Tuku and his comrades rose from their saddles, their hands grasping the reins with grim determination. They lashed their steeds furiously, urging them into a gallop, each strike of the whip a wish to the blood and flesh from the enemies.
Now, they cared not for the sentries who might spy them, for fifty meters was naught but a mere blink of an eye for a charging rider.
Indeed, it was but a fleeting moment—Tuku and his band, swift as shadows, arrived in an instant!
Among the soldiers of Count William, two sentries, tasked with the long watch, stifled yawns as they scanned the darkened expanse before them. A strange sound pierced the stillness—something was amiss.
Then, they beheld it—the deadly swing of Tuku's knightly sword!
With a sickening thud, a head soared through the air, blood spraying in a crimson arc, as if the very air recoiled from the brutal act.
One swift strike ended the life of his foe. Without hesitation, Tuku spurred his steed onward, crashing into the camp with terrifying force, unopposed by any barricade or trench, his path of destruction unfolding in chaotic fury.
Behind Tuku rode Hughes, his longsword flashing in the dim light. With a single thrust, he pierced the still-beating heart of the second sentry, dispatching him with ruthless efficiency, before urging the rest of the First Guard to follow suit into the fray.
Fat Philip swung his chained mace with savage joy, his eyes burning crimson as if the very blood within him had been awakened by the carnage. Old Matt drew his blade with a grace that belied his age, joining the others in their merciless slaughter... and the creation of chaos.
First, panic spread through one corner of the camp, but as Tuku and his force drove into the heart of the camp, emerging from the opposite corner, terror swiftly engulfed nearly half of the encampment.
Hundreds of men, bewildered and disoriented, had no clue as to what was unfolding. All they knew was that a band of unknown assailants was cutting a bloody path through the camp, and none could stop them.
Within his tent, Count William's brow furrowed as he received word of the attack. Ignoring the protests of his guards, he flung open the tent flap and strode out to assess the situation.
And there, by fate's cruel design, he encountered Tuku and his band, returning with their mission far from complete.
According to their plan, once Tuku's forces had pierced the camp's defenses, they were to retreat, having fulfilled their task.
Yet, as they surged forth from the camp's edge, Tuku found himself unsatisfied. The panic was not as widespread as he had hoped.
This was due to their overwhelming speed—many had perished before they even had a chance to react, and thus, the panic that followed was less potent than expected.
Furrowing his brow in thought, Tuku clenched his teeth in resolve. "Once more," he muttered under his breath, a decision made.
Before, they had driven a spear through the camp from the northeast to the southwest. This time, to ensure the greatest effect, Tuku led his men in a wide arc, coming around to strike at the northwest corner.
As they charged into the camp's heart, fate brought them face to face with Count William.
Though Tuku did not know the man before him, the sight of Count William surrounded by his guards told him all he needed to know: this man was no ordinary noble.
More importantly, Tuku spotted the figure beside the Count—Edward. Though Tuku did not know him by name, the resemblance to Richard was unmistakable, and in that instant, he knew who he was.
In that fleeting moment, Tuku's blood surged with passion; he longed to rush forward, to let loose with unrestrained violence.
But, just as his instincts cried out for action, the calm voice of Hughes stopped him. "Tuku, do not be rash. Remember our task."
"Task!" Tuku snapped to attention, his mind clearing in an instant.
He remembered the lessons of the past—those of his comrades who, in their eagerness to prove themselves, had ignored Richard's true intent, leading to their untimely demise. They had acted on impulse, and the result had been fatal.
"Do not be clever," Tuku muttered to himself, and in the next moment, he twisted the reins, leading his force swiftly past William, barely a dozen paces from him, toward the last untouched corner of the camp.
Minutes later, Tuku and his men emerged from the camp, having completed their mission. Looking back at the chaos they had wrought—shouts and flames lighting the night sky—he knew they had succeeded. With a satisfied nod, Tuku led his band into the darkness. In that darkened void, Richard awaited him, ready to assign the next task.
Meanwhile, within the tumultuous camp, Count William's gaze darkened, and after a long pause, he let out a cold laugh. "Hmph, I hath warned thee to remain vigilant by day, and thou hast lamented of weariness. Now, there's no need for lamentations—thou mayest go straightway to thy graves!"
The surrounding guards, several knights, and Edward dared not speak, heads bowed in silence.
The silence was broken by Count William, his tone harsh with frustration. "What dost thou await? Go, restore order, control the chaos, and establish barriers to prevent another assault!"
"But…" A few knights glanced at the Count, hesitant to speak. "But, my lord, if we leave to handle the situation, who will ensure your safety?"
"Fear not for me," Count William snapped angrily. "Those knaves dared not lay a finger upon me ere now, and they shall not do so now. 'Tis thou, who remainest here and doest naught, that putteth me in peril. If the soldiers become disoriented and rush forth, I shall be their mark. Then, wilt thou be content?"
"Of course not."
"Then go, swiftly!" William commanded, his voice laced with anger.
"Yes, yes, my lord." The guards and knights scattered, leaving only Edward behind.
Count William's expression softened slightly, and he turned to Edward, his voice tinged with a weight of concern. "Edward, perchance... we did misjudge thy brother. He is no mere foe. Henceforth, we must be wary—truly wary—lest we meet our doom ere we even confront him."
"Uh…" Edward gave a somewhat puzzled expression. In truth, his mind was less focused on the situation than on his own thoughts, which simmered with impatience.
"Enough, go assist with the tumult. I can trust not those fools." William spoke again, his voice sharp.
"Hm? Ah, yes, of course." Edward blinked, surprised at first, but quickly understanding the order. He didn't hesitate to obey and rushed into the midst of the chaos to calm the soldiers.
As he did so, a snide thought crossed Edward's mind: Hmph, I am to be a future baron! Though you are a count, you have no right to command me like this! Ordering me around as if I were your servant… what, when I become a baron, will I be your puppet as well? Damn it!
Though his thoughts were filled with disdain, Edward still dutifully worked to calm the soldiers. After all, he wasn't a baron yet...
Busy, busy...
By the time the chaos was somewhat quelled, it was well into the night. But when morning came, and the casualties were tallied, Count William's anger had not abated—it burned brighter than ever.
The night raid had claimed only twenty lives, which was not overly concerning. But the injuries... over a hundred men wounded, nearly a quarter of the entire force—that was a grave matter!
And the worst part? The injuries had not been caused by the attack itself. No, those who encountered Tuku's soldiers rarely lived to tell the tale. The injuries were a result of panic—soldiers trampled and crushed in the chaos.
After further confirming the number of raiders—only ten men—Count William was seething with rage.
"Only ten?!" William roared. "And they've turned the camp into this? What would have happened if thirty had come? Would I have been captured?!"
As he raged, a regretful thought gnawed at him: If I had known that only ten men had attacked, those ten… I would have done whatever it took to capture them, no matter the cost.
Alas...
William gritted his teeth in frustration before making a decision. "Bury the dead where they lie, treat the wounded, and those who are lightly injured will march with us. Prepare to assault the Black Castle. We have come this far—there's no turning back now."
"Yes, my lord."
And so, the force set off again, carrying with them the weight of defeat, but determined to press forward.