Chapter 54

At the end of May, the farmers began to harvest the oats they had planted in spring.

Under a cloudless sky, the temperature rose, and the farmers, armed with sickles, put on short-sleeved shirts and walked in twos and threes along the roads. In the morning, they would leave, and by noon, one could see them returning to the village carrying oats.

These crops, which could be harvested after three months of planting, were usually not for human consumption. If the year was good, they were primarily used to feed livestock. In the past, after the harvest, the villagers would use these oats to pay taxes to the lord. However, now, the farmers were very pleased that Rodi had bought them at a slightly higher price—

Because Rodi had already pre-ordered dozens of warhorses from other villages, and these feeds were essentially being redirected from export to domestic use.

It was also fortunate that Rodi not only exchanged for armor but also purchased a large amount of salt, cloth, iron, and other items that could be traded within the village. This barely supported his newly formed "core team."

He spent his own money to improve the soldiers' diet, especially increasing the supply of milk, meat, and eggs. The cost of meals each day was nearly ten times higher than before—this move was severely misunderstood by the farmers, who even cursed it as "luxurious." However, Rodi ignored these comments and still strictly required the scouts to follow through.

These changes began in early May, and since the new "training program" was implemented, it continued until early June. The scouts were immersed in this brutal "devil training" every day.

Running ten laps around the village was a warm-up, and thirty laps were for physical training; the weapons used in face-to-face practice were no longer wooden swords but real swords wrapped in cloth; besides one-on-one combat, there were various cooperative tactics and even hand-to-hand combat; the draw weight of the short bows increased, and the targets became farther and farther away.

Not only that, but every evening, they had a class called "Combat Quality Training," taught by Rodi himself. The content included everything from combat awareness, tactical hand signals, night contact codes, to tactical intentions. There was an exam every day, and any scout who failed had to run ten laps around the village as punishment.

Initially, the intense training caused the scouts to frequently faint, collapse, and cramp, but after a month, they had completely adapted to this almost inhuman training. Each scout's skin was tanned much darker, and they had significantly improved in strength, endurance, and combat skills—meanwhile, the entire team gradually developed a truly "orderly and disciplined" atmosphere.

Everything was proceeding according to Rodi's plan, with no unexpected events. What puzzled him was that Francis seemed to have no suspicion about him, and there were no "strangers" in Nolan Village asking about the orcs.

Although he found it strange, he did not have the energy to monitor the earl in Holier City. He only knew from occasional information that the earl was still holding back, which reassured him—after all, that guy wouldn't dare to kill in the "Rose Cross" monastery. Rodi was now more at ease about Sally's situation.

By early June, the horses Rodi had ordered had mostly arrived in Nolan Village, and a new batch of bow-making materials had been collected. Rodi was preparing to start making his own suitable short bow... but at this moment, an unexpected event occurred, causing the Nolan Village scouts to halt their training.

.

On June 3rd, in Kri Village.

Like Nolan Village, this small village on the kingdom's border had a similar quiet atmosphere in the summer. Farmers were busy in the fields, occasionally pointing to the distance and talking about something. Children played at the village entrance, and a little girl's braid was pulled by a boy hiding behind her, followed by laughter and playful chasing.

Just after noon, the scouts of Kri Village were idly sitting under the shade of a tree at the village entrance, their uniforms with the Lucifer family emblem loosely draped over their bodies. Due to the heat, they were too lazy to button up, and some even threw their boots aside, lying on the hay under the tree with their arms over their eyes, looking very relaxed.

This was the norm for the scouts, and "just getting by" described them perfectly.

Captain Hank took a few sips from his water bag, leaned against the mud wall, and shaded his eyes to look into the distance, asking, "Hill and the others haven't returned yet?"

"Probably got sunstroke in this heat?"

A team member answered casually, the lazy atmosphere being the norm for the team. For them, their lives were basically spent day by day in such days—backward living conditions and a lack of knowledge, with most of them never having seen a real city, left them with little to no imagination for the future.

"Hey, Captain Hank, I heard Nolan Village has been making quite a stir recently."

"Nolan Village? Ha. I don't know what the captain there is up to, but I heard they ordered a lot of horses, and even insisted on high-quality warhorses. I haven't heard of any new orders from the old duke, so it might just be rumors."

"A few days ago, I saw a lot of old folks happily carrying oats back, saying Nolan Village was buying them, and the money they got was more than the taxes they paid. I wonder if it's true."

"Ha, looks like they bought a lot of horses? Hey, feeding them oats, must be flush with cash, right? Could it be that Lord Kirk is preparing for war, and he's secretly gathering these things? The old duke wouldn't know?"

"Ah, the old duke. He hasn't been here in a long time. Wasn't Master Francis and Miss Sally supposed to come? If it weren't for that incident, it would have been—"

"Orc attack? Could that be a lie? They talk about it as if it's real, but no one has actually seen an orc."

Captain Hank waved his hand and said, "Enough, enough. Whether it's true or not, it's not our concern. The lords above don't want any trouble, so—"

"Captain, they seem to be back."

A team member looking into the distance interrupted Captain Hank. He sat up from the hay, shook off the grass from his clothes, stretched, and looked again. "Ha, just a bit late, right? Could they be practicing how to form a line? Hey, these clods, acting like they're knights..."

Due to the heat, the figures on the distant horizon were somewhat indistinct, but at this time, no one else would be coming, so the scouts didn't pay much attention. Captain Hank clapped his hands to signal everyone to prepare for the afternoon patrol, tightened his long-unused sword, and when he led his horse, he looked into the distance again.

This time, he noticed something was wrong.

"What's that?"

A scout who had already mounted his horse suddenly asked.

No one answered, because the black shadows in the distance were not the expected team led by Captain Hill, but a large group of strong figures charging over the grassy slope—riding on mounts that didn't look like warhorses but rather... wolves?

"Could it be... worgs?"

"Worg... worg riders? Orcs?"

The discussion abruptly stopped, and the scouts found it hard to accept the scene before them—because the topics they had just been discussing, which seemed so distant, had suddenly become real, creating a stark contrast that left their minds collectively stunned.

As they hesitated, the distant group began a full sprint. The dozens of worgs clearly visible in the field of view, though not as tall as warhorses, had bristling fur, knife-like fangs, and orc riders wielding curved swords and large clubs, confirming their true identity.

Worg riders, the most terrifying mobile force of the orcs.

"Run! Run! What are you waiting for? Retreat—"

Hank opened his mouth, but the words "prepare for battle" were ultimately not spoken due to the fear that rose in his heart—there were only nine scouts beside him, while the other side had thirty powerful orc warriors riding worgs! The consequences of charging into battle were obvious.

This sentence completely sapped the scouts' morale... or rather, they had never had any morale to begin with. When the worg riders were still a kilometer away, the scouts on horseback scattered, with no thought of resistance.

"Enemy attack! Run! Run—"

Some scouts didn't forget to warn the villagers, but they knew such a warning was already of little use.

At the village entrance, two little girls with braids finally caught up to the boy who had pulled her braid. She was panting and saying something, but the boy responded with a silly face. The girl pouted and tried to pinch his nose, while the boy laughed and tried to dodge... but then, their actions were interrupted by a heavy thud.

The two turned curiously and saw some unfamiliar figures on the road that ran through the village. The soldiers on worgs, with their fierce faces, swept in like a black tide, their weapons swinging mercilessly in the thick smoke.

The little boy was stunned, seemingly remembering something, and tried to pull the girl, who was already scared stiff, to run away. But just as he turned, a blood-stained long sword tore through the air and slashed toward him.

"Thud—"

The severed body flew out, blood splattering everywhere. The girl, terrified, tried to run but was struck in the chest by a wooden club that flew through the air—her small body was almost thrown away by the impact, rolling on the ground and quickly trampled by the galloping worgs, leaving no trace of her original form.

The orc riding the strongest worg slowly stopped in the central square of the village, holding the head of Kri Village's steward.

Casually throwing the head to the ground, the orc stood by the short wall where the scouts had been, while the orcs behind him reported the loot they had gathered.

Grain, jerky, bread, oats...

"Take what you can, and burn what you can't. Leave no survivors."

The orc leader looked at the village, where the cries of pain were gradually fading, and said softly, "Kosa will not disappoint Lord Sarota. Remember, blood debts must be repaid in blood!"