Lord blessed by the elves

Chapter 77 Fury

In less than an hour, the canyon returned to deathly silence, leaving only a pile of naked corpses, not even underwear left, silently telling the story of the tragedy that had just occurred.

About two hours later, Doron returned to the canyon with almost all of Baron Sidil's remaining troops, as well as reinforcements led by Baron Hiddink who had rushed to the scene upon hearing the news.

However, all they saw was this tragic and horrific scene.

"These damned, lawless bastards! Bandits! They're getting more and more outrageous!" Doron trembled with rage as he looked at the miserable state of his men and allied soldiers, cursing loudly, partly out of anger and partly to cover up the shame of his desertion.

Baron Hiddink's face was so dark it could drip water.

He had only recently launched a large-scale campaign to eliminate refugees in his territory when such a large-scale armed attack by refugees on a noble caravan occurred!

This was tantamount to a resounding slap across his face.

His sharp gaze swept over the stripped corpses and signs of battle in the canyon, ultimately arriving at a conclusion that chilled him to the bone:

"This isn't just a simple robbery...this is revenge! It's the mad revenge of those rats hiding in the mountains against our clearing operation!"

This conclusion instantly dispelled the slight sense of pride he felt from the successful operation, replaced by a strong sense of unease—he realized that he might have inadvertently ignited a powder keg far more dangerous than he had imagined.

The news spread like wildfire, accompanied by the hurried hoofbeats of messengers, quickly reaching every corner of Campnorshire.

The tremors it caused were no less than those of an earthquake.

At this moment, in the magnificent and ancient council hall of the Earl of Campino, the important nobles of the county, who had been summoned urgently, gathered together, and the atmosphere was so heavy that it was almost palpable.

The long, ebony conference table was surrounded by people. Count Campono, sitting at the head of the table, had a gloomy expression. His fingers unconsciously tapped the smooth surface of the table, producing a dull "tap-tap" sound that struck the hearts of everyone present.

Baron Hiddink, as the most directly involved party in the incident, whose brother Baron Sidil's convoy was hijacked and who was among the first lords to arrive at the scene, was the first to stand up. His voice trembled slightly with anger and lingering fear, yet carried an urgent air of "having expected this," as if he wanted to etch the seriousness of the situation into everyone's minds:

"Lord Clyde! Gentlemen! The facts are clear! This is not a small group of vagrants looting; it is an organized, premeditated, and audacious military operation! They ambushed Baron Sidil's convoy laden with spoils and defeated his guard of four Bronze Knights, thirty apprentice knights, and thirty elite soldiers! What does this mean? It means that those entrenched in the southwestern mountains of our county are no longer scattered rabble, but a real, formidable rebel army!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than Sir Gareth, an old knight known for his fiery temper, slammed his fist on the table, making his wine glasses rattle: "Rebellion! Utter rebellion! A bunch of filthy rats, daring to bare their fangs at a noble's caravan! Lord Clyde, we must immediately assemble our army, flatten those ravines, drag out their leader, and hang him on the city walls! As a warning to others!"

Clyde, who was Count Campino's chief advisor in the territory, rubbed his temples upon hearing the news.

“Sir Gareth, calm down!” A more rational lord, Baron Oliver, who was in charge of the county's finances, frowned. “Things aren't that simple. According to the escaping Knight of Doron, the attackers numbered over a hundred, with a clear tactic: first, to harass the enemy with falling rocks, then to attack from both sides. More importantly, there were at least several Bronze Knights among them, and there might even be more powerful forces hidden among them. This requires not only courage, but also meticulous organization, intelligence, and logistics. We are probably facing more than just a simple 'vagrant' problem.” “Baron Oliver is right.” Another lord, known for his caution, Judge Morris, who was in charge of legal affairs, spoke slowly, his voice calm and analytical. “We need to consider a few questions: First, where did their weapons come from? Ordinary vagrants cannot afford weapons capable of fighting a regular army. Second, how did they accurately track the convoy's movements? Was there… insider cooperation behind this?” As he finished speaking, his pointed gaze swept over the crowd, causing a subtle commotion.

"Internal cooperation? You mean there's a traitor among us?" Sir Gareth's anger intensified.

“They may not be traitors,” said a middle-aged nobleman who had been silent all along. “Baron Fred, whose territory was near the mountains, said in a deep voice, “but perhaps some ‘restless’ neighbors are secretly funding these refugees, providing them with shelter and supplies in order to cause us trouble, while they themselves hide behind the scenes and reap the benefits.”

His gaze inadvertently swept over Baron Merk, who sat calmly in the corner.

Baron Merck's territory was located right next to the area where the incident occurred.

Baron Merkle sensed the gaze, merely raised his eyelids slightly, took a leisurely sip of red wine, and said calmly, "Baron Fred, speculation without evidence will only cloud our judgment. The most urgent task is to assess the threat and take concerted action. My territory is also deeply troubled by this, and I want to eradicate this cancer more than anyone else."

At this moment, a young and impetuous viscount couldn't help but interject, his tone filled with disbelief: "But... hundreds of armed refugees? And several knights? How did they manage to grow up right under our noses? Has our extermination operation been completely ineffective?"

"The effect?" Baron Hiddink sneered, a hint of self-mockery in his voice. "Our purge has probably stirred up a hornet's nest! This could very well be their furious retaliation! They're declaring war on us!"

The council chamber erupted in chaos.

"We must report this to the capital immediately!"

"No! We should resolve this within our own county first, otherwise it will make us look too incompetent!"

"The most urgent task is to form a coalition army and carry out a sweeping crackdown!"

"A coalition? Who will command it? How will the military expenses be shared? How will the spoils of war be distributed?"

"We must also be wary of refugees from other counties taking advantage of the chaos to loot!"

The sounds of debate, concern, advocacy for war, and shirking responsibility mingled together, turning the once solemn council chamber into a noisy marketplace.

Everyone acts from their own interests and perspectives, and fear, anger, suspicion, scheming... all sorts of emotions collide and ferment in the air.

(End of this chapter)