Kingdombuilding: All My Inventions Are Novelty

Chapter 164: Sabotage

The lone moon hung high, its silver light blanketing the earth like morning frost.

In a small grove opposite the Brambleford Army’s official estate, dozens of shadowy figures shifted among the trees, black silhouettes in the night.

"What now? The estate is guarded day and night by the Brambleford Army. There’s no chance to make a move." Whispered one of the men.

Through gaps in the trees, one could clearly see the glint of moonlight reflecting off the soldiers’ silver armour.

"Yeah, the wheat’s almost ready to harvest. If we don’t act now, it’ll be too late."

The man referred to was clad in black, the round silver moon reflected in his eyes. He spoke coldly. "Fern will soon launch his attack on Dunmere. The merchants from the steppe brought word that our mission is to disrupt the prince’s supply lines. No matter what, tonight we burn those wheat fields."

"Finally! I’ve been waiting for this. When did this brat, Simon, start calling the shots in Brambleford anyway? Since he’s forced us into a corner, let’s send him to hell first." One man spat.

"Exactly. The steppe merchants said Fern promised that if we succeed tonight, once Brambleford is taken, the six cities’ lands will be divided among us. We’ll each be little kings ourselves."

That promise sent ripples of excitement through the group. "We’ll give Fern a proper gift." The black-clad leader said with a sneer.

"What’s the plan?"

He paused, then said. "The Brambleford Army is too alert. A head-on assault won’t work. You, take ten men and create a diversion from the east. Don’t engage them, just draw them away. The rest of us will use the opening to set the wheat fields on fire."

"Brilliant plan. Let’s move."

One of the men led a team across the stone bridge toward the estate.

When they got close, one of them pulled out a fire striker and blew on it. With a spark, the flame ignited. He tossed it into the dry wheat.

The weather had been hot and dry for days. The moment the flame touched the field, the wheat went up like kindling.

"Fire! Saboteurs! Saboteurs!" A Brambleford soldier roared as the blaze lit up the night.

Panic swept through the guards. Some grabbed water buckets to extinguish the flames, while others charged toward the fleeing arsonists.

The black-clad men didn’t fight back; they kept just out of reach, drawing soldiers further away.

Meanwhile, the rest of the saboteurs crossed Ford River under cover of the chaos, infiltrating the estate and setting fires in dozens of locations spontaneously.

The Brambleford soldiers were overwhelmed, put out one blaze, and another sprang up behind them.

Then came the attack.

Grouped, the black-clad men drew short blades and launched surprise strikes on the scattered soldiers.

The sickening sound of metal piercing armour.

"Ahhh!" Collin cried out as a blade stabbed into his back.

But his training kicked in. Instead of turning, he rolled away and drew his sword, blood soaking through his armour.

Thanks to his body armour, the blade hadn’t gone deep.

He grit his teeth, locked eyes with his attacker, and shouted. "Assassins here!"

The saboteur was stunned; he had expected a clean kill. But Collin’s shout brought nearby soldiers running.

Realising he had lost the advantage, the assassin turned to flee into the shadows.

But Collin didn’t give him the chance.

With a predator’s leap, he struck back, his sword cutting down in an arc.

The attacker dodged, lacking Collin’s protection.

Collin’s swing had been a feint; midway through, he pivoted, slashing sideways.

The blade bit deep into the assassin’s arm. Blood sprayed as the man screamed.

"Leader!" One of the saboteurs shouted, and the others rushed to shield him.

Collin raised his sword, ready.

"Retreat!" The wounded leader ordered. Seeing more soldiers closing in, he chose to escape.

The saboteurs melted back into the darkness.

The soldiers reached Collin. "Collin! Are you hurt?"

Clutching his back, Collin grabbed a water bucket. "I’m fine. Put out the fire!"

As much as they wanted to hunt down the attackers, they knew if the wheat burned, the Brambleford Army’s food for the year would be gone.

Even knowing the assassins might strike again, the soldiers risked everything to fight the flames.

Meanwhile, a detachment had already ridden to the Brambleford garrison for reinforcements.

But the flames were growing, and just buckets weren’t enough.

Across the river, the saboteurs watched the inferno with smug satisfaction on their faces.

"This is only one estate." The leader said coldly. "There are more. Let’s see how long they can keep up."

The flames rose higher, painting the sky red. Sparks flew. The smoke thickened.

In the city, people looked up and gasped.

In the prince’s castle, Simon was dragged out of bed by Joan.

He rushed to the window and saw the northern sky glowing red; that was the estate.

Having grown up in the countryside, Simon knew exactly what this meant.

That kind of red sky only appeared during massive wheat fires.

But in these times, no one burned straw. Every household saved straw for cooking fires.

Which meant someone had set the fields ablaze.

"Ready the horses!" Simon shouted.

"We already have them prepared," Ysabeau replied calmly.

Simon vaulted onto his mount and led his guards galloping out of the city.

At the same time, the Brambleford Army had already mobilised.

Nearby villagers also surged out of their homes, worried their own crops would be next.

"The Prince’s estate field is on fire!" Someone shouted. "Get your buckets!"

From every direction, farmers picked up sickles, buckets, anything they could carry and ran toward the flames in a bid to assist in any way they could.

The pitch-black night was dyed crimson by raging flames, the acrid stench of smoke thick in the air.

In front of the official granary, the pungent scent of scorched wheat stabbed at Simon’s heart like a blade.

This was months of rations for the Brambleford Army... Months of rations.

"My Lord!"