Inside the crudely constructed temporary tent, maps, sand tables, and various strategic materials were scattered across the wooden table. The flickering firelight reflected the solemn expressions of the group gathered there.
Standing in the center was Babatok, the Chief of the Beastmen Afuluo Tribe. He was burly, with a pair of donkey ears atop his head and deep brown skin. His battle armor was decorated with beast bones and feathers. A scar slashed from his forehead across the bridge of his nose down to the corner of his mouth, adding an imposing air of natural authority to the Chief.
Sitting directly opposite him was the Captain of the Rebels, that simple middle-aged Man—now, he should be addressed as General Fesca.
Because he had led the Rebels to successive victories and gained immense prestige within the territory, he had begun calling himself General, although in private, everyone still preferred to call him Captain.
Half a month had passed since the date when the Organization insider (Nori) promised to bring the Map, but there was still no sign of it. The mood among the Rebel leaders was becoming anxious.
“Lord Chief, without the Map, we are like blind men feeling an elephant. This is too risky! Perhaps we should wait a bit longer?” Fesca’s gaze shifted back and forth between Babatok and the Map.
“No, General, you must set out immediately.” Babatok’s voice was powerful, as deep as low thunder in the sky. “The Blood Clan is inherently unreliable. Since the Map hasn’t been delivered, whether they broke their word or an accident occurred, both are highly possible. We cannot wait any longer. Time waits for no one.”
He stood up, his tall silhouette nearly filling the entire space of the tent. He reached out a large hand and slapped it heavily onto the Map, then quickly traced a line. “For the marching route, let’s take this one.”
“This is… the Nameless River?”
Under his finger was a small tributary of the Saint White River basin, which the local villagers called the Nameless River.
“Yes. If the army crosses through here, we can save at least ten days of travel.”
A flash of hesitation crossed Fesca’s face, quickly replaced by deep thought. He furrowed his brows, seemingly weighing Babatok’s words.
“We are currently near the Host Mountains. The Host Mountains are the source of the Saint White River. The rise and fall of the River Water is influenced by the Snow mountains. According to our plan, the army must cross the river to continue advancing. Among these routes, the Nameless River has the shortest crossing section. Currently, it is the best route. However, if the rains delay us and we wait until early summer, the accumulated Snow on the mountains will melt, and the water levels of the Nameless River will rise sharply. We must cross before the River Water surges; otherwise, the army might be cut off by the water, falling into a dilemma where advancing or retreating is impossible.”
Fesca listened blankly for a good while, dumbfounded, before finally reacting.
Indeed, compared to a newcomer to warfare like him—who had just transformed from a farmer into a Rebel leader—Babatok could be said to be highly experienced. Therefore, this highly respected Chief had also become the military advisor for the Rebels.
Just then, the flap of the tent was pulled open. A young Title girl with shaking fox ears walked in, carrying several cups of foaming ale, and placed a glass in front of everyone.
“Nuoqi, please enjoy.”
She bowed slightly, quietly observing the expressions of everyone in the tent, then turned and nimbly slipped back out.
After a period of assistance from the Former People tribes and the Rebels’ own internal adjustments, this army was now much more organized than when it was first formed. Various rules and systems were gradually being established.
According to their original plan, their next battle would face the most powerful enemy since the declaration of war—Count Musa.
This Noble was said to be cunning, suspicious, and meticulous. In the past, when the Beastmen Tribal Alliance and Ansels were on good terms, he often traded goods such as skins, Milk products, and handcrafted artifacts with the tribal Chiefs, reaping substantial profits.
But since Aerya took power, the relationship between the two sides had become tense, and the trade market had withered day by day.
According to the Intelligence they had obtained previously, Count Musa had received a Royal Command from Aerya to attack the Rebels’ territory. However, this unpredictable Count had agreed verbally but delayed taking action. He allowed the small Noble Faction territories around him to be annexed one by one by the Rebel forces.
No one knew what this cunning old man was thinking, neither Princess Zeer in the Capital nor the Rebels who maintained a hostile relationship with him.
“Then send the notice down. We set out tomorrow to attack Assam County.”
As the meeting ended, the Captain issued the order decisively.
***
The army’s preparations were complete. The next day, everything proceeded according to plan.
On the vast plains before Assam County, the Rebel troops set out in a grand procession. They crossed the Nameless River according to the predetermined route—Babatok’s judgment was very accurate; the spring River Water had not yet fully surged, and the Soldiers crossed the water with ease.
After marching for another two or three days, Konsh City in Assam County could be seen in the distance.
The Count was clearly well-prepared. The residents near the city walls had already been evacuated, and no valuables were left in the houses. The gates of Konsh City were tightly shut, and flags fluttered atop the walls. It was as silent as a graveyard.
The Captain found a suitable spot and ordered the camp to be set up. He instructed the sentries to take their positions, scouts to investigate, and engineers to dig trenches.
Phil held a medical position within the Rebels and would act alongside the Doctor Blitz during the battle.
This was Phil’s first time participating in a war. While sharing a treatment table with Blitz, she couldn’t help but look around with a mixture of fear and excitement.
“Little girl, what are you looking at?” Blitz teased Phil while cleaning his medical instruments.
“I… it’s just my first time seeing this kind of formation. It’s so exciting!”
“Exciting? The battlefield is a place for the dying.”
“But we will win, won’t we?”
Blitz shook his head, dried his hands with a coarse hemp cloth, walked over to Phil, and sat down on a small round stool.
“Hmph, I don’t think so. At least, I think the Captain—no, General Fesca—shouldn’t have marched so easily.”
“Eh? Why? Didn’t we win many times before?”
“Before was before. Back then, we had people passing Intelligence and we were familiar with the terrain; that’s why we won so many battles where the few defeated the many. But this time is different.” Blitz stroked his beard.
“Whether it’s numbers, combat experience, or weapons and equipment, we are no match for Count Musa’s army.”
Speaking to this point, he pointed to a Soldier in the distance who was busily setting up a tent; the Soldier looked weary.
“Our army is short on military funds. The Soldiers can only wear simple soft armor, and their helmets are basic leather or iron. Although we obtained some Earth Dragons and horses when occupying other Noble territories, we have no experience training cavalry. If they face an experienced enemy, it will be easy to be crushed in battle. In contrast, the Count’s army is estimated to be at least three times ours. They have elite cavalry and archers, and their warhorses are equipped with sturdy barding. If it becomes a war of attrition, we will definitely be the side that is exhausted first. And yet they chose to retreat. This is very suspicious.”
Phil listened, completely dazed, as if her head were spinning. “Then why does the Captain still want to attack Assam County?”
Blitz smiled. The smile looked relaxed, but the words he spoke were not so light. “Because past victories easily make people blind.”