Chapter 122: Expedition

The Church’s warriors set out, with a special squad escorting a massive cross upon which perched several White Doves.

They brought no logistical personnel, only enough food on each person to last three days.

During the grand Blessing ceremony before the expedition, the Local Gentry had tacitly come to observe. Naturally, they noticed the Church’s preparations and shook their heads in disbelief.

Who goes to war without bringing logistical militia, and even hauls along such a heavy cross?

Even if the strategy was to fight while foraging, it still required logistical militia for transport.

Nonetheless, they merely watched, waiting to hear the news of these warriors later.

Marl understood that such a march had issues. Even though he had not formally received military training, he knew that besides manpower, the most crucial aspect of warfare was logistical supply.

However, since this was arranged by the Bishop, he could only suppress his doubts and lead the warriors forward.

They passed through the northern villages and entered the Marquis’s Territory before nightfall.

When they followed the map to locate the first village, Marl understood the Bishop’s reasoning behind the arrangement.

It was a village that had been attacked by Werewolves. All living people had been killed, leaving behind only over thirty disoriented Werewolves wandering and hiding within the village.

Marl could discern from their disordered state that these Werewolves were formerly the villagers, now Transformed.

Yet the number of Werewolves here suggested that they should have been following an Upper-Ranked Werewolf. Ordinary Lower Warriors could not control this many Transformed Werewolves.

Nevertheless, Marl did not dwell on it. The Transformed Werewolves, despite their numerical inferiority, charged straight at their group.

They did not retreat. Instead, he ordered the warriors to form a battle line and wait for the Werewolves to break upon it.

They were only disorganized Transformed Werewolves. Before their transformation, they had merely been commoners. Compared to these warriors who had trained together for nearly two months, there was a fundamental gap.

They didn’t even break through the defensive line formed by spears before being skewered into clusters.

These Werewolves, however, remained vigorous. Even while impaled, they thrashed and snarled, still requiring the warriors to finish them off.

After clearing the Werewolves, Marl searched the village but found no survivors. In the Manor now turned into a Wolf’s Den, he discovered a large amount of food.

Werewolves were not human. They were purely carnivorous beings, uninterested in human wheat or flour.

Though this seemed to resolve the issue of food, Marl was not pleased.

The situation here was graver than he had imagined.

It was the third day after Marl entered the Marquis’s Territory.

George and Julian returned to the Lord’s Castle with the expeditionary force.

Among their ranks trailed a somewhat battered carriage, inside which sat a Baron they had rescued in this campaign.

“I’ve received some troubling news,” said Knight Julian as he rode closer to George on his warhorse.

He wore heavy armor and lifted the visor of his helmet, revealing a sweat-slicked face.

His steed was clad in Thickened Cotton Cloth. After all, the temperature in the Marquis’s Territory wasn’t as high as in Greenwood, or the horse would have suffocated under it.

“The Werewolves in the east have gathered and established their own nation,” Julian said, looking at George.

“A nation of Werewolves?” George frowned.

George also wore Iron Armor, a gift from Belair.

His helmet hung from his horse, for during the march, it was stifling to wear it.

A White Dove perched on his shoulder, peering around curiously and occasionally preening its wings.

“Yes. Led by the Chieftain of their tribe, the Werewolves have formed a nation,” Julian nodded.

“They’ve taken over the center of the territory and are now calling back the Werewolves scattered throughout the Marquis’s Territory. Only a few Transformed Werewolves still roam, seemingly abandoned by them.”

“That’s troublesome,” George replied.

“Yes, very troublesome. Do you know? That Werewolf even sent a messenger to the Lord’s Fortress, seeking to form an alliance,” Julian said, a sneer on his face.

“The Lord surely refused,” George said.

“Yes, the Lord refused and even attacked them. If Knight Bedi hadn’t reacted a bit too slowly, the Upper-Ranked Werewolf leading them could have been slain on the spot,” Julian shook his head.

“Upper-Ranked Werewolf… there were fewer than forty Werewolves in this invasion.”

“Is communication restored now?” George asked, noting the number.

“Yes, the Rat Path proactively contacted the Lord and sold the information,” Julian nodded.

“Their information network has been restored, and the Lord took the opportunity to inquire about the Marquis as well.”

“But those people actually demanded three thousand gold coins.”

“This message is that expensive?” George was a bit surprised.

Information from the Rat Path had always proven to be worth the price.

Three thousand gold coins, and it wasn’t even exclusive—clearly, this message was highly rated by the Rat Path.

“Yes, it is expensive, but the Lord still paid the amount. Moreover, the message received was indeed worth that price,” Julian said.

“What was the message?” George looked at Julian. “If it’s inconvenient, just pretend I didn’t ask.”

“No, it’s not inconvenient. In a few days, you’ll know anyway,” Julian said, then took a deep breath in silence.

“The Marquis is dead,” he finally said.

“The Marquis is dead?” George was shocked by the news.

This information was well worth the three thousand gold coins.

“Yes, the Marquis died in the succession battle in Greenwood City,” Julian said.

“That’s truly a sorrowful message.” George turned and looked at the White Dove.

“Indeed, a sorrowful message, but also one that makes the lord happy,” Julian said with a trace of mockery in his tone.

George gave no reply.

“Of course he’s pleased. With the Marquis dead, this place descends completely into chaos and disorder.”

“It means the entire Marquis’s Territory can now accommodate his ambition.”

“It means he no longer needs to worry about his father and elder brother returning to strip him of his title.”

“That’s why the Lord sent word for me to quickly lead the warriors and clear out the western part of the Marquis’s Territory, to fully bring it under his control.”

“And the Wolf King, as if in tacit agreement with the Lord, is plundering and consuming the eastern part of the Marquis’s Territory.”

“The lord, lacking sufficient knights and warriors, must swiftly consolidate the domain and its resources. As for those Werewolves, their numbers are too small to fully control such a vast territory.”

Having said this, Knight Julian looked at George.

“So, the Wolf Catastrophe here has already subsided. What remains are those inferior Transformed Werewolves, who just need to be cleared out step by step.”

“Then, Sir George, are you still willing to work alongside me?” Julian asked.

During this time, Knight Julian had often discussed matters regarding the Lord, nobles, and Local Gentry with George—topics deeply tied to politics—so George could understand Julian’s meaning.

Although Belair had not formed an alliance with the Wolf King, both sides clearly understood each other’s intentions and had reached a sort of tacit agreement.

To digest and secure their respective territories and fully solidify their power.

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