When Baron Belian led over twenty cavalrymen to the top of the hill, preparing to charge down, more than twenty heavily armored infantrymen, armed with long spears, had already assembled about ten paces outside the enemy camp.
They faced the cavalry rapidly descending the south slope, pointing their spear tips diagonally upwards towards the approaching enemy, their bodies leaning slightly forward, forming a spear barricade formation to counter the cavalry charge.
The Lombardy army’s ability to penetrate deep into Provence was not without reason; they demonstrated an impressive capacity for rapid response when faced with a night raid.
Baron Belian had witnessed the formidable power of this enemy spear barricade formation.
Watching the enemy Soldiers continuously pouring out from the enemy camp to join the barricade, when the two armies were fifty paces apart, he loudly commanded the cavalry following him: “Split into two teams, flank to the left and right, and converge in the middle for the charge!”
Over twenty cavalrymen automatically divided into two teams, turning respectively to the left and right sides, bypassing the spear barricade formation in front of the camp and charging directly into the main camp.
The enemy barricade formation discovered Baron Belian’s objective of splitting his forces to flank them.
The spear barricade formation immediately broke apart in the middle, moving rapidly to both the left and right sides.
As long as they could withstand the cavalry’s first impact, most of the Soldiers in the camp would be able to react and join the spear formation.
Once the spear formation was formed, these twenty-plus light cavalrymen would not be able to break through the camp.
However, tonight, the God of War stood on the side of justice.
The slope of the hill gave the night-raiding cavalry a significant acceleration and impact force.
Normally, a fifty-pace distance would be sufficient for the spear barricade formation to separate and guard both flanks, but tonight, aided by the slope, the warhorses were much faster.
Before the spear barricade formation could get into position and block the cavalry, the two teams of cavalry had already brushed past the spear barricade formation, charging directly into the unguarded tents.
The night was dark and windy, with faint moonlight.
A Lombardy Soldier, just startled awake from a hazy sleep, was about to lift the tent flap to see what was happening when he saw a warhorse charging towards him, neighing.
A knight’s sword slashed directly at his head, and as his vision went black, a shadowy figure in a black cloak and cape, with hook-like hawk eyes, flashed through his mind.
Art struck down the man at the tent entrance, who was still dressing, with a single sword stroke, then turned his horse, bent down to retrieve a torch from outside the tent, and circled the tent, lighting it.
Instantly, the entire tent burst into fierce flames as if doused with oil.
The Soldiers inside the tent, who were scrambling to find their armor, clothes, and weapons, were trapped by the raging fire.
One enemy Soldier, who had caught fire, was rolling on the ground inside the tent, attempting to extinguish the flames on his body, but he forgot that the ground was covered with messy animal hides and felt blankets.
As a result, the fire on his body ignited the bedding and blankets on the ground, and the more intense flames quickly ignited the corner of another Soldier’s clothing.
Heart-wrenching cries came from inside the tent…
Art no longer paid attention to the tragic scene in the tent, raising his sword and kicking his horse to continue charging north.
“Ron, Jason, keep charging! After breaking through the camp, run north!”
Jason followed Art and Ron into the enemy camp, but he wasn't as agile on horseback as Ron.
His warhorse found it difficult to move in the camp, which was full of tents.
He had just spurred his horse to accelerate and knocked down an enemy Soldier who had rushed out of a tent when a long spear pierced the neck of his warhorse.
The warhorse reared up on its front hooves in pain and fell to the ground with a thud.
Jason, on the warhorse, was instantly knocked breathless, his left leg pinned tightly by the horse.
Catching his breath, Jason tried to pull his left leg out from under the struggling warhorse, but the enemy Soldier who had just stabbed the warhorse didn't give Jason a chance to get up.
A long spear had already circled around the horse and was thrusting towards Jason’s neck.
Jason’s eyes were filled with despair.
He hadn't expected that after all his efforts to escape, he would still die at the starting point of his desperate flight.
He tightly closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, waiting for the dripping spear to pierce his body.
Bang! A crashing sound reached Jason’s ears.
“Get up! Are you going to lie there and wait to die?” Knight Evan roared, extending the cavalry spear in his hand towards Jason.
Jason grabbed the spear shaft and scrambled to his feet, picking up the broadsword from the ground and taking the cavalry quiver from the saddle.
He looked back with a pained heart at his warhorse, which could no longer get up, and limped towards Ron.
While the enemy camp below the hill was filled with shouts of battle and soaring flames, on the other side of the hill, on the trade route, more than a dozen four-wheeled carriages carrying Patrol Team Soldiers and drivers were desperately galloping north.
As there was no grain cargo, apart from the carriages loaded with some military supplies, equipment, and war spoils, there were sixteen empty carriages in the convoy.
With an average of two people per carriage, they were practically empty and could move very quickly.
Under the moonlight, Odo’s deep voice rang out.
“Bass, you go ahead and lead the team.
The night is unclear, so be sure not to take the wrong path or veer off course.”
“Kazak, you stay in the middle and pay attention to enemy movements on both sides.”
“Tuba, you bring up the rear; no carriage can be left behind.”
“Leide (the new scout cavalry recruit), you come with me.
We will scout a mile ahead of the convoy.”
While riding his horse, Odo gave instructions for the breakout convoy’s task assignments, turning his head to look at the soaring flames coming from the other side of the hill, silently praying for Art and the two others participating in the raid.
Art, holding his right arm, which had been pierced by a spear, loudly said to Baron Belian, who had broken through the enemy camp: “My Lord, we are leaving immediately.
May God be with you, and victory always belongs to the righteous army.”
“Goodbye, Brother Art, God bless you.” Baron Belian said, then turned his horse, leading the remaining dozen or so cavalrymen beside him to charge into the enemy camp again…
“Ron, help Jason onto your horse.
We’ll go catch up with the convoy.”
Ron helped Jason, who had been injured by the fallen warhorse, onto his own horse, then mounted and followed Art, galloping north.
On a small hill to the north, Art reined in his horse and looked back at the sky full of flames in the distance.
After a moment of silence, he turned the reins, squeezed his horse’s flanks, and galloped to catch up with Ron and Jason.
When Art and the two others, on two horses, caught up with the convoy, the convoy had stopped in a small grove about eight miles north of Kalk Fort.
Odo caught up to the back of the team, pulled Art’s reins, and urgently reported the situation: “My Lord, we just scouted the manor ahead.
There’s light in the manor tower again.
We were worried about being discovered by the enemy, so we didn’t get close.”
“Are there any road obstacles set up on the road outside the manor?” Art was most concerned about whether the enemy had blocked the road to the north.
“No road obstacles, and no patrolling Soldiers were seen.”
Art took a bite of the jerky Ron handed him, chewed for a moment, and said: “There’s no time for further scouting.
I guess there won’t be too many enemy Soldiers stationed in the manor.
We’ll force our way through.
Now, everyone, silence!
Rest for another hour and feed and water the horses and livestock.”
After speaking, Art walked to his warhorse, took out his water skin and whetstone, drew the knight’s sword, which had been chipped during the raid, and sat on the ground, meticulously sharpening it.
In the small grove, everyone rested by the carriages.
Kazak led the Soldiers of the second squad to stand guard at the front and back of the grove.
Each Combat Squad Leader was also busy checking their members’ weapons and equipment.
“Quartermaster” Spencer took rye bread from a carriage and distributed it to the Soldiers and drivers, also comforting the eight still-shaken carriage drivers.
A moment later, the main force began to break through the checkpoint.
Five Lombardy Soldiers stood on the manor tower built by the north-south trade route.
They were new recruits temporarily assigned to guard here.
Several days ago, the eight veteran Soldiers stationed at the checkpoint in this manor were massacred, and the checkpoint Commander, who miraculously escaped, was severely beaten after returning to the main camp.
This was one of the important passages controlling the transport of grain and supplies from the north to the Aosta region, so the Lombardy army sent a small team of new recruits, who had just arrived in the Osta War Zone, to be stationed here.
“Officer, should we go down and intercept them?” A fifteen or sixteen-year-old Soldier, leaning on his short spear, asked the squad Commander beside him.
The squad Commander was also a veteran Soldier who had just been promoted.
He looked at the rapidly approaching convoy of carriages and the several blurry cavalrymen leading the carriages in front, illuminated by the moonlight.
Recalling the tragic situation on the northern trade route a few days ago, he had already made up his mind not to take a single step out of the manor, even if it meant death.
“Are you blind? Don’t you see how many people they have?
And several cavalrymen.
If they’re our own people, fine, but if they’re the enemy, how many heads do you have for them to chop off?”
“Besides, Commander only told us to intercept grain and supplies transported from the north.
They are coming from the south.
Who told you to intercept them?
Go, check again if the manor gate is properly closed.
You few, keep a close watch.
If the enemy manages to scout us again, I’ll chop off your heads first before fighting the enemy.”
After speaking, the squad Commander left the tower parapet and hid inside the watchtower.
Two slightly sturdier Soldiers also slipped down after him.
Only two smaller new recruits, who were usually bullied, were left trembling on the parapet, watching the convoy rolling in from the north and south.
The convoy had successfully passed the manor checkpoint, and Art hadn’t quite processed it.
He had been prepared to lead Ron, Kazak, and another Patrol Team scout cavalryman to force their way through the checkpoint to clear a bloody path for the convoy behind them.
But as the convoy passed the manor, he only saw two dark heads peeking out from behind the parapet at the top of the watchtower.
The manor had neither set up a checkpoint to intercept nor sent out troops to attack, not even a single arrow was shot at the convoy.
“Are they not the enemy? But they don’t know who we are, do they?” Art felt a strange confusion, but he was relieved to have safely broken through the Osta War Zone’s last “defense line.”
Art tugged on his reins, turned back, and shouted to the convoy closely following him: “Don’t worry about what’s behind.
The convoy must accelerate and try to reach Hades Village before dawn.”
With that, he patted his warhorse with his sword scabbard and led the convoy rapidly north.
The squad Commander of the manor watchtower looked through the peephole in the room at the gradually receding convoy, then turned his head, regaining his usual fierce demeanor, and whispered to the few people beside him: “You few, remember, if Commander asks, you say that nothing happened here tonight, and no convoy passed by.
If anyone’s mouth goes around blabbing, I will cut out their rotten tongue.”