It was the turn of summer into autumn, neither too cold nor too hot-the perfect season for war.
The wheat and potatoes in Bich Town were almost ready to harvest. This crop greatly eased Chris's food shortage, allowing him to spend eighty percent of his funds on military supplies.
And just then, the Republic's army arrived and launched its attack on Bolas Fortress.
"Thank the Earth Mother Goddess, you're finally here!" Lieutenant Colonel Lawrence gripped the cavalry captain's hand in excitement, tears streaming down his face. He showed none of the composure expected of a superior officer greeting a subordinate. The reason was simple: his recent ordeal had been sheer torment.
He felt like a shepherd tending five thousand lambs surrounded by a pack of starving wolves. Of every ten scouting parties sent out, only two returned. Day and night, enemies watched the camp from outside and launched attacks.
During this time, Lawrence had also tried to counterattack and wipe out the fiends outside.
Yet his main force had swept the surrounding area three times. The first had achieved something. On the second, the enemy had wiped out an entire company of auxiliaries instead. On the third, nearly a hundred enemies had broken into the camp and almost routed the vanguard.
As for their supposed duties of acting as bait and building siege equipment for the main army, those were out of the question.
The enemy had smashed several breaches in the vanguard's camp walls. Ammunition and food were nearly exhausted, and morale had hit rock bottom. Of the original five thousand men, only three thousand remained huddled inside the camp.
Just as Lawrence was on the verge of despair, about to disobey the order to "remain in position no matter what and fell enough timber" by retreating without