Northwest of Nightfall Keep, Bandit Hideout. South Ridge.
From the high ground, Arthur had a clear view of the bandit hideout across the way.
Over two hundred levies from Nightfall Keep were loosely assembled before him.
Their commander, Ser Williams, rode back and forth along the perimeter, shouting orders.
Under his command, the disorganized mass of levies gradually tightened into something resembling a combat formation. Though their equipment was ragged, they at least stood in proper lines.
"They're ready for us," Jimmy said from behind Arthur, pointing a calloused finger at the watchtower opposite them.
Frantic bells were ringing from the tower, startling a flock of crows from the nearby trees.
"Obviously," Arthur said calmly. "They were alerted the moment Nightfall Keep mustered its levies."
Lady Nym rode up beside Arthur on her golden-red sand steed. Her rattan armor gleamed with a dark reddish luster in the sunlight.
She had over a dozen daggers and knives of various shapes strapped to her waist, and a spear rested diagonally on her shoulder. She looked like a drawn sword herself—sharp and spirited.
Arthur gave her fully armed appearance a puzzled look. "Why are you dressed like that?"
"Why? Think I can't fight as well as a man?" Nym raised an eyebrow and scanned their surroundings. "Where did you send your Regular Mountain Corps? I don't see them."
"According to the plan, they will attack from the rear of the hideout first."
"Do you take me for a fool who knows nothing of war?" Nym frowned, gesturing at the terrain.
"That hideout is built against the hills. Apart from this frontal path where the slope is somewhat gentle, the rest isn't sheer cliffs, but it's rugged and overgrown."
"I'd believe four or five agile soldiers could launch a sneak attack. But a hundred soldiers attacking in formation? Are you joking?"
Arthur turned his head, a hint of amusement in his violet eyes. He made a placating gesture.
"They are the Regular Mountain Corps, trained specifically for this," he said, his voice low and confident.
"In the Red Mountains, they move as if on flat ground. These little hills are nothing more than an after-dinner stroll for them."
Besides their training, Arthur had another ace up his sleeve. Upon departing Nightfall Keep, he had used a Strategy Card: [Southman Invasion].
> [Southman Invasion]: For seven days, the army under your command gains increased adaptability to rugged terrain, reducing stamina consumption when traversing mountains and hills.
Just as Nym was about to retort, Ser Williams rode up. "My lord, the alarm bells have stopped. They must have finished assembling."
Arthur nodded and closed his eyes.
In an instant, his consciousness linked with Sharpwing in the sky.
Through the eagle's eyes, he saw the scene inside the hideout. No fewer than three hundred men had gathered beneath the watchtower. A dozen riders were among them, and the lead knight was waving his sword, seemingly rallying his troops.
Looking at this posture... have they not noticed the Mountain Corps? Seeing our small numbers here, do they plan to attack us first?
At the same time, he noticed Ser Bard leading the Mountain Corps through the brush on the northeast side of the hideout, approaching the palisade silently and swiftly.
"Interesting. An unexpected surprise," Arthur said, switching back to his own vision. The smile on his lips deepened.
"These bandits don't seem to have discovered the Mountain Corps. It looks like they want to come out and play."
He ordered Ser Williams, "Hold position. Wait for my command."
Originally, Arthur had planned to use this formation as bait to draw the bandits' attention, creating an opening for the Mountain Corps to ambush. He intended to wait for the Mountain Corps to strike first before launching his own attack.
He hadn't expected that after splitting his forces, the enemy would see his small numbers, assume they had the advantage, and actively seek battle.
Inside the hideout, the robber knight Hake sat fully armored on his horse, shouting to his men.
He was a burly man in his forties. A scar ran from his forehead to his chin, adding a twisted menace to his otherwise decent features.
Hake had finished mobilizing his men.
A week ago, he had demanded to "rent" Nightfall Keep again. To his surprise, his usually timid niece Corinne had refused decisively and mustered the levies to defend the castle.
Hake realized immediately that his niece would no longer supply him with gold and grain.
He had planned to raid the villages under Nightfall Keep's jurisdiction, taking the villagers hostage since their able-bodied men had been conscripted.
Using the villagers as leverage, he intended to force his niece to submit and let him take control of Nightfall Keep.
However, before he could act, his men brought him news of Arthur Snow becoming the new Sword of the Morning.
And along with that came a slew of ridiculous rumors.
Rumors aside, Hake knew exactly what this Arthur Snow from the North was capable of.
Crushing the wildlings of the Red Mountains, killing the Vulture King, executing disobedient lords without hesitation.
To avoid pushing his niece too far and attracting the attention of Starfall and Arthur Snow, Hake had reluctantly abandoned his plan and was looking for another way.
While he was still brainstorming, his dear niece had actually sent the Nightfall levies to his doorstep. It was like someone handing him a pillow when he was sleepy.
How could conscripted farmers possibly match his band of desperadoes?
Thinking this, Hake waved his longsword, the blade glinting cold in the setting sun.
"Brothers! There are only two hundred farmers out there!"
"After this battle, follow me into Nightfall Keep! We'll never have to suffer the wind and sun in this hellhole again!"
The bandits cheered wildly, banging their weapons against their shields.
Hake looked with satisfaction at his band of outlaws—wanted criminals, runaway wildlings, and landless knights.
Though their discipline was lax, they were all killers who lived by the blade.
Saying no more, Hake spurred his horse and charged out of the camp gate, his longsword leading the way.
His black warhorse neighed as it leaped over the crude barricades, followed by a dozen mounted cronies.
"Long live Hake!"
"Kill them all!"
"Woooo!"
Three hundred bandits followed in a chaotic swarm, screaming and howling as they tried to form a loose wedge.
Thwip-thwip-thwip—
They hadn't charged fifty paces when a sharp whistling sound came from behind and to their flank.
Dozens of short spears rained down like a sudden storm.
These spears were only four feet long, but thrown with immense force. They easily pierced roughspun tunics, worn leather, and even the few mail hauberks among them.
Screams erupted instantly from the bandit ranks. At least a dozen men were pinned to the ground.
The sudden attack from behind threw the already undisciplined bandits into chaos.
"What's happening?"
Hake yanked his reins, his horse rearing up.
He looked back and saw a sight that froze his blood.
On the camp's side walls, soldiers in full gear, equipped with exceptional weaponry, appeared one after another.
They wore uniform dark green armor that looked woven from vines, moving with agility that seemed almost inhuman.
More soldiers were vaulting over the two-meter wooden palisade like apes.
Even more terrifying was that these elite invaders had already formed a combat formation.
The front rank knelt, raising shields made of the same material as their armor. The rear rank thrust short spears through the gaps between the shields.
The entire formation looked like a curled-up hedgehog.
Faced with this incomprehensible situation, Hake knew this wasn't the time to question it. He couldn't let them finish assembling and expanding their formation!
"Enemy behind us!" Hake roared hoarsely.
"Charge with me! Crush them first!"
He wheeled his horse around, his sword carving a silver arc in the air.
The dozen riders followed him, attempting to bypass their chaotic infantry and strike directly at the mysterious invaders.
The Regular Mountain Corps showed no panic in the face of the charging cavalry.
When Hake and his men reached thirty paces, another volley of short spears flew from behind the shield wall.
Thwip-thwip-thwip—
Hake instinctively held his sword horizontally to protect his horse's head. A spear grazed his arm, leaving a bloody streak.
The riders behind him weren't so lucky. Three horses were hit and collapsed screaming; one rider was skewered through the chest and flew off his saddle.
The momentum of their charge faltered.
"Damn it!" Hake cursed, using the remaining momentum to crash toward the left flank of the shield wall, which hadn't fully formed yet.
His warhorse knocked aside two soldiers who had just raised their shields. Hake swung his sword at an enemy who couldn't react in time.
Skreee—
The blade struck the strange armor, making a teeth-setting screech.
Hake's heart sank. The sensation transmitted through the sword wasn't the familiar feeling of steel slicing through armor and flesh. It felt like hacking into layers of tough, thick ox-hide.
Although the soldier was knocked down, the wound was definitely not fatal.
The momentum of the charge was spent, yet the formation remained unbroken. Hake looked around desperately, only to find that the other riders had failed just as he had. They were all stalled.
Waving his sword, surrounded by soldiers in that bizarre armor, a flash of despair crossed Hake's eyes.
At that moment, his warhorse let out a pained whinny, its front legs buckling.
Hake was thrown from the saddle, his right leg pinned under the falling horse. The agony nearly made him faint.
"I yield!" he screamed, his sword dropping into the dirt.
---
Levy Formation.
Ser Williams noticed the commotion at the hideout and heard the shouts of killing and clashing metal.
"My lord!" he said urgently to Arthur. "Ser Bard must have attacked! We must support them now!"
Arthur nodded. "Sound the horn. Rapid march."
The horn echoed through the hills.
Two hundred levies shouted—somewhat timidly—and charged toward the hideout, their spears and pitchforks glinting in the sunset.
Arthur knew they were late. Through Sharpwing's eyes, he had already seen the battle drawing to a close.
Aside from the initial trouble caused by the cavalry charge, the rest of the fight had been a rout. The bandits dared not face the disciplined formation and were slaughtered or scattered like chaff before the wind.
The combat effectiveness of the Regular Mountain Corps far exceeded his expectations.
When Ser Williams led the levies into the camp, the scene left them dumbfounded.
Nearly a hundred bodies lay strewn across the ground. Even more bandits were kneeling, hands on their heads.
Ser Bard was directing his soldiers to suppress sporadic resistance, confiscate weapons, and bind captives.
"By the Seven..." Ser Williams murmured, eyes wide under his helm. "It's already over?"
Lady Nym rode up to Arthur, the doubt in her eyes replaced by shock.
"Your Mountain Corps... how on earth did you train them?"
Arthur didn't answer. He dismounted and walked toward the center of the battlefield.
Ser Bard saw him and saluted immediately. "My lord, this is the leader, Hake."
He pointed his sword tip at the knight bleeding profusely from his thigh on the ground.
Hake's face was pale as paper, his lips blue from blood loss.
He looked up weakly, recognizing Arthur by the greatsword on his back. Fear flashed in his eyes. "S-Sword... of the Morning... have mercy..."
Arthur glanced at the robber knight, his violet eyes emotionless.
He turned to Ser Bard. "Give him a clean death, Ser. What are the casualties for the Corps?"
Ser Bard's sword fell, ending Hake's pain.
"Three confirmed dead, twelve lightly wounded," he reported, pride unmistakable in his voice.
"How many did you kill? How many captured?" Nym asked.
Ser Williams, having received the numbers from his men counting the field, walked over quickly. "About a hundred dead bodies. Over three hundred and fifty prisoners."
He looked at Arthur and Ser Bard with awe. "Fighting four hundred with a hundred, outnumbered, yet winning with such light casualties... Seven above, this must be one of the most elite units in the Seven Kingdoms."
Arthur nodded with satisfaction.
This battle perfectly validated his concept for the Regular Mountain Corps.
Well-equipped, highly disciplined troops specialized in complex terrain warfare, combined with the [Southman Invasion] buff, were practically invincible in rugged landscapes.
"Awards will be distributed after the battle. Loot will be shared according to merit," Arthur announced loudly, his voice carrying across the field.
The soldiers cheered, raising their weapons in salute.
As for the bandits who fled, despite their familiarity with the terrain, none escaped the net cast by the Mountain Corps (boosted by [Southman Invasion]) and Sharpwing in the sky.
Before night fully fell, the bodies were buried, and the loot was inventoried and loaded onto carts.
On the road back to Nightfall Keep, Arthur rode at the rear of the column. Ahead of him stretched a long line of prisoners and soldiers.
The bandit captives, stripped of their arrogance, walked with heads hung low, hands bound. They were tied in groups of ten, with ropes connecting their ankles to prevent running.
The arrival of the long prisoner column at Nightfall Keep marked the first victory of the Regular Mountain Corps—and the beginning of the Great Purge.