FL - Chapter 76: Reinforcements

Gibson rode hard through the knife-cold wind.

His knights followed in column, their hoofbeats pounding without pause.

"Faster!"

They had traveled for five days, driving themselves onward with Battle Aura and barely resting.

Gibson understood the mission's importance.

Two barons and slightly more than one hundred men faced eight hundred Snowsworn cavalry at Clearfeather Ridge. Lasting even several days would be a miracle.

"Move! Any later, and there won't be bodies left to recover!"

The horses breathed raggedly, foam covering their mouths and blood marking their hooves.

Gibson refused to stop.

When they reached Clearfeather Ridge, the sight brought him up short.

The camp was orderly. Fires burned, soldiers patrolled, and everything appeared normal.

No enemy. No corpses. No sign of battle.

"Was the intelligence wrong?"

Gibson dismounted with anger rising in his chest after five days of relentless travel.

A guard saw Duke Edmund's crest on his armor and saluted.

"Sir, are you the Duke's reinforcements? Lord Calvin instructed me to escort you to him."

Gibson followed the guard into the command tent.

Louis stood before a battle map.

"You've had a difficult journey, Commander."

"Where is the enemy?" Gibson demanded. "Were you attacked, or was the report false?"

"We were attacked, but the matter is settled."

Gibson stared. "You annihilated the wolf riders?"

Louis gestured. "Come with me."

They climbed a slope overlooking a side valley.

A piercing stench struck before they reached the top. Gibson covered his mouth and nose.

Pale-yellow poison still drifted through the valley. The odors of rot, char, and blood mingled in the cold wind.

The ground appeared burned to cinders.

Blackened corpses and shattered remains formed small hills. Corrosion had reduced some to vague human shapes with exposed bone.

Gibson stood frozen.

He had imagined brutal battlefields, but nothing like this.

"How was this done?"

"A small trick. Hardly worth mentioning."

Gibson studied the young noble for the first time.

Louis showed neither pride nor pity.

Beneath him lay eight hundred Snowsworn elites.

...

A Swiftwind Bird crossed the bitter night.

"A battle report from Clearfeather Ridge."

An attendant handed Duke Edmund the envelope.

"Clearfeather Ridge? Gibson's reinforcements only just departed. How is there a report already?"

Edmund feared the pass had fallen.

He sat, opened the letter, and read.

Within seconds, confusion became disbelief, then shock and delight.

"Eight hundred enemies ambushed and annihilated? Mana Blast Bombs, the Mirror of Veiled Mist... The battle ended within minutes?"

The report was concise.

The enemy mistook the disguised ruins for the stronghold, entered the killing ground, and was shattered by multiple Mana Blast Bombs and a landslide.

The Crimson Tide Knights then encircled and eliminated every survivor.

Clearfeather Ridge remained secure.

A young baron with little battlefield experience had orchestrated everything.

"What an extraordinary boy."

Edmund laughed and closed the report.

"Send another thousand knights and six thousand infantry. They must reach Clearfeather Ridge within eight days!

"Order Gibson to seal the valley like a tomb."

"Yes, Your Grace!"

"And redirect the nine thousand troops already assembled toward Snowhawk City."

Even before receiving the report, Edmund had decided to adjust his strategy.

Destroying the Snowsworn within the year was impossible. They were cunning, scattered, and tenacious, and repeated encirclement campaigns had failed.

The army was exhausted, autumn harvest approached, and the Northlands needed winter grain reserves.

Edmund had ordered an end to the advance on every front.

The army would concentrate on eliminating Snowsworn forces within Imperial territory, then compress and drive the survivors into Ice Sea County and Snowfall County.

Those counties would become the main battlefield for next year's decisive campaign.

The victory at Clearfeather Ridge had given the plan an excellent beginning.

"Well done, boy of House Calvin."

...

Snowhawk City had become a bloody playground for the Snowsworn.

Broken banners and collapsed mansions covered the streets. The former banquet hall now served as their den.

Barnes sprawled on a bear-pelt couch and drank the remaining liquor. A bound young noblewoman lay at his feet, empty-eyed and covered in dried blood.

He didn't fear an Imperial siege.

Once Clearfeather Ridge fell, reinforcements would stream in from behind. Until then, he intended to enjoy his victory.

A wild-haired wolf rider stumbled into the hall, his eyes unfocused.

"R-report!"

"Who allowed you inside looking like that?" Barnes snapped.

Then he understood the message, and the color left his face.

"Clearfeather Ridge wasn't taken. All eight hundred brothers were annihilated!"

Barnes surged upright, dropping his cup.

"What did you say?"

"They used something strange. The ground split open—fire, poison! Nothing is left!"

"Have you gone mad?"

The rider laughed and sobbed on his knees. "I saw it. They burned one after another. I don't want to die..."

"Silence!"

Barnes overturned the table. Cold sweat covered his forehead, and his fingers trembled.

Eight hundred wolf riders had been annihilated.

They had been his finest assault force.

Worse, the best opportunity to attack was gone. Imperial reinforcements were arriving without pause, and Clearfeather Ridge was notoriously difficult to assault.

Barnes could only hope Ice Sea County launched a major offensive soon.

Otherwise, death was certain.