Chapter Fifty-Eight: Enemy Assault

As evening fell, Shaya and Kevin set out with a squad of light cavalry scouts. The Thirteenth Cavalry Regiment, at full strength, numbered twelve thousand men, but only eight thousand were direct combat troops. The remaining four thousand belonged to auxiliary branches: supply, logistics, retinue battalions, foot soldier guards, and even a temporarily conscripted labor corps. After all, cavalry might be the king of land warfare, but it was also an expensive and delicate arm. The horses required feeding and care, the regiment needed veterinarians, blacksmiths, and quartermasters for weapon repairs, and the logistics corps was responsible for transporting supplies, among many other tasks.

The eight thousand combat troops were divided into four standard banners, each banner comprising two thousand men. In addition, there was an independent light cavalry scout detachment of around two hundred men.

The search and reconnaissance operation was entrusted to a single squad from this detachment: eighteen scout riders, accompanied by Shaya and Kevin.

This was Shaya’s first time marching with the army; he had only spent half a day at the camp before, not enough to observe the force closely. Now, riding beside these scouts, he couldn't help but compare them to the mercenaries he’d seen in Wildfire Town. Though only light cavalry, each scout displayed superb riding skills—had they not been restraining their pace, Shaya would soon have been left in their dust. Moreover, each man exuded a formidable, indescribable ferocity... like wolves.

Yes, they were like a pack of wolves: silent, fierce, eyes radiating a steely resolve. Though they treated Shaya with courtesy, he sensed that they hadn’t truly accepted him—their friendliness was a mask, maintaining a polite distance.

Kevin, though a member of the general’s personal guard, strictly obeyed the orders of the scout squad's captain, enjoying no special privileges due to his status.

They rode north, pressing through the corridor of the Albakht Plain, advancing almost a hundred miles, weaving back and forth in a serpentine pattern for their reconnaissance, a journey that took two days.

Little by little, Shaya grew familiar with his companions. As time passed, his wealth of survival experience and natural hunting instincts became evident, especially when it came to reading subtle traces—he could deduce possible clues from even the faintest marks. Gradually, the scouts’ gazes toward him softened.

During rest breaks, Shaya sat with the cavalry, gnawing on dry, cold hardtack and drinking icy water.

In two days, they had scouted an area a hundred miles deep, fanning out northward from the camp as their base. Though the cavalry were weary, not a trace of resolve had faded from their faces; their eyes still shone with keen, sharp vigor. Shaya’s robust physique and stamina also began to earn Kevin’s genuine respect.

Shaya had never experienced life within such a group before. Outwardly honest and rustic, his unpretentious nature unexpectedly suited the soldiers’ taste. He never considered it shameful to seek advice, eagerly learning horsemanship from the cavalry. Thanks to his exceptional strength—which he mostly used to force the horse into submission—his riding skills improved noticeably over the two days.

Only Kevin seemed a little resigned: seeing his own spare horse subdued and exhausted under Shaya’s brute handling, all he could do was sigh.

On the third day, they reached a woodland—not large, but dense. The cavalry circled its perimeter and, finding nothing suspicious, decided to rest briefly before heading back.

“Don’t you find this a bit dull?” the scout captain asked Shaya with a smile as they rested. This man was a veteran of over seven years’ service in the Thirteenth Cavalry Regiment. He had transferred here from another unit and put down roots. Promotion in such an elite force was difficult, and being of common birth with no connections, not even the just General Adrick could help him—for the army followed its own promotion protocols.

With his experience, the captain could easily have transferred to a regular unit and risen through the ranks, but he had repeatedly refused such orders, preferring to “cling” to this regiment. Amusingly, his son had also joined the Thirteenth Cavalry.

According to Kevin, many in the Thirteenth shared similar stories.

“Why do you ask?” Shaya looked at the captain with curiosity. Over the past days, he’d found the man to be warm-hearted and sincerely devoted to his comrades. He was a sturdy, middle-aged fellow, his face bronzed and weathered by sun and wind, with deep crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. Though only forty, he looked nearly fifty.

“We’ve been riding for two days and found nothing. You must think this assignment is dull,” the captain laughed, glancing at the resting cavalrymen.

Shaya considered the question, drew a breath, and replied solemnly, “I don’t think so. The value of scouts isn’t only in uncovering problems.”

“Oh?” The captain had only asked casually, but was intrigued by this rookie’s answer. “What makes you say that?”

Shaya recalled some notes he’d read back home about the uses of scouts in warfare. After a moment, he smiled and said, “I’m not an expert, but... While discovering problems is important, if you find nothing amiss, that itself is valuable intelligence. At the very least, you can inform the commander that this area is ‘clean.’ That is useful information in itself. So it would be wrong to assume there’s no merit just because nothing was found.”

The captain narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Kevin, who had been busy with his own tasks nearby, couldn’t help but glance over in curiosity. “Have you studied these things before?”

Shaya shook his head and hesitated. “I read about it in some books...”

A delighted grin spread across the captain’s face. He gave Shaya a hearty pat and turned to Kevin. “Hey! Baldy, this rookie’s new, isn’t he? Can you ask the general to let me have him in my squad? These days, every recruit wants to be a heavy cavalryman and charge the front lines—hardly anyone has the patience to be a scout.”

Kevin grinned. “That’s for you to discuss with the general.”

He bent his head again to his work. Shaya sat beside him, watching curiously. Kevin was holding a piece of sheepskin covered in dense writing done with a charcoal stick, and was carefully scraping off the lettering with a small knife.

“What are you doing?” Shaya asked.

“Writing a letter,” Kevin replied without looking up. “We soldiers can’t afford paper, and it gets damaged too easily. So we use sheepskin and charcoal. After the letter’s been read, the writing can be scraped off and the skin reused.”

The bald man looked up. “Never used something like this?”

Shaya froze, a strange feeling rising inside him. He opened his mouth. “I... I’ve never written a letter. There’s no one to write to.”

As he spoke, a sense of indescribable loneliness welled up within him. Writing letters... you wrote letters only when you had family. As for me...

Well, after the old man died, I was alone.

For some reason, as he thought this, the pitiful face of that wretch flashed before his eyes...

Shaya started, goosebumps prickling his skin. He hurriedly slapped his arms and spat.

Damn it, have I spent so much time with that Ox fellow that I’ve caught the goblin’s taste for men?

He shook his head vigorously to dispel the dreadful thought.

Just then, Kevin’s voice reached him. The man’s eyes were shining, and on his usually fierce face there was a surprisingly tender, almost comical expression. “This is a letter from my wife. Hah! I’ve got a wife, you know. Her name is Yulia—let me tell you, she’s a purebred Roderian! Surprised? Pure Roderians are incredibly rare in the Empire these days. Hmph, and I managed to marry one! I served in the Roderian Cavalry, my wife is Roderian, and I’m the only one in the whole regiment!”

Talking about his wife, this usually taciturn fellow suddenly became much more talkative...

Watching his proud expression, Shaya sighed.

Having a wife must be nice! Damn, it’s unfair—here I am, Shaya, still a...

“Your wife must be very beautiful,” Shaya said with heartfelt envy, inexperienced as he was.

“Of course! She’s the goddess of my heart.” The big lunk grinned, looking at Shaya with growing fondness. “She makes the best roast ribs. Someday, you’ll have to come to my home and try her cooking! You’re a good fellow—we’ll be great friends, I’m sure.”

Ah, poor fool—if he knew what Shaya considered “beautiful,” their friendship would probably end in a duel the moment it began.

***

A little anecdote: many years later, after Shaya had achieved fame and honor, his peculiar sense of beauty became a favorite topic for good-natured banter across the continent. The phrase “King Shaya says your wife (or daughter) is beautiful” became a notorious catchphrase—considered an insult and widely circulated.

This saying became so famous it stood alongside the world-renowned joke, “XXX, your mother is calling you home for dinner.” The two sayings echoed across the land...

***

While the scouts rested, three soldiers chosen for vigilance were already lurking atop the three trees with the best vantage points. On the far right, a young horseman in thick leather armor sat awkwardly astride a branch—the rough leather had chafed his thighs raw after days in the saddle. Yet his eyes remained sharp; he was the squad’s finest archer, and the best archer always had the keenest sight.

He swept his gaze warily over distant points, scanning key positions. Relieved to see nothing, he kept his eyes on the horizon and, carefully concealing himself behind the foliage, loosened his water skin from his belt and unscrewed the cap.

The moment he raised the skin to drink, his gaze finally drifted from the distance—just for that brief instant as he tilted his head back...

Thwip! An arrow, silent as a serpent’s strike from the void, shot forth—swift, deadly, and utterly soundless—burying itself in his throat!

The arrow pierced the water skin in his hand and drove deep into his neck! In that split second, his eyes widened in unwilling terror, his hand twitched, and he toppled headlong from the tree!

The scouts on the ground were instantly roused! And in the next moment, a dozen shadowy figures, swift and dark, burst from the woods!

“Ambush!”