Knight: Becoming King of the World

Chapter 118: Chapter 100: Likes to Make Red Fountains

Selas and Bain moved cautiously through the dense forest, arriving at the edge of a clearing.

They crouched down, carefully observing their surroundings. Aside from the occasional birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, all was quiet.

Bain whispered to Selas, "It’s too quiet here. We need to be careful. The Mercenaries could be nearby; they’re skilled at using the terrain for concealment."

Selas nodded, motioning for the soldiers behind them to remain vigilant. He and Bain then started moving slowly along the edge of the clearing, searching for any possible clues.

After a long search, their conclusion was the same: no one was there.

The two immediately led their men back into the dense forest, where they gathered the scouting party to give out new orders.

They dispatched several riders on foot to stealthily approach the salt mine and observe the Mercenaries’ movements, while others were sent to deliver a message to Henry.

Bain and his men left markers along the way. Every two hours, they dispatched three cavalrymen to report back, allowing Henry’s army to quicken its pace.

Not far away, Henry was feeding his horse. This Vadar Blood Horse was a top-tier mount within the empire, a gift from the emperor and something that could no longer be bought with money.

"My lord, the Shield Brotherhood, Green Forest Brotherhood, and Karakujit are all long-established Mercenary Clans. Should we launch a preemptive strike against them?"

Henry stroked his warhorse and said to Roland, "The Green Forest Brotherhood... they may look like they have a lot of infantry, but they’re actually all archers. Lightly armored, no shields. Our shooters can slaughter them."

"The Shield Brotherhood is known for its spearmen and skirmishers. Their armor is mediocre. They’re no threat to our infantry."

"As for the Karakujit... they’re not much stronger than our own Grassland Warriors. Now that’s a Mercenary Clan we need to be careful with."

The only force Henry was truly concerned about was the Karakujit Mercenaries. The other two were nothing but paper tigers.

Suddenly, the sound of galloping hooves rang out. A soldier arrived to report that Bain and his men had thoroughly scouted the Salt Stone Mountain Range and found no trace of the Mercenaries.

At Henry’s command, the army, whose brief noon rest had just ended, immediately began a forced march. Only the thundering hooves and the soldiers’ heavy breathing broke the silence on the road.

At dusk, Henry’s army finally reached the Salt Stone Mountain Range. The soldiers, moving with practiced skill, quickly began to make camp.

To maintain concealment, Henry ordered that no fires be lit. The camp was silent in the darkness, with only the occasional whisper and footstep.

As for dinner, they would have to make do with chewing on hardtack and dried meat.

Henry summoned Bain, Selas, and several other senior officers. They sat in a circle inside a tent, discussing their next moves by the faint candlelight.

"If they want to attack us, they have to pass through the Salt Stone Mountain Range. All we need to do is be here to give them a nice, quiet burial."

Bain nodded in agreement and suggested, "My lord, we could set some traps in the surrounding area, specifically targeting the enemy’s horse archers. Selas and I found the soil here is very soft, perfect for digging hidden pits."

Selas added, "The enemy horse archers will certainly circle and harass us at the start of the battle. Once the traps are set, as long as our own archers and infantry are ready, we can quickly devour their horse archers."

Their discussion continued for a while longer, and they ultimately decided to set traps around the camp.

However, late that night, a Scout—a grassland rider—rushed into the camp. He brought urgent news that woke the sleeping Henry.

"My Lord, we’ve spotted the Mercenaries to the northwest! They’re moving quickly toward the Salt Stone Mountain Range!"

Henry’s drowsy eyes snapped open. He shot to his feet, a smile playing on his lips. "They’re finally here. Relay my orders! All soldiers, don your armor and assume battle readiness. Archers and infantry, prepare to engage. Cavalry, protect the flanks."

’What’s the point of digging traps? Let’s just get it done!’

The soldiers on night watch went from tent to tent, rousing their resting comrades. The men moved quickly, and the atmosphere in the camp grew tense at once.

Archers checked their arrows, infantrymen tightened their grip on their weapons, and the cavalrymen muffled their horses’ mouths with strips of cloth to prevent any sound.

Henry emerged from his tent and stood on a small rise, gazing out at the Salt Stone Mountain Range under the cover of night.

He had already donned his heavy plate armor and held his long-unused Yanyue Saber. In the distance, the faint lights of the Mercenaries’ torches flickered as they rapidly approached.

"My lord, are we launching a night attack? Perhaps they haven’t spotted us," Bain and Selas asked as they fitted Henry’s warhorse with its barding.

"Of course we are. They’re marching through the night, which means they’re poorly fed and poorly rested. Our soldiers are capable of night combat, so we can’t pass up this opportunity."

Bain thought for a moment, then asked, "My lord, wouldn’t it be more effective if we prepared the traps before engaging?"

Henry swung himself onto his horse and pulled the reins. "I can’t wait," he said. "I want to cut them down right now... Go and command your Cavalry."

Since the enemy had no peasant levies in this battle, Henry wouldn’t send his own to fight their soldiers. Such a move would only get his battle line broken.

Seven companies of Skilled Infantry formed into square blocks and advanced on the enemy, guided by the Scouts. Philip commanded three companies of skilled shooters and one company of Veteran Shooters, who followed close behind the infantry with bows in hand.

Bain departed with six companies of Grassland Warriors. When Henry engaged the enemy, they would harass the enemy’s rear with mounted archery.