Unexpected

The decision to split into three groups was quickly approved. All that remained was to set out.

Maden personally led the Guard Detachment in launching a breakout attack against Madara's Undead Army at the appointed time. Bresen would take the surviving villagers from Buchi north across Dagger Riverbank, while Brando and Roman would cross Xavier Mountain Pass together to Ridenburg to deliver the news.

The time was three hours later—

When the order to disband was announced, most of the young Guard Detachment members silently turned and left without saying much. Only the clinking of their equipment accompanied their footsteps.

The campfire crackled, its glow casting a mess of shadows that swayed across the ground covered in fallen leaves and gravel. Aside from preparing for the attack at dawn, there were still many personal matters to take care of. The night was long—the final few hours felt more like an ordeal for everyone.

Freya went to gather the other members of the Third Squad, while Brando got a backpack and put the remaining bottle of Number Five Holy Water inside. He had used the extra bottle on Josen. Saving the young man had won him the goodwill of the Buchi villagers and the gratitude of Josen's relatives. Although he had said otherwise at the time, Brando still could not stand by and watch someone die.

He felt that the part of him that belonged to the modern world was influencing him every moment, making him resist this war-torn world. After thinking it over, Brando felt at peace. It was precisely this pursuit of beautiful things that had driven him to change the world.

He casually stuffed two days' worth of food into the backpack, mainly air-dried strips of meat and a dry cake made from flour, salt, and plant tubers. The level of productivity in the world of The Amber Sword was still relatively high. In the true Middle Ages, one would never see such abundant supplies.

Only those who truly understood this world knew that its level of civilization was not low. Its development simply seemed to have taken a different path from Earth's.

However, when he took out the long-necked bottle containing Number Five Holy Water, their protagonist froze for a moment. He found a piece of stiff paper stuck to the bottom of the bottle. It looked like it had been attached there, and he easily removed it.

It was a little larger than a playing card, about the size of a palm. The back bore a pattern resembling a Magic Array, while the front showed an armored knight kneeling on the ground in an oil-painting style, both hands raised high as he held up a longsword.

The upper-left corner of the card bore the Ancient Language numeral "II," while six yellow crystals were drawn at the bottom center. Of everything on the card, Brando recognized those six crystals. Their in-game scholarly name was "Elemental Attributes," and six yellow crystals meant Earth Attribute 6.

But what was this?

Brando was well-informed. There were few things in the game he did not know, yet this object in his hand presented him with a puzzle. After thinking for a while, he recalled that he might have accidentally brought it out of Girende's tomb, but that gave him no clues.

In the game, he could search through all kinds of miscellaneous knowledge. But here, Brando had only one Local Knowledge, one Basic Knowledge, and one Military Organization Knowledge. What was he supposed to search for?

With his thoughts in a tangle, he could not help raising the card and asking Merchant's Daughter, who was rummaging through her bag for needle and thread while diligently mending a frayed section of her skirt, "Do you recognize this, Little Roman?"

"No, don't call me that!" Roman's tiny brows shot up. "Huh? What is this, a tarot card?"

"I know tarot cards when I see them."

"Then I don't know either."

Brando glanced at the card and was about to say something. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed slightly. He saw Bresen and several young members of the Guard Detachment leading horses through the shadows of the woodland nearby.

What are those fellows planning? He suddenly remembered Bresen's strange behavior while negotiating with Maden. Suspicion filled his heart, and he quickly tucked the card against his body before getting up to follow them.

"Roman, wait here for me."

"Okay, Brando."

Although the members of the Guard Detachment were all outstanding young people whose individual strength far exceeded that of ordinary folk, their vigilance was unfortunately lacking. The group walked all the way without noticing that someone was following them from far behind.

Brando had always been an adherent of small-group tactics. Whenever his groups had to oppose a large guild, they often needed to employ stealth techniques. Thus, although he could not call himself a master, he had at least been an experienced hand. It was easy enough to fool these youngsters, who had little experience in counter-tracking.

Brando himself did not even realize that he had instinctively employed those old techniques in every movement.

To others, this scene was nothing special. But to Zeta, keeping watch in a tree, it was unbelievable. He recognized the young man at a glance: Brando. Their captain had personally told them that Brando was merely an incompetent idler whose swordsmanship was passable.

But even the swordsmanship of the militia was nothing in their eyes. Freya and Essen, the best swordsmen among the militia, could casually defeat ten of them. They simply could not be bothered to act. Once they had joined the Guard Detachment, they naturally possessed pride of their own.

Take Bresen, for example. No matter how much he taunted Brando, he would never say, "I challenge you to a duel and will teach you a proper lesson." In their eyes, that would be lowering himself.

Yet what Zeta was seeing now was entirely different. He remembered that when he had been studying scouting, a scout from a mountain legion had come to teach them some practical experience. That scout had been a knight-apparent who had received a Crimson Medal, but compared with the young man before him, even his skills had been inferior.

Brando was practically a shadow in the darkness. Every movement followed the changing firelight in the valley ahead. If he had not happened to pass between Zeta and a light source once, Zeta might never have noticed him.

Could Bresen's understanding of him be wrong? Is he actually a scout from a regular legion? Or a spy from Madara?

Zeta suddenly grew tense. What should he do? First, he absolutely could not raise the alarm, or the deputy captain's plan would be ruined. The camp was less than thirty meters away. Any slight noise would draw the others over.

He could not help inhaling sharply. He gave a hand signal to Lyons, who was in another tree nearby, indicating that he should watch Brando's direction. At first, Lyons was puzzled. Why did this fellow keep pointing at empty space? Had he drunk too much? But he immediately spotted Brando in that direction, and his expression changed.

What the hell? Is he a chameleon?

"What do we do?" he asked with a hand signal.

"I'll go first. Cover me from the right." Zeta replied with a gesture.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. His swordsmanship is formidable. Mid-Stage Unranked."

Mid-Stage Unranked was terminology used specifically by swordsmen, roughly equivalent to the best level among Guard Detachment trainees. Above that was a White Tier swordsman, approximately equivalent to a player between levels 5 and 20. Afraid that Brando might be hiding more of his strength, Zeta had deliberately overestimated Bresen's assessment.

Lyons nodded to show that he understood.

Brando was equally surprised. More than twenty people and over a dozen warhorses—what were you planning, Bresen? A rebellion? Yet he knew that was impossible and unnecessary. After following them for a while and hearing the people ahead speaking in low voices, he was just about to move closer when he instinctively sensed a dangerous omen.

It was too quiet. He had not heard a single insect since the beginning.

Brando's experience was extremely rich. Normally, the scouting and searching during such operations were handled by the Nightingales in his group. He still remembered the Nightingale he had worked with the longest—a girl called "Shadow." Unfortunately, she had later quit the game.

But after fighting so many battles, he had developed an instinctive sharpness. Even the slightest disturbance would put him on guard.

Just as he had sensed Rosko's probing at the old Buchi residence that day.

Brando immediately felt a hand reaching around the back of his neck. It was a scout's standard move. Brando leaned back with the motion, supporting the attacker's elbow with one hand and gripping his wrist with the other. He slid downward, raised both hands, and suddenly shoved forward. A black figure flew backward and crashed into a tree with a muffled grunt.

Their strength was about equal, though Brando held a slight advantage. When he saw the figure hit the ground and turn to pounce at him instead of defending, his heart tightened. He immediately realized there was another person.

A flash of silver, and Brando's Gleaming Thorn was already out of its sheath. He stepped aside, and the sword in his hand came to rest against the neck of the person rushing up from behind.

The dim swordlight illuminated both faces.

Lyons and Zeta wore stunned expressions. They had imagined that Brando's swordsmanship might be somewhat stronger than their deputy captain had claimed, but surely not by much. They had seen Bresen's swordsmanship. He was one of the best among the Guard Detachment's regular members, yet even he could not defeat two people single-handedly through swordsmanship alone.

They could not help feeling as if they were dreaming. They looked at the sword in Brando's hand.

What was going on?

"Captain Maden is a veteran of the November War. Everyone knows that. He has already served the kingdom once and proven his loyalty. Listen to me, everyone. Don't we have an old saying? If Lady Martha allows someone to survive, then you must cherish that good fortune—"

"We cannot let a veteran who barely survived and retired from an honorable battlefield risk his life once more. That is why I have resorted to this. Let me lead you all to fight in defense of Buchi. This is not about taking anyone's glory away. It is simply that I cannot run from this—"

"Well said, Deputy Captain."

"We support you."

"Captain Maden will understand."

Bresen smiled. When Maden had ordered him to lead the villagers in a breakout toward Dagger Riverbank, he had already decided to refuse. But he knew the old man's temper. Maden would never allow him to oppose the order, so he had decided to gamble.

He also understood that Maden was trying to preserve him. The old captain had said more than once that Bresen might one day rise above the rest and become a pillar of the kingdom's future. But Bresen also understood that Eluin did not need cowards.

At that thought, he could not help remembering Brando. That incompetent idler had actually volunteered to cross Xavier Mountain Pass. Bresen could not help maliciously speculating that Brando merely wanted an excuse to run away. It did not seem impossible.

But at that moment, a light sound in the silent forest made everyone turn around.

They saw Brando emerge from behind the separated bushes, his sword pointed at Zeta and Lyons. At first, the atmosphere fell silent. Then every face took on the expression of someone who had seen a ghost.

"Zeta?"

"Lyons, what happened to you two?"

"Haha, a momentary mistake." Zeta looked embarrassed.

Brando, meanwhile, stared in surprise at the usually overbearing deputy captain of the Guard Detachment. Bresen's face was as dark as ever. How could it not be? If Brando shouted here, his entire plan would be ruined.

Brando had not expected this fellow to be so audacious. He had actually planned to replace Maden and personally lead the young men willing to follow him in a feint against Madara.

What kind of spirit was this?

Brando found it somewhat amusing, but he could not help feeling surprised and impressed as well. Was it the simplicity and passion of youth, or the pursuit of an ideal? From Bresen's gloomy face, Brando could see a trace of responsibility.

The responsibility of this Guard Detachment deputy captain.

"What are you trying to do?" Bresen asked in a low voice. Naturally, he wanted to sound more forceful, but he also did not want Brando to ruin his plan.

Although that seemed almost inevitable.

Brando lowered his sword—

*(PS: Damn, I woke up this morning and saw that the book had climbed to eighth place. I was so happy. Then I happily went home, ate dinner, and came back to find it had dropped to tenth again. I'm spitting blood... I checked, and today's collection growth was only a tiny bit. I'm sad T_T*

Everyone, please give me some support! Please help The Amber Sword climb even higher!

*Also, Classmate Shuzi, did I offend you? Why did you post the same criticism three times in a row?)*