Lord blessed by the elves

Chapter 43 Dark and Gloomy

Wilstone paused, a deeper concern creeping into his eyes, and lowered his voice: "Moreover... due to some special reasons, I cannot fully reveal my strength. Dealing with a bandit leader like Durut, a swift and decisive victory with no survivors is fine. But if we attack a noble's territory, once the fighting begins, the scene will inevitably descend into chaos."

If I were to display extraordinary power, yet fail to completely wipe out the enemy's territory, and even a single survivor were to report the anomaly, it could easily trigger unnecessary investigation and suspicion. The consequences could be far more troublesome than the attack itself.

Wilstone's concerns are very real and well-founded.

Everyone had a rough idea of ​​the unspoken rules among the nobility and the true extent of each other's power.

The sudden appearance of an unusually powerful individual in an attack is too conspicuous and easily leads people to associate it with some unwarranted force, thus inviting trouble.

After listening, Kruse showed no worry on his face, but instead revealed a mysterious smile that was somewhat familiar to Wilstone and Rezal, a smile that was both unfathomable and mischievous.

“Who said we were going to launch a frontal assault?” Kruze chuckled, pointing to the farmland and surrounding areas of Wolfhair Territory on the map. “Let’s try a different approach, the ‘old method’.”

"The old method?" Wilstone and Rezal exchanged puzzled glances, not immediately understanding. The recent successful "old method"... wasn't it the same tactic used last night against the bandits?
A few days later, Kruse personally led a team of thirty carefully selected militiamen and soldiers, the most clever and capable of running.

Most of them had participated in the previous "Scarecrow Project," and under the cover of night, they quietly infiltrated the border of the Wolfhair Knights' territory.

Gazing at the indistinct outlines of the Wolf's Hair Village and farmland under the moonlight, and the shadow of the castle on the hillside further away, Wilston and Rezal were suddenly struck by a realization when the soldiers once again took out those familiar, tattered clothes and straw tied to their frames from their backpacks. Their eyes widened, and they gasped almost simultaneously!
“Young Master, you wouldn’t be planning to…” Wilstone’s voice trembled with disbelief.

Rezael was so excited he almost shouted it out, but Kruse glared at him and stopped him. However, he couldn't hide the mixture of absurdity, excitement and sudden realization on his face.

They finally understood what Kruse meant by "the old ways"—not for defense, but for offense, or rather, harassment and intimidation!

Young Master, are you trying to bring the same "Empty City Stratagem" you performed in your own territory to Wolf Hair Territory and put on another "Every Bush and Tree Sees an Enemy" show?

Seeing the shocked expressions on their faces, Kruse's mysterious smile widened even further.

"Get ready," he whispered, a sly glint in his eyes. "Tonight, we're going to let the people of Wolfhair Territory hear the 'Ghost Army's' movements."

It was no accident that Kruse chose today so carefully for the attack.

According to intelligence gathered by Wilstone, today is the day when the serfs of Wolfhair Territory begin their large-scale harvest of summer grain.

The golden wheat fields had been cut down in large swaths, but had not yet been fully threshed and stored. Large bundles of wheat straw and preliminarily sifted grain were piled up in makeshift sheds guarded by militiamen on the edge of the fields.

A knightly domain is often only the size of a slightly larger village, with extremely limited manpower and resources. This is why lords like Sir Haynes would closely follow the Earl of Nokamp in his campaigns. Fulfilling vassal duties was one aspect, but more importantly, it was to acquire spoils and rewards that could nourish the land and attract displaced people.

The remaining forces were naturally stretched thin.

On a slightly elevated slope near Wolfhair Castle, there stands a simple wooden watchtower.

Four militiamen assigned to guard this spot were leaning listlessly against the railing.

The exhaustion of the summer harvest and the long-term tranquility of their territory had made them extremely relaxed; two of them even hugged their spears and nod off.

Suddenly, a militiaman who had been squinting and gazing into the distance widened his eyes as if he had seen something extremely terrifying. His sleepiness vanished instantly, and cold sweat soaked through the coarse cloth clothes on his back.

"Wake up! Wake up! Look...look over there!" His voice trembled, and he could barely speak a complete sentence. He could only point in terror toward the dirt road leading to the entrance of the territory.

Another militiaman, whose nap had been disturbed, grumbled impatiently as he looked up in the direction the other was pointing.

The next moment, his sleepiness vanished instantly, and his face turned deathly pale!
Under the dim light of the fire, an army that appeared to be in good military formation was slowly making its way along the dirt road toward the core area of ​​Wolf Hair Territory!
Although they were still far away and their faces were not clearly visible, the gleaming reflections of their weapons and their relatively uniform formation had already created a tremendous visual impact and psychological pressure!
"Enemy... Enemy attack! Quick! Go and ring the alarm bell!" The first militiaman to discover the situation shouted in a shrill voice, almost crying, and turned to run towards the bell.

"You idiot! Do you want to kill everyone?!" The slightly older, more experienced militiaman reacted faster, slapping his companion hard on the back of the head and yelling in a low voice, "Look how many of them there are! Ring the bell? Calling out all the old, weak, women, children, and serfs left in the territory, are you sending them to their deaths in a line? Quick! Forget about here, retreat to the castle immediately! Close the gates! Only stone walls can stop them!"

The instinct for survival overwhelmed everything. The four terrified militiamen scrambled down the watchtower and ran for their lives toward the castle, shouting in distorted voices as they ran: "Close the gate! Close the gate now! The army is attacking!"

Their panic and screams immediately attracted the attention of the scattered guards on the castle walls.

Soon, the heavy castle gates were forcefully pushed shut with a creaking sound.

Barto, the highest-ranking commander and chief knight left behind in Wolfhair Territory, was preoccupied with the trivial matters of the summer harvest and was having a drink in his room.

Startled by the sudden sound of hurried footsteps and shouts outside, he pushed open the door with a grim expression and saw the two militiamen lying limply on the courtyard floor as if they had lost their souls.

"You damned fools!" Knight Barto roared. "What's going on outside? Why is there such a commotion? Why didn't you sound the alarm?!" A sense of foreboding rose in his heart.

The militia leader, pale-faced and trembling, pointed towards the castle gate and stammered, "Knight...Knight! No...it's not that we didn't knock...it's that there are too many enemies! A dark mass, heading straight for the castle! Even if we call out everyone in our territory who can wield a hoe, we...we can't stop them at all! We can only...we can only retreat to the castle and hold our ground!"

(End of this chapter)