Building a Kingdom and Conquering the World - Chapter 163

Chapter 163: Luther’s side (I)
Two days away from Mirante, a platoon of a hundred cavalrymen opened their way through the dense trees blocking the White Merchant Road, which ran across the kingdom of Luak. They had been moving for two days, until they came to a halt.

Luther sat on his horse, looking at the village in the distance. The small wooden walls around the village looked like they were built to keep out wild animals, not to defend against military attacks. This was the place he had chosen to put his plan into action and lure Luak’s forces, away from major cities in the border.

“Remember, keep the casualties as low as possible. We are not here to exterminate them” – Luther instructed. His voice was calm but firm as he addressed the hundred cavalrymen at his side – “The king has plans for these people in the future. We’re here to scare them, so don’t slow down.”

The cavalrymen nodded, tightening their grips on their weapons. The horses seemed to sense the tension. They snorted and pawed at the ground, eager to charge and drown into the chaos of battle. These horses were born in the Frozen Forest, a place where their existence itself was always at risk. Staying still in the stables all year long wasn’t something they were born to do.

Luther’s gaze swept over his men. With a swift motion, he raised his arm, signaling them to advance – “Charge!” – he screamed.

At the command, the horses stormed forward, their hooves kicking up the vestiges of winter, sending snow flying upwards. As they advanced, Luther kept his eyes on the walls, watching for any sign of soldiers, but there were none. Nobody seemed to be guarding the gates as if the village had never faced an attack before.

-x-

Inside the village, the residents were going about their daily routines. The warmer climate allowed farmers to tend to a few fields, children played in the dirt streets, and those with nothing to do were outside their houses, chatting. It was just another calm day in the village.

Then, without warning, the ground began to tremble. At first, the villagers thought it was a minor earthquake, something not uncommon in their region, and didn’t panic. But as the tremors grew stronger and more rhythmic, they realized something was wrong. They could soon hear something approaching, something powerful and numerous.

“What is happening?” – The village chief, a white-haired old man, exclaimed as he stepped out of his wooden house, his old eyes scanning the surroundings in confusion. He looked as if he had just woken up – “Go see!” – he ordered one of his sons, who was chatting with a friend near the house, pointing towards the wooden walls.

Before his son could even rise, something cut through the sky and crashed down near the elder’s feet – “An arrow?” – he muttered, picking up the sharp arrow shaft from the ground and analyzing it. The arrow was only a simple wooden shaft, without the common metal head, making it way less deadly.

It took a brief moment, but then the elder’s eyes widened in realization – “An attack! Attack! Ring the bell!”- he shouted with all his might, but his old age quickly turned his shout into a cough. Thankfully, his son and the other man understood the urgency and began yelling as well, allowing the elder to retreat into his house’s safety.

“Enemies are here! Pick up your weapons!” they screamed, running through the streets to alert the village. Even without their cries, the villagers quickly realized the danger as more arrows began to rain down.

“Take cover! Children and women, take shelter! Don’t leave your houses!” – the elder’s son commanded, leading the children playing outside into their homes, where their mothers pulled them to safety. Farmers abandoned their fields, preparing to use their tools as weapons and fight against any invader.

“Everyone able to fight, grab your weapons!” – The elder’s son continued to shout, picking up a hatchet abandoned near a house, ready to defend his home and the villagers behind him. It was his duty – “Find shelter until the attack stops!” – he commanded, hiding inside a house.

The arrows kept pouring down, though fortunately, most missed their marks. Those that hit someone only caused minimal damage, but in this remote region without a single physician, even minor wounds could have serious repercussions. The injured had great chances of dying. The rain of arrow continued for what seemed an eternity, inserting terror and fear inside the villager’s mind.

“It stopped!” – the elder’s son said, peering cautiously out from his temporary cover, not hearing the sound of arrows whistling through the air or hitting the roof of the house. There was only silence.

Those who had armed themselves to fight slowly emerged from their shelters, their eyes scanning the area for attackers. Yet, no enemies were in sight – “L-Let’s check the gate…”- the elder’s son stammered, his steps careful as he led the group towards the gate. Each of them gripped their weapons tightly, whether they were knives, swords, hatchets or simple scythes.

They approached the gates nervously, exchanging glances as they tried to decide who would push it open. The elder’s son looked around, already knowing the responsibility would fall on him due to his father’s position – “I will do it!” – he said, gritting his teeth and stepping forward, his fingers and knees trembling.

Without wasting his courage, he began pushing the wooden gates slowly. His heart was pounding in his chest. He was able to instinctively hear it. It wasn’t just him, those behind him were also terrified and could only clutch their weapons tightly.

“Do you see anyone…anything?” – one of them nervously asked, tapping the man’s back.

“Don’t push me! I still can’t see anything!”- the elder’s son snapped as he stretched his neck to peer through the cracks of the opening door. Then he saw something that would be forever imprinted in his mind.

A white-haired old man sat comfortably on a deep-red horse, which snorted powerfully and pawed the ground, ready to charge at the gates. Luther’s presence was like that of a legendary warrior from the myths they told their children, someone who could face thousands of bears alone. Behind this figure, an army could be seen through the morning mist. He couldn’t count them all.

The elder’s son immediately closed the gates in fright, hoping those figures hadn’t seen him – “We are doomed. I hope they didn’t see me.”