Hooked

Just as the two remained silent, intensely weighing whether to risk continuing the offensive or decisively cut their losses and retreat!

Suddenly, a series of hurried footsteps and soldiers' shouts of surprise and uncertainty came from outside the tent!

"Look to the west!"

"Fire! A huge fire!"

"It's that stone fortress! The Goldspur's stone fortress is on fire!"

Unag and Invag exchanged a glance, immediately dropped the food they were holding, and rushed out of the tent.

Upon exiting the tent, one could see that the night sky in the direction of the western Carnford defensive line was illuminated by a vast expanse of towering flames, turning it a fiery red!

Thick black smoke billowed and rose like a ferocious giant python, clearly visible even from a considerable distance.

The stone fortress that had cost them dearly during the day but which they had been unable to conquer for so long was now being consumed by raging flames!

"What's going on?" Invag exclaimed in surprise and doubt.

Soon, a sentry rushed in to report, "Sir! The Goldspur... the Goldspur themselves set fire to the fortress! We saw their men evacuating from inside, and then it caught fire! Now the entire fortress is ablaze!"

"It burned itself?" Unag's pupils contracted, his sharp gaze fixed on the sea of fire, countless thoughts flashing through his mind in an instant.

He instinctively sensed something was wrong. "They've deliberately abandoned and burned a strong flank stronghold... What are they trying to do? Have they suffered too many losses and are no longer able to divide their forces for defense, so they're consolidating their strength to hold the main position?"

Invag was initially stunned, but then his face quickly lit up with ecstatic and greedy expressions. "That must be it! They can't hold on any longer! Although we suffered heavy losses during the day, they have even fewer men, so they must be in even worse shape than us!"

"The fact that they can't even hold their flank fortifications and have to destroy them themselves shows that they've reached a dead end! This is our chance! A golden opportunity!"

He grabbed Unag's arm abruptly, his voice urgent and agitated. "Unag! We can't hesitate any longer! This is their weakness! We must seize it! Tomorrow! Launch the final assault first thing tomorrow morning!"

"Concentrate all our forces and launch a fierce attack on their main positions! Once we capture Carnford, all the food, supplies, and women inside will be ours! We can recover all our losses! For such a great achievement, Chief Harald will certainly not treat us unfairly!"

Unag's brow remained furrowed; he was more cautious than Invag, and a lingering doubt persisted in his mind. "Could this... be a trap? A feigned weakness to lure us in..."

"Trap!" Invag almost growled, pointing at the burning fortress, his eyes bloodshot with excitement and the desire for victory.

"Using a fortified fortress as a trap? Are they willing to do that? Do they have enough troops to play such tricks? Unag! Don't forget our predicament! If we retreat in disgrace, returning with such heavy losses... will our fate be much better than Thorsten's? You know Chief Harald's temper!"

Mentioning Harald and the possible punishment, Unag's body trembled almost imperceptibly; Invag's words had struck at his deepest fears.

Yes, after paying such a heavy price and returning empty-handed, Harald, in a fit of rage, will definitely use their heads to intimidate the entire army!

Looking at the towering flames and then at Invag's almost crazed eyes, Unag struggled for a moment. In the end, the fear of defeat and the greed for the spoils overwhelmed his caution.

He gritted his teeth, a fierce glint in his eyes. "Fine! As you say! At dawn tomorrow, launch the final assault! Concentrate all our forces, spare no expense, and raze Carnford to the ground!"

"Haha! Great!" Invag clenched his fist excitedly, as if he could already see victory beckoning to him.

The two reached a consensus and immediately turned back to the main tent to begin urgently deploying a plan for the all-out attack the next day.

The burning fortress was like the most tempting poisoned bait, making them willingly swallow the hook, determined to place all their bets on this final gamble tomorrow!

The morning mist had not yet completely dissipated, and a tense and ominous atmosphere, as if a great battle was about to begin, permeated Kahnford Fortress.

In a makeshift ward in the barracks, Lyon von Hawke slowly opened his eyes.

He felt a sharp headache and a general weakness, as if his body didn't belong to him.

He struggled to move his eyes, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

The roof was made of rough wooden beams, and the air was filled with the strong smell of herbs and blood. There were many wounded soldiers around him, all wrapped in bandages and lying down.

"Where... am I?"

He whispered hoarsely, his throat dry and sore, as if he were swallowing grit.

Memories are like fragments shrouded in thick fog, difficult to piece together at once. Only the chaotic sounds of battle, the piercing pain, and the boundless darkness remain as vague impressions.

"You're awake."

A calm voice sounded beside him, interrupting his chaotic thoughts.

Lyon turned his head to the side with difficulty and extreme slowness, a tearing pain shooting through his neck muscles.

His blurry vision gradually focused, and he saw a strange young man standing by the bed.

The man was wearing a set of well-maintained full plate armor that gleamed with a cold metallic sheen.

The armor features clean, powerful lines that outline a smooth defensive silhouette, with precise riveting at the joints. Ancient family crests are faintly visible on the breastplate and arm guards, clearly indicating that it is a valuable and long-standing heirloom.

He wore a simple yet exceptionally sharp knight's longsword at his waist, and held an Italian-style helmet with a visor in the crook of his right arm.

This set of equipment silently speaks of its owner's unquestionable determination and his will to fight to the death.

Lyon's pupils contracted slightly involuntarily, and he quickly searched his memory but could not find any corresponding memories of this person.

A sense of vigilance instantly rose within him. Despite his extreme weakness, he tried his best to keep his voice neutral and cautiously asked:

"Who are you...?"

He asked briefly, his gaze fixed on the other person, trying to glean some information from that young face.

Where was he? Who was this young man? Was he friend or foe? Countless questions swirled in his weary mind.

Karl's tone remained calm, revealing no emotion. "This is Carnford, and I am Karl von Schmidt, Lord Carnford."

"You...you are the Lord Carnford that Earl Rochefort mentioned?" Lyon's voice was even more hoarse with weakness and shock. He struggled to sit up, but the movement aggravated the wound in his abdomen, causing a sharp pain that made him gasp and fall back onto the pillow. "What happened to you...?"

Karl didn't answer directly, but calmly looked down at him, summarizing the current situation concisely and clearly. "You were unconscious for several days. After we withdrew to Carnford, the elite Sauron pursuers quickly surrounded this place. Yesterday, they launched a strong attack, which we held, but suffered heavy casualties."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Lyon's pale face, and continued, "Judging from their movements, today will soon be the final attack, a decisive round of life and death. It's either us or them."

Lyon's heart sank, and he instantly understood why Karl had appeared here in such a manner.

The final battle... this is a personal battle, a fight to the death!

Overwhelmed by guilt, he struggled to sit up, but failed due to his weakness.

He could only say painfully, "It's all my fault. I was greedy and reckless, which dragged everyone down and attracted Sauron army, putting Carnford in such a desperate situation..."

Karl shook his head slightly, his tone still calm, even carrying a hint of barely perceptible indifference. "There's no need to blame yourself. Even without your involvement, the Sauron would have come knocking sooner or later. A direct confrontation with the Sauron was something I had already mentally prepared for when I chose to expand into the Northern Territory. Now, it's just happening a little earlier."

He looked at Lyon's trembling hands, weakened by weakness and guilt, and continued, "Your injuries haven't healed; you need to rest. Leave the fighting to us."

Lyon gripped Karl's arm guard urgently; the cold touch made him shudder slightly, but he persisted, "Let me... let me join the fight! I can still wield a sword!"

Karl gently but firmly brushed his hand away. "Your battlefield isn't here."

His gaze swept over the other wounded soldiers in the ward, who were anxiously watching them. "Besides me, you are the highest-ranking and most experienced commander here. I need you to stay and take charge of the final defense of the castle's core area."

"If... if the outer defenses are unfortunately breached, this will be the last bastion. I must not allow a single Sauron to set foot in my castle."

His tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable trust and a heavy entrustment. "I entrust this to you, Your Lord Lyon."

Having said that, Karl said no more, nodded slightly to Lyon, then turned and strode out of the barracks.

The heavy plate armor emitted a rhythmic, cold metallic scraping sound with each step he took, each step seeming to strike the hearts of everyone present.

Outside the barracks, in the dim light of dawn, Charlotte, Brendan, Richter, Roland, and all the other officers still capable of fighting had already assembled.

They were all clad in armor and wielded sharp blades. Charlotte, too, wore fine plate armor brought from Fran City, bearing the Rochfort family crest, exuding a fierce and valiant aura.

All eyes were focused on Karl as he walked out of the barracks, their gazes a mixture of determination, trust, and a hint of barely perceptible tragedy.

Karl walked up to the group and stopped.

His gaze calmly swept over each familiar and resolute face, seeing the fire in their eyes and the deep-seated weariness beneath.

He didn't shout passionately, nor did he give an inspiring speech; he simply spoke the simplest, yet most profound, words in his unique, calm, and clear voice:

"Gentlemen, the time has come."

"This will be the last battle, for Carnford, for everything we have left behind."

"Get to your positions."