Openly Slacking

On his first outing as a bandit, Hudson felt excitement mixed with unease. His instincts told him that any convoy still heading for Dadir City at a time like this was definitely not transporting any treasures.

Limited by their manpower, the allied forces could not surround the area from all sides, but they would not allow people to come and go freely either. This was work with their heads tied to their belts.

Doubts aside, he still had to take part in the robbery. Based on his life experience, Hudson knew very well that nothing in this world was more terrifying than being poor.

Though he had made quite a haul in this war, most of it consisted of supplies that were difficult to turn into cash. The money in Hudson's hands was still pitifully scarce.

If his plan to secure a fief failed and he became a wandering knight, so be it. But if the plan succeeded, his current assets would not be enough to support the reconstruction of his territory.

Both White and Layton Counties had been ravaged by the war. Hudson did not believe the fief he received would emerge unscathed. A lord without money was like a plucked phoenix—not even as good as a chicken.

Knight Chels was proof enough. A shut-in magic fanatic had been forced by the necessities of life into becoming the captain of a bandit raid squad.

"Steward, there are troops blocking the road ahead. It seems the enemy has discovered us. Should we continue toward Dadir City?"

After glancing ahead, the middle-aged steward said coldly, "Allen, how many times have I told you not to call me Steward? We are members of the Skull Society now. You must call me Holy Son!"

"Yes, Steward... no... Holy Son!"

The young man answered in a fluster.

Clearly, he was still somewhat unaccustomed to the sudden change in address.

Rolling his eyes, the middle-aged man had never held any expectations for this muddleheaded subordinate.

"Enough. Pass down the order and prepare for battle. A rabble that cannot even form up properly dares to come out and imitate bandits? We will teach them a lesson."

The middle-aged man gave the order calmly, as though he had already forgiven Allen's mistake and could not even be bothered to mention it again.

Yet the terrified expressions of his subordinates made it clear that the middle-aged man was not so magnanimous. He had not pursued the matter because he never bothered holding grudges against the dead.

At a time like this, escorting a convoy into Dadir City was plainly a mission with only a slim chance of survival. Everyone in the convoy was an unfortunate soul who had been selected.

The story dated back two months. After successfully launching its rebellion and making a fortune, the Skull Society had placed a massive order with them.

They had originally not wanted to accept it. After all, sending people to escort the goods would make it easy for others to seize evidence against them. But the Skull Society's offer had simply been too generous.

For the sake of profit, the Church gathered the supplies at the fastest speed possible. They even sent experts deep into the Monster Mountain Range to capture an Earth Bear cub.

Of course, the Church was so proactive not merely because the Skull Society had offered a high price. More importantly, it wanted to stir up a major incident.

In the Church's eyes, the bigger the Skull Society's disturbance, the better. Ideally, it would summon the Lord of Skeletons and deal the Alpha Kingdom a devastating blow.

It would be even more perfect if it could ravage the continent. Only when the situation became impossible to contain would everyone recognize the Church's importance.

"Charge!"

At Knight Chels's command, the Fifth Army's elites charged straight at the convoy. Hudson, armed with a bow, naturally fell to the rear of the formation.

"Eight hundred against five hundred. The advantage is ours!"

Seeing this, Hudson felt greatly reassured. What surprised him, however, was that rather than panicking in the face of the approaching army, the enemy launched a head-on countercharge.

What left Hudson even more speechless was that every enemy soldier was an armored cavalryman. Their equipment was even better than that of the Fifth Army's elites, and for a moment he suspected they had picked the wrong target.

It was not strange for the Rebel Army that had ravaged two counties to produce five hundred warhorses. But gathering five hundred well-trained cavalrymen was another matter entirely.

If they really had five hundred elite cavalrymen, why had they not used them when raiding provisions earlier? Why had they appeared instead in this mysterious convoy?

Hudson was not the only one who hesitated. Knight Chels, charging at the front, also noticed something was wrong. To avoid unnecessary friendly fire, he hurriedly pulled tight on his reins and asked, "Who are you people? Why are you heading for Dadir—"

Before he could say the word "City," spears were already flying toward him from the other side. No further confirmation was needed. They were the enemy.

Fortunately, Chels was experienced and had not lowered his guard while speaking. With one slash, he knocked aside the flying spear hurtling at him.

The dashing move made Hudson's eyes shine. But wielding a knight's sword was the privilege of high-ranking knights. A novice little knight like him would be better off honestly using a knight's lance if he wanted to live longer.

An inch longer, an inch stronger.

On the battlefield, practicality always came first. Though the sword was the king of all weapons, that depended on who wielded it.

Having dodged the ambush, everyone in the Fifth Army was furious. The enemy actually had even less knightly spirit than they did. This was outrageous!

"Kill! Kill..."

The two armies quickly became locked in a melee. Though the Fifth Army had greater numbers, the enemy was entirely cavalry, and they were soon forced onto the defensive.

The enemy was all elite troops!

After reaching that conclusion, Hudson could no longer afford to slack off. He immediately raised his bow and began picking off targets.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Seven enemy cavalrymen fell in response. His dazzling display of one arrow per man instantly made Hudson the most eye-catching figure on the battlefield.

It was not that the enemy had no archers. But with the two armies locked in close combat, a moment's carelessness could result in friendly fire. Ordinary archers had no room to perform.

In fact, Hudson's performance was also heavily affected. Unlike when he had commanded serfs in battle, these allies were nobles. Causing friendly fire would bring serious trouble, so he had to be completely certain before shooting.

"Watch out for the enemy's master archer. Allen, take some men over there and kill that fellow!"

The moment the middle-aged man spoke, Hudson's arrow flew at him. Unfortunately, the man knocked it away with a slash of his sword.

As expected, the strong were not so easy to ambush. In a world of the extraordinary, ordinary bows could hardly inflict substantial harm upon experts unless deployed in sufficient numbers.

Seeing the enemy split off troops to charge at him, Hudson did not hold back. He greeted them directly with arrows. Whoever ran fastest became his first target.

In an instant, more than a dozen cavalrymen died, yet they had advanced only a few dozen meters toward Hudson.

It was not that Hudson's archery was so divine that he could kill enemies at lightning speed. The main reason was that his allies blocked the way ahead, desperately slowing the enemy's advance.

At that moment, Hudson suddenly felt that knightly spirit was not so bad. At the very least, on the battlefield, his allies were truly fighting for their lives.

Not wanting his allies' efforts to go to waste, Hudson searched hard for targets across the battlefield. Whenever an opportunity arose, he immediately sent an arrow their way.