FL - Chapter 31: Enemy Attack

Bradley moved with remarkable speed. The moment Duke Calvin issued the order, he began preparing for the journey north.

In less than a day, he had assembled an elite party and set out for the Northlands.

The escort included three Elite Knights, ten Formal Knights, and thirty Apprentice Knights.

Several dozen seasoned craftsmen traveled with them as well, men skilled in construction, mining, and smelting.

Their supplies were equally impressive.

Dozens of carts were packed to the brim with flour, dried meat, and pickled vegetables -- enough to carry them through even the harshest stretch of a Northlands winter.

They also brought neatly packed seeds for a variety of cold-resistant crops, along with several dozen head of livestock suited to the northern climate.

Black-Horn Cattle, Coldland Sheep, and cold-resistant warhorses had all been selected to survive the icebound wilderness.

There was also the Bloodstone, along with three thousand Gold Coins.

The long column departed the Southeast Province and began its journey toward Crimson Tide Territory in the Northlands.

...

Louis began his morning as usual. As soon as he woke, he opened the Daily Intelligence System.

That day's intelligence appeared before him, and he read through the entries.

**[Daily Intelligence Updated]**

**[1: Under Duke Calvin's orders, Bradley has departed with support supplies for Crimson Tide Territory.]**

**[2: Tomorrow night, Colonization Baron Jon Harvey will be ambushed by bandits while passing through Greystone Rift.]**

**[3: Serf Romeo and native Juliet are tasting forbidden fruit in the farmland.]**

The first entry brightened Louis's mood.

He had not expected the letter he sent the old man to have such an effect. It had drawn Duke Calvin's attention to Crimson Tide Territory's potential, and now the old man was truly sending money his way.

Louis studied the name in the intelligence report. *Bradley...*

He was one of House Calvin's senior stewards, a man of considerable standing within the family and nearly a central figure in its affairs.

Louis had not expected Duke Calvin to send Bradley himself. It showed just how seriously the Duke now regarded Crimson Tide Territory.

The intelligence gave no details about the supplies, but they were unlikely to be meager. And once Bradley arrived, he could help manage some of the territory's day-to-day affairs, easing Louis's burden considerably.

Louis turned to the second entry.

His expression tightened in surprise.

He knew Jon. Jon had been one of the original body's few friends in this new world.

The children of Ironblood Empire powerhouses all trained in the Imperial Capital. The original owner of Louis's body had been ostracized by other noble youths for his abysmal talent, while Jon had been mocked constantly for his clumsiness.

The two outcasts had naturally gravitated toward each other.

Jon had always followed behind him in silence, calling him "Boss."

"Colonization Baron?" Louis paused over the words, puzzled.

Jon's father, Count Harvey, was a noble who had risen to prominence in recent years. The family was exceptionally wealthy, and he had only two children.

Under the Northlands Colonization Edict, Jon had no reason to come to a frontier as harsh as the Northlands and claim a territory of his own.

Yet the intelligence called him a Colonization Baron. Louis could not make sense of it.

The report of Jon's ambush troubled him even more. Resources were scarce in the Northlands, and bandits had always been rampant.

Jon would certainly have knights guarding him, but one careless moment could still see him captured or killed.

For both personal and practical reasons, Louis had to go to Greystone Rift and save him. Jon was one of his few friends.

As for the third entry, Louis could only shake his head.

The young people of Crimson Tide Territory were certainly bold, fooling around in the fields. Still, as their lord, he had no intention of interfering. A larger population would only benefit the territory.

After reviewing the day's intelligence, Louis summoned Lambert and gave a direct order. "Gather the knights. We leave for Greystone Rift."

Lambert did not ask a question. He struck his breastplate smartly. "Understood. I'll prepare at once."

Before the words had fully left his mouth, he had turned and strode away to gather the men.

...

The night wind through Greystone Rift was bitterly cold, making the bonfire snap and crackle. Firelight played across a round, soft-featured face.

Jon Harvey sat wrapped in a sable-fur cloak, cradling a bowl of steaming wheat porridge.

He looked rather like a fluffy, fat cat. Between mouthfuls, he was enthusiastically talking himself up.

"Do you know what it was like in the Imperial Capital? Those noble brats thought their families' power and influence meant they could do anything they pleased -- bully the weak, harass women!

"And what happened? Louis and I taught them a lesson!"

Jon wiped porridge from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve and continued smugly.

"That day, the two of us faced an entire clique from the noble circles -- at least a dozen of them!

"Louis knocked one flat with a punch, and I wasn't about to be outdone. I grabbed a chair and hurled it at them, sent them running for their lives!

"Sure, Louis was fierce, but I did most of the work. Without me, he never would have held out that long!"

"Indeed, my lord. Truly formidable," his retinue knights replied with practiced smiles, choosing not to expose Jon's extravagant version of events.

They had known him long enough to be used to his clumsy habit of claiming glory for himself.

They maintained respectful smiles, yet uncertainty weighed on them.

Could their lord truly lead them to establish themselves in the Northlands?

Over the course of the journey, they had already realized that Jon understood little about the realities of developing a territory.

He seemed to believe that six hundred people and a bellyful of hot blood were enough to carve out a future in the Northlands.

But they knew better. The Northlands were far crueler than the nobles' games in the south. Righteousness and courage alone would not keep anyone alive.

And Jon, the lord of this expedition, had shown no vigilance at all.

He had barely arranged the patrols, tossing out a casual instruction before returning to his boasts of heroic exploits.

In his mind, he had dozens of knights and nearly a hundred soldiers. What trouble could possibly find them?

An instant later, the shriek of arrows tore through the silence.

Dozens of crossbow bolts poured down from the cliffs on both sides of the rift. Their heads spun through the air with chilling intent before striking Jon's unprepared company.

Thwack!

A soldier's throat was pierced. He collapsed in a struggle, blood splashing over the stones beside the bonfire and staining the ground red.

Heavy footfalls followed. White-cloaked outlaws leaped from the cliffs on both sides like ghosts in the night and rushed into the camp.

"Enemy attack!"

The cry had barely sounded when an outlaw pounced on the soldier like a leopard and slit his throat with a dagger.

Blood sprayed. The cry died with him.

The camp dissolved into chaos.