Chapter 212: Chapter 107: Senior, How Much Longer Are You Going to Hug Me?
An unconcealed glint of greed flashed in Craig’s one eye. "I’ve heard all about it. They say that new garrison commander is quite resourceful. He’s made Lakefront Town so prosperous it’s overflowing with wealth. I hear their warehouses are piled high with grain, their mines yield top-grade iron ore, and the town’s shops even sell Elven crafts and dwarven spirits—uh, what’s it called again? The Water of Life..."
He licked his chapped lips. "Didn’t we all come this far to strike it rich? If we keep moving this slowly, what if they get wind of our approach, pack up their valuables, and flee? We’ll have come all this way for nothing!"
Angus listened, his expression cold.
For this operation, the order their combined force had received was to "capture Lakefront Town."
But in reality, these gathered "allies"—including the five hundred men Craig had brought from Sardinia—were almost all here for Lakefront Town’s wealth.
In these chaotic times, loyalty followed the food.
The Draenei Brotherhood had been able to expand so rapidly not because of the lofty ideals it publicly preached, but because of naked self-interest: plundering money, grain, and territory.
As for these methods...
As a man of knightly background, Angus had never been able to condone them. But the tide of the times was against him, and he was powerless to turn it.
"What’s the rush?"
In the face of his "ally’s" impatience, Angus’s voice was hoarse and steady. "Lakefront Town isn’t going anywhere. We have the numbers, but the column is stretched too thin. If we force a march and run into an ambush, the vanguard and rearguard won’t be able to support each other. It’s a recipe for disaster."
"Besides, my neighbor, Lynch, is a capable man. He turned Lakefront Town into a thriving place in just seven or eight months. A man his age is bound to be proud and impetuous. Once he gets word of our approach, there’s a good chance he won’t just sit in Lakefront Town and wait for death. He’ll come out to ambush us!"
"Hah! A mere Tier One Necromancer brat," Craig the Scarface sneered, his eye filled with disdain. "What can a sewer rat like that do, aside from playing with a few skeletons? Him? Ambush us? Does he think he’s worthy?"
He patted the heavy axe at his waist and said gruffly, "I could cleave two of them with a single swing! If he’s really got the balls to ambush us, it’ll just save us the trouble. A good chance for the men to stretch their legs. The sooner we deal with him, the sooner we can start looting Lakefront Town."
He had barely finished speaking when...
THUDDA-THUDDA-THUDDA—!
A lone horse suddenly burst around the bend in the road ahead, carrying a Scout who galloped furiously toward the main army.
The Scout was a wretched sight, slumped over his horse’s back. A ghastly white bone arrow protruded from his shoulder, and blood had soaked through half of his leather armor.
As he drew near, his desperate grip on the horse’s neck loosened, and he all but tumbled from the saddle.
"It’s Carl."
Angus recognized him at a glance as a member of his most elite scouting party. His expression changed instantly.
He immediately spurred his horse forward, vaulted from the saddle, and caught the man. "Carl, what happened? Where are the others?!"
The Scout’s face was ashen. "M-My Lord... an ambush... In the woods... phantoms! And... and a marksman hiding in the shadows. His shots are deadly accurate... The others... they’re all dead. I’m the only one who made it back..."
"Phantoms? A marksman?" Angus’s brow furrowed, his expression turning grim.
On the march, Scouts were the army’s eyes and ears.
To lose them was to be blinded and deafened—a fatal threat to the safety of the entire column.
’So the enemy has made their move,’ Angus thought. ’And they targeted my Scouts right from the start.’
"Did you see how many there were? Besides the phantoms and the archer, were there other Undead?" Angus pressed.
"N-no... couldn’t get a clear look..." Carl shook his head with great effort. "The phantoms appeared without a sound and instantly gave several of the men frostbite. The arrows came from at least two hundred meters away, deep in the forest. We couldn’t even see a shadow..."
Angus’s expression darkened. ’This is a major problem.’
’Without Scouts to clear the way, the army is vulnerable to ambush at any moment.’
Immediately.
He ordered in a stern voice, "Relay my commands! All troops, slow your advance! Vanguard, reform the line! Shield bearers to the front! Archers and crossbowmen, watch the woods on our flanks! Barton, you will take two squads of my Personal Guard and scout ahead. Do not exceed a distance of two hundred meters from the main force. Signal immediately if you are attacked. When you encounter dense woods, canyons, bridges, or any other potential ambush point, conduct a thorough sweep. The army will not advance until you confirm the area is secure!"
"Yes, sir!" Barton, the captain of the Personal Guard, acknowledged the order in a clear voice. He immediately gathered his men and headed forward to scout.
Seeing this, Craig the Scarface’s expression soured. He was clearly unhappy with the decision. "I say, my friend, aren’t you... being a little too cautious? At this speed, we might not even make it to Lakefront Town by tomorrow night. The longer we delay, the more that can go wrong, you know?"
"I am the commander of this joint army." Angus looked at him, his gaze now filled with authority. "Brother Craig, I understand your eagerness for a fight. But as the commander, I am responsible for the lives of every man here. It is better to be cautious than to walk into an ambush."
He paused, then added in a heavy tone, "If it turns out I have squandered a tactical opportunity, I alone will bear the full responsibility. But right now, you will obey my command. Otherwise, you are guilty of insubordination on the battlefield!"
Craig opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he saw several of Angus’s own officers standing behind him, their hands tightening on their weapons and their eyes glinting with hostility. They were clearly on Angus’s side.
Although he was the leader of an "allied" contingent, he only had five hundred men. He was also the newcomer here. If things turned ugly, he wouldn’t necessarily have the upper hand.
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