Chapter 52: The End of the Coalition Army

For several days, Gwynnis, feigning illness, refused to meet with the emissaries sent by Baron Lockwood. Even after receiving their letters, he delayed his response. Since the northern invasion, five weeks had elapsed without any sign of the Havdan people in the Targas territory.

Gradually, the villagers began to relax. Apart from their toil in the fields, enforced by Gwynnis, they ventured out of the castle in their free time to return to their villages and begin clearing the ruins.

The Havdan had reduced the entire village to ashes. All that remained were charred timbers and scorched earth walls. Despite witnessing their homes turned to ruins, the people of Targas showed little extreme reaction. While many women wept, the men mostly sighed, setting to work clearing the debris without a word, as if they had grown accustomed to accepting whatever fate threw at them.

Observing this, Gwynnis felt a mix of emotions. Indeed, the villagers' docility and non-resistance made governing easier, but faced with an external invasion, he wished they would show more anger rather than meek acceptance.

Perhaps for these villagers, surviving the large-scale invasion was fortunate enough. What did it matter if their homes were burned? At least they were alive. And they still had the promising rye crops.

Indeed, the rye in the fields now symbolized the villagers' last hope. As they cleared the ruins, they would occasionally look back at the lush green sprouts in the fields, feeling renewed strength. No matter how tired or hard the work, a deep breath in the fields, inhaling the fresh, joyful scent, would invigorate them to resume their tasks.

Everyone awaited the day when the rye would grow tall and mature. The excellent growth promised a bountiful harvest. Recalling Gwynnis's assurance that the new rye seeds would boost yield by fifty percent, the villagers had no doubts left.

Eager to protect their precious crop, the villagers wished to guard it day and night, driving away pests and birds. As the temperature rose, they were even willing to sleep in the open fields to avoid the castle's crowded and noisy courtyard.

However, Gwynnis refused their request, insisting they return to the castle at night. Moreover, he never relaxed his vigilance over the surrounding areas. During the day, scouts fanned out to high points like hills, monitoring all movements nearby. But at night, limited by poor visibility, they had to return to the castle.

Without the cavalry's early warning, Gwynnis couldn't risk leaving the villagers unprotected outside. Not until he had confirmed the Havdan's departure would he allow any lapse in caution.

Soon after, disheveled soldiers from the coalition's camp near Windermere began to trickle into Targas territory...

Days Earlier:

The night the Havdan launched their surprise attack on the coalition camp, the sun had already set. As the last rays of sunlight touched the hills, the coalition guards, seeing smoke rising behind them, eagerly returned to camp.

After ten days of uneventful scouting and no sign of the Havdan, they had grown complacent. Besides, with night falling, even the fierce northerners would need to rest and eat. Surely they wouldn't march at night and suddenly attack their camp.

With this wishful thinking, the guards hurried back to camp, missing the approaching Havdan army emerging from the forest corner by mere minutes.

The Havdan, coincidentally, also planned to reach Windermere before sunset to set up camp. Windermere, situated in the central western part of the Anon River Valley under the Earl's domain, was a strategic location coveted by both the coalition and the Havdan.

Thus, the scouts missed the perfect opportunity to detect the enemy. Later, as the Havdan reached the last hill near Windermere, they immediately spotted the coalition camp by the Bering River, its fires visible from afar.

That night, six thousand Havdan launched a surprise attack on the four-thousand-strong coalition, largely comprised of hastily conscripted peasant soldiers with poor discipline and combat skills. The battle was utterly one-sided.

The only question was how many of the nobles could escape and whether the entire force would be annihilated. Lacking horses and taking advantage of the night's cover, the Havdan could attack undetected, while also shielding the fleeing coalition soldiers.

Baron Lockwood's gallant countercharge with a handful of men was indeed heroic but short-lived, soon overwhelmed by the enemy like a tide. Fortunately, having a horse, he managed to escape, leaving his foot soldiers behind.

Shaken, Lockwood didn't look back at the camp, now engulfed in flames, and galloped straight home to Hangdee Rivermouth, abandoning the entire coalition.

Amidst the chaos, the fragile alliance between the nobles quickly crumbled. With the soldiers unfamiliar with each other and lacking coordination, the sudden attack led to immediate disarray and defeat.

Thousands of coalition soldiers perished in the chaos, while the rest scattered into the night, each fleeing in different directions. Many nobles lost track of their conscripts, and the soldiers, unsure whom to follow, eventually fled as the Havdan closed in.

Some of these unguided conscripts, unfamiliar with the area, wandered the forests, ending up near the camp again, only to be slaughtered. Others, in panic, jumped into the Bering River, trying to swim to safety, but the darkness led to many being swept away.

Finally, a familiar messenger, having delivered letters to Gwynnis days before, led a small group of lucky survivors, evading the Havdan and seeking refuge in Targas territory.