The Caravan and the Gnolls

"Let's go take a look."

At that command, the team immediately sprang into action, moving towards the source of the sound. It wasn't long before they got close.

Their position was perfect; there was a small hill between them and the fighting, and though they were now very close, it seemed no one had noticed them.

Leaving Windchaser at the base of the hill, the entire squad climbed up. From the top, a few heads stealthily poked out from the dry grass. While secretly observing the battlefield below, the barbarians spread out to either side.

Having long hunted large beasts for a living, they were well-versed in the art of stalking and ambushing, moving with almost no unnecessary noise. To their surprise, however, their lord seemed equally skilled, using his elbows to quickly slide across the ground, his body kept perfectly hidden in the tall grass.

Richard observed the base of the hill through gaps in the grass. Not far away, there was a dirt road, trodden by people and worn by carts. Though it was so crude it barely deserved to be called a road, it was a rare luxury for transportation compared to the waist-high sea of grass that stretched across the wilderness.

A merchant caravan was likely attempting to trade along this road but had unfortunately been ambushed by bandits. They had been forced to circle their wagons, using them as a makeshift fortress to defend against the attack—a common tactic for armed merchant caravans facing robbery.

They had a total of sixteen large, four-wheeled, double-harnessed cargo wagons, each capable of carrying at least 1,500 pounds of goods. A caravan of this size would typically be escorted by at least forty experienced and well-equipped mercenaries. Most native tribes wouldn't dare to provoke such an armed force, not even in their dreams.

But their situation was dire. All the wagons were circled in a defensive formation, forcing them to huddle inside and desperately defend. Even the cart drivers were picking up the equipment of dead mercenaries, trying to fill any gaps.

Their opponents were sixty to seventy non-humans, nearly two meters tall, with arms that reached their knees and hunched backs. Their dark grey skin was covered in circular spots, and a mane of needle-like bristles ran from their heads all the way to their tailbones.

They also had distinctive deep red eyes, openly revealing cruelty and brutality.

—They were Gnolls!

These Gnolls must have come from a powerful tribe, as every single one of them had a decent-looking metal weapon. Many also wore tattered old padded armor for enhanced defense. Richard even spotted a full set of cavalry heavy armor on one particularly large Gnoll!

Based on the red and black cross emblem on its chest, it was clear that a lancer from the Augustus Family had unfortunately met their end.

Pompeii mercenaries typically relied on steel swords against wooden clubs to dominate indigenous tribes. While the Gnolls' equipment was still not as refined as the mercenaries', the gap had narrowed to a completely acceptable level.

The human guards were skilled fighters and coordinated well, but it was useless against opponents who were stronger and more numerous.

A one-eyed veteran mercenary was particularly impressive. He skillfully pierced one Gnoll's heart with his rapier, then swung a meteor hammer, smashing another's shoulder to a pulp. Yet, the Gnoll seemed to feel no pain, turning to bite his throat.

On top of a central wagon stood an archer in a black cloak, providing support in all directions. He was quite alert, drawing his bow, pulling the string, and aiming in one fluid motion. An arrow plunged deep into a Gnoll's eye socket.

This archer was clearly a formidable fighter in the caravan. Richard watched him shoot several arrows, each finding its mark and hitting vital points. Unfortunately, for some reason, his strength was clearly lacking. Several Gnolls shot in the head continued to fight as if nothing had happened, arrows still sticking out of their skulls.

"Like a bunch of women!" High Mountain Keep's lord, whose Horsemanship skill never exceeded fifty, slapped his thigh in frustration. If he had that kind of accuracy combined with a strong bow, an area 500 paces around him would become an insurmountable chasm for anyone.

The one-eyed veteran had saved his life, but the injury to his neck rendered him unable to continue fighting. The mercenaries who had been assisting him were far less capable; their individual strength was insufficient, and they were quickly torn to shreds by the Gnolls' weapons.

They chewed greedily on their opponents' blood and flesh, crimson fluid dripping from between their scythe-like fangs, making them even more bloodthirsty and frenzied.

"Boss, what should we do?" Gunther, wearing a hat woven from grass, looked quite simple-minded.

The barbarians' thinking was straightforward: since their boss said combat would enhance the potion's effects, big, burly Gnolls were definitely a better whetstone than scrawny Goblins.

Richard actually didn't want to act too soon.

If he waited until the caravan was wiped out and all the goods were seized by the Gnolls, then according to the rules of spoils of war, all the goods would naturally belong to High Mountain Keep. Just looking at the number and size of the wagons, he knew this would be an unimaginable windfall.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do that! He clicked his tongue in infinite regret.

Gnolls were notoriously bloodthirsty. In battle, they would fall into a semi-crazed state. This state made them stronger and more tolerant of pain, but their already limited sanity would be completely overridden by bloodlust.

Gnolls in a semi-crazed state wouldn't turn back even if they hit a wall. Their ability to react would drop to rock bottom, and they wouldn't be able to assess the situation until they had either eliminated their opponent or were eliminated themselves.

Right now, the caravan guards were taking the pressure. If the barbarians charged in, they could easily collect heads. But once the guards were all dead, they'd have no choice but to directly confront the red-eyed Gnolls, and their equipment alone showed they would be tough opponents!

Some mercenaries seemed to have spotted them. A sword-and-shield user was desperately calling for help in their direction, while the semi-crazed Gnolls remained oblivious.

"Big brutes, but still just bandits," Richard scoffed at these Gnolls. Excellent warriors should always remain calm and restrained.

"That's right," Gunther nodded vigorously. He thought these Gnolls were too scrawny.

"You lead the charge with everyone. Choose your moment."

Richard dismounted from the hilltop and straddled Windchaser's back. Windchaser had no saddle, and there hadn't been time to build rapport with its master, but with Richard's Horsemanship level of six, controlling it presented no difficulty.

He gestured towards the hilltop, then urged Windchaser to circle the hill and accelerate towards the battle.

The massive beast's weight meant that once it started running, its presence couldn't be hidden. Most Gnolls' ears picked up a thundering sound of hooves, but their frenzied brains ignored the signal.

Gunther chose his moment perfectly. Just as Richard rounded the hill and came into the sight of both warring parties, the barbarians followed him, charging down the slope.

Windchaser's top speed was slightly slower than a warhorse, but its exaggerated weight gave it an unparalleled impact force that no warhorse could match.