Chapter 82
Where are my men?
Chapter 82 Where are my men? (Please subscribe)
About fifteen miles northeast of Ironrock City, in a secluded valley by the River of Blood, stands Renault's temporary camp.
Renault's choice to set up camp here was a carefully planned move. It would keep him at a certain distance from Emberstone Ridge, preventing him from alerting the enemy, and also allow him to avoid being detected by bandits.
However, they were close enough that once they received a report of the bandit group's movements, they would quickly approach Emberstone Ridge along the Weeping Blood River. When the bandit group attacked Emberstone Ridge, they would swiftly deliver a fatal blow, like "the oriole unaware of the mantis behind."
Inside the largest tent in the center of the camp, Reno was pacing restlessly.
He unconsciously clutched the exquisite silver wine glass in his hand, but the expensive wine inside remained untouched.
It's been four days already.
According to his "perfect" plan, Blood Raven's pack of hungry wolves should have made their move no later than the second night after learning about the "big piece of meat" that was Emberstone Ridge.
The two elite scouts he sent out, Scarface and Skinny Monkey, should have rushed back with the news the moment the bandits launched their attack.
Four whole days have passed, and there's been no movement whatsoever. Not only have those two damned scouts not returned to report anything, but even if they haven't found the bandit group, they should have returned to resupply by now.
"Damn it! What's going on?" Renault slammed his wine glass down on the wooden table covered with a map, splashing crimson wine that stained the small dot "Ember Ridge" on the rough paper map.
His father gave him ten days, and now more than half of them have passed.
The thought of his father's disappointed or even furious gaze after the mission's failure, and the potential mockery from other family members, sent a chill down Renault's spine. He absolutely could not accept such an outcome!
"Damn it, are those Blood Raven bastards asleep, or have they turned to vegetarianism? Why aren't they taking a bite of such a huge piece of meat? Did they guess it's a trap? But can they really resist such a huge temptation? No way, they must be watching closely, afraid there's a trick involved. These cunning and greedy guys would never easily give up such a huge temptation—"
Renault seemed to be trying to comfort himself, but only he knew how anxious he was inside.
Inside the tent, Staff Officer Harold stood with his hands at his sides, barely daring to breathe.
He could sense the growing anxiety and anger emanating from the young master.
“Young Master, your deduction is correct,” Harold said cautiously. “Perhaps—the Blood Ravens are more cautious than we thought? They might be conducting repeated reconnaissance to confirm there are no traps before making their move? After all, they are known for their cunning, especially their leader, the Blood Raven. I estimate they will make their move in the next few days. And the fact that they haven't made any moves in the past few days suggests that they are likely planning a larger attack.”
"Yes, that's right, your analysis makes a lot of sense. If they weren't planning to raid Emberstone Ridge, they'd probably attack other villages instead. It seems they are indeed observing. As hunters, we need to be patient. I don't believe these guys won't take the bait!" Renault continued to reassure himself, like a desperate person unwilling to give up any possible hope.
He paused, then changed the subject, his expression turning grim as he looked at Harold: "But what are Scarface and Skinny Monkey doing? Even if the bandits didn't make a move, they should have been sending back messages regularly. Did they get carried off by wolves in Emberstone Ridge?!"
A sense of unease crept into Harold's heart.
Scarface and Skinny Monkey were veterans he personally selected; they were highly experienced and would never make such a basic mistake as going missing.
Even if they didn't receive news from the bandits, they should have returned to report that they were safe or to resupply with food.
Unless—they really did have an accident.
But what could possibly threaten two elite city defense scouts in a place like Jinshi Ridge?
Could it be that...?
Harold's heart skipped a beat, a bad feeling rising within him: had they been discovered by the bandit group's scouts, and then—
"Young Master! I'll immediately send someone to Ashstone Ridge to find those two again!" Harold said, somewhat flustered, as he walked out of the tent.
Soon, a squad of four experienced scouts quietly left the camp under the cover of night and stealthily headed towards Emberstone Ridge once again.
Harold watched them disappear into the darkness, his heart filled with unease. He had been careless and made a fatal mistake, trusting Scarface and Skinny Monkey too much.
There has been no news for so many days; they may have really met with some misfortune.
He wasn't worried about the people of Jinshi Ridge, but rather about the bandit gangs that were also hiding in the shadows. If they had been eliminated by the bandits, then Jinshi Ridge would likely have already been ransacked by the bandits, with no survivors.
"May the God of Light protect them, and may those two fools have simply forgotten the time, or perhaps they were really attacked by wild beasts," Harold prayed in his heart.
Time passed second by second, and night completely enveloped the earth.
Apart from the footsteps of patrolling soldiers and the crackling of campfires, the camp was completely silent.
But this silence was like a silent torture for Harold.
He tried to consider all the possibilities, and a jumble of chaotic thoughts swirled in his mind, making his mood worse.
However, Renault was also suffering greatly, and he almost never slept a wink.
The next morning, the sky was just beginning to lighten.
Renault barely slept all night, his eyes bloodshot.
He sat in the tent, like a lion suppressing its roar before it erupts in rage.
However, Harold could no longer sit still. Before dawn, he sent out a third scout team of eight men toward Emberstone Ridge.
Because this place isn't far from Jinshi Ridge, according to his previous instructions, those four guys should have returned before dawn.
So he knew that something unknown must have happened at Emberstone Ridge, but one thing did put his mind at ease.
Emberstone Ridge should not have been attacked yet, otherwise those four guys would definitely have returned unharmed and reported the result he least wanted to see.
The worst-case scenario right now is that those four have also been killed by the bandits. Perhaps Scarface and Skinny Monkey were killed just yesterday, which means they are likely to make a move soon.
Or perhaps they were alerted and temporarily abandoned their attack on Jinshi Ridge.
But no matter what, it's better than the fact that Ashstone Ridge has already been looted; otherwise, he really wouldn't know how to explain it to the young master.
"Harold, Harold—" Renault's voice called out, and Harold's heart skipped a beat. He ran towards Renault's tent with a look of fear on his face.
Harold reported the situation truthfully; he dared not lie.
"Four people—and then they're gone again?" Renault froze when he received Harold's report.
If the disappearance of two people could be an accident, then the silent disappearance of two groups of six elite scouts in succession is definitely not a coincidence!
A chill ran down Renault's spine, almost uncontrollably.
This is so unusual!
Harold also shared his speculation.
Renault's face was ashen, his brows furrowed, and his mind raced. It seemed that Harold's analysis did make some sense; perhaps it was Blood Raven's people who did it.
It seems they are really planning to take action, and this might alert the enemy.
He didn't want it to be the latter, because then all the bait he had sent out would have been wasted.
"My lord, let's wait a little longer. Blood Raven can't make a move during the day. The eight scouts I sent out will surely bring back useful information."
Time seemed to drag on endlessly during the anxious wait.
Harold paced back and forth at the camp entrance like a cat on a hot tin roof.
Finally, the third batch of scouts he sent out returned, but only two wounded soldiers came back.
Their faces were pale, their bodies were covered in wounds, and their eyes were filled with fear.
"What happened?" Harold was nervous. Although he could tell from the situation that they had indeed been attacked by a bandit gang.
However, the two scouts' response was far beyond his expectations.
"Goblins! Goblins attacked us!"
"What?" Harold's jaw nearly dropped to the ground; this was an answer he had never expected.
1