FL - Chapter 68: Fire and Slaughter

Barnes's forces reached the outskirts of Snowhawk City and surrounded it in a single night.

They sealed three sides, leaving only a gap to the west.

But they didn't attack. They appeared to be preparing something.

...

The nobles of Snowpeak County gathered once more in the same command tent.

The ease and absurdity of the previous council had vanished, replaced by crushing tension.

Count Firth, who had ranted drunkenly before, now cowered in his chair like a frightened quail and barely dared breathe.

Viscount Webster sat in full armor, his expression grave.

"The Snowsworn have come in force. We estimate more than two thousand, but we still hold the advantage.

"Snowhawk City has two thousand garrison troops and more than one thousand combat-capable knights. We can face them directly, but I recommend a cautious defense from the walls."

He paused.

"I have requested reinforcements from Duke Edmund. His army will need roughly ten days to reach us.

"Our provisions are sufficient and the defenses are strong. If we hold, relief will come."

The nobles nodded. They had no better option.

"Now for the defensive sectors."

Webster spread out a map of Snowhawk City.

"The southern wall is old, but the ground before it is open. If the enemy's main force attacks there, we can annihilate them in one stroke.

"The southern colonization lords will hold that sector. Your men are fresh, your mounts are fast, and you can respond quickly."

He turned to several northern nobles.

"The northern and eastern walls stand beside the granaries and inner city. They require commanders familiar with the ground.

"The old houses' private troops know those areas best and can maneuver there efficiently."

His reasoning sounded flawless.

But the southern nobles exchanged uneasy looks.

He had assigned them the most dangerous and thankless position.

The northern nobles said nothing. With an unspoken understanding, they nodded and accepted Webster's favoritism.

Several young colonization lords opened their mouths to object, then swallowed their words.

Everyone understood, but no one spoke plainly.

Count Firth acted as though he had heard nothing and lowered his head further.

The council continued.

Viscount Webster issued the remaining defensive orders.

"Recalibrate the ballistae on the arrow towers and inspect them at least twice a day."

"Prepare boiling oil and rolling stones. Put experienced men in charge. There can be no delays."

"Rotate the sentries more often, especially around the western gate."

When the final order was given, the council ended.

Cold wind howled outside the tent.

Several southern nobles departed together, their faces dark.

"Fresh men and fast mounts?" one sneered. "It sounds respectable, but anyone can see they're throwing us into the fire."

"Those old northern foxes protect their own. They truly see us as outsiders."

"We may be here, but we still need to protect our lives."

Their words were bitter, but their voices remained low. They could only vent into the cold wind.

That same night, many noble households began making quiet preparations.

Men inspected saddles and reins in the stables. Guards changing shifts on the walls found Gold Coins pressed into their palms.

Others secretly examined hidden passages near the gates and drainage outlets behind the keep.

They were preparing escape routes.

The Snowsworn had surrounded Snowhawk City, but the city hadn't fallen.

Its defenders, however, were already pursuing their own schemes.

...

Night pressed down in silence.

"Go," Louis ordered.

More than a hundred Crimson Tide Knights rose from cover and approached the Snowsworn camp from the rear, concealed by the mountain paths.

Scouts had mapped the patrol routes. Louis selected the weakest gap and drove straight through it.

The first strike team entered the camp and started fires.

They poured oil and released volleys of fire arrows. Several tents erupted into flame, throwing the enemy rear into chaos.

A crimson shadow swept into the camp like a meteor.

Lambert led the charge with ten elite Crimson Tide Knights close behind.

Their Battle Aura formed a red spear aimed at the command tent.

The Snowsworn commander jolted awake. He heard the turmoil, seized his battle-axe, and burst outside.

"An attack? Impossible! How did they find—"

Lambert's blade was already at his throat.

The commander raised his axe and blocked. Battle Aura exploded between the weapons, driving Lambert and his horse back several steps.

The force shook the tent and tore away its canvas, revealing the commander's formidable strength.

It made no difference.

Ten Crimson Tide elites entered from the flanks, their armor gleaming in the firelight like approaching death.

The commander roared and swept his axe outward, forcing two knights back.

But the Crimson Tide Knights attacked in perfect coordination, leaving no opening as they closed around him.

Lambert steadied himself and thrust again. The commander barely blocked.

When he tried to counter, two knights struck his shoulder and arm from either flank. Blood sprayed.

Steel flashed behind him. A spear pierced his chest.

The axe fell from his hand. The commander stared in disbelief even as he died.

Outside the tent, fire illuminated the valley and screams rose everywhere.

The Crimson Tide Knights divided into squads and swept through the camp like streams of flame, setting fires wherever they passed.

They didn't burn blindly. Knights secured the granary and treasury instead.

Flames climbed into the sky as the enemy camp collapsed into chaos.

The Snowsworn had been caught unprepared. Their commander was dead, and their adjutant had been beheaded before he understood the attack.

Warriors fled through darkness and fire, some armored and others barefoot.

"Attack! Where are they?"

"The rear! No, the north too!"

The cries overlapped. No one knew how many enemies had attacked or where they had come from.

Crimson Tide squads struck and withdrew in rotation, remaining only a few breaths before choosing another target.

Before the Snowsworn could organize a counterattack, another part of the camp was burning.

Their defensive line soon broke apart.

Then the main force charged.

Units of thirty knights burst from the mountain forest and tore through the camp's densest section.

The Snowsworn tried to resist, only to be scattered by hooves, pierced by lances, and burned by Battle Aura.

Several squads attempted to form ranks but were overwhelmed before the formation took shape.

Ordinary soldiers fled, fell, and screamed as they trampled one another toward the trees.

Crimson Tide Knights hunting in the darkness cut them down among the forest.

The camp looked consumed by hell. Fire painted the ground red, while mud and blood flowed together beneath the soldiers' feet.

"The hunt has begun," Louis said.

He stood beside a burning watchtower, its crimson light reflected in his eyes.