"No way. Could that little brat really have found reinforcements overnight?"
Knight Wagner and his cohorts stared at each other in disbelief.
The nearby noble families either supported the Howard and Skork brothers or were already part of the Household Knights.
Where on earth did Horten find reinforcements? From Hell itself?
Wagner gritted his teeth, his face grim. "If he actually brings back an army, I'll twist my own head off and let him kick it like a football."
The other knights all nodded in agreement.
Although Horten was the son of a knight, strictly speaking, he wasn't a knight himself. There were rules to socializing among nobles, especially when it came to raising troops. A proper call for aid required diplomacy and treaties first, followed by organizing one's family and subordinates, and then mobilizing the freemen and serfs of the fiefdom. Only through this layered process could an army be formed.
People often think of the Middle Ages as a time of thuggish warfare, of village brawls between knights and barefooted old farmers. But in reality, throughout the medieval period, simple farmers did not often appear on the battlefield. The core of an army was, of course, its martial knights, followed by armored, spear-wielding men-at-arms, and then groups like hunters and blacksmiths who were skilled at shooting and fighting. The level of professionalism wasn't low.
Farmers had fields to tend; they were not convenient cannon fodder to be consumed on a blood-soaked battlefield.
Joan 'the Flash' turned her head to look at Canossa. The Countess's slender body was trembling slightly. Her beautiful, snow-white face was also turned nervously toward the woods. She didn't even notice that her combat attire wasn't properly fastened, revealing half an inch of her slender waist.
Clearly, even Canossa had no solution for this situation.
The morning sun, as if impatient for the outcome of this wager, leaped up like a flying bird, bursting from the fiery morning clouds to spray the land with its vigorous heat.
The bushes began to shake violently, and then a large group of Greenskins burst out from them!
It was one of the Greenskin tribes that had fled the day before. It seemed they had seized the opportunity of Horten's departure, observed that there were no reinforcements, and had boldly charged back!
The knights, familiar with Greenskin habits, all turned to face them, but in that moment, a hastily formed defensive line could not protect their exposed supplies.
A few squires grabbed spears and bows and ran toward the supply wagons, but the ground beneath them suddenly gave way to a series of pits!
Even the knights' most important warhorses were trapped!
Joan 'the Flash' remembered the lessons on Greenskins from her knightly academy and her face went pale with shock. "Are they still digging? Were the tunnels they dug last night meant for this very moment? Dammit, could another budding Greenskin Warlord have appeared?"
However, as she stood there in shock, something even more terrifying happened.
Countless Greenskins poured out from the surrounding forest on all sides. An endless sea of dog-sized Snotlings, child-sized Goblins cruelly brandishing their blades, and great Orcs, as sturdy as wild bulls, pounded their chests and howled.
A Greenskin army of over a thousand strong was surging toward them from all directions!
"This isn't a budding warlord. This is a Great Warlord. He was testing us from the very beginning," Knight Wagner said, his voice full of despair. "Could Howard have actually allied himself with a Greenskin Great Warlord, willing to destroy the entire County of Göttingen just to seize the title of Count?"
With that, everything became clear.
Wagner now believed that the Greenskin retreat yesterday had nothing to do with Horten; it was merely a probe by the Great Warlord.
Horten couldn't be trusted at all.
Countess Canossa wanted to object, but looking out at the endless green tide, she was on the verge of despair.
Joan 'the Flash' felt the strength drain from her wrists. She cried out in desperation, "Dammit! Dammit, Horten took most of the militia with him! How are we supposed to fight this?"
The knights had placed their hopes in the sun, but the sun had responded with a cold, fatal joke.
Were they all going to die on this hill?
Canossa von Nossenbarg couldn't help but cover her face with her hands. She swore an oath—this time, a true oath on her honor—that if anyone could save her, she would marry him, just like a princess in a knightly romance. After all, if she lost, she would die anyway. And even if she fled back to the duchy, she would just be forced into an arranged marriage. Her dream-like eyelashes fluttered, and her hand moved to the chastity dagger strapped to her thigh, ready to end her own life.
Perhaps God truly heard her prayer.
"Fire! Fire! Concentrate fire on their great Orc leader!"
From the forest, Horten's voice, brimming with killing intent, suddenly rang out.
Following his command, a large group of bare-chested Pilgrims and Spearmen poured out of the woods. The Peasant Bowmen, along with a unit of magnificently equipped Crusader Longbowmen, opened fire like machine guns, strafing the vast swaths of Greenskins. The iron arrowheads in their hands easily pierced unarmored flesh. Goblins and great Orcs alike were mowed down, riddled with arrows.
Although the Greenskins had greater numbers, their strategy of a wide encirclement left them weak at any single point. Horten countered this by hitting their flank with a focused spear-thrust, creating an overwhelming local superiority.
In truth, Horten had returned three hours ago. But on the way, his longbowmen had spotted massive Greenskin activity, the clear sign of an ambush.
Horten realized that there was likely a Great Warlord present. He had waited until the Greenskins launched their final, all-out assault to appear at the most critical moment. All his previous theories had been overturned. To become Count, Howard had made a ruthless decision that shattered all norms.
If it weren't for Horten, Howard might have actually succeeded.
But reality has no "ifs."
The crazed Pilgrims, mixed in with the more defensive Spearmen, were devastatingly effective.
Furthermore, with Horten's army appearing at their rear, the Greenskin morale wavered. Great swarms of Goblins and Snotlings, terrified, fled back into the forest.
Having broken one corner of the enemy formation, Horten's army of nearly three hundred men advanced in unison, sweeping through the Greenskin front lines to the north. On the battlefield, the Greenskins' poor organization and their treacherous habit of watching out only for themselves made their army extremely prone to collapse when facing a setback. It wasn't that Greenskins couldn't fight; it was just that none of them were willing to sacrifice themselves for the others.
"Waaagh!"
When the Greenskin Great Warlord in the forest realized he could not annihilate this force and might even suffer heavy losses, he gave the order for his army to pull back and retreat into the woods.
Horten's heart sank. This Great Warlord was not only intelligent but also a strategist.
As the green tide receded, Horten, with Greb at his side, walked to the edge of the hill and once again met Countess Canossa.
The Countess gazed at the tall and handsome Horten, her heart captivated.
Though she knew the vast difference in their statuses, the Countess was still overcome with emotion and took a few steps forward, her long legs nearly tangling and tripping her. She broke into a small run, rushing to Horten's side, and exclaimed, "You came! You really came back, just as you promised..."
Joan 'the Flash' watched in confusion. The Countess was always so calm and wise. Why did she lose her composure the moment she saw Horten?
Horten was about to make a teasing remark, but a cold snort from Knight Wagner brought him back to reality.
"I spent one night finding reinforcements. And I caught these two," Horten said, signaling for his men to bring Howard's sons forward. "The traitor's sons!"
Stunned silence.
The knights were in utter disbelief. This Horten, a mere monk—how did he have so many tricks up his sleeve?
He could find reinforcements, recruit elite soldiers, and even capture the traitor's sons?
God truly favored him too much.