Harald's Fury
Frosgard, Governor's Office.
This former residence of the governor of the Northern Border Province of the Goldflower Kingdom has now become the power center and Lord's Hall of Harald, the Great Chieftain of the Sauron Tribe.
Rough animal-hide banners replaced exquisite tapestries, gruesome spoils and weapons were displayed in the corners, and the air was filled with a barbarian atmosphere mixed with leather, smoke, and a faint smell of blood.
On the cold, hard stone ground, several Sauron Cavalry who had managed to escape were kneeling in fear. Their armor was tattered, their bodies were covered in blood and dust, their heads were bowed low, almost touching the ground, and they didn't dare to breathe.
At the head of the hall, seated on a large chair covered with a huge white bear skin, sat the Great Chieftain of the Sauron Tribe.
Harald.
He was as imposing as a mountain, his face etched with rugged lines by the harsh winds of the Northern Territory, and his deep eyes, sharp as a hawk's, were now eerily calm.
He already knew about the disastrous defeat of the Thorsten Vanguard Camp in the Black Forest Valley.
Although the Vanguard Camp was not one of the eight most elite legions under his command, it was mostly composed of second sons eager for military merit, criminals, or vassals of small tribes. Its combat strength and equipment could not compare with the Main Corps of Sauron's main force.
However, in the open field battles of the Northern Territory, the Sauron cavalry suffered such a crushing defeat with overwhelming numerical superiority at the hands of a single scout cavalry unit of the Broomflower, losing over a hundred men and even their commander missing. This was an unprecedented disgrace for the Sauron Iron Cavalry!
Two people were seated on either side of Harald at the lower end of the table.
On the left is Asgeir, the Corps Commander of the Tiger Corps, and on the right is Svein, the Corps Commander of the Bear Corps.
These two men were Harald's half-brothers, his absolute confidants and loyal followers, which is why they were able to command the two most elite legions in the Sauron Army besides the wolf riders.
At this moment, both of their faces were so gloomy they could drip water, and their eyes burned with anger and bloodlust.
The Vanguard Camp defeat undoubtedly tarnished the honor of all Sauron warriors.
The hall was deathly silent, save for the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace and the heavy, fearful breathing of the kneeling soldiers.
Harald's fingers tapped rhythmically on the hard stone handrail, producing a soft "tap... tap..." sound, each sound seeming to strike the heart of the kneeling soldier.
After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice calm and emotionless, yet carrying a chilling undertone. "Where is Thorsten? Don't tell me he died a heroic death."
The foreman kneeling at the front trembled, kowtowing even lower, his voice shaking violently with fear. "Reporting... reporting to the great leader... the battalion commander... he... he didn't come back... he took... he took a few dozen loyal followers, and fled... fled to the abandoned peninsula in the southwest... he dared not return to face your wrath..."
"Heh..." Upon hearing this, Harald chuckled softly. The laughter was cold and cruel, devoid of any warmth, sending chills down the spines of everyone present.
"Run away? Good riddance... Perhaps you should have learned from him; at least you could have lived a few more days."
The kneeling soldiers were instantly terrified, kowtowing and begging for mercy. "Chief, spare us! Chief, spare us! We fought our way out!"
Harald's smile vanished abruptly, his face instantly turning icy. He didn't even glance at the crying soldiers, but merely turned his head slightly towards his personal guard captain, who stood to the side like a stone statue.
The captain of the personal guard immediately bowed and accepted the order. With a wave of his hand, several fierce-looking guards stepped forward and ruthlessly dragged up the deserters who were slumped on the ground.
"Drag them away," Harald's voice returned to its previous calm, but he issued the cruelest order, "Along with those worthless scum who escaped back outside, behead them all."
"His head will be displayed outside the camp gate for three days. A decree will be issued to the entire army: from this day forward, anyone who fights against the Goldspur on the plains, who is cowardly and fearful of the enemy, and who suffers defeat and disgraces the glory of the Sauron, will be treated as an example, with absolutely no leniency!"
The piercing screams and pleas for mercy quickly faded into the distance, eventually disappearing outside the door.
Soon, the sickening sound of blades slicing through bone and a brief scream rang out from outside, before everything fell silent.
The heavy stench of blood seemed to penetrate the thick stone door and waft into the hall.
Harald acted as if nothing had happened, turning his gaze to Asgeir and Svein.
The two Corps Commander immediately straightened up, their eyes sharpening, awaiting orders.
"Asgeir, Svein," Harald's voice was firm and unwavering, "Shame must be washed away with blood. Those Broomflower rats who killed our men will not escape back to their dens unscathed."
"Select two hundred of your most elite and swift Light Cavalry from both your Tiger Corps and Bear Corps to form a four-hundred-man pursuit team."
"Send one of the most experienced and ruthless officers to command him, and tell him that I have only one request—"
Harald leaned forward slightly, his eyes finally flashing with a terrifying ferocity, and said, word by word, "Catch them! Engage them! Slaughter them all before they escape into that tortoise shell of Fran City! Leave no one alive! I will use their heads and intestines to adorn the gates of my soon-to-be-established empire!"
"Yes, brother!" Asgeir and Svein stood up abruptly, patted their chests, and roared as they accepted the order, their voices echoing throughout the hall.
Without the slightest hesitation, the two turned around and strode out of the hall, the heavy sound of their boots striking the ground quickly fading into the distance.
They were to personally select the most bloodthirsty warriors, assemble a deadly spear of vengeance, and bring death and destruction upon those Goldspur who dared to defy Sauron's authority as quickly as possible.
Harald sat alone in the empty and solemn hall, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest again, his gaze fixed on the south, as if he could already see the fleeing Goldfinch Cavalry being hunted down and slaughtered.