Stimulated by the bloodshed, so warriors even fought over the spoils. However, they only exchanged blows with their fists, not using weapons, until one side relented.
The Warwolf watched the slightly chaotic scene before him with no intention of stopping it. This was the norm among them; only the strong deserved more.
This was also their motivation to press on. Plunder was what guaranteed the Warwolf pack's combat effectiveness.
「 」
Experience had shown that Knights needed flat terrain or well-maintained roads to effectively utilize their combat abilities and mobility. Knights venturing into the wilderness were like figures mired in mud; they lost their wind-like mobility and beca little more than sitting ducks. The Warwolf only beca conservative after taking a severe beating; otherwise, if an ambush had been set here, these Knights would likely have suffered greatly.
Led by the last surviving mber of the Eagle Flock, Alvin and his n finally arrived at the scene. The Warwolf pack had long since departed, leaving behind only a few bird feathers, large patches of blood, and a neatly stacked pile of heads.
Nine heads. No more, no less.
"Is this the trail you found?!" Alvin shouted, pointing his riding crop at the pile of heads and fixing his gaze on the last mber of the Eagle Flock.
The harsh shout even startled the Hawk perched on the woman's shoulder, but she offered no defense. In situations like this, she could only resign herself to her misfortune; any attempt to explain would only lead to a reprimand.
She hadn't expected the entire squad to be wiped out. Seeing this scene was more agonizing for her than for Alvin. Of a ten-person squad, she was the only one returning. Regardless of whether this mission was completed or not, she would likely face punishnt. However, she also sighed inwardly with relief; if he hadn't reassigned her, there would probably be one more corpse here.
Alvin looked at the heads with a gloomy expression. Everyone knew the Eagle Flock served as the hunting dogs of the Bastia Family. This wasn't just the killing of the Eagle Flock; it was a direct slap in the face of his Bastia Family!
With this thought, he imdiately pointed at the sole remaining mber of the Eagle Flock and commanded in an almost accusatory tone, "I don't care what thods you use, find them for imdiately!"
The woman was stunned. Ten of them had failed to keep track of the enemy; how was she supposed to find them alone? Wasn't this sending her to her death?
Her silence, however, offered no escape. Indeed, her quiet deanor only fueled Alvin's rising fury.
"What is the aning of this?!"
He raised his riding crop and lashed out, striking her side. Even through her thick cloak, a searing pain shot through her arm an instant later. She couldn't even cry out; doing so would only invite more blows. All she could do was endure the pain, clutching herself under her cloak and shrinking inward.
However, after venting his frustration, Alvin cald down. He knew it was unrealistic to rely solely on her now.
"'Forget it. You may leave,' Alvin said, waving his hand dismissively.
The woman dared not voice any objection. On the contrary, she had to be grateful for Alvin's magnanimity in not pursuing the matter further. In truth, Alvin was relatively temperate. Had it been soone else, it likely wouldn't have ended with just one lash.
There was a vast, almost insurmountable, chasm between the Nobility and commoners. Consequently, nobles generally showed little concern for the lives of common folk—this was the true nature of the Nobility. Lance was an anomaly; other nobles would likely scoff at him for associating with commoners.
Having cald down, Alvin, as a Commander, needed to consider his next move. Without the Eagle Flock, catching them in this wilderness will be very difficult. We might even be ambushed and find ourselves in trouble. Therefore, the best option now is to retreat.
Just as he made this decision, one of the n inspecting the battlefield returned.
"Mr. Alvin, the battlefield has been thoroughly investigated."
The speaker was a Knight, his helt removed and held at his waist. He had a resolute face and a slightly unkempt, full beard, appearing to be around thirty-four years old and in his pri. His physique was clearly more robust than that of an ordinary man, and clad in Knight's Armor, he looked imposing, like an iron tower.
This Knight was, more accurately, a Baron. He was a trusted confidant—the Earl's right-hand man—and also the ntor assigned to Alvin by the Earl. Alvin was, after all, the Earl's son. For the Earl to allow him to pursue these Barbarian Tribes, he must have made thorough preparations. Alvin was the nominal leader of this Cavalry unit, but in reality, his role was largely ceremonial, a way to gain experience. The true commander of the Cavalry was the Baron.
"Teacher, what have you found?" Alvin couldn't maintain his aloof deanor this ti. He dismounted and followed the Knight, learning how to reconstruct what had happened from the remaining traces.
"'This was a trap... and the Eagle Flock mbers rushed headlong into it. That's why this happened...'" the Baron explained.
This man really has so ability, to have figured out the general situation, Alvin thought. But what was the use of that now? The target was lost. Going back to recall the Eagle Flock was pointless. It could be said that he had already failed this ti.
Alvin's dejection was palpable; how could the Baron not perceive it? Yet, the Baron simply said calmly, "'There's no need to be anxious, Mr. Alvin. I know where they're headed.'"
"'Oh! Tell quickly, Teacher!'" Alvin's expression changed instantly. It was clear he was desperate not to return empty-handed; it would be too humiliating. He had led out a troop of Cavalry and an Eagle Flock unit, only to have the Eagle Flock annihilated by Barbarians who then escaped.
If I return like this, my siblings will revel in my failure. I'll lose the Earl's favor and might even lose control of this Cavalry unit.
Although it was almost a certainty that his eldest brother would inherit the title and the core Bastia assets, the other heirs were still fiercely competing for the remaining resources. As a son of a powerful, influential Earl, Alvin lived in a noble household, enjoying the finest treatnt, but he also bore considerable pressure. This pressure had, in turn, fueled his ambition. Or perhaps, once soone had tasted the allure of power, they could never again be content as a re wealthy scion.
As Alvin's ntor, the Baron was keenly aware that his own interests were intrinsically linked to Alvin's. Only by diligently supporting Alvin could his own career progress.
"'Although these Barbarians set a trap and eliminated our scouts,' the Baron continued, 'their actions also revealed their own desperate situation to us. It will also make them believe they've successfully shaken us off. We can surmise that their next move will be to find a resupply point. They'll likely resort to slaughtering villagers and performing rituals, as they've done before. This is the thod these Barbarian Tribes use to communicate with their Evil God; it's an indispensable part of their practices.'"
"'So, if we find the nearby villages, we can find them!'" Alvin quickly understood and hastily called a squire over for a Map.
A fine leather Map was unrolled before them. In the bottom-left corner was a rough sketch of the Empire. The main section, centered on Bastia and extending outwards, detailed terrain, resources, spheres of influence, and human settlents. This Map might appear ordinary, but creating such a detailed chart in this era demanded an extraordinary amount of effort and was considered highly confidential. If Alvin weren't the Earl's son, he would never have been permitted to view it. Alvin had seen this Map before, but gazing upon Bastia's vast territory still stirred a wave of excitent within him.
"'Our current position is roughly here... and the nearest village is...'" Alvin searched the Map, his brow furrowing. They were already on the periphery of Bastia's lands. Heading further east would take them beyond their territory and into a domain marked 'Hamlet.'
If I rashly lead a troop of Cavalry into another's territory, it could provoke unnecessary trouble. But this opportunity is fleeting. If I don't seize it, I could lose everything. What should I do...?
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