Ambush

Building a stone castle in a desert oasis was an extremely difficult undertaking.

Especially in Kawkab's territory, where no river ran through the land to transport bricks and stone.

Abdullah sat astride his horse, chatting with Lothar.

"I know Kawkab. He's a cruel and ruthless opponent, but undeniably powerful. The troops directly under his command alone include several hundred elite cavalrymen. Given enough time, he could gather an army of several thousand from the clans and tribal chiefdoms loyal to him."

Lothar frowned. This was a powerful lord whose influence surpassed even Baron Godfrey's.

If his territory had not been situated in this barren desert, where he could not even build a proper castle, Lothar would never have set his sights on him.

"But he won't have that time."

Lothar's expression turned solemn, though he looked utterly confident. "We'll take this wooden fort before the enemy can react. Abdullah, we can do it."

Abdullah placed a hand over his shoulder and nodded slightly. "I have never doubted that."

The Kurdish soldiers gathered the scattered warhorses, stripped the armor from the fallen, selected whatever scales were still usable, and discarded the heavy armor garments.

In this era, scale armor was clearly inferior to chainmail in terms of defense alone.

But in terms of appearance, scale armor far surpassed dark chainmail.

Beyond appearance, scale armor's greatest advantages were its simple craftsmanship, suitability for mass production, and ease of maintenance. One merely had to remove and replace damaged scales.

It was well suited to industrialized, large-scale production for equipping armies.

That was why vast, highly centralized states such as the Eastern Empire, the Sasanian Empire, and the Ayyubid Empire favored scale armor.

Even today, the Eastern Empire's cataphracts still wore scale armor, though they also wore a chainmail shirt beneath it to ensure adequate protection.

Lothar and his party changed out of their bloodstained clothes and disguised themselves as a Bedouin tribute caravan. They led over camels and mounts, hiding blades and weapons beneath the carts.

Then they slowly made their way toward the wooden fort within the oasis.

Kawkab's wooden fort stood at the very center of the oasis, beside a beautiful lake as clear as a mirror.

The guards at the gate and along the walls spotted them from afar and shouted for the caravan to halt.

Abdullah called out loudly, "We serve Lord Kaimur of Uld and have come to present tribute to the esteemed Governor Kawkab."

"Lord Kaimur's men?"

The gate guard approached warily. "Wasn't Lord Aladdin usually the one who escorted the tribute? Who are you? Why haven't I seen you before?"

The Kurdish soldiers tensed, their breathing growing heavier.

The atmosphere became extraordinarily tense.

The guard sensed that something was wrong and was about to say more when Fringilla rode two steps forward. Her clear voice rang out.

"Are you sure you haven't seen me before?"

"You?"

The guard's expression grew dazed.

A dark red gleam flickered in Fringilla's eyes, though it was barely noticeable beneath the glaring sunlight.

The man stopped midway through his sentence, as if he had forgotten what he had meant to say.

After a moment of contemplation, he said, "That's right, I've seen you. You serve Lord Kaimur. That's correct. Open the gates and let our guests from afar enter."

The gates of the wooden fort opened just like that.

Abdullah looked at Lothar in confusion. Lothar remained calm and said casually, "Enter the city. This tribute includes exquisite porcelain from the Song Empire, spoils we took when we raided Saladin's merchant caravan. Handle everything carefully. If anything is damaged, Lord Kawkab will not forgive you."

Lothar's expression remained unchanged, but the sweat at his temples betrayed his feelings.

Fringilla's charm could only affect those with weak wills. When they had encountered Governor Savodin last time, it had nearly produced the opposite effect. Fortunately, Abdullah had reacted quickly and talked their way through it.

Still, people like Governor Savodin were ultimately rare.

The group entered the wooden fort. The guards did not even demand that they disarm themselves. Only two men lifted the felt coverings over the tribute goods, then covered them again after confirming everything was in order.

Everything was going far too smoothly.

The women and servants within the fort gathered around them curiously.

Lothar surveyed the guards on the wooden fort's walls. Their vigilance was weak, and few of them seemed willing to remain on watch beneath the blazing sun.

He waved a hand and whispered, "Move. Kill any enemy who takes up a weapon."

A servant noticed the group's small movements and was just about to shout a question.

A throwing axe whistled past Lothar's ear and embedded itself in the servant's skull with a clang.

The maid beside him was splattered with blood.

Screams instantly echoed throughout the wooden fort.

Lothar drew his hand-and-a-half sword and rushed into the fort alongside the Kurdish soldiers.

Their sturdy armor allowed them to ignore the vast majority of ranged attacks.

It had to be admitted that this Kurdish cavalry troop was an exceptionally elite force. Whether fighting on foot or horseback, they were no weaker than a cavalry unit made up of twenty knights and their retainers.

But though Lothar coveted them, he had no intention of recruiting them.

Baron Godfrey had kindly lent him troops. If he poached them now, could he still call himself human?

Cries of battle rose from all around.

Thick smoke billowed from the tower.

Abdullah said urgently, "We have to finish them quickly. If Kawkab's cavalry arrives to reinforce them, we won't even have anywhere to retreat."

Lothar kicked the enemy before him away, stepped on him, and drove his hand-and-a-half sword into the man's throat.

"I know. Abdullah, take your men and deal with the guards on the walls. I'll find Kawkab!"

A servant suddenly sprang up from the ground, grabbed Lothar's leg, and swung an iron hammer at his shin.

At that moment, his eyes suddenly bulged.

With a bang, his eyeballs burst, blood spraying forth.

Lothar gave Fringilla a slight nod of thanks, then led the soldiers into the manor protected by the wooden fort without looking back.

The manor's decoration was exquisite.

Delicate murals adorned the walls, while various exotic vessels and furnishings stood arranged in neat rows.

Lightly dressed foreign maidservants let out piercing screams and fled in terror from the vicious, blood-soaked man before them, as though a killing star had descended into the world.

Lothar had no time to admire any of it and strode straight inside.

The moment he crossed a threshold, a howling gust of wind struck him.

An iron hammer slammed into Lothar's iron helmet, making his head ring.

Ignoring the dizziness, he raised his shield and rammed forward, knocking the attacker off balance. Behind him, a Kurdish soldier had already hurled a throwing axe, striking the man squarely between the brows.

He was a burly, bare-chested man wielding an iron hammer.

Their attack had come too swiftly. Many of the manor's soldiers had not even had time to put on armor, reducing their combat strength by at least half.

Lothar picked up the iron hammer from the man's hand. A two-handed sword was difficult to swing in the cramped rooms, and this hammer was more practical.

The group advanced rapidly.

The farther they went, the quieter it became.

The wooden fort was like a small maze, with far too many places to hide.

Then Lothar lightly flared his nostrils. The scent was familiar, like the fragrance of hawthorn flowers.

Following the scent, he pulled open a cabinet door and revealed a naked foreign woman behind it.

"Do you understand Kurdish?"

The foreign woman nodded repeatedly, her face filled with terror.

"Where is Kawkab?"

The woman pointed behind Lothar. The instant he turned his head, she drew a dagger and viciously thrust it at his neck.

But Lothar seemed to have foreseen it. He stepped back, avoiding the dagger while his iron-grip hand seized her throat.

The woman's eyes were full of unwillingness.

Lothar frowned. "You're acting too obviously. You aren't afraid at all. Are you a death warrior raised by Kawkab?"

The woman did not answer, her face full of hatred.

"Tell me. Kawkab raised you only to send you to hostile lords in the future, so you could assassinate them when the chance arose. If I kill him, I'll be setting you free instead."

The woman still did not answer. Her expression remained stubborn and vicious, making one wonder what sort of entanglement existed between her and Kawkab.

"But I don't have the time."

Crack.

Lothar released the woman and looked at Fringilla. "She isn't wearing clothes, and there's no bath barrel or anything like that in this room. She most likely just slept with Kawkab. Can you track him?"

Fringilla sniffed the air and nodded. "Follow me."

They followed Fringilla through narrow corridors and gardens until they arrived at a quiet room behind the wooden fort.

"Come out, Kawkab. Your woman betrayed you."

Lothar shouted.

Bang—

The door flew open, and a burly man in iron armor lunged out with a savage expression.

Lothar looked at one of the Kurdish cavalrymen beside him.

The man shook his head. "He isn't Kawkab. Let me handle him."

With that, he drew his weapon and charged forward.

Lothar bypassed the two men already fighting and exchanged looks with Fringilla and Prajna. Just as he was about to enter the room, Prajna stepped inside first.

Bang—

The iron hammer howled through the air.

Yet Prajna stood as steady as a mountain, utterly unmoved.

She did not slow, charging forward like an unstoppable war chariot.

Bang—

The heavily armored giant was sent sprawling to the ground.

Kawkab climbed to his feet, gripping a spiked mace in each hand, and roared, "Who are you people? How dare you attack me, the great Kawkab! My soldiers will arrive soon and slaughter every last one of you!"

Lothar snorted coldly. "Wretch, the moment you offended my lord Saladin, you should have known this day would come. We are not the filthy assassins of the Assassins. I grant you the chance for a fair fight."

Kawkab's expression shifted as he shouted, "Fine!"

He took up his stance. Lothar waved a hand, and a Blood Spear immediately formed in Fringilla's palm.

Kawkab stared in shock. "Devils! This is the power of devils! You lied to me! You said you would give me a fair fight!"

Lothar smiled. "This is already very fair."

Bang—

The Blood Spear easily pierced Kawkab's armor and pinned him to the wall behind him.

Lothar swung his sword and severed Kawkab's head, then walked out of the room without looking back.

He helped the Kurdish cavalryman finish his opponent and shouted, "Count the spoils immediately. Time is limited. Take only valuables that are easy to carry."

Only then did a loud explosion sound from the room behind them.

Blood splattered everywhere.

It was the sound of Fringilla's Blood Spear exploding.

Lothar climbed onto the battlements, raised Kawkab's head high, and shouted, "Your lord Kawkab is dead! Surrender at once and abandon all resistance! Those who surrender will not be killed!"