March

The entire "Gray Wolf Valley" resembled a frightened hedgehog, beginning to curl up and raise every quill it could.

Derek also dispatched a dozen or so clever young men, armed with hunting bows and bone whistles, to serve as sentries at several high points and along the main roads around the village, taking turns day and night. If anything unusual was discovered, they were to immediately blow the whistle to raise the alarm.

The atmosphere in the territory grew more tense with each passing day.

News of the three hunters' tragic deaths had already spread far and wide, and the women's weeping and fear spread like a plague.

Coupled with Lord Derek's almost frantic preparations for war in recent days—distributing weapons, making spears, sending out sentries, and reinforcing the wooden fence at the village entrance—everyone understood: the Carnford People from the south were probably really going to attack.

Panic began to fester and grow in the hearts of the villagers.

They remembered how they or their fathers had attacked lone Broomflower farmers, burned down their huts, stolen their food and women, and turned captives into slaves to be used at will... Back then, they were the perpetrators, the powerful ones, and cruelty and violence seemed to give them the illusion of power and security.

However, when the roles were reversed, and when he heard that he might be facing not a scattered group of hunters and farmers, but a well-organized, heavily armed Carnford Army who had just defeated the Great Chieftain army of Harald, that bluffing courage vanished instantly, replaced by a deep-seated fear.

They began to realize that their rudimentary weapons and crude leather armor might be no match for a real army; and that the mountains and forests they knew so well might not be able to withstand a well-trained attack.

"I've heard... the Carnford People have a kind of iron pipe that breathes fire and smoke, making a sound like thunder, and can kill several people at once..."

"Their soldiers were all dressed in iron armor; when you slashed at them, only sparks flew..."

"Their Lord is very powerful; even the Great Chieftain can't defeat him..."

Similar rumors circulated among the villagers, growing increasingly exaggerated and further exacerbating the panic.

Some people began secretly packing their belongings, discussing whether to hide deeper in the mountains; some became unusually irritable, arguing endlessly over trivial matters; and many more remained silent, their faces filled with bewilderment and fear about the future, mechanically carrying out Derek's orders.

Reinforcing the fences and sharpening the weapons, as if this could bring a fleeting sense of security.

Derek witnessed all of this, and his anxiety intensified.

His hundred or so "armed troops" were already in low spirits, and now they were shrouded in fear. It was hard to say how much of their fighting power they could actually muster in a real fight. But he had no way out; this was his territory, his everything.

Escape? Where could they run to? Former veterans who have lost their territory will be worthless among the Sauron Tribe.

Surrender to Carnford? Remembering the Goldspur they had tortured or enslaved, he had no doubt how they would "treat" him.

He had no choice but to grit his teeth, squeeze every last drop of potential from the territory, and transform his fear into a final, desperate madness.

He stood in the center of the village, roaring at the gathered men, trying to dispel their fear with anger. "What are you afraid of! They are human too, they will die if they are stabbed! This is our home! Our mountains and forests! Pick up your weapons and defend this place! For your women and children! For the land beneath your feet!"

"From now on, go cut down trees to reinforce the defenses. The rest of you, practice combat skills and prepare for battle. Even if we all die, we'll take a few down with us!"

The roar echoed through the mountains, yet it seemed unable to dispel the ever-growing shadow of war.

Karl's army, like a slow but resolute iron torrent, moved through the crisp, cold air, leaving the relatively flat and open Carnford Plain and plunging into the vast, desolate mountains and forests to the east.

Although the straight-line distance marked on the map, from Carnford Castle to the first target— the Sauron camp in Gray Wolf Valley —is only forty kilometers.

Given the standard marching pace of the Carnford New Army's daily training, it is entirely possible to arrive within two days with light and rapid travel.

But Karl knew the principle that "warfare is based on deception," especially in unfamiliar territory where the enemy situation was unclear and the terrain was complex.

With the road ahead uncertain and the Sauron familiar with the mountains and forests and as cunning as foxes, he had to be extremely cautious. Therefore, he deliberately slowed down his march, prioritizing stability over speed.

On the first day, they walked less than fifteen kilometers before finding a well-defended, open spot beside a clear stream to set up camp.

He wanted to conserve the troops' energy, and more importantly, to exert psychological pressure on potential enemies with a cautious approach, while also giving himself enough time to react.

He dispatched cavalry squads led by Lyon and Thorsten, which, like a cast net, scouted and patrolled the area within several miles around the main force. These cavalrymen were not only eyes and ears, but also a mobile perimeter, and no movement could escape their notice.

At this moment, Karl did not stay in the relatively safe middle of the formation, but instead rode his sturdy black warhorse slowly on the outside of the column.

He needed to observe firsthand the true state of this army, which was fighting outside its home grounds for the first time, in the field.

The path beneath our feet had long since transformed from a solid dirt road into a winding, rugged trail, the marks left by hunters and herb gatherers over time. It was narrow, uneven, and covered with tree roots and gravel, allowing only two or three people to walk side by side.

For a large army that needs to maintain formation and carry supplies, such a road is an insurmountable barrier.

At the very front of the column, a group of strong soldiers, wielding broadswords and axes, were sweating profusely as they played the role of "pathfinders."

They needed to cut off the overgrown branches, clear out protruding roots and rocks, and even fill in small ditches if necessary, to create a barely passable path for the troops, horses, and vehicles that followed.

The heavy sounds of felling trees and the shouts of soldiers echoed through the silent mountains and forests.

The progress is slow, but essential.

"Real-world marching is far more complex than a straight line on a map." Karl silently etched this into his mind.

A simple line on a map might represent a dense forest that requires clearing away thorns and brambles, a swamp that needs to be traversed with caution, or a hillside that needs to be climbed with difficulty...

These factors would significantly slow down the march, deplete the soldiers' energy, and affect logistical support.

Future operational plans must fully take these factors into account, as map simulations and actual conditions often differ significantly.

The long procession meandered along the narrow forest path, which had been painstakingly cleared. To facilitate management and defense, the procession was divided into two main parts, each maintaining a relatively compact formation. As a result, the whole procession looked like a long snake slowly wriggling through the forest.