The Lord Of Blood Hill-Chapter 148: Move On
As they continue their journey, they occasionally spot the glaring flares in the sky. These are signals from the royal guards as they hunt down the decoy cavalry. Several times, Henwell pauses, wanting to turn back, but Chick and the others persuade him to keep moving. After over an hour, the flares cease. Henwell knows that yet another of his young partners is gone.
After a long silence, Henwell finally speaks, "Perhaps we didn't need their sacrifice. We might have been able to break through directly."
Chick responds, "Henwell, you know better than any of us! We've been on the move for so long; both men and horses are exhausted. We can't afford any delays!"
Henwell takes a deep breath, "I believe we could have won..."
Chick interrupts him, "Yes! Maybe we could defeat the royal guard's pursuit! But it would cost us time. Then, more and more of the kingdom's forces would close from all sides, and none of us would escape. Henwell! You have to live for all of us. Your survival is the only thing that ensures our existence leaves a mark on this world!"
Henwell remains silent until they are less than ten kilometers from the border. In the distance, they see several hundred cavalry already in formation—royal guards, judging by their banners.
Henwell lowers his visor and raises his war spear, "Charge!"
With Henwell at the forefront, they quickly form a wedge-shaped assault formation. Night Charger, sensing its master's fury, accelerates to its maximum speed in no time, creating a gap between Henwell and the cavalry behind him.
As Henwell and his men charge, the royal guards at the border also begin their advance. Within a few hundred meters, Henwell crashes into the enemy ranks.
Gripping his war spear tightly, Henwell dodges the thrusts of enemy lances and strikes precisely at the chest of his opponent. The immense inertia of the charging horses shatters the enemy's chest under Henwell's spear blade. This is a Battle Knight, and Henwell's focus ensures he must eliminate him in the first round to prevent significant harm to his own forces.
After dispatching this foe, Henwell swings his war spear, thrusting left and right, unhorsing every enemy within reach. Single-handedly, he carves a five to six-meter-wide gap in the enemy formation. This war spear is aptly named "Breaker of Armies."
The remaining royal guards suffer heavy losses before Henwell's cavalry even reaches them.
When they are over a hundred meters apart, Henwell's elite cavalry draws the heavy crossbows already strung and loaded on their saddles, launching a volley towards the enemy. After firing, they swiftly hang the crossbows back on their saddles and raise their lances, readying for the charge.
The entire maneuver takes less than five seconds, a testament to the countless hours of training these elite riders have endured. Their efforts pay off as, before the cavalry even clash, over two hundred armor-piercing bolts rain down, taking out a significant portion of the royal guards.
The cavalry formation, already breached by Henwell, descends into chaos. The royal guards, usually capable of regrouping within a minute or two due to their elite training, find it too late now. The disarray in the front lines ripples back, affecting those behind.
Henwell's cavalry crashes into the fray. The clash of weapons and the cries of men and horses fill the air. As the charge concludes, the battlefield is littered with bodies and injured horses. Henwell's forces suffer the loss of dozens, but the royal guards lose more than half their number, leaving them incapable of pursuit.
Without pausing, Henwell and his men surge towards the border. But as they near the border, about a kilometer away, Henwell gradually slows down and comes to a stop.
Ahead of them stands an army of over five thousand, fully equipped with infantry and cavalry, shields and arrows at the ready, clearly having waited for some time.
Seeing the royal banner raised high on the other side, Henwell lifts his visor and sighs, turning to his comrades, "Our journey ends here today. I swear, if by some miracle I survive, I will avenge you all and make those responsible pay dearly!"
With that, Henwell raises his war spear, striking it against his breastplate, and shouts, "It has been an honor to fight alongside you!"
The clatter of weapons striking armor echoes in response. Just as Henwell lowers his visor again, preparing to charge toward his unknown fate, a commander on a white horse rides out from the opposing ranks.
Henwell pauses, signaling his cavalry to hold. He rides forward alone to meet the white horseman between the two armies.
Catherine, clad in silver armor and holding a lance, sizes up Henwell with a smile, "You look like a mess!"
Henwell, resting his war spear on his shoulder, gently strokes Night Charger's mane, "Running for your life tends to do that."
Catherine's smile fades, "Two choices: swear loyalty to me, or die."
Henwell glances up at the blue sky and white clouds, "I told myself long ago that no one is worth my allegiance. Loyalty to others is betrayal to myself. I've had enough of this damned world! After all these years of struggle, my survival still depends on the whims of others. It's a blow to a man's pride. I was a kid before; I could endure. But now, I refuse to live in submission. I want to live on my own terms. So, I choose death."
Catherine sneers, "Aren't you even curious about what I might offer? Amir the Grand Duke is old and blind, but I am not. I know you're a rare talent, the best I've ever seen! My father, Duke Vorry, and even the rulers of other kingdoms, they're all too old! They've sat idly in their positions for too long. The future belongs to us young ones. Join me! I promise you something beyond your imagination, something no one else can offer!"
Henwell chuckles, "Would you marry me?"
Catherine smirks, "What? Am I not good enough for you?"
Henwell rests his war spear across the back of his neck, casually draping his arms over it, "Not at all! In terms of status, you're the most noble woman I've ever met. As for talent, you’re definitely a heroine among women. And when it comes to looks and figure, you're one of the most beautiful women I've seen, easily in the top three."
Catherine raises an eyebrow, "Who’s more beautiful than me?"
Henwell's expression freezes, "That's not important."
"What did you say?!"
Damn! What's with this woman?! Just a moment ago, she was the epitome of a queen, and now she sounds like a resentful woman!
Henwell quickly changes the subject, "The real question is, if you marry me, who gets to call the shots? Who rules over the land? Would you hand over power to me?"
Catherine frowns, "If we were married, what's mine is yours. Isn't that the same?"
Henwell shakes his head, "It's not the same. Power isn't something you can share."
Catherine remains silent for a while, then suddenly swings her lance, giving Henwell a hard smack. "Get out of here! One day, you'll regret this!"
Feigning pain, Henwell signals his cavalry to follow him as they cross the border to head home. Just as he leaves, Catherine shouts, "Henwell! Remember that feeling just now! That's the sensation of being on the brink of death!"
Great! The words he once used to threaten her have come back to haunt him from this feisty woman!
.
!
Chapter 148: Move On
Comments