Alvin was never one to accept defeat; he wouldn't allow himself to fail. Young people are invariably relentless, always clutching at every glimr of hope.
"In that case, Teacher, you stay here with the main force to rest, while I take a small squad to scout ahead," he proposed.
"No!" The Baron vehently rejected—the first ti he had done so. "If anything were to happen to you, we would all have to perish with you."
"Teacher, let charge once more!"
At this mont, Alvin could no longer care about status. His youthful arrogance was on full display as he refused to return in dismal failure.
Ah... The Baron, of course, knew what Alvin was thinking and was aware that he couldn't stop him. In the end, he could only sigh in resignation and turn to give orders to the Knights.
"Continue to advance!"
Upon hearing this, the Knights were sowhat dispirited. Ultimately, however, they didn't voice any complaints, rely silently donning their helts and mounting their horses.
They had been selected and trained from a young age. Their families all resided in Bastia, and their interests were thoroughly entwined with the Bastia Family; they could truly be considered utterly loyal.
This was the core of the Empire's noble system: binding through interests was the most secure thod, and it had worked for many years for a reason.
But things weren't so simple. The Baron, taking on the thankless task of being the 'bad guy,' then whispered a reminder in Alvin's ear.
"My Lord, you should encourage the n."
Alvin was a true Knight who had systematically learned warfare in his training. When facing low morale, there were many thods at his disposal, but he preferred the most direct approach.
"Upon our return, each man will be rewarded with ten Gold Coins, and I will personally deliver the compensation to the hos of those who fall in battle. Your children will also be able to join the family's training camp and beco knight retainers."
Alvin knew that without putting up so serious money, empty promises wouldn't convince others to risk their lives. Although he did not hold power, he was still the son of an Earl and had so ans of acquiring money. Five hundred Gold Coins might seem like a huge fortune to others, but Alvin didn't care about such sums. What is money compared to a territory? Besides, these n are my core supporters; it's essential to win them over. The hardship of the mission must be t with generous rewards.
Driven by the promise of Gold Coins, the troops quickly regrouped. Their morale couldn't be said to be very high, but it had significantly recovered.
Although the beacon fires had dissipated, the troops continued to march in that direction.
For so unknown reason, they encountered no more attacks from Mobs on the remainder of their journey. This only excited Alvin further, reinforcing his belief that Hamlet must be vulnerable; it was their ti to enter the fray.
With no obstacles, the cavalry's agility ca to the forefront. They swiftly traversed the forest, arriving at the outskirts of the farm.
Gazing over the open space, they took in the entire farm at a glance.
"Hmph! Is this Hamlet?" Alvin sneered upon seeing the farm, his disdain undisguised. "What kind of Lord resides in such a dilapidated place?"
"That's not right... Isn't Hamlet supposed to be by the sea?" The Baron was puzzled. Even if the Map isn't accurate, the discrepancy shouldn't be this much, should it?
Nevertheless, he did notice sothing. Logically, there should have been farrs out and about at this ti, but not a single person was seen outdoors—a familiar sign of Barbarian raids.
But before he could react further, Alvin had already charged out on his horse.
"Slay the Barbarian Tribes, save Hamlet!" he bellowed as he drew his Longsword and roared, "Follow !"
At this juncture, the Baron could no longer hesitate and could only lead the Knights to follow suit.
To be honest, both he and the cavalryn were from Bastia. Naturally, they harbored little fear toward the rural-looking area ahead. These n might not be adept at sieging cities, but attacking a small village that lacked even a mud wall was simply effortless for them.
Fifty fully ard cavalryn made no attempt to conceal themselves as they charged across the open land towards the farm. The sound of horse hooves thundering against the ground grew more intense, and even the earth seed to tremble. Their formation was extrely orderly—proof that they were all well-trained cavalry.
By this ti, everyone in the farm had also noticed the approaching cavalry.
"My Lord, let them co in. We can arrange defenses on the streets…" Reynard wanted to replicate the tactic Lance had used when exterminating the bandits: luring the Knights into the farm and then limiting their movents to split them up.
"The bandits didn't have horses, but these are cavalry charges. Moreover, why did I choose the town center plaza? It's because only there were there sturdy brick buildings. In contrast, this place is all made of wood and mud—it will collapse with a single charge. No matter the outco of facing them here, I'll be left with ruins."
Lance looked at the approaching Knights without a hint of fear. "They are cavalry, and so are we. Why shouldn't we go out there and give them a fight?"
Reynard didn't know what to say to that. Although Hamlet's Cavalry Squad had cut through those bandits like slicing vegetables, it was based on an advantage in equipnt and training. But once they faced these fully armored Knights, whose horses even wore Armor, they were clearly outclassed in both experience and equipnt. If it ca to a direct confrontation… Reason told him they couldn't win. But if the Lord said to fight, then fight they would!
"I understand!"
"When I said we should engage them, I didn't an for you to clash head-on. Play to our strengths." Lance wasn't foolish; he could see clearly that those 'iron cans' were tough to crack. "This battle will be tough. It seems I must take the field myself!"
Reynard quickly gathered the resting cavalryn, and Lance looked at them.
They wore simple breastplates—really just a few iron plates riveted onto leather—and the helts on their heads were even cruder, their rough surfaces not even finely polished. Their physiques and statures seed slim and small. Rigorous training had tanned their skin dark, making them look unremarkable. The quality of their horses varied greatly; even after careful selection, these were the best they could be assigned. Standing together, they were a mismatched group. Their formation looked even worse.
Compared to the Knights' exquisite Full Body Armor and large, strong warhorses, Hamlet's painstakingly assembled cavalry looked like Clowns.
But Lance didn't see it that way. He sensed strength in these soldiers: none were whispering or slouching; all stood tall, their fighting spirit visibly high.
"I can tell you, our enemies this ti are not bandits or Heretics, but real Knights—chosen by nobles to be retainers from a young age, undergoing lengthy training before being qualified to wear that armor.
They are experienced, well-equipped, and formidable. But they are our enemies! They want to invade Hamlet! They want to kill us and take away everything I've given you, turning our families, friends, and everyone we know into Slaves!
I will not allow this to happen on Hamlet's land again! No matter how much stronger the enemy is than us, I will not yield!"
Lance's words ignited their anger. Who among them hadn't been oppressed before? They had only just begun to live like human beings, and now soone wanted to take everything from them.
But re anger wasn't enough; Lance needed them to awaken.
"Many people think we can't win, but I disagree! I will use this battle to show you that the armies of the Nobility are not invincible! They appear fearso, like paper tigers, but with just one forceful blow from us, they'll fall!"
Lance's real intention was revealed in these words: he wasn't just aiming to charge those fifty Knights, but at the entire system of Nobility they represented. Sooner or later, Hamlet's developnt would clash with those people. Lance had to shatter the Nobility's reputation of being unbeatable, to show his army the reality, to tear away this tiger's skin.
Today, he would lead these people—whom the Nobility had branded as lowly commoners—and break through those Knights!
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