Experienced Sauron Battle Group Commander
On the wasteland east of Frosgard, a Sauron Cavalry of about four hundred men was galloping south at great speed.
Their armor was gleaming, their formation tight, their warhorses powerful and sharp, exuding a chilling aura as they galloped, a stark contrast to the mixed and wild spirit of the Vanguard Camp previously led by Thorsten.
This was an elite pursuit team personally selected and dispatched by Asgeir, the Corps Commander of the Tiger Corps, and led by the experienced veteran Battle Group Commander Unag.
Unag, a name that represents a legend in the Sauron Army.
He came from humble beginnings and had no tribal background. He rose from the lowest-ranking cannon fodder infantryman to his current position as the Battle Group Commander of a 300-man Tiger Corps through sheer bravery and resourcefulness in bloody battles.
He participated in almost all the important battles in the rise of Harald, and his body was covered with dozens of scars, large and small, and he had a distinguished military record.
In the Sauron army, which placed great importance on lineage and tribal affiliation, his ability and ferocity in attaining such a position speak volumes about his skill and ferocity.
At this moment, he led this cavalry force, a mix of elite troops from the Tiger and Bear legions, and following the vague directions provided by the routed soldiers, finally arrived at the battlefield of the encounter a few days earlier: the Black Forest Valley.
The scene before my eyes was shocking.
In the valley, large swathes of land were trampled into a mess, and dark red bloodstains soaked the soil, attracting flocks of crows and flies.
Dozens of Sauron Cavalry and their unclaimed horses lay scattered about, already in a state of high decay, emitting a nauseating stench.
Some of the corpses had clearly been looted; the armor and weapons had been taken away, leaving only tattered fur coats and skeletons gnawed by wild animals.
There were also a few scattered carcasses of cattle and sheep belonging to the Skarn people that hadn't been taken away, which were also bloated and stinking.
"Stop!" Unag raised his gauntlet-clad fist, his voice hoarse but powerful.
The entire cavalry unit obeyed orders without question, instantly switching from motion to stillness, demonstrating an extremely high level of discipline.
Unag landed on his horse, dismounted, and stepped onto the sticky, blood-stained ground. His sharp gaze swept across the entire battlefield like that of a hawk.
He ignored the disturbing sights and focused all his attention on deciphering the traces left behind by the battlefield.
He crouched down and carefully examined the messy but still discernible hoofprints and wheel tracks on the ground.
His fingers traced the edges of some of the deeper hoof prints, then parted a clump of grass that had clearly been trampled extensively.
"Numerous hoofprints... and tracks of dragging heavy objects... were they carrying corpses or the wounded?" he muttered to himself, his brow furrowed. "The main force headed south, towards Fran City... but..."
His gaze suddenly fixed on another set of marks.
This set of hoof prints is relatively new, covering the original tracks, and there are quite a few of them, but they deviate from the main direction and head towards the southeast.
"Southeast?" Unag stood up, looking in that direction, a hint of doubt and wariness flashing in his eyes. "That's not the road to Fran City... That direction is... a more desolate hilly area. What are they doing there?"
His years of battlefield experience told him that something unusual must be going on.
The Goldspur had fought a hard-fought battle and were unlikely to return to their relatively safe base in Fran City with their spoils and wounded. Instead, they sent troops to a worthless wasteland.
"Unless...they're not going to seek refuge, but rather...to reunite?" A thought flashed through Unag's mind like lightning.
Without further hesitation, he mounted his horse, pointed to the faintly discernible path to the southeast, and barked out the order, "Change direction! Chase after them this way! Everyone, stay alert, speed up!"
The four hundred elite cavalry immediately turned their horses around and, like a torrent of steel, roared away along the trail that led to the unknown.
After nearly a day of tireless tracking, the trail became increasingly clear.
The hoofprints became more dense, and there were even traces of temporary encampment and cooking.
Unag's premonition grew stronger.
Finally, on the afternoon of the second day, after they had crossed a low hilly area, the scout leading the way suddenly signaled that the target had been spotted!
Unag immediately spurred his horse up a high slope ahead. When he saw the scene in the distance, even he, a veteran of countless battles, couldn't help but have his pupils shrink suddenly, and an expression of disbelief appeared on his face.
In the middle of a relatively open valley, a fortress built against the mountain stood out prominently!
The main body of the fortress has obviously been repaired and reinforced. The stone walls are sturdy, the watchtowers are numerous, and you can even see newly dug trenches and wooden fortifications built around it!
What's most glaring is the flag of the Goldflower Kingdom fluttering in the wind atop the main tower of the fortress!
"Carnford ...?" Unag murmured the name that had been almost forgotten by the Sauron.
He remembered that this was one of the several outposts mentioned by the chief in the so-called "Pioneering Decree" issued by the Goldflower Kingdom in the Northern Territory.
He had assumed that these noble lads, who had been thrown to the Northern Territory to die, had long since frozen, starved, or been eaten by small groups of Sauron.
But to his utter surprise, someone actually managed to gain a foothold here!
Not only did they rebuild the fortress, they even dared to launch a preemptive attack and ambush Sauron's forces!
"I see..." Unag instantly understood everything.
That Goldfinch Cavalry didn't flee to Fran City at all; instead, they returned to this place, their long-established lair!
He looked at the busy figures outside the fortress, the well-prepared fortifications, and the fluttering flags, and a cold, cruel smile slowly spread across his lips.
"Looks like some Broomflower rats have forgotten who calls the shots in the Northern Territory," he slowly drew his scimitar, the blade gleaming bloodthirstyly in the setting sun. "Very well...it'll be perfect for wiping you all, along with this eyesore, off the map!"