Bandits Are Coming with Bows and Arrows

"My lord!" Two Centaurs galloped towards Richard like a gust of wind, their lower bodies streaked with sweat that had stained their fur dark brown. Their hooves drummed a rapid beat as they gasped, "Fifteen miles to the northwest, a large enemy force is approaching, and they have cavalry!"

"Finally, I've been waiting for this."

Richard waved them back to their positions. These Centaur Recruits were terrible scouts; the intelligence they brought back was of limited value. They couldn't clearly state how much cavalry or infantry there was, or if there were any powerful units.

A desolate, low horn blast echoed from the wooden tower, signaling High Mountain Keep's emergency mobilization.

Swords were drawn, armor donned, and the heavy footsteps created a chaotic din. Even the gentle breeze seemed to carry a chilling hint of slaughter.

Richard was currently putting on three layers of heavy armor with the help of the caravan's servants. The innermost layer was chainmail, the middle layer was plate and chain armor produced by the system, and the outermost layer was an oversized lamellar armor. He was completely armed to the teeth.

"Lord Richard, I've had systematic military training. What's your battle plan? Do you need the mercenaries' cooperation?" The solemn atmosphere of High Mountain Keep had somewhat affected Annie, and she was worried about the impending major battle.

"First, two volleys of arrows to kill a dozen or so. Then, lead a charge to take out seventy or eighty, and the rest will naturally collapse. We'll pursue and finish them off then," Richard said as he adjusted his armor.

"That's the plan?" Annie looked at him as if he were a madman.

"What else?" Richard tightened the belt around his waist and strode out of the wooden tower.

The three layers of armor weighed at least three hundred pounds, enough to break a packhorse's spine, but he moved with the agility of someone unburdened.

"Boss." Gunther grinned, wearing an exaggerated horned helmet. Behind him were Barbarian warriors, heavily armed and radiating a murderous aura.

"My lord." Hert bowed, placing his hand over his chest. The Centaurs beside him all held longbows and had two quivers of arrows hanging from their waists.

The difference between new recruits and veterans was clear at this moment—the Barbarians looked calm and composed, with long, steady breaths, while several Centaur Herdsmen kept nervously pawing the ground.

Richard surveyed his surroundings, which were eerily silent, and nodded.

"Form up here."

The hills sloped gently over a large area, and it would be foolish not to utilize this terrain. Gravity offered a significant advantage to the defending side.

The wait before battle always felt exceptionally long. Richard sat on a folding stool, propping up his feet, and waited for nearly two hours before the bandits slowly appeared on the horizon.

"They have over five hundred, almost six hundred people," Annie whispered, her elven blood giving her much better eyesight than others.

High Mountain Keep's total military strength was only seventy, and even with the combat-capable mercenaries, it was less than ninety. A simple calculation showed that the enemy had a six-fold numerical advantage!

And in such an extremely disadvantageous situation, Richard still intended to hold back the mercenaries as reserves, using only High Mountain Keep's direct forces for the main attack. The actual troop comparison was seventy against five hundred, widening the gap to eight times.

Annie couldn't help but grip the hem of her clothes, her palms slick with sweat. Based on her understanding of military tactics, such a disparity was enough to sustain a brutal siege. She wondered where the lord of High Mountain Keep found such composure.

"Hmm." Richard narrowed his eyes, observing the approaching enemy.

To be honest, he was a little surprised, and not just because of the sheer numbers.

Unlike the typical wild brawling style where everyone rushed in haphazardly with whatever weapons they had, this group of bandits had actually been roughly organized by troop type.

On their left and right flanks, seven or eight Werewolf cavalry, riding Direwolves, scouted back and forth in the direction of the main force.

Werewolves were a fierce and warlike race, accustomed to taming Direwolves as companions and mounts. Their shared blood often created high默契 between Werewolves and Direwolves. Naturally alert with keen senses, they were ideal scouts.

At the center was a large, unwieldy mass of infantry. Amidst a multitude of Gnolls, Werewolves, and barbarians, there were also quite a few Hobgoblin warriors whose sole job was to maintain discipline, preventing the formation from disintegrating as it advanced.

Even more surprising was that the front row of infantry actually carried a motley collection of shields.

While it was clear these shields were made from door planks and offered questionable defense, Richard had to rub his eyes twice to believe it.

At this point, he wouldn't even be surprised if a few archers popped up from behind the formation and delivered a decent volley or two, because there must be someone knowledgeable among the bandits.

Though incredibly shoddy, this could already be considered the embryonic form of an army.

"What do we do?" Annie noticed that the Barbarians at the very front looked the calmest, while the mercenaries huddled at the back were the palest.

"Prepare for engagement." Richard left that one sentence, then jogged lightly towards the giant beast, Windchaser.

His movements were light, but the weight of the three layers of armor was significant; each step left deep footprints behind him.

The aggressively advancing bandit force clearly paused.

Sitting on the dark Iron-eating Armadillo's back was a knight clad in three layers of armor, appearing as if cast entirely from steel. The slightest movement produced a teeth-grating sound of metal rubbing against metal.

The mountain-like beast slowly turned, and the armored knight on its back grasped a four-bladed, giant lance. The heavy lance was no harder for him to control than a single sword. The knight swung it casually a couple of times, and the dull whistling of it cutting through the air sent shivers down one's spine.

Just standing there, without moving, made one imagine the earth-shattering devastation it would cause if it charged.

Annie hadn't understood why High Mountain Keep could maintain morale despite such a huge numerical disadvantage, but now she vaguely understood. Even by the most conservative estimate, this single heavy cavalryman could stand against a hundred infantry.

The Hobgoblins maintaining discipline furiously struck the halted bandits with wooden clubs, causing the entire formation to slowly begin advancing again.

"Heaven gave them a good chance to live, but unfortunately, they don't know how to cherish it." Richard pulled on his helmet, his face obscured by the menacing iron plate. With a forceful squeeze of his legs, the heavy Iron-eating Armadillo began to move.

On either side of him, Barbarian warriors followed closely, forming a V-shaped assault wedge, with Richard as the sharpest point of the V.

Arrows arrived even before they did.

The Centaurs gathered at the rear, raising their arms high and arcing volleys of feathered arrows into the bandit formation. Their rate of fire wasn't fast, but their rhythm was incredibly steady. Each time their longbow strings vibrated in unison, it triggered a series of miserable howls.

The bandits could never have imagined that they had specifically prepared shields to defend against ranged attacks, yet they were completely helpless against the Centaurs' arcing volleys.

Those arrow volleys passed over the shield bearers' heads, but then dove into the ranks like falcons, instantly felling a dozen bandits who had thought themselves safe!