower, three black-clad figures with daggers and short swords quietly snuck into the tower.
On the wagon on the north side of the trade route, Spencer was simultaneously whipping the horses and frantically throwing the grain from the wagon onto the ground.
Colin saw the fellow continuously throwing goods onto the ground and quickly stopped him, “Spencer, what are you doing? Why are you throwing them on the ground??”
Spencer pushed Colin's hand away and replied, “Throwing some goods off will keep the fish from getting off the hook.”
“You're a Bastard coward! You're just complaining that the goods are too heavy and you can't run fast. Our mission is to lure the enemy into an ambush. What if we run too fast and the enemy can't catch up?”
“Can't catch up? Look back, you Bastard, they're practically biting our butts. Get out of my way, don't block me.” Saying that, he threw another sack of grain onto the ground.
The Commander, who was in close pursuit, initially worried about a trick, but seeing the heavy objects continuously thrown from the wagon, he confirmed that the people on the wagon were indeed fleeing for their lives, and finally, his resolve hardened.
“Folks, hurry and chase! There must be good stuff on that wagon ahead, and whoever gets it, it's theirs!!!” With that, he kicked his horse's belly hard a few times, and his warhorse beneath him quickened its pace. The few Soldiers behind him also chased excitedly, like hungry men seeing women.
How could a cargo wagon outrun a warhorse? Seeing the wagon, which had initially been sixty or seventy paces ahead, getting closer and closer, the leading watchtower Commander was already shouting excitedly. He drew his broadsword and adopted a stance ready to cut and kill.
Suddenly! At the corner of the trade route, the wagon abruptly stopped!
A heavy arrow flew towards the Commander's face, and then over twenty black-clad Soldiers rushed out from the grass on both sides of the trade route…