Charging with a Lance in Arknights, but Without a Mount

"You're right. You're a comrade worthy of trust."

Claude looked unexpectedly pleased as he continued.

"Of course. Everything I've told you, I'll prove to you one by one."

A New Beginning: Ordinary Development (1)

Claude opened his eyes and sat up. His initially groggy mind swiftly cleared after two blinks. He quickly got dressed, then folded his blanket neatly into a square, as if it had been cut from wood.

He pulled on his black knee-high leather boots, quickly washed up at a wooden basin, and combed his sleep-mussed hair into order. By the time Claude had finished all this, only five minutes had passed since he opened his eyes.

This remarkable efficiency was not an Ursus Empire military requirement. In fact, few people had done this in the beginning. Claude did it because of his own pursuit of discipline and standards. The imperial army had no such strict regulations, but once he, as legion commander, began setting the example, the other knights followed suit, and it gradually became customary.

He hesitated briefly before his armor, but ultimately put it on. With his current strength, he would not be in much danger without armor, but this had been his habit for decades and was difficult to change.

He lived in a spacious white tent, built from sturdy white canvas and wooden beams. It was not particularly warm inside, but his physical condition was enough to keep him from feeling cold. A small cast-iron stove stood in the middle of the tent, burning firewood, with its chimney extending through a hole in the ceiling. He opened the stove door, used an iron hook nearby to scrape out the remaining ashes, then prepared to go outside and fetch some firewood.

The tent flap was lifted open. The guard outside poked his head in and spotted Claude.

"You're awake, sir?! Do you need firewood? I'll get some right away."

As he spoke, the guard pulled his head back out, preparing to fetch the wood.

"It's fine. I can handle something this small myself. As a guard, don't casually leave your post," Claude stopped him.

The guard immediately returned to his position, as though he had never left it. Claude patted him on the shoulder and went out to look for firewood himself.

At the woodpile, thick logs lay stacked together, already cut by saw but not yet split, requiring the user to chop them apart. He placed a log on a stump and picked up the felling axe beside it. Raising it with both hands, he exhaled and delivered a precise, powerful chop. The axe blade buried itself in the center of the log and swiftly tore it apart. The split halves fell from either side of the stump.

Whenever he had time, Claude never missed an opportunity to train himself. Martial skill would gradually grow rusty without regular practice. Using the logs to hone his chopping technique, he soon split a whole pile. He gathered the firewood in his arms and hurried back to his tent.

When smoke rose from that eye-catching white tent, everyone in the camp knew their general was awake. Though Claude himself did not wish to use that title, everyone unanimously called him General. Some of them might not even know what rank a general actually was, but they used it for him because, in their minds, it was the highest position in an army.

Talulah tidied her hair. Her fluffy white short hair always looked messy after sleeping. Her quarters stood at the highest point of the entire camp, where she could clearly see the full layout of the massive encampment.

Claude's squad, the guerrillas, and the other Infected fighters had gathered together, forming an official organization—the Reunion Movement. Talulah had proposed the name, Claude thought it highly suitable, Alina supported it, and neither Yelena nor Mr. Patriot objected. Thus, it was formally established.

The camp was located behind a hill. Not only did it block the freezing wind, it was also well concealed and difficult to discover. Numerous sentries were stationed around the camp, hidden among the forest. They could send out warnings before any enemy launched an attack.

The camp was still extremely crude, with only log walls and simple tents. Some Infected and non-Infected were reinforcing it. In a way, they had the Ursus Empire's "benevolent rule" to thank for this. More and more Infected and non-Infected were joining them.

As Talulah walked down the slope, she saw a man dressed in white speaking to two people.

"I've told you many times: don't use the same lunchbox as an Infected person. Even if you're close, don't do it. It increases your chances of becoming infected."

"Yes, I know you think she's pitiful, but this isn't how you should pity her. If you become infected too, do you think she'll be happy?"

He lectured the two youths for more than ten minutes before finally letting them go.

When he turned around and saw Talulah, he froze briefly before quickly greeting her.

"Commander Talulah."

"What happened with those two young people, Doctor Kolchev?" Talulah was curious about the pair.

"Don't get me started. Those two kids are a couple. The girl contracted Oripathy, and the boy couldn't bear to see her taken away, so he fled with her. After wandering around for a long time, they finally came here. But even though she has Oripathy, they still keep their old habits, and that's dangerous for him. I've told him several times, but he acted as though he didn't hear me. That's why I gave him a proper scolding."

"And Commander, don't call me Doctor either. I was just an assistant at a small clinic. I don't know any advanced medical skills, so I don't deserve that title."

"I cannot agree with that. The fact that you came here voluntarily to help these Infected proves that you are already an excellent doctor."

A rare embarrassed expression appeared on Kolchev's face.

"I still have a long way to go. Right now, I only know the most basic care procedures. I just couldn't bear to watch what they were going through..."

"I'll leave you to it, Doctor Kolchev. I still have things to do."

Talulah said nothing more, merely smiled and nodded to him before walking toward the central white tent in the distance.

"Has the messenger sent to the village west of here returned?" Claude did not even raise his head from the map before him. It was spoils taken from the local patrol division, once hung in the office of their highest-ranking officer. Now it was spread over a large wooden board propped up by several stools.

"Not yet, sir," an officer beside him promptly answered.

"It isn't past the appointed time yet. If he has not returned after that, send someone to look for him." Claude considered it briefly before swiftly making his decision.

He raised his head slightly and looked at the tall Patriot and FrostNova before him. Then he pointed at one corner of the map and drew a large circle around it.

"For now, this can be considered our sphere of influence. The villages and towns within it have mostly joined us. We now need to formulate our next plan as soon as possible."

After speaking, he looked around. Nearly every commander at officer rank or above had gathered here.

"Does anyone have any good ideas? Speak up, and we'll discuss them together."

"I think that even if we're not very strong yet, we should drive the patrol squads out of our territory. We can't let them keep destroying the villages," Sasha raised her hand and spoke first.

"I agree. If we don't stop them and let them continue their atrocities, this year's food production will be even lower," Talulah also supported the suggestion.

"I agree. They should be removed," Patriot said as well.

"Then our plan will be to eliminate their outposts and gradually compress their forces until we finally drive them out."

"Good. Then it's decided. Does anyone have a different opinion? No?"

The meeting lasted roughly half an hour. Within this organization, military matters were now mostly decided by Claude, while Talulah made decisions regarding everything else. Of course, this crude structure was merely a temporary expedient and would certainly be changed later.

After the meeting ended, no one left. Instead, they gathered around the stove and ate the breakfast that should have been eaten long ago: bread made from moss wheat, paired with wild vegetable soup. Naturally, it did not taste particularly good, but at least they had a stable supply now. The atmosphere was harmonious and natural, as though they had eaten together countless times before.

A New Beginning: Ordinary Development (2)

A white figure leaped swiftly through the forest, landing accurately on the supporting points between branches every time. As though she weighed nothing and was untouched by gravity, she moved rapidly through the trees. If Claude had seen this, he would surely have marveled at her astonishing jumping ability.

Even exceptional Elven warriors could achieve such feats, but they relied on their exceptionally light weight and magical assistance. This white figure before them relied entirely on the explosive force of her powerful legs to move in an instant.

Her right foot struck a tree trunk hard, propelling her outward. She landed atop a dead tree, grasped a branch to steady herself, and stood at this high point to observe the surroundings.

Her enormous and intricate compound bow hung before her. Generally speaking, such a massive and complex weapon would greatly hinder its wielder's mobility. But she understood her weapon well. In her hands, it was as light and nimble as a small shortbow.

Beneath her neatly trimmed white bangs, pale golden eyes swept sharply over every movement around her. Against the white snowfields, anything moving was incredibly conspicuous. Yet people rarely looked up to inspect their surroundings, making ambushes in the trees highly effective.

As usual, there was nothing unusual nearby—only endless snowfields dotted with birch forests. After waiting a little longer, she finally set off toward the next observation point.

There were three such locations around the camp, all elevated positions from which the surroundings could be observed. She needed to patrol them twice every day. The task was not particularly troublesome; each patrol required only two hours, and the rest of her time was hers to decide, except when urgent missions arose.

When she arrived in camp, everyone who saw her greeted her. The archers and crossbowmen she had trained, in particular, respectfully called her Teacher.

Being respected like this was something Centaurea had never experienced in her previous life. In Kazimierz, earning respect required money, and she certainly had none.

Unsure how to handle such a situation and feeling somewhat flustered, Centaurea merely responded with a simple sound before walking inside with an expressionless face.

She reached her quarters, a small cabin made of logs and roofed with bark and plastic sheeting to keep out the rain. It looked crude, but it was already one of the best accommodations here.

Pushing the door open, she found a wooden bed inside, covered with a thick quilt and a fluffy blanket. There were also two chairs, a small table, and a low wooden table topped with a broken piece of mirror that served as a dressing table.

She set her weapon on the table and sat directly before the dressing table. The mirror reflected a pretty white-haired girl, though a considerable amount of dust was visibly smeared across her face. That was only natural. How could anyone stay clean and tidy in such an environment?

She fetched water from a bucket in the corner, washed her face, then dried it with a towel. The rough texture against her skin made her suddenly stop. She looked at the calluses that had grown back on her hands. The process was not pleasant. The bowstring constantly wore through the skin of her fingers before it gradually healed and thickened again. It was proof of the intense use her weapon received.

She would not worry or feel sad over this like ordinary girls in the big cities. Yet she still felt faintly uncomfortable at that moment. When she had first applied to be that man's maid, she had believed such calluses would never grow on her hands again. Who would have thought that, in the blink of an eye, she would have to leave that city, come to this snowfield, and even join a guerrilla force resisting the terrifying Ursus Empire?

But although life here was harsh, she did not miss her former life. Even she could not figure out why. Was it because the people here respected her? Or because there were no irritating superiors and coworkers here? Or was it because...

A face suddenly surfaced in her mind, startling her slightly.

"Knock, knock, knock!"

The sudden knocking made her jump to her feet. For some reason, the face of the battle-hardened expert marksman was a little hot.

She rubbed her face hard to compose herself, then went to open the door.

When she opened it, sunlight streamed in from outside, illuminating the figure of someone who made her feel a little flustered.

Claude wore his usual gentle smile, his amber eyes gleaming in the sunlight.

"I got hold of something good. Want to join me?"

As he spoke, he raised the black cloth bag in his hand. A rustling sound came from within, like some small loose objects. In his other hand, he carried an earthenware jar. Its mouth was tied with thin black string, which extended upward into two handles held in his hand.

She was not some sheltered little girl, so she quickly composed her expression. After a brief moment of thought, she agreed.

"Of course. Working for you is exhausting. How could I miss out when there's something good?"

The corners of her lips rose slightly. She thought she still liked life here—some things here, at least—far more than the neon lights of Kazimierz's Grand Knight Territory.

A lump of solidified animal fat was placed into a stone pot. The heat beneath immediately melted it, producing a sizzling sound. Before the oil could begin smoking from the high temperature, a handful of black tea leaves was tossed in. The leaves were stirred lightly with a wooden spoon so they heated up and released their fragrance, then a pot of hot water was immediately poured in.

Fresh milk from the earthenware jar was added next and stirred slightly. It was brought to a boil, allowing the flavor of the tea leaves to seep into the milk.

Then, according to personal taste, salt or sugar was added to one's bowl. This made a simple milk tea. Claude filled a bowl and added two small spoonfuls of salt. He set it on the table to cool slightly.

Centaurea looked at the layer of fat floating atop the tea, her face showing difficulty. Claude immediately knew what she was thinking.

"Go ahead and drink it. It won't make you fat. This cold weather already makes the body burn more calories, so you can indulge a little."

The tall Patriot beside them seemed to agree. Holding a huge earthenware bowl, he added quite a bit of salt. Then, without even waiting for it to cool, he drank the scalding tea as though his throat were made of stone. After taking several gulps, he exhaled deeply, as if the cold inside his body had been driven out.

Centaurea did not hesitate any longer. She took a bowl, poured herself some, and added a little sugar. Once it had cooled somewhat, she lifted it and cautiously took a sip, immediately narrowing her eyes. The slightly hot liquid flowed from her mouth into her stomach, spreading a warm sensation throughout her body. In weather this cold, it was practically a luxury.

After several more mouthfuls, even her feet, stiff from the cold inside her boots, began to loosen up. The tea tasted very good as well. The fragrance and astringency of the leaves perfectly covered the faint gaminess of the freshly milked milk, making the overall flavor smoother and easier to drink.

The three of them sat around the table. At the moment, they were the only leaders in the entire organization with nothing to do. Everyone else had more or less been assigned tasks for the day, while only they were currently resting.

Claude was discussing the Ursus military with Patriot. In the past, Patriot had been a highly esteemed captain in the Ursus army and a renowned war hero. He had personally participated in countless wars fought by the Ursus Empire and understood its military very well.

As they talked, Claude found himself somewhat surprised by the Ursus Empire's army. He had originally assumed that the military of such a corrupt nation could not be much good, but to his surprise, corruption aside, its combat effectiveness had not diminished in the slightest. Because of the Ursus Empire's enormous population, commoners seeking to rise above their station saw enlistment as their best path, so Ursus never lacked soldiers.

Furthermore, Ursus's former emperor had established a well-organized military structure. No matter how corrupt the army became, the desire for military achievements and wealth ensured that they never lacked a hunger for battle, so their combat power naturally did not suffer much. The patrol squads they had defeated before were merely a rabble compared to the true Ursus regular army.

"The Ursus Empire's troops are well-equipped and well-trained. They're very difficult to deal with."

"They are indeed formidable, but in my opinion, they are already doomed to destruction."

Patriot seemed somewhat surprised. He did not speak, merely signaling for Claude to continue.

Claude took a large gulp of milk tea before speaking.

"Because this country can no longer stop..."

Patriot fell silent for a long while.

Centaurea suddenly spoke to Claude.

"Didn't you keep telling me some time ago that what you were doing was dangerous, and that I should leave? Why have you stopped saying that lately?"

"Because I trust you."

Centaurea looked somewhat confused.

Claude smiled and added,

"Because I trust you, I'll respect your decision. Whether you decide to leave or stay and help me, I won't object. Of course, I'd still be very happy if you choose to stay and help me."

"So you mean you didn't trust me before?" Centaurea immediately caught the flaw in his words.

"Because we weren't truly friends then. As a knight, my principles would not allow me to let others die for my cause."

Centaurea looked at Claude before her. The knight's eyes shone brightly, holding nothing back. He had spoken his true thoughts with absolute sincerity. As if possessed, she continued asking.

"Then am I your friend now?"

Claude raised his tea bowl to her in salute.

"Of course! To my friend."

A New Beginning: Ordinary Development (3)

The whip rose high and came down heavily. Its tip cracked through the air before lashing against thin clothing, tearing the flesh beneath and drawing blood.

This terrifying beating did not happen only once. The whip came down again and again, raining blows upon the sturdy figure on the ground. The scene was deeply strange, for the man enduring the abuse was built like a brown bear, while the one beating him was far weaker than he was.

The reason for this sight was obvious. A group of soldiers in black uniforms, wearing breathing masks, surrounded him. A small child was crying beside him. The man blocked every lash, shielding the child tightly with his body.