Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter 16: A Resounding Victory

At Quade’s command, the moment the gates swung open, the bandits—already restless and eager—rushed in, fearing their comrades would snatch all the good loot if they delayed even an instant. Shouting and jostling, within mere breaths, over a hundred bandits poured into Norlanden Fortress. Yet, once inside, they found the buildings empty. Then, Quade led his men to smash the lock on the lord’s hall. Upon entering, he discovered his third-in-command and his followers bound and gagged.

Seeing his leader, Larr let out muffled cries. Quade, already sensing something was amiss, hurried his men to remove the gag from Larr’s mouth and demanded, “Larr, I saw torches thrown from the wall. Why are you still tied up? Did you betray me?”

Larr, his face contorted, replied, “Boss, I was tied up—how could I throw torches? You must escape quickly! The new lord has set a trap. Run!”

Quade’s face twisted in anguish at Larr’s words. He ignored the bound men and rushed out with his followers. As he emerged from the hall, he saw the gates closing and the ramparts ablaze with torches. There, numerous archers stood, bows drawn, arrows nocked, ready to fire.

Quade realized the trouble was dire. Yet, the influential figure who had paid him for this mission assured him Norlanden Fortress had few soldiers. Though anxious, Quade was not yet panicked. He shouted, “Brothers, break down this wooden gate and escape!”

At his command, the already nervous bandits dashed for the gate. But men cannot outrun arrows. In the span of thirty to fifty strides, the thirty archers atop the wall unleashed three volleys. Here, the advantage of regular training became apparent. Over a hundred arrows rained down, felling many unarmored bandits, with others wounded.

Some of Quade’s men reached the gate, hacking at the chains with axes. However, to delay their escape, Berion had ordered five chains added—far too many to break quickly.

Just then, a cry of “Kill!” rang out as the mercenaries of the Free Company joined the battle. Their sudden appearance sent the already terrified bandits into greater panic. Quade now understood he needed elite fighters; otherwise, his force would face utter annihilation. He left two minor leaders and a handful of burly bandits to break the chains, drew his sword, and led a dozen well-equipped captains and the remaining bandits into battle against the Free Company.

As friend and foe clashed, archery became pointless. Berion left Barrett and four skilled archers atop the wall to target the elite bandits, while he, Iomer, Bess, Tull, and others led their soldiers down to join the fray.

War depends not only on numbers and equipment but on morale and momentum. Having seized the initiative and inflicted nearly half casualties, Berion’s newly trained soldiers, seeing the tide turn, grew bold. Under Berion’s command, three pikemen and two shieldmen formed five-man squads: shieldmen in front to block arrows and javelins, pikemen behind to strike when bandits approached. Berion had adapted this formation from the renowned tactics of his previous life, intending in the future to add halberdiers and crossbowmen to further enhance these squads’ combat prowess.

Compared to the battle-hardened Free Company mercenaries, Berion’s soldiers lacked experience but had trained daily for a month. Their movements were muscle memory, and their discipline was strong. Fighting in coordinated squads, their efficiency in killing matched that of the mercenaries.

A bandit captain clad in iron-plated armor charged at a squad, swinging his axe. Just as he neared the shieldmen, three pikes thrust forward. He blocked two, but the third pierced his unarmored left shoulder. The shieldmen seized the moment: one slashed his left leg, the other severed his axe-wielding right hand. As his axe fell, so did he, and a shieldman quickly dispatched him with a sword.

War is but the repetition of death, a thousand times over. Such scenes unfolded again and again that night, astonishing even the mercenaries at the prowess of Norlanden’s soldiers. Grove could not help but marvel—Sir Berion’s men were truly formidable!

Under the combined assault of mercenaries and Norlanden soldiers, the bandits were soon decimated. Only thirty remained at the gate, most wounded. Berion paused the attack, ordering them to surrender. As the bandits hesitated, the clatter of chains sounded—the gate opened. Led by Quade, the survivors fled. Berion and his forces gave chase, cutting down another dozen. The rest, along with Quade, vanished into the woods, where Berion ended the pursuit; after all, entering the forest at night was folly, and tonight’s victory was already great.

The bodies of the bandits and their discarded arms and armor were brought back to Norlanden Fortress, and the battlefield was cleared. In this battle, Berion’s forces killed over fifty bandits—many of them mortally wounded, for in an age of primitive medicine, serious injury meant death. The mercenaries, following battlefield protocol, gave the gravely wounded bandits a swift end, sparing them lingering agony.

There were forty-two bandits lightly wounded or captured, now held with Larr and his men—a total of fifty-five, bound and confined in the livestock shed, guarded by the mercenaries and Norlanden’s longbowmen.

The bandits’ arms and armor were mediocre; the lowest ranks were mere farmers wielding axes or pitchforks. Neither Berion nor Grove would keep such weapons. Of the twenty or so well-equipped captains, half escaped, but the remaining captains’ armor was the greatest prize: six chain shirts, seven iron-plated vests, five nasal helmets, eight iron-plated helms.

By agreement, Grove’s group would take one-fifth of the spoils. Berion let Grove choose five sets of armor; Grove happily selected two chain shirts, three iron-plated vests, two nasal helmets, three iron-plated helms, and several short swords.

Berion’s side also tallied their losses: three Norlanden soldiers killed, two gravely wounded (one left maimed), while the mercenaries lost only one killed and a dozen lightly wounded. Berion felt sorrow at these casualties, despite his advantage; the short training period and lack of combat experience were factors. If his soldiers had fought as often as the Free Company, they would better protect themselves and survive.

Despite his pain, Berion knew that war inevitably claimed lives, and only through blood and fire could his men truly become warriors—no amount of training could substitute for battle.

After distributing the spoils, Grove said to Berion, “Sir Berion, this was a victorious fight. Though we didn’t annihilate them all, those cowardly rats will never dare linger on Norlanden’s lands again.”

“The leaders and a dozen core men escaped. Soon, they’ll gather runaway serfs and peasants to form another hundred-strong band,” Berion replied calmly.

Grove was taken aback, then sheepishly asked, “Shall we search the woods tomorrow, Sir Berion?”

“No need. Once the battlefield is cleared, Bess and you will guard the prisoners and the fortress. I’ll lead a force to wipe out the remaining bandits,” Berion said, patting Grove’s shoulder.

With that, Berion departed, leaving Grove in a fog of confusion. Bess approached, embraced Grove’s shoulder, and said warmly, “Brother Grove, just wait for Sir Berion’s triumphant return.”

After the victory, Berion sent men to bring back Mark and the women and children, along with the recovered goods. Once everything was arranged, the women cooked meat soup and hot food for all, but no wine was served; with over fifty prisoners to guard and another battle ahead, Berion forbade drinking.

As everyone finished their meal, the beautiful dawn crept over the horizon. Standing atop the walls, Berion gazed at the scene with impatience, for his scouts tracking the fleeing bandits had not yet reported back. For the first time commanding a battle, Berion was uneasy—his decisions now affected many lives.

As Berion fretted atop the wall, Iomer ran up. “Sir Berion, Barren’s men have returned!”

“Take me to them!” Berion exclaimed, eager to see the messenger.

Berion had long planned this ambush, instructing the tracker Barren to hide outside the walls with his men. When the bandits fled, they were to follow discreetly to locate the bandits’ lair, so Berion could lead a force to crush them completely and reap greater rewards.

The messenger, named Farra, approached Berion, who grabbed his arm and bade him sit. “Quick, did you find their lair?”

“Yes, sir. Their base is within our territory, four or five miles northwest of the Wolf’s Den. It’ll take us about an hour to reach. The lair has no palisade, only some fences. Aside from the bandits who returned, it’s mostly old folk, women, and children. Barren and the men are watching them,” Farra reported.

“Excellent!” Berion slapped the table and ordered Iomer, “Gather all our men. We march straight for their lair!”

Morale is built not only on confidence but on victory. The Norlanden soldiers, fresh from a great triumph, were emboldened. Upon learning they would destroy the defeated bandits’ lair, their spirits soared. Berion and Iomer mounted their horses, and with the mercenaries and women and children watching eagerly, the force set out.

On the southern bank of the Karl River, east of the woodland lake, in a hollow amid the Stag Woods, Quade—the Blood Wolf Gang’s leader—and a dozen survivors tended their wounds in a cabin before a cave. After some women dressed as peasant wives brought hot food, they quickly departed, as if fleeing wild beasts.

Quade had been struck by an arrow while fleeing Norlanden Fortress. Though his armor absorbed some of the impact, the heavy, barbed shaft—meant for hunting large beasts—still pierced his flesh. Pulling it out tore a chunk of meat, and Quade grimaced in agony, nearly biting through his chew stick.

Bandaged, Quade drained a mug of ale, flung the cup to the ground, and cursed, “That bastard Larr! After all I’ve done for him, he betrayed me! At dawn, we’ll slaughter Larr and his followers’ families to vent our rage!”

After a defeat, someone must bear the blame, but it would not be Quade. Larr, the one whose failure ruined the scheme, would serve as scapegoat. Massacring Larr’s family would both satisfy their fury and serve as a warning to anyone eyeing Quade’s weakened position, ensuring no one in the camp dared betray him.

“Slaughter them all! Boss is right!” The bandit captains, frustrated by their defeat, eagerly welcomed the chance to vent their anger—especially since they could abuse the wives and daughters, and seize Larr’s wealth. Quade’s suggestion was met with enthusiastic approval.

Quade, pleased with their response, waved for quiet, lest their shouts alert Larr’s side. If the news leaked, dealing with it would be troublesome. His men understood immediately, and fell silent.