Chapter 252: Wasted And Exhausted
"Commander! Here, eat!"
Inside the Dunmere military camp, long rows of tables were packed with food and drinks. A feast had been prepared to reward the soldiers returning from their mission into the steppe.
Everyone, especially Benjamin and his men, was eating like ravenous wolves. After hiding in the mountains and starving for three days, they had no interest in manners, grabbing food with both hands and stuffing themselves, even choking occasionally.
Benjamin was no exception. He clutched a chicken leg in one hand and a pork knuckle in the other, grease dripping from his mouth as he devoured the food.
"Old General, this campaign into the steppe was a great success. You and Lancelot both deserve much credit. I toast to you." Simon said, raising his cup.
Benjamin lifted his drink and replied. "My Lord is too kind. Defending against the steppe tribes is our duty."
Lancelot laughed. "That’s right! The nomads weren’t prepared at all. We roamed the grasslands like it was empty, we killed to our hearts’ content and feasted on meat every day!"
Simon chuckled and teased. "You never go hungry no matter where you are."
During this campaign, Benjamin and Lancelot had driven nearly ten thousand quality horses back to Dunmere.
Brambleford’s cavalry breeding program had been weak for years, and this new influx of horses would greatly improve it. After a few years of breeding, Brambleford would finally have its own supply of warhorses.
Although Simon was pushing the Eldorian Empire toward the gunpowder age, cavalry were still essential. After all, even in World War II, cavalry units were still used, so their value hadn’t faded yet.
Lancelot grinned. "Heh, but I nearly didn’t live to eat this meal."
"What happened?" Simon asked.
Before Lancelot could answer, Francis jumped in. "Lancelot saw a pretty nomad girl and hesitated for a moment. She almost took off his, uh, important parts with a blade!"
"You damn loudmouth!" Lancelot smacked Francis on the back of the head, making him grimace in pain.
"Serves you right!" Simon scolded. "The steppe tribes are brutal. They treat the Eldorian Empire people like livestock, even killing children for fun. You hesitate, but they’d gladly drink your blood and eat your flesh."
Lancelot nodded quickly. "Yes, My Lord. I’ve learned my lesson. Next time, no mercy. Thankfully I was wearing my breastplate; otherwise my, uh, manhood would’ve been gone. Though my thigh nearly didn’t make it."
For mobility, the cavalry had been equipped with lightweight plate armour, only about 20 pounds. While not as strong as heavy armour, it was still effective against slashing attacks.
And since their mission involved surprise raids, not open-field battles against mounted archers, this kind of full-body armour was especially useful in close combat.
What Lancelot said may have sounded light-hearted, but it was a reminder of how dangerous the campaign had been. If even a common nomad woman was that deadly, then fighting trained warriors would have been far worse.
If they’d been surrounded, these 2,000 men might never have come back.
At this moment, Benjamin put down his drink and asked. "My Lord, what’s our next move? If the steppe tribes can’t find us, I’m sure they’ll send a new army eventually."
Simon replied. "We pulled back this time to preserve our strength and wear them out. After searching for us so long, the nomads are tired, men and horses alike. Even if they want to attack again, they’ll need time to regroup."
He continued. "Just forming an army takes ten days, maybe half a month. That buys us a month to keep building the new city wall. By then, it’ll be five meters high, not so easy to break through. And once they come charging in, their rear will be left unguarded. That’s when you go back through the tunnel and raid their supply lines."
"Brilliant!" Benjamin nodded. "Strategy is best left to Your Highness and Aiden; I’ll handle the tactics. When the time comes, we’ll make the steppe bleed again."
Simon and Aiden shared a look, raised their cups, and said in unison. "Cheers!"
After rewarding the returning soldiers, construction on the new city wall resumed the next day. Benjamin, Lancelot, and their troops stayed in Dunmere to rest and recover, preparing for the next campaign.
Meanwhile, Simon personally led the slave labourers, working day and night. After another month, the first layer of the city wall was completed as planned.
At the same time, far out on the steppe, Clinton had completely lost his mind.
After half a month of searching with no results, he was on the verge of madness.
"Can anyone tell me where the hell those Eldorian Empire cavalry went?!" Clinton roared, kicking over the table inside his copper tent.
Meryln and Rowe stood silently nearby, pale and ashamed.
The entire Sunderland Tribe had been scouring the grasslands for signs of the Eldorian Empire cavalry, but found nothing. At the same time, no other tribes had been attacked either.
"Commander, I suspect they’ve already returned to Dunmere," Meryln said cautiously.
"Impossible!" Clinton snapped. "Our riders moved fast; there’s no way they all escaped."
Silence fell again. No one had an answer.
Then, one commander hesitated and said. "Some merchants claimed this Prince of Brambleford practices dark magic. Could it be..."
"Bullshit!" Clinton exploded. "Magic?! You expect me to explain this mess to Fern using fairy tales?"
He paced back and forth angrily, shouting. "Fern is already furious. He’s ordered us to destroy Dunmere’s new city wall immediately. We can’t waste more time on this! Summon the slave army!"
He glared at the commander before him, but no one moved.
Everyone was afraid to send troops. After witnessing what happened to the other tribes, no one wanted to be the next target.
"You want to see if my sabre’s still sharp?" Clinton said coldly, narrowing his eyes.
Faced with his rage, the commander had no choice but to return to their camps and begin preparing troops.
Back in Dunmere...
After sorting out the mares for breeding, the remaining 8,000 stallions were assigned to the military.
Over the next month, Benjamin and Lancelot expanded the Squad Divincox once again.
Their victory had inspired over 2,000 young men from West Ham to join.
With some downtime, Benjamin and Lancelot spent their days training these recruits.
At the Dunmere training ground, new riders galloped back and forth, practising slashing attacks against straw targets.
When Simon arrived, Lancelot beamed with pride. "My Lord, what do you think of these recruits?"
"They’ve got the basics." Simon nodded. "But they still lack real experience."
He observed the green riders struggle with their movements. The drills focused on close-combat slashing, something that didn’t help much against mounted archers.
But if they could be trained as lance cavalry, maybe they’d finally have a proper answer to the nomads’ deadly hit-and-run tactics.