Charlotte's Art of Command
Charlotte ignored Lyon's slightly dismissive attitude and stepped forward directly, getting straight to the point. "So, Your Lord Lyon, what exactly is our mission?"
Lyon didn't seem to dislike Charlotte's pragmatic and decisive style; on the contrary, he toned down his arrogance.
He gestured to his adjutant beside him to unfold the map, pointing to an area in the west marked with mountain symbols.
"The mission is clear," Lyon's voice turned serious. "Every year when the Sauron Barbarians march south, their main force doesn't choose to storm fortified cities like Fran City. They prefer, and are better at, using their mobility to break through relatively weak defenses. And the Blackstone Pass to the west is one of their most frequently chosen main routes."
His finger moved across the map.
"As is customary and agreed, the reconnaissance and initial blocking of the Blackstone Pass direction are the responsibility of Earl Eisenberg, and the commander of his reconnaissance team is..." Lyon paused, "... Friedrich von Schmidt."
The moment the name was uttered, Charlotte's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly.
Friedrich von Schmidt, Karl also has the surname Schmidt, could they be the same Schmidt?
She quickly regained her composure, her face showing no sign of distress.
Lyon seemed oblivious to the subtle change and continued, "The area we're responsible for is the vast wasteland and forest region east of Blackstone Pass, extending north to Fran City."
"The terrain here is complex, and small groups of Sauron could easily infiltrate from here. Our mission is to take the initiative, go deep into this area, and discover the Sauron ' whereabouts as early as possible, ascertaining their numbers and movements."
"If we encounter a small group of enemies, we may harass or annihilate them as appropriate, but remember, our primary task is to use our eyes and ears, not our fists. Once a large enemy force is spotted, we must immediately retreat and report. We are absolutely not allowed to linger in battle, understand?"
"Understood." Charlotte nodded upon landing, accepting the order on behalf of her team.
The main force rested overnight at the Icewater Creek camp.
The next morning, the large reconnaissance team began to break up into smaller groups.
Charlotte's squad was assigned to scout northeast of Carnford, up to the area between the abandoned town of Ashbourne and the peninsula.
There are almost no decent roads on this route, and the terrain is complex.
Charlotte knew the true nature of her "cavalry" well: their horses were inferior, their riding skills were mediocre, and that Musketeers was better suited for ambushes than for maneuvering in the open field.
If they were spotted by the elite Sauron cavalry in open terrain, the consequences would be dire.
Therefore, she ordered the team to abandon any possible main roads and proceed slowly and cautiously along the edges of dense jungle and rolling hills.
Everyone was on edge.
"It's like fishing in the dark," Roland said, riding closer to Charlotte. "Who knows if we'll stumble upon weeds or a snake next."
"Therefore, we need keen ears and eyes, not blindly waving our arms," Charlotte's gaze swept across the surrounding treeline, her hand always resting near her quiver. "Keep your musketeers quiet, Roland. Our advantage is to spot the enemy first, not to engage them passively."
"Yes, Charlotte Knight," Roland replied in a low voice, completely impressed by Charlotte's extraordinary archery skills on horseback last time.
Although both are Second-Order Knight, it's clear that the Second-Order Knight's Second-Order Knight is more prestigious than mine.
Just then, the vanguard at the front suddenly raised his fist.
The entire procession froze instantly. Charlotte immediately raised her hand to signal everyone to be quiet. She gently slid off her saddle, handed the reins to the soldier beside her, and gestured to Roland at the same time.
The two men crouched low, using the bushes and trees for cover, and stealthily made their way forward.
They crawled up a ridge and hid behind dense grass, Charlotte carefully observing the valley below through binoculars.
The hills of the north become gentle and undulating here, with many mountaintops bare, but the foothills are exceptionally lush with vegetation.
In a sheltered valley, seven or eight animal skin tents were set up.
Near the tent, hundreds of cattle and sheep were leisurely grazing on the grass.
On a hillside not far away, several figures riding short, stocky steppe horses were patrolling and keeping watch.
Charlotte's heart sank slightly, but she quickly recognized the riders' attire: not the ferocious bone ornaments typical of the Sauron, but rather more haphazard fur coats and scimitars with a distinct steppe style.
"They're Skarn people." She lowered her voice and handed the binoculars to Roland.
Roland took it, examined it for a moment, and then his expression became serious.
The Skarn people, a nomadic people of the northern steppes, are now mostly vassals and vanguards of the Sauron, and are no less ferocious.
They fawned on the strong like weather vanes, and when the Goldflower Kingdom was powerful, its army was full of their mercenary cavalry.
But since the decisive Battle of Grey Wolf Forest seven years ago, in which the 80,000-strong army of the Broomflower suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of Sauron and the rule of the Northern Territory collapsed, more and more Skarn Tribe have sided with the emerging Sauron empire.
The Horse Corps, one of the eight major legions of Sauron, was almost entirely composed of Skarn people.
Their status within the Sauron system was far higher than that of the enslaved Goldspur, and their ruthlessness in pursuit of military merit and advancement was no less than that of the Sauron warriors themselves.
The campsite in the valley is so peaceful; the original inhabitants of the Broomflower must have been cleared out long ago.
"What do you say, Charlotte Knight?" Roland asked in a low voice, a sharp glint in his eyes. "To take it or not? They look like they have at most twenty capable cavalrymen, the rest are mostly women and children."
A more cautious veteran standing nearby whispered, "Sir, should we send a cavalryman back to inform Commander Lyon? Bringing in more men would increase our chances of success and make things more secure."
Roland immediately retorted, "By the time Lyon's men arrive, we'll have already been discovered. The Skarn people are more alert than foxes; by then, they'll either run away or call more of their companions."
Both men turned their gaze to Charlotte, awaiting her decision.
Charlotte didn't answer immediately. She raised her binoculars again to carefully observe the layout of the camp, the distribution of livestock, and the positions of the sentries, her mind racing.
A few seconds later, she made her decision.
"Attack!" Her voice was low and decisive. "But don't engage in prolonged combat. Roland, take the musketeers to the exit behind the valley and ambush them. I don't need you to rush in; I need intimidation and smoke to trap them in the valley."
Charlotte quickly used stones to sketch a rough outline of the terrain and the enemy's distribution on the ground.
"I will lead the remaining main force of cavalry to cut in from the front, using bows and muskets to deal with the sentries and resistance fighters. They are much more mobile than us, but they have to guard a large number of cattle, sheep, women and children, and they will never dare to leave the camp to pursue us or escape. This gives us the opportunity to annihilate them."