Astartes of the Bear School

Chapter 1710 1682. The convoy is settled
In the Nilfgaard military camp, even when they were advancing triumphantly and had an unimpeded journey, there was always a place that the soldiers stayed away from.

That is the caravan area designated for quarantine and control.

The soldiers of Nilfgaard all felt that the place was creepy and wrong. After all, they could hear the whimpering and slight struggling of living creatures continuously, but nothing ever emerged.

Logically speaking, the respected Marshal invented the extreme and unique strategic method of "blitzkrieg" in this war. With his ability and vision, how could he allow such a group of cumbersome caravans that slow down the team's progress?

But he insisted on taking it with him.

It would not be a pity even if the Nasser Tactical Cavalry Regiment, a team with a good reputation and combat effectiveness in the Nilfgaard provincial army, was specially assigned to such a group of caravans.

Even though the camp is on the verge of collapse now, few people dare to escape from the caravan's territory, and most of them will take a detour.

The carriage loaded with a bronze bell and several prisoners had to keep moving according to the system established earlier, not stay in one place, and keep it inconspicuous and unnoticed.

This set of rules and regulations was obviously a safety measure to protect the bronze bell and confuse the enemy in times of emergency.

And now is a critical moment.

"Camp, camp, what's going on?" Hans Capen, whose helmet visor was still on, asked in bewilderment. "Look! The camp is in chaos!"

"No, Sir Hans." The leading Nilfgaardian looked back at the camp, his mouth twitching slightly, but he suppressed the change in his expression and continued speaking in a cold and stiff tone.

"Nothing happened, we just need to do our job well."

"But over there."

Hans twisted and turned uncomfortably on his horse. He saw the smoke rising, but it was too close to be coming from the battlefield.

"Nothing happened!" The leading Nilfgaardian looked at Hans Capen coldly, with a big contrast between his polite words and the coldness in his eyes. "I don't want to say it a third time, sir. Do you understand?"

Hans was a little panicked for a moment. He glanced around subconsciously. The members of the Sayre Tactical Cavalry Regiment lowered their heads and dared not interrupt. Only Henry looked at him worriedly.

Hans then nodded to the other party with difficulty, indicating that he understood.

At this time, a dozen knights were divided into two halves, surrounding three tarpaulin-covered carriages in the middle and running on the road.

But only one of them actually had a bronze bell installed.

At first glance, they are not much different from the logistics and supply teams that keep military camps running.

Among these knights, half were from the Nasser Tactical Cavalry Regiment and the other half were from the Nilfgaard army.

The bulk of their troops are still performing defense and guard duties in the isolation area in the military camp.

"Hmph, that Cyrus."

Hans Capen's wisdom and the silence of the other Nasser soldiers caused the Nilfgaardian officer to chuckle inexplicably.

This was a mockery, consistent with the way the Nilfgaardians usually treated the people of their vassal states and new provinces.

After all, in their own country, 'real Nilfgaardians' treat ordinary Nilfgaardians in much the same way.

But Hans is young after all, and he has just left home for half a year. He has always boasted of his aristocratic status and aristocratic pride.

So at this moment he bit his cheeks tightly, his cheeks in the helmet turned red, he breathed heavily through his nose, and his chest heaved.

Henry was riding a parti-colored gray horse, and behind him followed a white and brown spotted dog.

He controlled the horse to move forward a few steps, silently pressed Hans' shoulders, and looked into his eyes seriously.

Only after Hans calmed down after taking two deep breaths did Henry carefully look at the Nilfgaard officer in front of him and let go of his hand.

The two of them naturally began to slow down their horse speed a little, gradually falling to the back of the team so that it would be easier for them to talk.

Although the surrounding Nasser cavalrymen were speechless due to the constant pressure from the Nilfgaardians, they also made way for Henry and Hans to pass.

After falling to the end of the team, Henry's expression was complicated and tangled. He looked at the young master who was gritting his teeth in silence, and then he gritted his teeth and looked at the Nilfgaardians in front of him.

After hesitating for a moment with a gloomy and uncertain expression, Henry still wanted to speak.

"Hansjord"

"Wow~"

But before Henry could finish his greeting, a sound of branches swaying came from the woods next to the group of people.

The Nilfgaardians on the march suddenly became nervous, and the cold sound of steel being unsheathed was heard throughout the entire team.

Suddenly, another team of Nilfgaardian knights rushed out of the woods. The leading knight deliberately did not wear a helmet to make it easier for the leading officer to recognize him at a glance.

"Your Excellency Marshal, what is this?!"

The officer put down his sword, hesitated and spoke thoughtfully.

Menno Kuhoon came straight up with only a few guards, following the timetable and route map he had personally planned for the convoy.

The marshal still looked calm at this time, with the demeanor of a great general.

He nodded to everyone in the convoy.

"Don't stop, guys. Keep going."

The Field Marshal and his guards merged silently into the convoy, and soon, the people of Nasser, who were already familiar with the escort process, discovered that they began to move erratically. The convoy was supposed to move along a secretly prescribed route.

At the end of the line, Hans Capen had now turned his attention away from the insults he had suffered.

"Why is His Excellency the Marshal here?"

He muttered to himself, watching a group of Nilfgaardians at the front of the convoy gather into a small group and hold an internal discussion.

"And when I look at him, I feel like something is wrong with him."

"His cloak, Hans." Henry frowned and lowered his voice, "Look at his cloak and attire. That's not what the marshal was wearing an hour ago. On that cloak is the silver scorpion of the Delrani Brigade!"

Menno Kuhoon was the most prestigious and capable general in the Nilfgaard Empire at that time. For such a person, if one knew his ability and status, the first thing one would pay attention to when seeing him would be his face and the person himself.

Rather than indifferent clothing.

In addition, he appeared so suddenly that Hans and most other people had not yet noticed that he had changed his clothes.

As a marshal, he has left the command post and changed his uniform. Does this mean that
Hans' eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost, and he turned a look of disbelief mixed with panic to Henry beside him.

But he happened to see that Henry was looking at him with almost the same expression.
-
"that's it?"

Zoltan Ziva was gasping for breath, propping himself up on the knees of his short legs. Even though he was gasping for breath and bleeding from under the bandage on his head, he still chopped a Nilfgaardian who was not yet dead beside him to death with an axe.

The armor on this guy is of incredibly high quality and quite gorgeous.

Zoltan concluded that he was a high-ranking official. After comparing him with the many Nilfgaardian corpses nearby, which were generally not bad but had decorations one level lower than his, he concluded that this should be the high-level armor that only marshals had.

So he took great pains to pry open the helmet that had been dented by the axe, in order to confirm his military achievement.

"Damn, Menno Cuhoon is that young?!"

"It's fake." Colonel Barclay Els saw it at a glance. He spat out a mouthful of saliva that was sticky because of exhaustion, "Coohorn must have changed his clothes and ran away!"

"Haha, you cowardly black dog!"

Zoltan didn't care about the merit of the battle and ran away, and cursed with a smile.

Of course, if he were defeated, even though he looks like a reckless man now, he would definitely run fast.

But didn’t he win the fight? Of course he could curse as much as he wanted!
If you have the guts, Menno Coehoorn, come over and talk back!

At this time, the Nilfgaardian military camp was in chaos.

Led by Qilin and the Embers Knights, the Northern Alliance broke through the enemy's counterattacks and obstructions.

Nilfgaard's position, which was better than nothing, couldn't stop anyone at all.

Their defeat was finalized after the last wave of cavalry was broken through.

Now there were scattered and fleeing Nilfgaardians everywhere, and the fierce appearance of sweeping away everything and breaking through everything before the war had disappeared without a trace.

It takes a long time and a lot of effort to build up the confidence of the army, but it only takes a moment to fail.

After the defeat, the Nilfgaardians, who boasted of the high quality of their soldiers, were no different from those defeated soldiers and deserters.

They began to loot their own barracks in order to have more supplies for their escape.

They fled in panic, even trampling over soldiers in their own camp.

The damage caused by their headless actions in the military camp was even more serious than that caused by the Northern Allied Forces that rushed in.

Now it is the troops led by Lincoln that are preventing the rebels from causing destruction.

He was worried that these frightened fleeing soldiers would destroy important clues and items in their chaotic behavior.

"Occupy the command post first! Defend the barracks of Menno Kuhoon and senior officers! Kill anyone who dares to rush in! I want those documents, letters and materials intact! Do you hear me? Everything! Intact!"

Lincoln changed horses again and he shouted as he galloped.

He passed by the door of a high-class tent and saw a chaotic soldier running in panic.

But with a "swish" sound, Lincoln, who was riding past on horseback, swung his knife in his right hand and the soldier's head fell off along with the head of the horse in front of him.

Human blood and horse blood spurted out violently from the fracture, covering the tarpaulin of the high-end tent.

Lincoln was concerned that the information about the curse would be destroyed, so he did his best to maintain order.

They were unwilling to even clean up after a tough battle, and after the dust settled, they delegated command to the original commanders of each unit.

The same went for the other thirty-nine Embers Knights. They dispersed as soon as they broke into the military camp and went to important locations to look for clues.

"Lincoln!" An Embers Knight rode to the intersection, looked around, waved at Lincoln and shouted, "Follow me! There's a special place here!"

"coming!"

Lincoln wasted no time and rode his horse to catch up with the fleeing soldiers and their pursuers in chaos.

Along the way, the two of them killed a few Nilfgaardian soldiers who were frightened out of their wits, and finally came to an area that was separated from the ordinary military camp and filled with caravans.

(End of this chapter)