Our Family Has Fallen

The Baron recounted to Alvin how he had witnessed Bastia’s development to its current state and also clarified the historical origins of the surrounding areas.

For the common folk who could never venture beyond their villages, such information seemed exceedingly remote, even inconceivable.

But for Alvin, at last, he felt he was receiving the treatment of a Big Brother, being exposed to these affairs.

”They are merely some barbarians. Any knight could easily lead troops to eradicate them. Why would the Lord Earl send you, Young Master?”

Indeed, these words seeded doubts in Alvin’s mind. He had suddenly been assigned to lead this cavalry squad before being sent straight into battle against those barbarians near Bastia, emerging victorious. Only much later did he discover that several villages had been massacred, prompting a second deployment. Why did his father send him?

”In fact, one can ascertain their destination from the position of the few villages initially discovered to have been massacred and sacrificed.”

The Baron pointed out several spots on the map, and it became clear that this Barbarian troop had a precise objective, aimed right at…

”Hamlet!” Alvin was no fool and instantly grasped his teacher’s meaning.

”So, the true focus of this mission was never about eradicating barbarians. Father wants us to drive these barbarians into Hamlet, giving us a pretext to enter as well.”

The Baron was pleased with the insight and nodded in agreement.

”The more slaughter these barbarians cause within Hamlet Territory, the more advantageous it is for us. Only then can we establish prestige locally when we eradicate them.

Later on, the Earl can just claim an invasion by the Mountain Barbarian Tribe. He’ll let some barbarians in to stir up the local situation and have the Eagle Flock pretend to be barbarians to eliminate any dissenters. Bit by bit, we will gain control over those areas.

Although you don’t have the inheritance rights to Bastia, and can’t be like your Big Brother—destined from birth to become Bastia’s Lord—you might still become the Lord of Hamlet.”

This Baron, while brawny, had a meticulous mind. Just from this command combined with the current situation, one could discern the Earl’s true intentions. Surely, those who rise to nobility by virtue of strength are far from fools.

Power is the ultimate stimulant for men. Ambition swelled uncontrollably within Alvin upon hearing these words.

To be honest, growing up in such a family of power and influence, immersed in it from childhood, no one would think themselves inferior to others. Similarly, he didn’t believe he was significantly inferior to his Big Brother – it was merely a matter of birth order.

”Teacher, what should we do now?” Alvin, now understanding his father’s purpose in sending him, began planning to proceed according to the strategy.

”Act.” The Baron lifted his hand toward the village. ”We know the barbarians will go there, so we let them pass. We’ll wait here until they start their massacre before we intervene. We can defeat them but must not kill them all.

Then let those villagers spread news of the barbarian invasion, and also disseminate news of us crushing the barbarians, as we pursue them using the barbarians themselves…”

Isolated from the cavalry, the two discussed all this for the sake of annexing Hamlet. His father was willing to let barbarians inside, and he was to indulge the Warwolves.

The scenes of slaughter committed by the Warwolves in those villages were still vivid in their memories. Were they unaware of the consequences?

They knew, but they were indifferent...

They even deemed it natural! From the moment they became nobles, they had renounced their human identity. To them, ordinary people were no different from pigs and cattle, born to be consumed: their flesh eaten, their blood drunk.

The disparity between classes was even greater than that between species. Ambition was their aphrodisiac, yet for the common folk, it was a deadly poison.

After completing their conspiracy, Alvin mounted his horse, his prior impotent rage replaced by a zealous fighting spirit.

Such a superior territory naturally belongs to the capable. The Lord of Hamlet’s incompetence has led to its decline. He, Alvin Bastia, would become the new Lord of Hamlet.

”Let’s move out!”

Previously, because they were targeted by the Eagle Flock, the Warwolves were forced to take refuge in the wilderness, using the dense jungle to shield themselves and avoid the hawks’ gaze.

But now that the Eagle Flock had been dealt with, they naturally needed to get back to business.

They had to find a human settlement quickly, and one that wasn’t too strong—ideally a village of thirty to fifty people. Only such a village could provide them a way to unleash their frustrations, replenish resources, and of course, procure the most important thing: sacrifices.

Why had they been able to accurately locate villages immediately upon leaving the Mountains? The reason was quite simple: such settlements usually had a few key features—sources of water and roads, as well as traces of human construction, such as vast tracts of cleared farmland and houses, all of which were very conspicuous in the wilderness.

They hadn’t discovered any water sources here yet, but they did come across an old road that appeared dilapidated from lack of maintenance.

This allowed them to significantly speed up their otherwise slow pace in the wilderness. They quickly gained distance from their previous location, making it unlikely for anyone to catch up with them any time soon.

As Warwolf led the troop forward, a scout from the front lines returned, informing him of something unusual.

”Chief, we have found traces of some bandits, roughly about twenty in number.”

The barbarians of the Mountain Tribe were all skilled in tracking and scouting, as hunting was their main source of food. They relied on it heavily.

The difference lay only in certain special methods: the Eagle Flock could scout from high altitudes, while a wolf’s sense of smell could detect scents from one to two thousand yards away.

Upon receiving this message, Warwolf hesitated briefly. He was contemplating whether to attack these bandits or to look for a village. If he had the choice, a village would certainly be better. They wouldn’t resist, would offer a stable supply of resources including food and drink, and there would be women. But although they had dealt with the members of the Eagle Flock, he wasn’t sure if there were any stragglers, nor did he know if that Cavalry Squad would catch up. What was more pressing was that they hadn’t held a ceremony in a long time and had long since lost the location of the Wolf God Bloodline. All these pressures weighed on him, and any decision he made would affect their survival.

”You two, go and scout out the situation with those bandits thoroughly. You, summon the others back. The rest of you, stay put, rest, and prepare to move.”

Warwolf quickly made a decision. Honestly, he was not at all afraid of those bandits and was even confident that he alone could take them all out. The combat strength of these tribal elites beside him was undoubtedly stronger than the bandits’. However, he now had to be responsible for everyone and consider more. He had to refrain from acting on impulse as he used to, without a care for anything but brute plundering.

Going out this time had matured him greatly. He began to understand his father, the head wolf’s seemingly timid choices, and the words spoken by the Priest.

When a wolf learns to think and endure, it’s a terrifying change. For the Empire, if he truly returns to the Mountains, it could spell endless trouble.

The bandits’ camp was situated on a small hill near the road. This position allowed them to see a stretch of road both ahead and behind, offering a broad view.

Choosing this place allowed them to easily keep watch over this stretch of road; anyone passing by would be spotted.

The makeshift camp consisted of a few wooden poles with several tattered cloths suspended between them. In the shade of the trees, some men were sprawled lazily.

”Damn it, not even a single merchant caravan in sight, and if by chance there is one, it’s too tough to crack! What kind of life is this!” one of the lookouts complained, propping up a spear and looking discontentedly at the empty road nearby.

”Well, in times like these, just being alive is pretty good.”

”Exactly. The conditions here might be poor, but at least we don’t have to go to the battlefield.”

”Hey, if it were peacetime, where would you guys find city girls to play with?”

”HEH HEH HEH...”

The bandits were grumbling, but the topic of conversation soon veered in a strange direction. However, from their equipment and fragments of their conversation, one could tell that these men seemed to be deserters.