Knight: Becoming King of the World

Soslan swept his arm wide, unfurling the map behind him for all to see.

He pointed to Autongard on the map and announced, "We will depart from here, cross the Gray Forest, follow the mountain range, and finally reach the Tianyin Plains."

"We may face obstacles along the way, but we must be as swift as a raging storm!"

The nobles were roused to a fever pitch, all voicing their assent, but what they truly thought in their hearts, no one knew.

Henry and Fass exchanged a glance, silently forging an alliance.

The horn of battle had sounded. That very night, Autongard was ablaze with light as military supplies and wagons were organized throughout the city.

Early the next morning, the Eighth Legion departed first. With a full-strength force of ten thousand regular soldiers and thirty thousand serfs, it took them until eleven o’clock to completely clear the city.

The Ninth Legion followed close behind. With an identical force, it took them four hours to fully depart from Autongard.

Henry and Fass, leading their respective forces, made camp together.

Henry’s force this time consisted of thirteen Heavy Cavalry, nine Senior Shield-Crossbowmen, an Elite Senior Infantry Team of fifty-three men, two forty-man teams of Grassland Warriors, three eighty-man teams of Imperial Archers, and four teams of new recruits who looked like Skilled Infantry.

Including his eight hundred serfs, his total force numbered nearly seventeen hundred men. For a single Knight, such military might was enough to sweep across an ordinary Baron’s Domain.

Mace brought eight hundred men, six hundred of them serfs. The remaining two hundred consisted of fifty Crossbowmen, twenty archers, and the rest were Skilled Spearmen and Scouts.

Training Professional Spearmen is rare in the empire; only the great houses can afford it. Most nobles simply use their serfs as frontline spearmen.

The advantage of Professional Spearmen and pikemen is their ability to quickly break enemy formations. Their disadvantage is that losing even one in a frontal assault is a painful blow—unlike losing a serf.

Fass’s forces were much simpler: four Heavy Cavalry, sixteen Citizen Cavalry, over sixty Grassland Warriors, a hundred Crossbowmen, and six hundred serfs.

Fass and Mace were a little surprised when they met, as Mace had also been one of the nobles who had thrown the mock battles with him back then.

When the three nobles’ Private Armies combined, they numbered over thirty-two hundred men. The logistics train alone consisted of more than six hundred wagons, but thankfully, the grasslands were not lacking in draft horses and Traveling Horses.

"The Legions haven’t given us any specific tasks. It seems the two Legion Commanders don’t want a few hundred nobles like us getting in their way."

Henry nodded. "Exactly. Our forces are smaller, so we can move faster than the Legions. We’ll set out tomorrow and just trail far behind them."

Mace had no objections, and neither did Fass.

Some of the nobles thought along the same lines as Henry, planning to depart the next day and let the two Legions scout the path ahead.

Those with smaller Private Armies scrambled to keep up. Most were Barons, whose Professional Armies numbered no more than five or six hundred men.

Some Knights showed up with as few as a dozen private soldiers and a hundred serfs, happily tagging along for the ride.

This was a level of "poverty" that wealthy men like Henry and Fass could scarcely imagine; they hadn’t realized just how rich they truly were for Knights.

Night fell, bathing the ancient, prosperous city in moonlight. With the departure of the two great Legions and a host of noble Private Armies, the streets felt exceptionally tranquil.

Henry, Fass, Mace, and their respective Attendants strolled through the streets, enjoying this rare moment of leisure.

Fass’s breath plumed in the cold air. "Let’s go to the bathhouse," he suggested. "Warm ourselves up. It’ll be winter once the snow falls, and winter is for soaking in hot water."

It was an offer that was hard to refuse. The trio went to the royal bathhouse to relax their weary bodies and minds. After all, Henry had arrived in Autongard travel-worn and exhausted, only to find he could rest for just a single day.

The bathhouse was filled with steam, and they reveled in the comfort of the hot water.

Henry, wrapped in a white bath towel, stepped into the pool. Ahh~

He felt the warm water caress his skin, the fatigue and chill slowly melting away. He closed his eyes, sinking into the momentary tranquility.

Finally, it was Mace who roused the other two, and they all returned to their camp.

Back in his tent, Henry had Ailia fetch a cask of wine to share with Fass and Mace.

The three sat around a table, discussing preliminary battle plans as they savored the fine wine.

Henry swirled his cup, the wine spinning within. He took a slow sip. ’Delicious.’

The taste of the wine brought a sense of contentment, and he couldn’t help but recall the royal vineyards outside the Royal Capital, fond memories of his academy days flooding back to him.

Without the boisterous Boman there to cause trouble, their discussion about how to command their armies, coordinate their tactics, and so on progressed very quickly.

Henry even joked, "It’s a good thing Boman isn’t here. Without him egging Bain on, Bain’s behavior is practically aristocratic."

Late that night, after the others had left, Henry lay in bed, feeling the drowsiness from the alcohol settle over him. Anyone who has taken a hot bath knows that the ensuing sleepiness only grows stronger with time.

When the sun rose, Henry awoke from a pleasant dream, feeling refreshed and invigorated.

Two other forces departed at the same time as Henry’s army; judging by their noble banners, they were strangers.

With the Legions and a large contingent of other nobles clearing the path ahead, Henry and his men weren’t concerned about their safety.

A few days later, they reached the edge of a dense forest. Just as Henry was about to consult his map, a sudden roar ripped through the air.

"On guard!" Henry shouted.

Vasco immediately raised his battle-axe and commanded the New Recruit Team, "Infantry, form ranks! Serfs, take up spears and protect the baggage train!"

Philip wheeled his horse around and yelled, "Archers and Crossbowmen, nock and load!"

The three teams of archers quickly formed a line, facing the direction of the roars.

Henry’s contingent halted instantly. Fass’s and Mace’s men were a beat slower to react, but thankfully, they didn’t fail to respond.

Just then, a piercing shriek cut through the air, sending a chill down everyone’s spine.

"Damn it, it’s Goat-men!" Fass cursed, spitting on the ground.

A horde of creatures of various shapes, all with horns on their heads, gradually emerged. They charged the army, snarling and brandishing their claws, each holding a wooden shield in one hand and a Wolf-toothed Short Rod in the other. They appeared to be wearing nothing but their own hides.

’Good, they’re just common Goat-men. More than three hundred... but no more than five hundred. This shouldn’t be a problem. The archers might even be able to finish them off on their own.’

"Bain, take the Cavalry and circle around! I want you to slam into these upright beasts from the rear and run them down!"

"Yes, milord!"

The two forces were only two hundred meters apart; they would clash in less than a minute.

"Archers, get ready!"

From his vantage point on horseback, Philip could better judge the distance between the two forces.

"Archers, fire!"

Two hundred and forty arrows flew in a single volley, the combined THWANG of the bowstrings loud enough to hurt the ears.

Many of the arrows were blocked by trees and branches, but dozens still found their mark, felling the ugly Goat-men.