Ambush

"Master, how do you know they will pass through here?" Simon asked in confusion from their hiding spot.

They had been in the Holy Cross Kingdom for five days without encountering their prey. Derek, however, remained confident and patiently waited.

"In our land, they're like rats. Once caught, anyone can deal with them. But here, they can operate openly. If you were them, would you continue hiding in the wild?" Derek countered.

"No, I would head to the nearest town to rest," Simon quickly understood and added, "So this is the closest route."

Derek believed that a group of slavers, no matter how cautious, would eventually relax in their own territory. This was his opportunity. He was confident that there was at least a ninety percent chance of success. A group of slavers might be brutal and cautious, but they lacked substantial military discipline. This was the perfect spot for an ambush.

Patience paid off, and Derek finally saw their quarry approaching. He recalled all his scouts and led his men to hide behind a small hill. Beyond it, the land stretched flat and open, with no place to conceal themselves. Even this small hill seemed insignificant and unlikely to attract attention.

He knew he only had one chance and that they were outnumbered. Their sole advantage was the element of surprise, pitting trained soldiers against a disorganized mob.

The size of the slaver group was indeed substantial, with a large number of slaves bound by ropes, moving slowly. The slaver group's pace was sluggish as a result, and their numbers were significantly fewer than Derek had anticipated. According to the scouts, there were about two to three hundred slaves, but the slaver group had no more than fifty men.

This situation was unexpected yet understandable. With support back in the Lock Kingdom, the actual threat to the slavers was minimal, making their task more of a transport mission. Moreover, having passed through the most dangerous part of the journey, they were even less vigilant now in their own territory.

Derek had prepared for the worst, but his prey proved to be more foolish than he had imagined. Each warhorse remained perfectly calm, embodying the standard of trained warhorses. Holding the reins, Derek silently counted as he slowly ascended the hill. As he reached the crest, he could see the long line of captives snaking around the hill. This was the only trampled path, possibly because the other side of the hill provided a windbreak, making it a suitable campsite.

Mounting his horse, Derek quickly followed suit, as did the other knights. They pulled the reins, raised their long wooden lances, and Derek shouted, "Charge!"

The absence of even a single scout made their demise inevitable. The sound of horse hooves started softly but grew thunderous in an instant, like the rapid beats of a war drum. Most of the slavers had no time to react before the twelve riders were upon them. Despite only a year of training, the cavalry operated with the skill and precision of seasoned veterans.

For Derek, this was his first time leading a charge. When his lance struck its target, the immense resistance made his entire body tilt backward. He saw his lance shatter under the tremendous force it couldn't withstand. Fortunately, countless hours of training had instilled an instinctual response in him—he released his grip at just the right moment. With his other hand, he expertly guided his horse around obstacles, quickly drawing his knight's sword from a side hook. The heavy sword lacked some sharpness but compensated with its weight.

As his horse slowed slightly, Derek swung his sword left and right, cutting down several men. He heard shouts of anger and attempts to mount a defense, but the following wave of cavalry easily shattered any resistance. The charge continued almost without opposition until his horse finally came to a stop.

With a squeeze of his legs, Derek turned his horse in an arc. Using his peripheral vision, he confirmed that all his knights were accounted for, each bearing bloodstains from the clash. On the other side of the hill, the spearmen had emerged, delivering a heavier blow to the slaver group. The bound slaves fell to the ground or collided with each other in panic, creating chaos. Meanwhile, the remaining slavers had been reduced to less than half their original number.

Derek felt a wave of relief wash over him. The thrill of the charge had momentarily erased any anxiety, but looking back, he realized just how exhilarating it had been. As the cavalry completed their circuit and picked up speed once more, they attacked the flanks of the slaver group, which was attempting to mount a feeble resistance. Despite their efforts, the slavers were swiftly overwhelmed, and many of them went mad with desperation.

"We are from the Ha…" one of the leaders began to shout, attempting to identify themselves. Derek cut him off by hurling his knight's sword like a brick, striking the man's head and silencing him. As Derek surveyed the remaining slavers, a ruthless glint flashed in his eyes. "No survivors," he commanded.

The spearmen moved forward, following orders with mechanical precision. In a matter of moments, all the slavers lay dead. Derek instructed his men to collect their clothing and any other valuables, then set everything on fire. The corpses were dragged away by the warhorses and discarded haphazardly. After a brief clean-up of the battlefield, only bloodstains remained to mark the carnage.

"Retreat!" Derek ordered. Though the area was remote and desolate, he knew the slavers had powerful patrons. If the slavers didn't return soon, someone would undoubtedly come looking for them. But in this wild terrain, where beasts roamed freely, it was unlikely that any substantial remains would be found to identify the perpetrators.

Derek and his men began herding the slaves, unbinding their feet but keeping their hands tied. "We are soldiers of the Locke Kingdom, here to rescue you. This is the territory of those bastards from the Holy Cross Kingdom. You don't want to find out what happens if you try to escape and get caught. Stay with us, and we'll take you home, then figure out your next steps."

The mention of "home" seemed to resonate with the captives, and they complied without resistance. Derek led them to a base hidden deep in the mountains, where the first round of selection took place. Those who demonstrated the most obedience were drafted into the army to prepare for the impending war. The more defiant ones were put to work under strict supervision. Derek had no illusions of being a saint; he knew their fate would have been far worse in the Holy Cross Kingdom. He felt no guilt for the pragmatic choices he made.