"We're under attack!" a shout pulled Luther from his sleep. At first he ignored the voice. But the word 'attack' resonated through his mind. He slid off his bed and looked outside. It was chaos.
"What happened?" Luther grabbed a soldier by his collar and asked aggressively.
"The said that the Castonians are attacking us from the burnt forest!" the soldier revealed
Luther's jaw dropped. How! How could the Castonians attack them from behind? The Castonians under their third prince were supposed to be ahead of them, not behind. Also, the nearest army was the garrison of Timur. They can't attack because the castle was under siege. General Rickard himself was leading the siege of Timur so there was no way for the Castonians to escape the siege. He refused to believe that they were under attack.
Suddenly another cry reached Luther's ear. "The food wagons are burning! Help!"
The food wagons! Luther rushed towards the burning wagons. Since the camp of the Whistlers were the closest to the forest, it didn't take him long to reach the wagons. But it was too late. The fire had already consumed the two wagons. Even if they managed to put out the fire, the food was gone.
There was a corpse near the wagon. Luther saw stab wounds. He was confused. If it was a guerilla team, they would have killed all the sentries guarding the wagons. But there was just one corpse. Where are the rest of the sentries?
"Where are the sentries who guarded the food wagons?" he asked the soldiers.
"That would be us sire" a small voice sounded not far from him. Luther turned to the direction the voice came from. He saw three soldiers lowering their heads.
"What happened!" Luther roared as he approached the soldiers
"A pair of soldiers came running from the burnt forest sire. One of them was wounded. They said that the Castonians are coming and ordered us to inform the camp."
"And you listened to them!?" Luther shouted "You left the wagons!"
"We are sorry sire. We panicked. We left somebody behind" the soldier looked at the corpse "But the pair must have killed him"
Saboteurs! Not guerillas but saboteurs! That was the first thing that went through Luther's mind. And they're good. They managed to trick the sentries. Luther could understand if there were only two or three sentries guarding the wagons. But eight? The saboteurs managed to trick all of the sentries.
But the fire was set not so long ago. The saboteurs were still nearby. Luther needs to catch them. That would gain him fame and erase his humiliation. If they could reveal the Prince's plan, then that would be better. He turned towards the Whistlers.
"Group yourselves into small groups and scour the surroundings. If you see two people riding their horses away from the camp, catch them. They are Castonian saboteurs. You need to bring them to me. I will give a hundred gold coins to each of the members of the team that catches the saboteurs! "
After hearing of Luther's offer, the Whistlers ran towards their horses. There were so fast. Money makes a man gain lightning speed, Luther thought.
Luther then examined the food wagons. Nearly all of the food was gone. Their food situation was already bad enough before, but now it was abysmal. An army marches on its stomach. If they can't find food soon, many soldiers will die of starvation.
After a few hours, the Whistlers came back empty-handed. Well, maybe not empty-handed because a team of three was annihilated not far from the camp. Luther cursed the three morons. Useless! How could they lose! He was so close. Even if the saboteurs revealed nothing, catching them would increase his fame. But the three morons not only failed, they were killed. Weaklings!
Luther's anger was interrupted when his squire informed him that General Sigurd called for an emergency meeting. Upon hearing his uncle's name, Luther subconsciously trembled. The physical abuse he suffered still haunted him. Also he was not unfamiliar with his uncle's temper. Some people are going to experience hell today, Luther thought.
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The sun started to rise and blanketed the earth with its warmth. The birds were already singing their songs and the daylight had already illuminated the land. A new and beautiful morning dawned.
But Sigurd's morning was the opposite of beautiful. It was dark, gloomy and maddening. His knuckles were itching to beat somebody to death. He wanted to rip the bodies of the seven sentries kneeling in front of him.
Sigurd roared. He roared as loud as he could. He released his anger with his shout. The sound of his voice was so frightening that the seven sentries trembled.
He then stood up and inched towards the sentries. His steps were heavy and his pace was slow. The seven idiots bowed in fear.
"You Morons!" he yelled. "Useless shits!"
Sigurd then grabbed the hair of one of the soldiers and forced the idiot to look at him. He yelled at the man's face. His voice was too loud and intimidating that the man closed his eyes and cowered.
"I'm sorry general!" the soldier pleaded
"Sorry? Can you bring back the burnt grain to its original edible form with your apology?" Sigurd was so angry. He kneed the man on the head. His knee hit the man's face like a hammer. It was so strong the soldier went limp immediately.
He then went to the second soldier and slapped his face. His palm was heavy and a painful sound resonated throughout the tent. Sigurd wasn't satisfied. He slapped the idiot again. It was a strong slap because Sigurd put all his strength into it. The soldier cried in pain. He repeated this dozens of times. In the end, the soldier was left clinging for dear life. His face was swollen.
Sigurd then stood up and went to the next soldier.
"General I think that's enough. We still need to plan our next move." An officer told him from behind. Sigurd turned his head. The officers were already seated around the table. Some of them refused to look at him while the others were staring at the sentries.
Sigurd looked back at the sentry. He felt his anger surge. He grabbed the sentry's tunic and dragged the bastard towards the table. Sigurd then made the sentry sit next to him.
"What's our situation?" He asked "How much food do we have left?"
The Quartermaster did not answer immediately. He must be afraid. "It it's not enough General" he stammered "The food will last a day at most. And that's if we make the soldiers eat burnt grains."
"But we can't survive with that!" a Prefect said "If the garrison of Knightsend really broke the siege all by themselves, then we will have no choice but to assault the castle."
A few days ago, a preposterous news started to spread in the camp. The garrison of Knightsend sallied forth and defeated the sieging army! The news was so unbelievable that many soldiers and even Sigurd doubted it at first. But after meeting one of the survivors, he confirmed the news. All of this happened while they were chasing Prince Timothy's army. This meant that their supply lines were broken. Sigurd had already sent a messenger to General Rickard informing him of this.
After hearing of the news, Sigurd abandoned his dream of killing the Prince and decided to retreat to Tulosa. Many of his soldiers will die of hunger, but he doesn't have a choice. Although Sigurd really wanted to kill the Prince, he was not a fool. They need to re-establish their supply lines first. General Rickard would probably also retreat. This was a huge setback on their plans but they really need to retreat and fix their supply lines.
But now that most of the food was gone, they had no choice but to assault Knightsend. Almost all of his soldiers will die if they insisted on marching back to Tulosa. They need the food stored at Knightsend.
"You heard that?" Sigurd looked at the sentry beside him. "We have no choice but to assault Knightsend because of your stupidity! Many of my soldiers will die! This is your fault! " he grabbed the sentry's head and smashed it on the table. The sentry immediately lost consciousness.
"General!" one of the officers shouted in surprise.
But Sigurd did not listen. He repeatedly pounded the sentry's head onto the table. His hand was bloodied by the act. After a while, the sentry's head was reduced to a pulp.
"I didn't call you here to discuss our next plans" Sigurd was panting from exertion. "The moment we lost most of our food, there was only one thing left to do and that's to assault Knightsend. Prince Timothy left us with no choice. I called you here because I wanted all of you to see the fate of the sentries. This is the punishment for failure so none of you should fail in the future. If you dare fail, you would suffer an even worse fate" he pointed at the dead sentry whose head was reduced to a pulp. "Prepare the men. We will march immediately." He commanded
The officers did not make a sound. They must have been surprised and scared by Sigurd's actions. After a while, they saluted in an unsynchronized manner and left the tent.
It will take at least an hour to fully mobilize the camp. Sigurd had an hour. He will spend that time with the remaining sentries. His knuckles were still itching.