OBS Chapter 619 A small test of one’s skills
Chapter 619 A small test of one’s skills
On a small road somewhere in the west of Rona Territory, a large army was advancing slowly.
The dirt road was crushed solid by countless horse hooves and boot soles, and the wild grass on both sides was pressed to the ground. The army with the flag of the Kingdom of Midland stretched for miles. The iron armor of the infantry phalanx gleamed coldly in the sun, the sound of war horses' hooves rolled like thunder, and the wooden wheels of the baggage train rolled over the gravel, making a harsh squeaking sound.
In the latter half of the team, Griffith's Eagle Group was mixed in.
Except for the centurions who were still wearing their slightly old but unique leather armor, the rest of the mercenaries had changed into the standard armor of Midlan. The dark gray chain mail was branded with the emblem of the kingdom, the edges of the breastplate were polished to a shine, and the neck guard of the helmet swayed slightly with the movement as they marched.
The sunlight filtered through the sparse birch trees beside the road, casting tiny spots of light on the surface of the armor. From a distance, the team looked like they were coated with a layer of flowing metallic luster.
"As expected, the nobles still have strong connections."
Jie Du, who was riding on a horse, frowned, glanced at the Eagle Regiment lined up in neat formation behind him, and sighed softly with his Adam's apple rolling.
After completing the nobles' contracts that day, they took advantage of the celebration banquet to ask the nobles to take over the contracts within the Midland Army.
Considering that their joining Midland would be beneficial to him, a nobleman whose castle was on the front line, the nobleman immediately wrote a letter to Count Rhone who had fled to Wendam.
Count Rona was eager to have more troops participate in the proposal to retake Rona, so he immediately used his connections to get a three-year military contract for the Eagle Corps. Regardless of whether there was a war or not, the Eagle Corps could receive a salary of 100 gold coins every month.
"Griffith, where are we going?"
Guts pulled the reins and brought his mount alongside Griffith's white horse.
Ever since he perfectly held off the enemy as a rearguard last time, allowing the Eagle Group to complete the mission with zero casualties, he clearly felt that the mercenaries around him treated him as one of their own. Even Gorkas's gang no longer performed performance art outside his tent in the middle of the night.
Griffith tilted his head slightly, his white hair blown up by the wind, revealing his well-defined jaw.
The map scroll in his hand was bound with black leather, and the edges were slightly curled from frequent flipping through.
"Rona City is the front line of the war between Midlan and Yoda. It is also Yoda's most important frontier fortress. Many supplies, weapons and equipment are stored there. If Rona City is captured, Yoda's army will be forced to retreat."
"So they're not asking us to attack there, are they? I heard that Mitlan has been besieging Rona City for a long time."
Gorkas interrupted at this time.
"Since it was occupied by Yoda's army three years ago, the Mitlan army has never retaken this place."
"of course not."
Griffith shook his head.
"Strategic locations like these are usually attacked by armies led by earls or generals. Taking them is considered a great achievement, and all participating teams will receive rewards from the king. Our small mercenary group, which has just joined Midland, can only participate in peripheral battles."
He said looking towards Gus.
"How's the training going with your stormtroopers?"
Three months ago, Griffith selected a group of elite members from the Eagle Corps to form the Stormtroopers and appointed him as the captain.
At first, the veterans were unconvinced, until he used a two-handed sword to split three stacked oak targets on the training ground, which silenced everyone present.
"good."
He answered briefly.
"At least they know how to follow orders now."
"We're almost there, only about four or five miles away."
Griffith put away the map. At this moment, the messenger in front of the team blew the horn. The dull sound startled the crows in the bushes by the roadside. The flapping sound of their wings was mixed with the suppressed coughs of the soldiers.
As they got closer to their destination, the army passed a burned-out village.
The charred wooden stakes on both sides of the dirt road looked like twisted tombstones, and unburned rags were still hanging on the half-remaining ruins of the houses, fluttering in the wind.
Several wild dogs rushed out from behind the broken wall, holding blackened bones in their mouths, and fled into the wilderness in panic.
After leaving the village, everyone found that there were many burnt-black corpses piled up outside the village, and the stench mixed with the smell of scorched earth hit them in the face.
The corpses were stacked together in twisted postures, some with incomplete limbs and some with sunken heads, as if they had been hit by a huge force.
A dozen ragged farmers were hunching over, dragging the corpses one by one to the edge of the dug pit with rough hemp ropes.
There was a numb expression on their faces, as if they had long been accustomed to such tragic scenes.
A skinny old woman knelt at the edge of the pit, her dry, branch-like fingers tightly grasping a piece of torn cloth, and intermittent whimpers came from her throat, like the howling of a wounded beast.
There was a priest sitting next to him praying. His tattered black robe was covered in dust. He was kneeling on the muddy ground with a scripture spread out in front of him.
He muttered something, his old voice sounding particularly weak in the stinking air:
"Lord, please forgive these innocent souls... Please let the smoke of war dissipate soon..."
A few flies were circling above his head, but he was completely unaware.
Everyone turned their heads and saw the outline of a city wall slowly emerging on the distant horizon. At first, it was just a vague gray shadow, but as the team moved westward, the outline became clearer.
A huge building was squatting at the end of the wasteland, like a crouching giant beast. When passing a raised hill, the entire castle was finally revealed to everyone.
The city wall was three people tall and was built with huge gray-black stones. The gaps between the stones were almost imperceptible, as if they were born as one.
The outside of the city wall was surrounded by a wide moat, the water surface was a dark red like rust, and it was unclear whether it was deposited mud or dried blood.
Outside the moat, three pitch-black catapults stood in the open ground.
Further away, rows of tents spread toward the sky like a tide, and the dark gray, khaki, and dark red tarpaulins billowed in the wind like a polluted sea of clouds.
The tents were interspersed with crisscrossing roads. Soldiers hurried past carrying weapons and pushing food carts. The crisp sound of their boots crushing dead branches mixed with the clash of metal armor.
"The Eagle Group, right?"
The Midland officer in charge of the resettlement rode over on a brown horse with a leather scroll bag hanging next to the saddle.
He took the mercenary contract handed to him by Griffith, glanced at it briefly and returned it, while throwing a Midland pennant.
"Find an open area to the west to set up camp. When the bell rings, everyone will gather at the central tent. Someone will lead the way."
Griffith immediately led the mercenaries to the designated location to set up camp. When they were almost done, they heard the sound of a bell in the distance.
Then someone outside shouted:
"All mercenary group leaders, please come to the central tent for a meeting!"
"You guys go ahead and pack up. I'll be back soon. Gus, follow me."
Griffith said to the group, and the two of them then rode to the central tent.
There was an open space in the middle of the tent, filled with many chairs. Griffith had arrived early and was assigned a seat near the front.
He sat in a chair, his hands on his knees, his eyes focused on the front, waiting for the meeting to begin.
After a while, the originally empty field was filled with all kinds of bustling sounds. Some of the mercenary group leaders were communicating with each other, some were complaining, and some were waiting quietly.
After a while, a Midland officer finally opened the tent and came out to announce to the leaders of the mercenary groups:
"All leaders of mercenary groups with more than 500 members enter the tent to meet with the general. The rest of you continue to wait for orders."
There was a commotion among the crowd. Except for a few leaders of large mercenary groups who were preparing to leave for the tent, the other leaders of mercenary groups immediately started complaining.
"Why is it that only leaders of mercenary groups with more than 500 members can enter?"
"We also rushed here with hundreds of people!"
"This is so unfair!"
Griffith asked Guts to wait here for a while and then followed him into the tent.
Inside the tent, General Midlan, who commanded the army, was sitting in the center, with officers and civil servants standing on both sides.
The general was wearing a gorgeous armor embroidered with golden patterns. He sat on a high-backed chair, looking down at the mercenary leaders who were approaching him.
Griffith and several other mercenary leaders immediately knelt on one knee in salute after arriving before the general.
"Get up."
The general raised his hand to signal everyone to stand up, then sighed and said to everyone as if he was laying his cards on the table:
"I'm quite savvy and know how I got my position. I just discussed this with our officers, but we really don't have any plans to capture this fortress while minimizing losses. As mercenaries, you have much more experience than I, who rose through the ranks thanks to connections, so I hope you can offer your suggestions."
The general's words surprised the mercenary leaders below, including Griffith.
At the same time, Griffith also keenly realized that this was an opportunity to stand out. People will only remember the first person who stands out, and no matter how well others do afterwards, they will not be remembered for long.
Thinking of this, he pondered for a moment, then immediately stepped forward and said:
"I am capable of taking this castle."
"Oh?"
As soon as Griffith spoke, he immediately attracted the attention of the people around him, including the general. In addition to his shocking words, his fair face and white hair separated him from the surrounding mercenaries who had rough skin or scars on their faces.
Several mercenary leaders around also turned around and looked at Griffith with disbelief. "Brother, I know you want to stand out, but do you know what you just said?"
"Who is he?"
The general asked the official next to him. The official took out a document, glanced at it, and said in a low voice:
"This is Griffith, the leader of the Eagle Group. He was recommended by Earl Rona. The mercenary group has about 500 members."
After receiving the answer, the general looked at Griffith:
"Captain Griffith, you said you have the ability to capture this castle. There are thousands of defenders inside. Can your 500-man mercenary group do it alone?"
In the general's questioning gaze, Griffith's eyes were as calm as water.
"My Eagle Group is enough."