The burly man's voice, a roar like a giant bear's bellow, shattered the messenger's last line of defense, causing his legs to give way, about to collapse to the ground.
He was supported by Hakon.
Before he could answer, the burly man on the battlements had already seen everything.
He stopped wasting words, directly drew his longbow, and the bowstring hummed.
An arrow tore through the night sky, shrieking as it flew straight for the messenger's head. Hakon remembered Lord Arthur's words, that the messenger was still useful to the Lord, and quickly used his arm to block. The sharp arrow pierced Hakon's right arm.
Hakon grunted, the sharp pain instantly clearing his mind. He didn't look at his hand but roared with all his might: "Shields up!!! Retreat!!!!"
In an instant, arrows rained down from the cliff face, shooting continuously from the front, making dense whistling sounds.
The shield-bearing soldiers reacted quickly, immediately stepping forward to form a tight phalanx, protecting their unarmed comrades in the middle. They used their shields to cover their heads and fronts, enduring the rain of arrows and falling rocks from above, slowly retreating along the narrow mountain path.
The clang of impacts was incessant, deflecting arrows scattering everywhere. Even so, several soldiers were hit by arrows in their unprotected ankles, letting out cries of pain, and were dragged by their comrades, retreating step by step back to a safe position.
Hakon retreated, covered in dust and grime. His face was ashen, his right arm haphazardly bandaged, dark red blood already soaking through three layers.
He spoke to Arthur, his voice suppressing anger and frustration: "Lord Arthur!! That path is too narrow!!! We can't deploy our formation at all!!!"
"If we could rush in!!! Killing them would be like slaughtering pigs!!!"
"And that burly man!!! He shoots too accurately!!! He specifically aims for our ankles not covered by shields!!"
"Let me lead the brothers in another charge!!!"
Arthur did not look at him, his gaze fixed on the distant, dark cliff face, which was now silent, as if the deadly rain of arrows just now had been an illusion.
There was no anger on his face; instead, a strong interest showed through. He was quite taken with that burly man; his archery was good, and his physique was almost two meters tall, perhaps comparable to Ser Gregor.
Arthur now understood why his imperial uncle and Lord Cao preferred burly men over beauties; he, too, now liked burly men.
He turned his head, his gaze falling on the messenger huddled in the corner, trembling with fear of being discovered and subjected to Arthur's terrifying tortures.
"Come here," Arthur's voice was calm.
The messenger scrambled to his feet and crawled before him, scared out of his wits, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Arthur squatted down, meeting his gaze. No emotion could be seen in his eyes. He spoke slowly, every word crystal clear: "The person on the wall who shoots so accurately with a bow."
"Who is he?"
The messenger dared not look up, trembling with fear. Hearing Arthur ask him a question, he seemed to grasp at a last straw, starting to answer incoherently: "Lord Arthur! I know who he is! I know who he is!!"
The messenger's voice became shrill with fear, but he would not let go of the chance to live. When a tough man kneels and begs for his life the first time, there will be countless times more:
"His nickname is the Blacksmith! His name is Brin!"
"He… is a man of the Vale, once a blacksmith! His family… it is said… was killed by a lord…"
The messenger looked up at Arthur. Arthur gestured for him to continue, and the messenger finally grew a little bolder, spilling everything he knew like beans from a bamboo tube.
"I heard that a lord from the Vale, I don't know which one, got drunk and rode his horse into his small house… He… he violated and killed his wife, and also killed several of his children who were protecting their mother…
"He spent all his family's wealth to buy a suit of armor and a longbow. Because he couldn't get close, he could only practice archery diligently. When that lord went out hunting, he shot the lord, but only wounded him. He charged in to fight, but the lord's guards were too many, and he failed. From then on, he was hunted and could only live as a fugitive."
"He became a bandit from then on, but he set rules: he never touched commoners, nor did he rob merchants. He claimed his targets were only nobles, and their lackeys!"
Arthur finally spoke, people with such beliefs were difficult to deal with: "How many people are in his group?"
The messenger gasped, cautiously observing Arthur's expression. Seeing no change on Arthur's face, he continued:
"In his group, there are less than ten people, all brothers whose families were ruined by nobles. That group are Mad Dogs, fearless of death."
"The main forty-plus people in the camp belong to two other groups. Their leaders don't like Brin the Blacksmith."
Arthur stroked his jaw: "Since he dislikes nobles, why is he cooperating with them?"
The messenger's face instantly drained of color, frantically waving his hands. He thought Arthur suspected him of lying: "No! It's not like that! In his view, all nobles should be killed. Using nobles to fight nobles, isn't that still fighting nobles? And he can get supplies, preparing for revenge."
The intelligence had been obtained. The messenger was dragged out by Arthur's order. Inside the tent, an oil lamp burned quietly. Arthur pondered how to capture the burly man, his fingers gently tapping on the simple sand table.
On the sand table, several stones of varying sizes represented the treacherous terrain of the cliff camp.
Lucien and Hakon stood by, their chests heaving. Since joining Lord Arthur, they had never suffered such a loss.
"Lord Arthur!!!" Lucien finally couldn't hold back, stopping his steps, his fist pounding his chest, making dull thudding sounds. "Lord Arthur!!! Let me lead the men up!!!"
Arthur looked at him. Lucien's eyes burned with fighting spirit. In previous battles, he had proven his courage, but siege warfare was different. He only had over sixty men. If it came to close combat, the bandits were no match, but if the enemy held their camp, then heroes would have no place to display their might.
Arthur did not look at him, his gaze shifting to the sand table. He picked up the largest stone representing the bandit camp above, slowly turning it between his fingers.
Finally, Arthur looked up. He placed the stone back in its original spot, then looked at Lucien and Hakon, speaking slowly: "Remember,"
"Sometimes, the cheapest victory is the greatest victory."
"Do you think one hammer can smash another hammer?"
Lucien was stunned. He didn't understand Lord Arthur's meaning, why he suddenly asked such a question. A hammer smashing a hammer, if a hammer couldn't smash a hammer, then use a bigger hammer.
Arthur did not wait for his answer. He was actually asking himself, not Hakon and Lucien. His gaze returned to the sand table.
He murmured to himself, as if sorting out his thoughts.
"A blacksmith who only hates nobles… His wife and children died at the hands of nobles… He values family…."
Arthur's finger gently tapped on the stone representing the cliff camp, then touched several other small stones nearby.
"People with beliefs, people for profit."
The corners of his mouth slowly curved into a smile. His palm gently swept, knocking all the stones down.
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