Enemy attack

Bradley acted swiftly. The moment the duke gave his orders, he began preparing to depart for the Northern Frontier without the slightest delay.

In less than a day, he set out for the Northern Frontier with an elite contingent.

The group consisted of three Elite Knights, ten Official Knights, and thirty Apprentice Knights.

In addition, there were dozens of experienced craftsmen skilled in construction, mining, and smelting.

They were equally well supplied.

Dozens of wagons were packed to the brim with flour, dried meat, and pickled vegetables.

These would ensure they could weather the hardest times, even in the Northern Frontier's harsh conditions.

There were also neatly bundled seeds for various cold-resistant crops, along with dozens of livestock suited to life in the Northern Frontier.

Black-horned cattle, coldland sheep, and cold-resistant warhorses had all been carefully selected for their ability to survive the harsh, snowbound environment.

There was also the Blood-Drop Stone, along with three thousand gold coins.

The sizable convoy left Winter-South Province and embarked on the long journey to Red Tide Fief in the Northern Frontier.

Louis's morning began as usual. As soon as he woke, he opened the Daily Intelligence System out of habit.

The screen displayed the day's updated intelligence, and he quickly skimmed each entry.

[Daily intelligence update complete]

[1: On Duke Calvin's orders, Bradley has departed for Red Tide Fief with relief supplies.]

[2: Tomorrow evening, Frontier Baron Yorn Harvey will encounter bandits while passing through Blue-Rock Rift.]

[3: The serf Romeo and the native Juliet are tasting forbidden fruit in the fields.]

The first piece of intelligence made Louis's eyes light up.

He had never expected the letter he had written to the old man to actually work, drawing his attention to Red Tide Fief's potential and getting him to cough up some gold.

Louis stared at the name in the entry. "Bradley..." The name lingered in his mind for a moment.

He was one of the Calvin Family's veteran stewards, highly respected within the family and practically central to its affairs.

Louis had not expected Duke Calvin to send him this time. It showed how much importance the duke placed on Red Tide Fief.

The intelligence did not specify what supplies he would bring, but it certainly looked like there would be plenty.

Once Bradley arrived, he could also help handle some of the fief's day-to-day affairs, making Louis's life much easier.

Then he read the second entry.

It made Louis frown slightly, and even came as something of a shock.

He knew Yorn, who was one of the original owner's few friends in this new world.

In the Ironblood Empire, the children of powerful noble families all had to undergo training in the imperial capital.

The original owner had been shunned by the other young nobles for his abysmal talent, while Yorn was often mocked for his clumsiness.

And so the two hopeless losers often stuck together.

Joern always followed quietly behind him, calling him "boss."

"Frontier Baron?" Louis's gaze involuntarily lingered on those words, puzzled.

Joern's father, Count Harvey, was a noble who had risen to prominence in recent years. His family was wealthy, but he had only two children.

Under the Northern Frontier Reclamation Edict, Yorn had no need to come to a place as harsh as the Northern Frontier to establish a fief.

Yet the intelligence called him a "Frontier Baron," leaving Louis somewhat confused.

The news of the attack on Yorn also troubled him. Resources were scarce in the Northern Frontier, and bandits had always run rampant.

Though Yorn would certainly have knights protecting him, it was still possible for him to be captured or killed if he let his guard down.

For both personal and practical reasons, Louis had to go to Blue-Rock Rift and save Yorn himself. After all, he was one of his few friends.

As for the third entry, Louis could only feel a little exasperated.

Young people these days really were daring, fooling around right in the fields.

But as the lord, he had no intention of interfering. More people in Red Tide Fief would only benefit him.

After reading all the day's intelligence, Louis summoned Lambert and gave a direct order. "Assemble the knights. We're heading to Blue-Rock Rift."

Lambert asked no questions. He briskly tapped his breastplate. "Understood. I'll make preparations immediately."

Before he had even finished speaking, he turned and strode quickly outside to gather the men.

The biting night wind swept through Blue-Rock Rift, making the campfire crackle. Its light illuminated a round face.

Yorn Harvey was wrapped in a mink-fur cloak, holding a bowl of steaming wheat porridge.

He looked like a fluffy, fat cat as he sipped his porridge and bragged.

"Do you know what happened back in the imperial capital? Those young nobles thought their powerful families let them do whatever they wanted! They bullied men and preyed on women!

"And how did that turn out? Louis and I teamed up and put them in their place!"

Joern wiped the porridge from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve and spoke smugly.

"That day, the two of us took on an entire clique of young nobles. There were at least a dozen of them!

"Louis knocked one of them down with a punch, and I was no slouch either. I grabbed a chair and smashed it at them, scaring them shitless!

"Of course, Louis was fierce, but I did most of the work! Without me, he couldn't have held out that long!"

"Indeed, my lord. Your bravery is unmatched." The attending knights smiled along, tacitly agreeing not to expose Yorn's exaggerations.

Having known him for so long, they had grown used to Yorn's clumsy attempts to make himself look good.

They barely maintained respectful smiles, but inwardly, they felt uncertain.

This lord of theirs...

Could he really lead them to establish themselves in the Northern Frontier?

Along the way, they had already noticed that Yorn had little understanding of what establishing a fief actually entailed.

He seemed to think that with six hundred people and a heart full of passion, he could make something of himself in the Northern Frontier.

But they knew the Northern Frontier's conditions were far crueler than the struggles among southern nobles. "Loyalty" and "courage" alone would not keep them alive.

Yet Yorn, the lord leading this group, showed no vigilance whatsoever.

He had even arranged patrols with nothing more than an offhand instruction before going back to laughing and boasting about his "heroic exploits."

In his mind, he had dozens of knights and nearly a hundred soldiers under his command. How could he possibly run into trouble?

Just then, several sharp whistles suddenly shattered the silence!

Dozens of crossbow bolts rained down from the cliffs on either side of the rift. Their heads spun through the air with chilling murderous intent, flying straight toward Yorn's unsuspecting party!

Squelch!

A soldier's throat was pierced. He struggled as he fell, his blood splashing over the stones beside the campfire and instantly staining them red.

Immediately afterward, rapid pounding footsteps rang out. Outlaws in white cloaks leaped down from the cliffs on both sides like ghosts in the night, charging swiftly into the camp!

"Enemy attack!"

The shrill cry had barely rung out when an outlaw pounced on the soldier who had shouted, moving like a hunting leopard. His dagger sliced precisely across the man's throat.

Blood sprayed, and the shout cut off abruptly.

The camp descended into chaos!