A Request for an Alliance

Just as Karl was racking his brains over manpower for building the city and harvesting the autumn crops, a sentry patrolling outside the mountains hurriedly returned to the fortress with unexpected news.

"My lord! While patrolling the eastern mountain path, we spotted two suspicious Sauron Cavalry! They were unarmed, carrying a white flag, and said they wanted to see you!" The sentry saluted, reporting urgently, "They said... they are cavalrymen under Thorsten's command, and have come on orders from their commander to... to discuss an alliance!"

"Thorsten? An alliance?" Upon hearing this, Karl's brows furrowed immediately, and he was greatly surprised.

He did remember the name.

The Intelligence System mentioned that he was the Battle Group Commander of the Sword Corps, and that he and Charlotte had ambushed them at Icewater Creek.

He later served as commander of the Sauron Vanguard Camp to pursue Lyon's scout cavalry, and engaged in a fierce battle with Lyon's cavalry, ultimately being defeated.

Karl had assumed that he had either died in battle or had already fled back to Frosgard to face punishment.

Surprisingly, he's still alive and didn't go back?

After a moment's thought, Karl understood the reason.

Given the harsh military law of the Sauron and the style of their leader Harald, Thorsten suffered heavy losses, losing a large number of cattle and sheep. Such a crushing defeat meant certain death upon his return.

It's understandable that he wouldn't dare go back.

But Karl never expected that this defeated general would choose to send someone to seek an "alliance" with his mortal enemy.

That's quite audacious, or perhaps a desperate gamble driven by desperation?

However, this unexpected news instantly stirred something within Karl.

He knew the fighting strength of Thorsten's cavalry; they were able to fight Lyon's elite troops to a standstill, making them an invaluable cavalry force.

What he lacks most right now is manpower!

Especially strong and disciplined laborers who have experienced war.

If we could incorporate the remnants of Thorsten's army, even if it was just disarming them and having them dig, build fortifications, and harvest crops, it would be a lifesaver.

Of course, this involves extremely high risks.

The biggest problem is the acceptance level among the people and officials.

Carnford is home to many Northern Territory survivors, many of whose relatives and friends died at the hands of the Sauron, and who harbor a deep-seated hatred for the Sauron Barbarians.

Accepting a Sauron army, even a defeated one, would undoubtedly spark huge controversy and resistance.

But in any case, this is an opportunity worth seeing.

"Take them to the mountain pass outpost. I'll go see them myself," Karl ordered the sentry, then led a small squad of guards down the mountain.

Karl met the two Sauron envoys at the wooden outpost at the mountain pass.

They were indeed unarmed, and their warhorses appeared quite weary. One of them carried a white flag tied with tattered cloth.

The two men looked haggard, their eyes filled with tension and vigilance, but they tried their best to straighten their backs and maintain the last shred of military dignity.

Beside them was a middle-aged man dressed in tattered, commoner's clothes embroidered with Broomflower patterns, trembling with fear; he appeared to have been captured to act as a translator.

Several Carnford sentries were warily pointing their spears at them.

Escorted by guards, Karl walked up to them, calmly surveying the two uninvited guests.

Seeing Karl's young yet composed face and the respectful attitude of those around him, the two Sauron seemed to guess his identity. They exchanged glances and then mumbled a string of words to the translator.

The translator trembled with fright and stammered to Karl, "My... my lord... they're asking... asking if you're the Lord of Carnford?"

"That is me," Karl replied calmly.

The translator quickly relayed the message. Upon hearing this, the two Sauron's eyes flickered; they seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, yet also appeared even more tense.

They exchanged a few more hurried, low-voiced words, this time for a longer duration.

The translator listened carefully, then turned to Karl, his tone slightly smoother. "My Lord, they said... they came on the orders of Commander Thorsten, Commander Thorsten is now... now in the territory of that nobleman named Cyril at the tip of the Southwest Peninsula."

"They... they hope to form an alliance with you to jointly... to jointly address future threats."

Cyril's territory? Karl was taken aback at first, then immediately understood and found it somewhat amusing.

After Thorsten's defeat, he did not flee north, but instead fled south, and by a twist of fate occupied Cyril's small outpost, which was run by an incompetent fool.

This saved him a lot of trouble and also eliminated potential future competitors for him.

His face remained calm as he posed the crucial question, "The Southwest Peninsula? It's by the sea and has land; you could probably manage to survive there. Why come to me for refuge? Don't forget, we were fighting to the death on the battlefield not long ago, and we're still enemies."

After the translator relayed the message, the Sauron wore expressions of bitterness and despair.

They spoke at length, their voices filled with helplessness and urgency.

The translator struggled to keep up with their pace. "Sir, they say... they say there's no going back. After such a defeat, losing so many cattle, sheep, and soldiers, Chief Harald will never forgive them and their families."

"They are already traitors and outcasts of the tribe. That small place on the Southwest Peninsula has decent land, but it's indefensible... They've heard... they've heard that Chief Harald is gathering a large army and will soon march south again."

"At that time, their small force simply cannot hold out... Only... only a fortified city like Carnford can... can withstand Sauron's army. If they want to survive... Commander Thorsten believes that only by allying with you and relying on your fortress can they... have a glimmer of hope."

Karl listened quietly, his mind racing as he weighed his options.

Thorsten's assessment was accurate; the Southwest Peninsula was indeed undefendable, Carnford was their only hope.

Their defection was a desperate act of survival, driven by very practical motives, which also meant that they might be more willing to compromise in order to survive.

He needs this force, but he must maintain absolute control.

Karl looked at the two Sauron envoys, his eyes sharpening and becoming authoritative. Through the interpreter, he said, word by word, "An alliance? You, even your commander Thorsten, are not qualified to discuss an alliance with me."

His words turned the two Sauron's faces instantly pale.

"Tell Thorsten," Karl's voice left no room for argument, "That if he truly wants to save his own life and that of his men, he must come to me in Carnford in three days. Here, I will be waiting for him. No exceptions."

The translator nervously translated these harsh words.

Upon hearing this, the two Sauron envoys showed hesitation and fear on their faces.

Sending their commander to the enemy camp in person is too risky.

But they exchanged a glance and, seeing that Karl showed no sign of backing down, could only grit their teeth and nod in the end.

Karl waved his hand, signaling the sentries to move aside.

The two Sauron Cavalry quickly mounted their horses, helped the middle-aged man onto his back, turned their horses around, and sped away with mixed emotions and a heavy sense of mission.

Karl watched their departing figures, his gaze deep and thoughtful.

He knew it was a risky move, but it could also be a brilliant one that could greatly enhance Carnford's strength.

Next, it remains to be seen whether the defeated general Thorsten has the courage and sincerity to do so.