Chapter 22: The Raid

In the evening, one by one, warhorses were led from the manor to the castle. Having already feasted on lush, juicy grass at the manor, the steeds were now adorned with stirrups and saddles, bridles, and reins at the castle.

The guards were dining, enjoying a supper more lavish than usual. Not only were there vegetable soup and barley porridge, but also an additional serving of roasted venison for each person.

After supper, as the sun set, the guards, fully armed and equipped, followed the leading cavalry to a covert campsite half a league away. According to information revealed by the forest ranger, a poaching gang was encamped there.

The gang consisted of about a dozen people, but Gwyneth had mustered all his forces for this operation. It wasn't so much about the strength of the poachers, but more about Gwyneth wanting to gauge the level of his own guards.

Of the 82 guards, 17 were mounted, and 65 were on foot. The castle's armory was opened, and all guards were equipped with the best available weapons: 12 bows, 60 iron swords, and the rest continued to carry spears.

Truth be told, even after emptying the armory, there weren't enough swords for each guard, causing Gwyneth to sigh in frustration. But there was no other choice at the moment. This operation was meant as a practice; such unpreparedness couldn't be repeated in the major crisis anticipated six months from now.

Although Gwyneth didn't yet know the specifics of the crisis looming in six months, he had a strong feeling it would be man-made, not a natural disaster.

Gwyneth rode at the forefront, followed by 17 horsemen and 65 foot soldiers. Earlier, Gwyneth had sent Jervis ahead with a team to scout the target location, figuring out the layout of their camp and the surrounding terrain.

With this guidance, Gwyneth and his men quickly traversed the forest and arrived at a dried-up river valley. They had now left the territory of Targus and entered the land bordering a neighboring barony.

The terrain here was more open, without dense trees to obstruct the view. From a few hundred meters away, Gwyneth could see the poachers' camp. They seemed to have just returned from their work, with a campfire lit and people gathered around a cauldron, eating and drinking.

They were visibly relaxed, completely unaware of Gwyneth and his men's approach. Some were chatting leisurely, some were clearly drunk and dancing around, and one even took out a violin-like instrument and began to play.

Seeing this, Gwyneth smiled amiably.

By this time, the moon had risen. Gwyneth ordered all torches to be extinguished to maintain stealth, approaching the poachers' camp from above the river valley until they were about 200 yards away. This was the limit; any closer and they risked being discovered.

Everyone awaited Gwyneth's command. He looked around, his gaze sweeping over his guards, and then drew the sword of Wintaling.

What followed was the sound of weapons being unsheathed.

Gwyneth took a deep breath. This was his first time leading a troop to raid an enemy camp, both in his past life and in this one. As the Baron of Targus, this was his first time leading his subordinates into battle, which would greatly influence his image in the eyes of others.

In every aspect, this operation had to succeed; failure was not an option.

Gwyneth lifted his sword, pointing towards the camp. He loosened the reins in his left hand, easing the pressure in the horse's mouth.

With a fierce clamp of his legs against the horse's flanks, the steed accelerated rapidly into a gallop.

"Charge! Kill them all!" Gwyneth shouted loudly, taking the lead and charging towards the poachers' camp.

"Kill!" echoed the 17 horsemen following him.

Then came the 65 foot soldiers.

They charged down the sloped riverbank into the dried riverbed, forming a perfect arc as they stormed into the target camp.

This sudden attack caught the poachers in the camp completely off guard.

Gwyneth was the first to charge into the camp. He raised his iron sword and fiercely struck down on the head of a startled man.

The well-crafted sword of Wintaling split vertically into the man's skull. The speed and impact of the horse, combined with Gwyneth's extraordinary strength, split the man's hard skull in two.

It wasn't a beheading, but a vertical cleaving of a head into two halves.

Half of the skull, along with the entire face and forehead, flew forward, spilling brain matter all over the ground.

Gwyneth, riding at full speed, passed by without stopping and quickly moved towards the next target.

This man reacted swiftly, standing up and turning with a violin to face Gwyneth's sword.

"Crack!"

With a crisp sound, the violin split in two, its tightly stretched strings snapping. The tremendous impact of the sword did not diminish as it cut diagonally from the enemy's right shoulder down to the left armpit.

Half of the violin spun in the air before crashing to the ground.

Blood red danced in the air.

After cleanly slaying two, Gwyneth looked back.

Besides him, the cavalry had also engaged the enemy.

They charged fiercely at the poachers, but many missed their first strike. Some even fell from their horses, landing heavily on the ground.

Their only accomplishment seemed to be startling the enemy.

Seeing this, Gwyneth lowered his eyelids, feeling neither joy nor sorrow.

Well, he shouldn't have had high expectations for these men.

But fortunately, Gwyneth had the advantage in numbers. After the cavalry, the foot soldiers charged through the 200 meters, entering the camp.

A foot battle, coupled with the surprise attack, surely couldn't go wrong, right?

Indeed, the guards of Targus might not be adept at mounted combat, but their skills in foot combat were at least average.

They roared as they charged into the camp, signifying the end of the battle.

"Ding!"

"Killing one in battle grants 500 personal points."

The experience bar moved to 1000/4000.

Gwyneth glanced at it briefly, not paying much attention. As a lord, if everything went smoothly, his personal involvement in combat would become increasingly rare. If it came to the point where he had to personally engage in battle, the situation must be dire.

This meant that the practical use of personal points would diminish over time.

Of course, improving his personal strength was still beneficial – after all, it's always good to have more skills.

Gwyneth turned his attention back to the battlefield. The fight was over.

Regardless of the guards' lack of training in peacetime, the odds of 82 against 15, and a surprise attack, meant the poachers didn't even have time to draw their weapons or don their armor. Strictly speaking, this wasn't a battle; it was a massacre.

Among the 15 enemies, only a few attempted to resist.

The rest were either cleanly slain or surrendered with their hands raised.

In this battle, 9 enemies were killed, and 6 were captured.

On Gwyneth's side, no one died in battle, but 7 were injured due to their unfamiliarity with mounted combat, falling from their horses.

Even the horses limped as they walked.

Fortunately, upon returning to the castle, Rosalyn could help with healing. Her healing skills... should work on horses too, right?

Gwyneth shook his head, putting aside these thoughts, and looked towards the pile of furs in the camp that were as high as a small hill.

It was time to check the spoils of war.