The Lord Of Blood Hill-Chapter 17: The Fall of the City! The Camp in Chaos!

"Lord Fabio, wake up! Wake up!"
Henwell urgently shakes Fabio awake, who groggily looks at him, mumbling in confusion, "What's going on? Is it morning?"
Henwell grabs Fabio's armor, pulling him up to put it on.
"It's not morning. The city has fallen!"
Fabio instinctively starts donning his armor, still not fully awake.
"The city has fallen? Which city?"
"Wilderness City. Wilderness City has fallen. We need to gather the troops and get out of here immediately."
After a moment of stunned silence, Fabio grabs Henwell by the collar.
"What? What did you say? Wilderness City fell? Who breached it?"
Henwell struggles to pry his hands off.
"That doesn't matter now. Both gates of Wilderness City have been breached, and the allied forces have stormed in. Before the situation worsens, we need to get out of here, or we won't be able to escape."
Once Fabio finishes putting on his armor and rushes out of the tent, he hears the sounds of battle coming from Wilderness City not far away.
Through the flames on the city walls, intense fighting is visible.
The camp outside the city is in chaos, with officers and soldiers running around frantically.
Henwell knows they can't wait any longer; if the allied forces launch a night raid on the camp now, it will be complete chaos.
"How is this possible? There were so many troops in Wilderness City; how could it fall..."
Henwell nudges the still-dazed Fabio.
"My lord, gather our troops immediately. We can't afford to be scattered now, or it will be dangerous."
With Henwell's urging, Fabio finally begins to assemble his private army. It takes a full hour for Fabio's serf soldiers to gather.
Fabio leads his troops out from the left side of the camp, taking the lead.
As he watches the four regular army corps start moving toward the battlefield at Wilderness City, Fabio suddenly has a realization.
"Right! We can't lose Wilderness City; we need to join the fight."
Hearing this, Henwell almost wants to stab him with a sword.
"My lord. We can't do that. These are noble private soldiers with no real combat skills. The best we can do now is to stay away from the camp and not add to the chaos for the command."
Fabio's personal guard captain snaps, "Shut up! You're suggesting Lord Fabio flee, and that's a disgrace to him!"
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The other guards also draw their weapons, shouting to support the battlefield.
Just then, they see, by the light of the moon, a well-organized army advancing toward the camp. Given the direction and current situation, it's clear they're not allied forces.
Who they are is obvious.
Fabio shouts, "Send the signal. Alert the camp to prepare for the enemy."
Henwell rolls his eyes. They were just fleeing for their lives; who would have thought to bring signal flares? Besides, these are noble serf soldiers, not a regular army, so they wouldn't even have those things.
Moreover, the camp is still in chaos, and organizing an effective defense is impossible.
After a while, Fabio realizes the situation.
He takes a deep breath, draws his weapon, and shouts, "Prepare to face the enemy with me. Hold them off until reinforcements from the camp arrive."
Henwell, frustrated, says, "My lord, we have so few men, and there are over six thousand armored soldiers on the other side. How much time can we buy? And in that time, how many nobles will actually bring troops to aid us? My lord, we should retreat and live to fight another day."
"How dare you! You little attendant! Why do you keep advising the lord to flee? Do you want him to be ridiculed?"
I'm trying to stop him from getting killed. Especially from dragging me into it.
It's you, you damn fool.
I'll find a chance to deal with you later, so you don't end up dragging me to my death.
Henwell, annoyed by his personal guard captain's repeated reprimands, chooses not to argue further.
As Fabio hesitates, the approaching army reaches the camp's vicinity.
They light their torches, then ignite arrows soaked in oil, launching a volley toward the camp.
Just five rounds of fiery arrows are enough to set a small part of the camp ablaze, but that's all it takes.
The flames, the unknown enemy, the looming threat of death finally snap the last thread of sanity in the serf soldiers' minds. Chaos erupts in the camp.
Stampedes occur everywhere, with soldiers and officers running wildly, drawing weapons and killing anyone who tries to approach them. Since they can't identify the enemy, everyone around them becomes a potential threat.
This is the result of a complete mental breakdown.
Seeing the camp descending into chaos, Fabio realizes it's time to make a run for it.
"Follow my banner, head... uh, head..."
Henwell quietly suggests, "Southeast direction."
"Head southeast! Yes, that's it, move out!"
Once they distance themselves from the camp, everyone instinctively speeds up.
Knowing this isn't ideal, Henwell reluctantly calls out to Fabio, "My lord, I need to speak with you."
Fabio, mindful of Henwell who saved him twice, turns his horse back.
"What is it? Does it have to be now?"
Henwell lowers his voice, "My lord, we're moving too fast."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
Seeing Fabio not quite grasping the situation, Henwell leans closer, "My lord, if we move too quickly, it looks like we're fleeing, especially being at the front. That's not a good outcome. We need to wait for the other units behind us. With more people, we have strength in numbers, and we can avoid enemy ambushes."
"More importantly, it will look like a strategic retreat rather than leading the charge to flee... uh, I mean, to advance. Plus, your noble rank isn't high; it's better if someone with a higher rank leads the way. From now on, we're not just running away; we're coordinating a retreat for our fellow troops."
Fabio takes a moment to understand Henwell's point. Excitedly, he pats Henwell on the shoulder, "You're truly talented. If your father hadn't fallen in battle, I believe you'd be the best heir of your family."
Following Henwell's advice, Fabio positions his troops near a valley, halting their advance to rest.
Over the next three hours, scattered soldiers begin to arrive. Without nobles or officers to guide them, these stragglers are forcibly integrated into Fabio's ranks, with members of his personal guard taking command.
By dawn, more and more fleeing soldiers arrive. Seeing a force of over four thousand stationed at the valley entrance nearly scares the life out of them. But soon they realize it's an allied force, bringing a sense of relief and hope for survival.
By noon, a thousand-strong allied cavalry unit arrives, chasing after the fleeing soldiers. From a distance, they spot the well-organized cavalry formation of more than a thousand troops. Seeing this, the allied pursuers promptly turn their horses around and retreat the way they came.