The Locke men were here?

Strength surged through the barbarian chief, and he sprang to his feet. He looked back the way they had come. Apart from a few of his own men dragging weary feet, there was nothing there.

He was about to curse his subordinate for a false alarm when the men in his sight suddenly turned and ran. They moved so fast that none of their previous exhaustion showed.

Damn it.

The chief had barely turned around before his men were already dragging him away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw ranks of fully armed Locke soldiers advancing. Their familiar triangular banners confirmed their identity.

It was a trap.

"Cunning Locke men."

He fled with one last anguished look at the treasure he had fought so hard to seize. Wealth meant nothing if he died beside it.

He shoved away the man beside him and tried to run faster. Then he remembered that after walking all night, his legs had gone weak—especially now that he had stopped to rest.

Before long, Locke infantry caught him and kicked him to the ground.

Some barbarians shouted in their dialect that those who surrendered would not be killed. One look showed why: they were traitors captured by the Locke men.

Adrian captured dozens without effort. Any barbarian who resisted desperately was cut down at once.

Taking prisoners was far simpler and safer than fighting a bloody battle head-on.

More barbarians stumbled into his hands one after another and squatted on the ground alongside their chief.

By noon, they had captured around a hundred and fifty. The rest had probably either lost their way or slipped past them by another route.

When Simon's cavalry arrived, they were astonished to find barbarians crouching all over the ground.

"Adrian! You caught all of these?"

Simon could not hide his envy. So many prisoners meant substantial merit, and knowing Lord Derek, the reward would be generous.

"It was all arranged by the commander of a thousand," Adrian answered evenly.

The assignment had not been difficult. It had been tiring, but it was undeniably a good posting.

Others might resent the decision, but kinship had its privileges. Adrian would not refuse the advantages of blood, though he had no intention of flaunting them.

"Simon, take your men around the area. You should still be able to catch a few stragglers."

Simon's eyes lit up. After thanking him, he immediately led his men off to sweep the area.

Quite a few barbarians had escaped. Some were lost; some had seen the danger and avoided it. Men running on two legs could not get far. They would not catch them all, but there would certainly be gains.

...

Back in the town, Derek remained calm throughout.

That composure made the anxiously waiting Baron Palmer deeply envious.

"Derek, you were born to be a general."

Even though Palmer knew the result was already decided, he could not stop worrying that something might go wrong.

Derek gave a soft laugh. He was not truly calm; it was his first time commanding like this, and of course he was worried.

Whenever worry set in, however, he opened the Panel and checked it. Everyone remained listed, which meant the operation was still going well.

Sure enough, the messenger soon brought good news. Had Simon not delayed while catching prisoners, the victory report would have come even earlier.

"Baron Palmer, leave a small force to guard the prisoners for now. We will wait for Count Perez to arrive. I need to pick up the pace."

Under the count's orders, the two thousands were bait.

And bait could not advance cautiously and steadily.

Pressing forward after victory, charging too deep in reckless confidence—that was what bait was supposed to do.

When it came time to divide the spoils, Baron Palmer refused Derek's kindness.

"My family does not lack money. We need military merit, and a fief. Only then can we truly join the ranks of the nobility, rather than merely being rich as we are now."

What a grand thing to say.

But commercial nobles of this new sort really did not lack money.

Derek could only silently accept the spoils. Everyone envied the wealthy, and everyone liked doing business with them.

After a brief rest, Derek drove the two thousands hard into the heart of the barbarian army.

By then, they were already very close to Ironwall City.

Meanwhile, Count Perez had only just received word of Derek's renewed advance. Without any urgency, he ordered the Second Legion to assemble.

"The boy understands what I mean, and he dares to take risks. If he survives this, the least he will earn is a baron's title."

Count Perez made his admiration plain. After all, he had not issued the same order to the Tenth Thousand alone.

Of all the commanders, only Derek had understood its meaning, dared to take it on, and most importantly, had the ability to carry it out.

The others had no chance to compete now even if they wanted to.

Only commanders who proved themselves under pressure could withstand the barbarian army's assault.

...

Derek's sudden appearance took the barbarians by surprise.

Their vigilance was weakest near the main camp. Only after Derek captured several small groups and killed nearly a hundred men did they take notice.

But by then, he had driven prisoners ahead of him and taken an entire town in one stroke, recovering the lost ground before the barbarian army could react.

It was an extremely dangerous move. Barbarians surrounded him on every side, front and rear. One mistake could mean the annihilation of his entire force.

Even then, Derek had not attracted much attention.

Not until he used the prisoners to strengthen the town's defenses, then led his cavalry to swiftly crush several barbarian detachments and supply trains sent to drive him away, did the barbarian main camp have to take him seriously.

This Locke force was a bone in their throat. It meant that nearby units could no longer move in groups smaller than a hundred men, and even supply trains could not travel alone.

That would greatly increase the army's burden, especially while deep inside Locke territory.

The manpower tied down and the blow to morale would have consequences beyond measure.

When the barbarian commander received the report, he gestured over the map and quickly found the town Derek occupied.

It was planted right in the middle, able to threaten either flank.

Leave it alone, and it would make life unbearable.

"The Kingdom of Locke has some capable commanders after all. But they underestimate us too much."

Did they think he could not see through such an obvious intention? Did they think the barbarians lacked the strength to pull out this nail?

After asking the positions of the First and Second Legions, he jabbed a finger hard at Derek's town.

"Send Head Wolf Enrique to deal with these troublesome Locke men. Bring his troops back afterward—the Locke main force is coming."

...

Once the barbarians realized Ironwall City would be difficult to take, they had already slowed their offensive.

Their objective was simple: maul Locke's reinforcements and destroy the Northern Province's power to resist. That would sever the Northern Province from the Kingdom of Locke for some time.

The barbarians' strength would earn recognition from the three southern kingdoms. They would formally step onto the stage... and found a nation.

The barbarian commander appointed his officers, and scattered barbarian bands quickly formed a new organization.

The hesitant warriors soon gathered beneath a wolf banner.

Nearly a third of all barbarians in this invasion converged on one small town.

Head Wolf Enrique waited until every unit had arrived, then surrounded the town on all sides. He clearly intended to leave no one alive.

Baron Palmer stood beside Derek. He had charged into the town the day before it was surrounded.

Clearly, he was willing to risk everything for a future.

Derek would never turn down additional strength. Even a single hundred-man company might matter at a critical moment.

But faced with the sea of troops outside, Palmer's legs trembled a little. To be honest, he suddenly regretted it.

"Knight Derek, if we make it home alive, I will introduce you to my daughter."

Derek looked at him in surprise. Palmer's expression was serious; he was not joking at all.

Still, it made sense. Derek's performance made him a promising prospect. Being noticed was only natural.

"Baron, let us both survive first."

As the barbarians' numbers grew, Derek could not claim he felt no concern.

But he had chosen this place for a stronghold not only because of its position. The town's walls were relatively sturdy.

For a small town, it was unusually well enclosed by proper stone walls.

With more than two thousand men, Derek was confident he could make the barbarians break their teeth against it.

"They're coming!"

As the two spoke, the barbarians began to move.

The crude wall had no towers to protect it, and its parapet was so low that it was barely better than nothing.

So Derek wisely brought a company of sword-and-shield men to serve as protection.

The barbarians lacked siege experience. They surged forward in a single disorderly rush and quickly lost momentum.

After observing for a while and making a few simple adjustments to the deployment, Derek let the junior officers take charge.

But Palmer could not understand why he had deliberately weakened the wall's defense.

"With so few men, won't it be easily broken?"

"I have reserves on the inner side. If something goes wrong, they can reinforce the breach in time.

"And defense is not about throwing everyone forward in a heap. If it is too crowded, they cannot fight effectively. Clear layers let us kill barbarian soldiers more efficiently.

"Most importantly... I am deliberately showing weakness."

Derek explained patiently. From their days together, he had found Palmer someone worth befriending, and he did not mind sharing a little basic military knowledge.

The show of weakness was meant to lower the barbarians' guard and lure them into committing their troops piecemeal. Derek had deliberately reduced the southern wall's defenders by another third.

Inside the walls, even amid such fierce fighting, large numbers of prisoners and temporarily conscripted townspeople worked without cease.

If they lacked materials, they tore down houses. If they lacked hands, they drafted more people.

Derek had no intention of talking to them about rights. At a moment like this, swords and blades were truth.

That was another thing Palmer could not understand, but he wisely did not ask further questions.

He would wait and see. No matter how many hidden measures Derek had arranged, they would eventually be revealed.

Head Wolf Enrique was also watching the battle at the southern gate. Seeing his soldiers charge without order gave him a headache.

"Have these fools not suffered enough at the Locke men's hands? Once we return, they must be drilled until they learn how to take a town."

The barbarian commanders had begun developing siege tactics. In the lands of the three southern kingdoms, fortified cities were common and direct assaults were costly.

But the recently reformed Barbarian Kingdom had not yet found the time to build a regular army. These men from individual tribes knew nothing except how to swing blades at people.

After watching for a while, Enrique saw that the Locke men fought well and that the attacking barbarians were losing men quickly.

That matched the usual standard of Locke troops. But... it was not enough.

"At most three days. We can pile bodies high enough to break open the gate."

After watching a little longer, he made that confident judgment.

He sent out his personal guard to direct the frontline siege. There was still no technical sophistication to it, but at least the attacks became far smoother, applying constant pressure like waves.

They no longer rushed in a disorderly swarm, bottling up beneath the walls and handing over their lives for nothing.

"Perhaps it will not even take three days."

Enrique muttered to himself, already considering his next opponent.

These Locke men were at most a minor irritation that had advanced too far and would soon be cleaned up. As for the commander-in-chief calling them bait—what was bait that could be swallowed whole, if not a meal offered up to them?

On the first day, the barbarians lost four or five hundred men, but they also discovered that the southern gate was the weakest point.

On the second, Enrique shifted the main attack. Barbarian soldiers climbed the walls several times, only to be stubbornly driven back by the Locke men.

Everyone, Enrique included, felt they were close.

On the third day, Enrique sent in his guard companies, intending to take the town in one push.

But they were still one breath short.

An accident. It had to be an accident. One more day at most.

Enrique was beginning to feel the pressure.

On the fourth day, he personally beheaded several deserters, yet the tottering walls still stood.

The Locke men always seemed about to collapse, but their last breath never failed. Every time, they held on.

He had begun to realize it might be a Locke trap.

The barbarian main camp had asked for reports several times. Enrique could only answer, "Soon! Soon!"

He did not believe the Locke men could hold much longer. He still had seven or eight thousand men. The enemy had suffered serious losses over the past days—how many could they have left?

Pile up enough bodies, and there would still be men to fight.

Inside the town, the structure Derek had overseen was taking shape. It was something Palmer had never seen before.

When he saw great piles of firewood and flammables being stacked inside the walls, he seemed to understand Derek's intention.

But what impressed him even more was Derek's command in the field. If he had not stood right beside the man, he too would have been thoroughly deceived.

Over these days, their actual losses were far fewer than they appeared.

Derek had mixed pressed militia among the regular soldiers on the walls, drilling them as they fought.

To an observer, it appeared that they had lost more than a thousand men. In truth, only a third of that number were genuine casualties.

Militia?

Sorry, but commoners outside the establishment were not counted. No one cared about them.

And the speed of the training was astonishing. It had been only ten days at most since they entered the town, yet many militiamen already looked the part.

Their fighting ability was not guaranteed, but at least they could hold a weapon.

So the barbarians believed the Locke men were at the end of their rope, while the reality was far better than they imagined.