Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 586 - 357: Loyalty!_2

Alvin looked back in bewilderment; the lance in his hand lost its support at that moment, its tip touching the ground.

Even the Baron, who had experienced numerous battlefields, was shocked by this scene.

He had killed peasants who took up farming tools to rebel because they couldn't pay taxes for various reasons. However, those people would usually rout after only a few were killed, their formations easily broken.

But now, not a single one of them had fled! 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

When the two sides clashed, his fully armed Cavalry had failed to disperse them immediately and had almost gotten trapped.

He had only felt such determination from those Barbarian Battalions, who fought fearlessly for the survival of their tribes. What were these people fighting for?

Could it really be for a Lord who had long abandoned them?

The Baron didn't know what to say. He looked at the gruesome battlefield, unable to calm himself for a long time.

What on earth had happened to this land?

"My lord, five have died. Most were dragged down from their horses."

A soldier's call brought the Baron back to his senses. Only then did he notice a few riderless horses on the battlefield, along with some men lying on the ground, barely breathing.

"Quick, tend to the wounded! Clear the battlefield!" the Baron ordered, setting aside his emotions to take control.

The Commander of this unit was Alvin. So why were the soldiers reporting to the Baron first?

While the Baron's prestige was a factor, it was more because no soldier wanted to provoke Alvin, whose anger had yet to subside.

If they reported the casualties to him, they would probably get a beating.

The Baron turned to look at Alvin. His Armor was smeared with blood, and an unsettling aura radiated from him. The Baron felt somewhat helpless.

But he still chose to approach, as this unpleasant task could only be done by him.

"Lord Alvin, we..."

As expected, upon hearing about the troop's losses, Alvin's anger almost burst through his Armor.

"Damn it! We didn't suffer this much even when fighting those Barbarians."

Indeed, when they charged the Barbarians, they had only lost three men to the Warwolves. Now they had lost five to a few peasants?

How many small towns were there in Hamlet? If all of them resisted like this, his men would be wiped out before they even reached Hamlet Town.

Given his already sour mood, it was no wonder Alvin was furious.

"It's different this time," the Baron said. "Those Barbarians' weapons rarely penetrate Armor, and we had the numerical advantage. Besides, they don't like to form formations. But this time, no one expected these people to be so fearless. With their numerical advantage, they would rather use their bodies to block us than retreat. Considering our strength, these losses are already minimal."

Alvin was not ignorant about warfare. The slaughter had vented his rage, and once the residual anger subsided, he calmed down.

"What on earth did the Lord of Hamlet do to make them so utterly devoted?" Alvin's words revealed a sense of powerlessness as he instinctively sought his mentor's help. "Teacher, what should we do now?"

Alvin's helplessness mirrored the Baron's own.

Damn it, ever since entering the Hamlet Region, everything had seemed off.

The reality was completely different from what he had expected. He even began to suspect the person who gathered their intelligence had been bribed to provide false information.

Wasn't it said that the Lord of Hamlet had already lost control of his territory?

Why the hell would they dare attack the Nobility's armed forces with farm implements?

Such loyalty! Not even the commoners of Bastia could match it.

And they called this losing control?

But they had reached a point of no return. Even if the path ahead led to death, they had to press on.

The Baron, after all, had grown up amidst battle, and this setback was nothing to him. He quickly steadied his emotions and began planning their next move.

"The situation in Hamlet is more complicated than we imagined," the Baron said. "It's not just a problem with the evil cult anymore. The local Lord's control over this place is perhaps stronger than we thought. If the other towns and villages maintain this determination, it will pose a great danger to our efforts to gain control."

"We've got to hit them hard!" Alvin said fiercely, clenching his fists.

This attitude showed he was a true hardliner, allowing no compromise.

However, the Baron was no longer a young man. Leading an army required strategy, not just brute force, so he was more inclined to consider their interests.

"No, we can't afford to wear ourselves out. The main issue is still that Lord. With our small numbers, can we really take Hamlet? Remember, there are nearly a thousand people there. If they all resist like this, then we..."

The Baron decisively proposed a ruthless solution—calling for reinforcements.

"I think we should report the current situation to the Earl and request another detachment of troops. Then, taking Hamlet Town will be easy," he suggested.

"No way!" Alvin immediately rejected the idea. Wouldn't that be the same as telling his father he was incompetent, effectively a slap in his own face?

Young men are often rebellious. Having finally seized an opportunity to prove himself, Alvin would not allow it. It was a matter of principle for him.

The Baron also felt somewhat helpless. Men like him, of common birth, had no powerful connections to call upon, while Alvin, born with such connections, refused to use them.

Setting aside his complaints, the Baron still needed to think of his own position. Indeed, if he truly asked Bastia for help, his own capabilities would likely be questioned.

"We're left with only one choice now: keep a close watch on the Barbarians' movements. If they really attack Hamlet, we'll have our chance. If not, then we must force them to attack. Perhaps by disguising ourselves as Hamlet soldiers and attacking the Barbarians, or..."

The Baron was indeed desperately hoping the Barbarians would attack Hamlet, as that would give them a chance to capitalize on the situation.

Hearing the Baron's words, Alvin likely realized they had to abandon their previous decision to spread information, as it might genuinely lead to someone coming to Hamlet's rescue.

"We have no choice now but to head to the vicinity of Hamlet and wait for news from the Eagle Flock before deciding our next move," Alvin agreed.

The once-spirited detachment of Cavalry quickly cleared the battlefield and withdrew. Though they had defeated the enemy, their mood was as low as if they themselves had been vanquished.

The pressure these enemies had put on them was immense. They had never expected farmers wielding pitchforks to unleash such power and were utterly shocked.

Alvin's state was much the same. Although the battle was a superficial victory, the failure of his original plan meant a strategic defeat for him. The troop's morale was also affected by him, their Commander.

Failure tested one's heart, mind, and physical endurance.

Now, it remained to be seen if he could learn from this lesson and grow from the failure.

The troop moved away from the battlefield and, guided by a Map, took the old road.

For a mobile unit like the Cavalry, their advantages were best utilized on vast plains or flat roads.

This old road, although long in disrepair, was still a legacy of Hamlet's past.

For them, it was a relief to finally be off the difficult wilderness trails.

Due to Hamlet's policy of accepting refugees, news spread by traveling merchant caravans, many refugees could now be seen journeying along this old road.

Whether their families had been shattered by war or they were fleeing battlefields, they all sought a glimmer of hope in this harsh world.

Some refugees, hearing the commotion, looked back and saw the approaching cavalrymen. Even if they harbored any dissatisfaction, they dared not voice it, quickly moving aside to avoid trouble.

However, not everyone could react in time. One group struggling along the old road failed to notice the approaching danger.

Illness had dulled most of their senses; they could neither hear nor see what approached from behind.

Only when the Cavalry drew close did they realize what was happening, but their weak legs and heavy carts prevented them from clearing the road quickly.

The person pulling the cart showed no intention of changing course, continuing to plod along like an old ox, hauling the worn-out cart, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around him.