Lyon's Flames of Greed
Charlotte's anger flared, and she no longer hesitated.
Just as the opponent's old strength was exhausted and new strength had not yet arisen, Charlotte's arrow was released from the bow!
She hardly aimed, relying entirely on her honed instincts and anticipation of her opponent's movements.
Pfft!
The arrow pierced precisely into the warhorse of the Skarn cavalryman.
The horse let out a mournful whinny, its front hooves buckled, and it tumbled forward with tremendous momentum, throwing its rider off its back and sending him crashing heavily onto the grass.
Charlotte pulled on the reins, and the warhorse reared up, letting out a neigh.
Her icy gaze locked onto the Skarn cavalryman she had shot off his horse, who was struggling to get up.
Charlotte simply threw down her bow and arrows, drew her saber from her waist with a "whoosh," and the gleaming blade flashed coldly in the chilly northern sunlight.
She turned her horse around, the tip of her sword slightly lowered, and aimed it at the enemy who had lost his mount and was futilely trying to draw his scimitar. She then gently tapped the horse's belly.
The warhorse started again and charged towards the enemy.
When the Skarn people saw Charlotte charging towards them on horseback, his face drained of color, and his eyes filled with despair.
He had barely drawn his scimitar halfway when Charlotte swept past him like a gust of wind.
There was no fierce fighting.
Using the speed of her charging horse, Charlotte swung her arm smoothly and powerfully, her saber flashing like lightning, precisely slicing across her opponent's vulnerable neck.
A head flew up with a frozen expression of horror, spurting a large amount of warm blood from its severed neck. The headless corpse swayed and then collapsed heavily to the ground.
Charlotte rode her horse for a distance before slowly coming to a stop. She turned the horse around, her chest rising and falling slightly, and coldly stared at the corpse.
The blade was stained crimson, and drops of blood were slowly dripping down the blood groove.
She flicked the sword, and drops of blood fell onto the withered grass.
She looked around; the battle was nearing its end.
Roland's Musketeers had already advanced from the flank, working in conjunction with the cavalry in the front to wipe out the last remaining enemies.
The demoralized Skarn people were either killed or forced to their knees in surrender.
The once bustling valley is now only filled with the cries of the wounded, the neighing of warhorses, and the panting of the victors.
Roland rode up to Charlotte, his musket still emitting wisps of smoke.
He glanced at the decapitated corpse on the ground, then looked at Charlotte, his gaze lingering for a moment on her still calm face, a hint of awe flashing in his eyes.
Roland reported, "Charlotte Knight, the cleanup is complete. We won, and at a low cost."
Charlotte nodded and decisively ordered, "Quickly clean up the battlefield! Roland, you personally take two of the fastest cavalrymen and return immediately to Commander-in-Chief Lyon to report on the encounter and results here!"
The soldiers began their operation. The fighting was minimal; only two soldiers were hit by stray arrows, but fortunately, neither was fatally wounded.
Charlotte took out Militia Potion she carried with her, which was made in Carnford, and gave it to them. She then carefully cleaned and bandaged their wounds.
The medicine took effect quickly, and the two women's complexions gradually regained their rosy hue.
The few horses that had been startled and scattered were replaced with the sturdy Skarn warhorses that had been captured. The most troublesome problem was still the hundreds of cattle and sheep that had gathered there in a daze.
Before long, dust rose from the horizon as Lyon personally led the main reconnaissance team to the valley.
When he saw that the battle was long over and the large herd of cattle and sheep huddled together, his face showed undisguised surprise.
"It's over so quickly? And you've captured so much?" Lyon rode up to Charlotte, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield before finally settling on the massive herd of livestock. His eyes gleamed with excitement. "Well done, Charlotte Knight! This is a wonderful surprise! With this, our reconnaissance mission is a complete success! This is truly a great achievement!"
He became increasingly excited as he spoke, and immediately waved to his men. "Quick! Count them, herd them all up, and we're taking them with us to retreat immediately!"
Charlotte frowned slightly, spurred her horse forward, and said in a cool and firm tone, "Your Lord Lyon, I think our primary task is to scout out the movements of Sauron's main force, not to seize spoils of war."
Lyon, still excited, waved his hand dismissively. "Rules are rigid, but people are flexible! Charlotte Knight, with these tangible gains, who will criticize us for not exploring ten miles further? This is a hard-won achievement that can shake the enemy's logistics!"
"That's exactly what I was worried about, Your Excellency," Charlotte's voice turned somber as she looked sharply at Lyon and the soldiers trying to drive the cattle and sheep away. "Nearly a hundred head of cattle and sheep are the lifeblood of a tribe for the winter. The Sauron or their vassals would never send so few men to guard them. This can only mean that a powerful Sauron force is likely nearby."
She pointed to the slow-moving, constantly mooing and neighing livestock, her tone becoming more forceful. "Taking them with us now will make our movement extremely slow, and our ranks will be stretched thin. This is not a spoil of war, Your Excellency; it's just setting ourselves up as a conspicuous target, a death warrant for the Sauron elite cavalry!"
The excitement on Lyon's face gradually faded, and Charlotte's calm analysis was like a bucket of ice water, temporarily extinguishing his fervent fantasies of glory.
He had to admit that Charlotte was right; moving these cumbersome animals slowly through perilous enemy territory was like waving a torch in the dark.
However, when his greedy gaze swept over the herds of cattle and sheep that represented abundant wealth and illustrious military achievements, the flame of resentment deep within him reignited fiercely.
He risked joining this dangerous Northern Territory reconnaissance team, enduring hardship, all to escape the shadow of his family's decline and regain his status and respect through genuine military achievements.
How can we easily give up such a huge and readily available gain? Crisis, crisis—danger often coexists with opportunity!