Bear School Astartes

"Are all of you okay?"

Lann walked over from the front of the group, looking at the dwarves, Sachia, and a small part of the elves and half-elves in the team.

"Yeah, we didn’t lose anyone." Yalpan came out from a hug with Zoltan, looking at Lann with low spirits.

"Thanks to you running off to frolic with that female warlock, when the fire started, no one in the team could contain it."

"I know you’ve just been through a battle, almost lost friends, and you’re not feeling right now." Lann heard the sarcasm in Yalpan’s words and shook his head. "But I did have something very important at the time, Yalpan. Really important."

The dwarf’s lips, hidden under his lush beard, quivered twice before he finally sighed.

"I’m sorry, pal. I was really... too scared just now. I was terrified at the thought of seeing Dalberg’s mother’s eyes, trembling all over."

"It’s not your fault, Yalpan."

Lann patted his shoulder.

"Now, can you tell me what happened while I was away?"

The demon hunter swept his eyes around meaningfully, "This is all too coincidental."

"Nothing much to say. We’ve been expecting something like this, haven’t we?" Zoltan wiped his smoke-darkened face with his sleeve.

"The Squirrel Faction came for a raid, and then both sides had casualties. Then they quickly retreated again."

Even with his crest dyed black, Zoltan, having walked away from death’s door, remained optimistic and cheerful.

He shrugged: "But their raid was indeed swift and clean this time, leaving us no time to react."

No one refuted Zoltan’s summary.

Everyone leaned against the wreckage of a carriage, or simply sat on the ground, some dressing wounds, or quickly gulping water and eating dry rations for their smoke-choked throats.

Fighting is the most exhausting exercise.

But it also meant that he wasn’t wrong in general.

Yet Lann sharply sensed something was amiss.

He tilted his head: "You mean... those Squirrel Faction came suddenly and withdrew just as suddenly? Leaving only dozens of bodies behind?"

"That’s it." Yalpan said, hands still tugging on an unburned canvas, calling other dwarves to sort things out.

"But this isn’t right."

"What’s not right?" Zoltan headed over to help Yalpan, nonchalantly speaking as he passed by Lann’s leg, "Guerrilla tactics, after all, are about a sudden attack, swift in and swift out?"

"Sudden attack, swift in and swift out. That’s a fair summary for guerrillas." Lann crouched, his hand caressing the blade marks on a carriage’s remnants. "But that’s not the Squirrel Faction’s strategy."

"Huh?"

Zoltan looked bewildered.

"The Squirrel Faction is sparse in numbers, yet needs to inflict damage on a large number of humans. Each of their raids is very precious, in other words, each attack is planned to achieve the maximum outcome."

Lann’s fingers tapped on the already shattered wheel.

"They can’t operate like normal guerrillas, disrupting the enemy through constant harassment. Instead, they aim to achieve victory through a single, well-prepared strike. Otherwise, their limited numbers can’t sustain the operation."

"But this time? They clearly launched a hasty attack without much reconnaissance and planning."

At this point, the dwarves who had been busying themselves gradually paused, a bit dazedly savoring Lann’s explanation.

Yalpan and Zoltan exchanged a look and each scratched their heads.

It seems... that’s how it is?

They were dwarves who had spent considerable time among the human world. In these turbulent times, small countries never know when a guerrilla force might pop up again.

Or simply military-trained professional officers, organizing a group of deserters into bandits, mobs.

Basically, it’s the guerrilla model they recognized.

They had encountered Squirrel Faction raids before too, and on the surface, the style wasn’t all that different.

Yet now Lann was seeing a layer deeper, pointing directly at the differences between the Squirrel Faction’s guerrilla style and other guerrillas or bandits.

Those who’ve seen the world can sense it after a reminder.

The group of dwarves with Yalpan had seen the world.

"Now that you mention it..." Zoltan wiped his face, his sleeve stained black with soot, "It does seem that way!"

"Then why," Yalpan scratched his beard, "did those Squirrel Faction, defy their usual tactical habits, for what?"

"Yeah, why? This isn’t the Squirrel Faction’s combat style; it’s not about achieving maximum results in one hit, but rather like..."

Lann spoke, looking at the broken wheel in front of him.

The wheel would have been attached to a carriage, but now surveying the scene, the wreckage of carriages was countless.

The military gear, bread, dried vegetables, cheese, and water bags originally loaded on them were scattered everywhere.

"Rather like they wanted to delay time!"

Delaying time... The Squirrel Faction, which should have sought swift resolution, began to delay time.

This information, once extracted by Lann, immediately integrated into the chain of information Mentos had been constructing in his mind.

Suddenly, Lann’s eyes under the hood widened as if he had understood something.

He reached out to flip over the broken wheel in front of him because on the other side of the wooden wheel spoke... was embedded an arrow from the Squirrel Faction.

At that moment, Triss, who had been aiding Buchet with temporary pain relief through magic, also came jogging over, holding a broken arrow covered in blood and fresh muscle fibers.

"You definitely don’t know what I’ve discovered!"

She said while approaching Lann, still extending her hand with the broken arrow.

"I think I already know," Lann calmly said, simultaneously reaching out to pull the arrow embedded in the wheel spoke.

The bloody, fleshy arrowhead in Triss’s hand approached Lann’s face, and the two arrows were placed together.

The trihedral arrowhead had a fine needle sprung open at each edge.

.... Exactly the same as the arrowheads they found in that area!

In an instant, although there were still many things unclear, the information Mentos gathered was enough to form a chain of information.

Lann stood up abruptly, heading towards the more chaotic rear where more logistical personnel gathered, behind the vanguard team.

"Hey, where are you going, mate?" Zoltan called from behind, "It’s busy back here too!"

"He’s going to save your lives!" Triss shook her head at the dwarves and quickly followed him.

The urgency evidently established a master-servant relationship between them.

The dwarves, along with Sachia and other members of the vanguard reconnaissance team, raised their eyebrows and blinked in surprise watching this scene.

After all, this situation now appeared... somewhat different from the ambiguous illusions they had previously encountered.

"Uh, Sachia." Yalpan sidled up to the female warrior who had been fighting alongside him and nudged her hand, asking, "I vaguely sense his identity is not simple, but to have even the proud female warlock behave like this..."

Yalpan’s beard-filled face seemed a bit contorted, indicating he had interacted with the group of female warlocks before and knew their character traits well.

"You have the longest contact with him, don’t you have...," the dwarf discreetly rubbed his fingers together, "any gossip?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Yalpan," Sachia frowned, looking at the backs of Lann and Triss, "I don’t even know his name yet."

-----------------

Walking all the way towards the rear convoy.

Yalpan was right; the Squirrel Faction seemed well-prepared, their attack on the rear convoy was fiercer than the vanguard.

However, this method that emphasized destroying vehicles and supplies further confirmed Lann’s suspicions.

Along the way, Seward’s soldiers or attendants showed surprise at Triss following Lann.

On the other hand, they also looked at the two with exclusion and disdain.

After all, Triss had previously agreed to be sent by Veltrest as magical assistance and royal messenger, honored by Seward.

But now, during the Squirrel Faction’s attack, no one saw any display from the rumored ’significant and powerful’ female warlock.

In fact, many did not see her at all.

So the already displeased people’s attitude worsened significantly.

"Look who’s here?" As they reached the center of the convoy, amidst chaos and debris, Knight Thales spoke with a displeased expression.

His blood-red cloak bore scorched black marks, and his armor was stained with blood.

"Supposedly offering us magical assistance, yet during the attack, we neither saw fires suppressed nor livestock and animals soothed!"

"Have your wicked and filthy witchcraft been completely forgotten while indulging in pleasure with this man?"

A circle of White Rose Knights surrounded Duke Seward, an older man whose face showed fatigue and blackened marks at this moment.

Usually, he might ’restrain’ the disrespect of the knights who believed in the Eternal Fire towards the royal advisor at the appropriate time.

But today, he also seemed disgruntled, leading him to coldly watch this scene, not bothering with the act of turning his head as if he hadn’t seen them.

Yet now and here, Triss undoubtedly did not want to engage in prevarications with the prominent duke of the Temeria within the country.

After all, the person in charge had changed.

Turning a hostile eye towards the witch, Knight Thales, in the blink of an eye, found a tall figure blocking his entire view.

Under the hood, a pair of slightly glowing cat-like eyes gazed down at him.

"I must immediately discuss some matters with Duke Seward, please step aside."

Lann said calmly.

Thales looked at Lann’s cat-like eyes with some surprise but still didn’t take it too seriously.

"It’s Prince Seward!" He emphasized, "And do you really think that having slept with an evil magic user a few times entitles you to the honor of meeting the prince?"

"Do you think everyone will give you respect because of that devil’s power? Then you’re mistaken, servant of a bitch!"

Lann’s expression remained unchanged.

He merely nodded to indicate he understood Thales’s meaning and glanced at Seward trapped in the circle, realizing he didn’t intend to intervene.

Then, the Demon Hunter softly said.

"Kill five first."