Gibson rode on horseback, the bitter wind cutting into his face like a knife.
Behind him, the knights advanced in formation, their hoofbeats heavy.
"Faster! Pick up the pace!" he urged in a low voice.
They had been traveling for five days, using battle aura to speed their journey, barely stopping to rest.
He understood how important this operation was, and he knew the situation at Clearfeather Ridge was grim.
Two barons and just over a hundred men against eight hundred Snow Oath cavalrymen-holding out for even a few days would be a miracle.
"Hurry!" Gibson growled. "If we're late, we won't even be able to recover their bodies!"
The warhorses panted hard, foam spilling from their mouths, their hooves even leaving splashes of blood.
Still, he did not stop. He only kept charging forward.
But when they finally reached Clearfeather Ridge, the sight before him made him pause.
The camp was orderly, fires burned, and soldiers patrolled. Everything was peaceful as usual.
There were no enemies.
There were no bodies.
There was not even a trace of fighting.
"What's going on? Was the intelligence wrong?" Gibson frowned and dismounted.
After five days of traveling day and night, this was the scene that greeted him. Anger immediately welled up inside him.
Seeing Duke Edmund's family crest on him, a guard immediately stepped forward and saluted. "Are you the reinforcements sent by Duke Edmund, sir? Lord Calvin left instructions. I'll take you to him."
Suppressing his anger, Gibson nodded and followed the guard into the command tent.
Louis stood before a battle map, his expression focused.
Hearing them enter, he turned with a faint smile. "Thank you for making the journey."
"Where's the enemy?" Gibson could not hold back, his voice cold and hard. "Weren't you attacked? Or was the intelligence