New Novel - Read Here
The powerful iron cavalry trampled the road. This road, usually traveled by merchants' caravans and peasants entering the city, was now repeatedly trodden by coarse, heavy horseshoes. The warhorses were restless and eager to run at full speed, but their masters always restrained them so they maintained a consistent pace.
At the very front was a tall cavalryman. His eyes were as sharp as a falcon’s, and a thin scar stretched from his forehead to his cheek. While all the other cavalrymen used heavy helmets to conceal their faces, he exposed his countenance without hesitation.
The cavalrymen never allowed their warhorses to run wildly and always maintained a slow trot. Yet this pace was not one that ordinary people could keep up with. When pursuing fleeing enemies, the cavalry used this pace to close in on them.
Then, leveraging the momentum of their mounts, they cut down these fleeing foes one by one with a single stroke. Countless experiences gained in war instilled every cavalryman with a heartfelt certainty that they would win this contest. No matter how skilled a person is at running, they could not outrun a warhorse, especially over such a short distance.
The warhorses were normally required to bear enormous weight, but at that moment, they needed only to carry the weight of their riders. This made the agile creatures exceedingly lively, and their hooves sought to quicken their pace involuntarily. Yet, time and again, their masters drew tight the reins, keeping them at an appropriate speed and maintaining a strict formation.
Maintaining this formation was generally in preparation for an all-out charge. At this slow trot, the horses would gradually accelerate until reaching maximum velocity and then irresistibly drive into the enemy’s ranks. The potential energy accumulated during the slow trot would make them unstoppable, and even sturdy spears would snap against their armor.
They soon crossed the distance of thirty-two galleys. Nearly everyone was brimming with confidence because relying solely on two legs was simply impossible to attain such speed. Those laughable barbarians should still be trekking through the mountains at this very moment. When the cavalry arrived later, they could mock the barbarians to their hearts’ content, making them aware of their absurdity and incompetence.
The cavalrymen surged whistling into the three-way fork in the road and completely occupied it in the blink of an eye. After calming their overly excited warhorses, they waited in silence. Apart from the occasional restless struggle of the warhorses, no one made any superfluous sound.
Nearly everyone waited, expecting to watch a farce. They anticipated that the others would emerge from the mountains exhausted and disheveled. Even the most lenient officer thought those people would only appear when the sun's shadow had moved eight feet and even then, they would likely emerge intermittently and in straggling fashion.
Some were already beginning to feel puzzled. They could not afford to delay for too long. They did not understand why such an opportunity should be given to those down-and-out bandits. If they never came, would the cavalrymen have to wait indefinitely? Yet, trusting their general, they continued to wait in silence.
When they heard the sound of rustling grass and leaves, everyone turned their attention in that direction. Arka's face displayed astonishment because they had only waited a short while, and the shadow cast by the sun had barely moved. Had those people already arrived? Perhaps they had underestimated them.
A dull-witted wild boar, head lowered, walked out. Its snout rooted about in the earth, seeking tasty morsels such as mushrooms or insects. Because the cavalrymen were so quiet, even the wild boar misjudged the situation and foolishly trotted out.
Arka glanced at Tesolus. After receiving his general’s assent, Arka reached into a saddlebag, took out a javelin, raised it, aimed slightly, and hurled it directly at the wild boar. The sharp javelin pierced the wild boar’s thick hide without obstruction and emerged from the other side, pinning the plump boar to the ground.
Before the board could cry out more than a few times, blood flowing from its throat turned its cries into constant coughs of bloody froth. In a short while, it ceased moving altogether.
Everyone was overjoyed at this unexpected gain. Although they had not gone hungry, they had been unable to eat meat, which was trying for these strong cavalrymen. Two men vaulted from their horses and dragged the boar over. Then, with daggers, they cleanly split it open, stripped off its entire thick hide, and cast the inedible parts onto the grass.
The sun continued its slow advance, and time passed minute by minute. They had butchered the entire boar, cutting it into chunks of meat and stowing it in the wagons. The rich scent of blood lingered, almost at the tip of the nose, yet the mountain dwellers showed no sign of it.
Tesolus was disappointed, thinking those people might have fled or not made it in time.
He regretfully shook his head, preparing to turn his horse and lead the cavalry away, when a sudden clamor erupted from the jungle. The boars’ pitiful wails and frantic snorts filled their ears. Before they could react, a great herd of dark-skinned wild boars burst from the forest, each fleeing for its life.
Behind them, a band of mountain dwellers draped in animal hides and clutching longbows pursued with swift, powerful strides. From time to time, the hunters would halt, loosen an arrow, and inevitably, a boar would fall to the ground with a wail. Their legs were so agile and powerful that the boars could never shake off these fierce hunters. One by one, they were shot down by a hail of arrows. In the blink of an eye, the field was littered with corpses.
The hunters cheered as they began to butcher the prey’s flesh with short knives. With practiced skill, they stripped off one thick hide after another, cut out the bright red pork, and wrapped it in the hides. Then, without hesitation, they hoisted these peculiar bundles onto their shoulders.
After removing the entrails and other inedible parts, the pile of meat remained exceedingly heavy. Yet each person bore it and advanced as if flying. In the blink of an eye, they surged into the three-way fork in the road.
The short Colin was the first to approach Tesolus’s warhorse. She tossed the large pile of meat slung over her shoulder onto the ground. The other hunters promptly followed suit, tossing their wild boar meat onto the pile. In the blink of an eye, a mountain of meat rose up. The jungle grew noisy once more, and women and children emerged from within. Everyone had arrived; not a single person was left behind.
Tesolus's smile grew wider. He placed his hands on the saddle and leaned his body slightly forward.
"So this is the reason for your delay?"
The girl's face showed embarrassment.
"We didn't expect there to be such a large herd of pigs. Those fellows were starving; as soon as we saw the meat, I couldn't restrain myself, so we drove the herd all the way here. Earlier, our bellies were too empty, and we lacked the strength to cross the mountains. We did not expect to find so many gifts there...”
The great black warhorse stirred its hooves, turned around, and stepped onto the road. The cavalrymen followed immediately; the sound of their hooves trampling the ground was as dense as raindrops.
The mountain dwellers stood where they were; panic-stricken, thinking they had been abandoned once more. Just as Colin was about to speak, Tesolus turned his head.
"Hurry up and follow! Do not forget to bring the meat. We must reach the next town this evening."
Overjoyed, the mountain dwellers noisily gathered their prey. Without hesitation, they caught up with the column ahead as though following their own chieftain.
Happy Reading!
Join our Discord for release updates and to chat with other readers.