Battle of the Haksha Plains (6): The Trap

"Are you ready?" In the dead of night, when even the insects had fallen silent, Wickhart asked Skudelia.

"Yes. Everything is in order." Behind Skudelia stood 500 soldiers with their horses. Though all of them kept silent, Wickhart could clearly feel the heat radiating from their bodies.

Everyone here had shed tears of blood three years ago.

They had survived while their lord was slain—a disgrace they could not bear. They had intended to die alongside Naisol-sama, thinking they might as well accompany him on his final journey.

Through Skudelia's persuasion, they had decided to rally behind the young general whom Naisol-sama had favored. Even so, they still wanted to repay the bitterness they had felt back then with at least one blow. The soldiers who had kept that desire smoldering all this time had gathered here.

The sentries on duty at this hour were all supporters of the surprise attack. Once this group set out, the others were to follow afterward.

"If the surprise attack succeeds, withdraw immediately. Don't become fixated on taking Franklurt's head. Understood?"

Wickhart emphasized the point. Even so, he knew they were all hoping they might get lucky. Some of the soldiers might even have been trying to make this surprise attack their swan song.

But it was too late to stop them. All Wickhart could do was go with them and bring even one of these brave soldiers back alive.

Wickhart himself believed this was almost certainly Franklurt's trap. At first, his blood had been up, but once he had calmed down and considered it, the circumstances had been arranged too perfectly...