The Enemy Approaches from the North

Richard directly grabbed a plate from beside him and dug in, while Gunther opened his mouth, but in the end, could only resign himself to getting another serving.

"Something interesting?" Annie couldn't understand why the warriors of High Mountain Keep still had such good appetites; didn't they know what it meant to be nervous?

Richard tilted his head back, struggling to swallow the mouthful he'd crammed in, then picked up the javelin beside him.

"I pulled this off that cavalryman's back." He flicked the iron piece with his fork. The sound was dull, more like striking stone, clearly indicating the impure quality.

"Look at the spearhead. Such crude workmanship, such inferior iron, and you can even see uncleaned slag. Even a village blacksmith specializing in farm tools would be ashamed to make something like this."

"And this spear shaft, it's made of pitch pine." Richard said, showing it around. "As far as I know, this type of tree easily self-ignites due to its high oil content and usually only grows in icy, snowy cold regions. It's almost nonexistent within Pompeii."

"You often see pitch pine back home on the ice plains. We use it for torches," Gunther mumbled, interjecting while chewing.

Richard exerted force with both hands, snapping the wooden shaft in two. He pulled a wooden fiber from the break and held it to a candle. Moments later, a sudden burst of blue-green flame erupted.

The oil content of this wood was astonishing. It crackled and popped as it burned, emitting a strong pine scent.

"See? I'd guess this is very likely made by the wilderness natives themselves." Richard sneered. "Damn, can you imagine? Wilderness natives capable of mining and smelting iron!"

He was a thousand times confused, a million times bewildered—first, where did the wilderness, known for its barrenness, get these mineral deposits? Second, where did the natives who found the deposits get the capability?

A native tribe could have at most two hundred people; their scale meant they couldn't handle complex division of labor. Knowledge transfer and exchange were entirely up to luck, and their accuracy was often questionable.

Even if a group of Gnolls stumbled upon a mineral deposit by sheer luck, how could they happen to recognize it, happen to know how to smelt it, and happen to possess the necessary material conditions?

"Maybe it's meteoric iron." Hert reached out, took the spearhead, examined it carefully, then shook his head, dismissing his own guess. "Clearly, the impurities couldn't be removed due to insufficient smelting temperature. It's not meteoric iron."

"An expert," Richard said, giving a thumbs up.

"Sir, there are some things you might not have heard."

The Voya Merchant Guild had been trading in the wilderness for many years. Backed by this local power, Annie's understanding of the wilderness was far deeper than Richard's, an outsider.

"The wilderness is vast, much larger than you imagine, even larger than the entire Pompey Empire. The areas near the border are home to the weakest, smallest tribes because they face the threat of Pompey and have the harshest living conditions."

"But few people know that in the vast lands further north in the wilderness, there are many larger and stronger tribes. Some of these large tribes even have thousands of adult warriors, indistinguishable in scale from independent small kingdoms."

Richard nodded. He had never heard this news, but it made perfect sense.

Pompey might tolerate a few down-and-out groups making trouble on the border, but it would never tolerate genuine powers getting too close.

"One does not allow others to snore beside one's couch; that's the principle."

"Beside one's couch..." Annie savored Richard's phrase and nodded in strong agreement. "That phrase is so concise yet profound."

"So you think the ones who attacked the mercenaries are those large tribes?"

"It's not suspicion, it's confirmation." Annie was not the elegant, virtuous type traditionally admired in Pompey. On the contrary, she was full of vigor, and her tone was very firm when she spoke.

"The Voya Merchant Guild has trade relations with the local tribes, and we are never attacked. Only these outsiders would be so reckless!"

"It's not surprising that large tribes can smelt iron, but why are they here?" Hert interjected.

"In previous years, when food was scarce in autumn and winter, they would raid small tribes or even Pompey civilians to the south, but it's only summer now..." Annie spread her hands, indicating she didn't know either.

"Why bother with all that?" Gunther waved his spoon impatiently. "Anyway, if they dare come to High Mountain Keep, we'll knock them all into concussions!"

His voice was loud and clear, audible to everyone in the mess hall. The Barbarians and Centaurs cheered, while the mercenaries in the corner looked even paler.

"Hert originally said there was a shaman organization forming an army to deal with me. Back then, I thought it was strange. If mere influence could convince a bunch of natives who wouldn't lift a finger without profit to help fight, that would truly be seeing ghosts," Richard said, spreading his hands.

"Now it seems they were bullied by the southward-moving Gnolls, and cornered, they want to bully me. Heh, do I look like such a pushover?"

"Richard, take your followers back to Corin and abandon High Mountain Keep for now. The wilderness is in chaos; no one could accuse you of cowardice for retreating now," Annie sighed.

"My dear Miss Annie, why should I go back to Corin, just because of these few insignificant creatures?" Richard slapped the table and laughed heartily. "I'm worried they're not coming fast enough! I've been wanting to capture slaves to build my castle for a long time."

Although it was still a new territory, Richard held unquestionable authority in High Mountain Keep. Once he made a decision, all others could do was cooperate as much as possible.

The Barbarians and Centaurs were enthusiastically practicing their bow-and-arrow coordinated tactics on the training ground, aiming to sharpen their skills even at the last minute.

The most agile Centaurs were temporarily assigned to scouting duty, sent out to investigate any disturbances around High Mountain Keep.

Richard asked for all the gold coins the merchant caravan had. Annie didn't know what use money would be at this point, but she gave it without hesitation. Trade caravans didn't carry much gold; after five hundred were previously borrowed, only a little over two hundred remained.

This money stayed in Richard's hands for less than fifteen minutes before turning into several pieces of iron armor.

After battling the Gnolls, a large pile of old weapons and armor was seized. Most of it was left in the warehouse as junk, ignored. Annie was very meticulous; she had the caravan's servants dismantle the more intact armor plates and re-string them with ox sinews, assembling a dozen usable pieces.

These valuable armors were distributed by Richard to the highest-ranking Barbarians.

During charges, they would serve as the sharpest vanguard, enduring the enemy's fiercest counterattacks and delivering decisive blows! In any army that hadn't completely rotted away, such elites would always wear the best armor, receive the highest pay, and drink the strongest liquor!