As the command was given, all of us rode toward the rear of the marching lizardman army.
Compared to the beginning of the campaign...
Our numbers had fallen considerably.
Our cavalry had been reduced to a little over three hundred riders.
Our infantry now numbered around eight hundred men.
Every raid...
Every battle...
Every ambush...
Had slowly chipped away at our strength.
But the same was true for the lizardmen.
Their rear detachments had suffered losses.
Their nest was under constant attack.
Their warriors had been forced to divide their forces.
Neither army was at full strength anymore.
We weren't trying to destroy them in a single battle.
Our objective was simple.
Chip away at them.
Slow their advance.
Force them to focus entirely on us.
Every minute they spent dealing with us...
Was another minute for the Northern Knights to get closer.
The Northern Region relied heavily on mercenaries.
Unlike the peaceful South or the fertile West, the North was a land where monsters roamed freely and villages were scattered far apart. Few farmers chose to settle there.
Only those willing to risk their lives became mercenaries in the North.
Because of that...
Even an average Northern mercenary was often comparable to a veteran mercenary from the South or the West.
The death rate was also much higher.
That was why...
The Northern Region always had fewer mercenaries than the other regions.
Back at the camp...
The old man quietly sipped a cup of hot tea.
One of the Mercenary Office officials finally gathered the courage to ask,
"Sir..."
"I still don't know your name."
"But what exactly did you write in that letter?"
"You mentioned the Northern Lords..."
"And now the Northern Lords are sending Aura Knights..."
"Even battle mages."
The old man smiled faintly.
"I simply wrote this."
"If the Northern Lords didn't aid in this war..."
"I will personally grant the promised mining rights to the Southern Lords."
He calmly took another sip of tea.
"I also wrote that I would personally meet the Regional Manager of the Mercenary Office."
"I'll make sure no Mercenary Office accepts any new requests from the Northern Lords until this campaign is over."
The official froze.
Mining rights...
Personally meeting the Regional Manager...
Those weren't things an ordinary person could promise.
The old man simply continued drinking his tea as though he had said nothing unusual.
The Mercenary Office official lowered his head.
Just...
Who exactly is this old man?
Even the thought of the Mercenary Office Manager made him uneasy.
Regional Managers controlled the movement of mercenaries throughout an entire region.
Even most nobles couldn't casually meet one.
After nearly thirty minutes of riding, we finally caught sight of the rear of the marching lizardman army.
It wasn't what we had expected.
At the very back of the marching column...
A smaller unit marched in the opposite direction.
While the main army advanced toward the nest...
This rear guard walked backward.
Their backs faced the backs of the main army.
Their sole duty...
Was to watch for attacks from behind.
The moment they spotted us...
A warning horn echoed across the swamp.
The rear guard reacted instantly.
Shield bearers rushed to the front.
Large shields slammed into the muddy ground.
Long spears slid through the gaps between the shields.
Archers behind them immediately nocked arrows.
Within only a few breaths...
A complete defensive formation had appeared.
Azpen watched them quietly.
Then a faint smile appeared on his face.
"So..."
"They've finally learned."
I tightened my grip on Rusty's reins.
My palms had begun to sweat.
Everyone waited for Azpen's signal.
Instead...
He simply observed the formation.
After a few moments, he spoke.
"This time..."
"We don't charge."
"We fall back and regroup"
Several mercenaries looked at each other in confusion.
Azpen continued.
"Our surprise is gone."
"If we attack that formation head-on..."
"We'll break ourselves before we break them."
He pointed toward the shield wall.
"Look carefully."
"Large shields in front."
"Long spears behind."
"Archers covering the rear."
"They're waiting for us."
"We may kill a few..."
"But we'll lose far more."
He slowly turned his horse toward the forest.
"So..."
"We won't attack their rear."
"We'll attack their flank."
"They're marching through swamp terrain."
"They can't defend every direction equally."
He looked toward the scout waiting in the trees.
"Find us a route."
"I want a path that lets us strike their side."
"As quickly as possible."
The scout nodded once.
Without another word...
He disappeared into the forest.
The rest of us quietly waited.
No one questioned the order anymore.
The next attack...
Would come from where the lizardmen least expected it.