Chapter 270: Chapter 211: Beacon Fire _2
Due to the demands of town construction, a large amount of timber was needed, and Lance had delegated this arduous woodcutting task to the laborers from the reform-through-labor unit. That was why a woodcutter had been able to discover the strange corpses.
Similarly, the woodcutting had carved gaps into the once-dense forest. Within these gaps, they could see a constant stream of bizarre, unidentified creatures, clearly heading towards Hamlet. Estimating the distance, they realized the creatures would approach soon. This sight put pressure on Reynard; the monster horde stretched endlessly, and no one knew how many more were hidden by the wilderness.
"Go inform the farm manager to gather everyone, bring the cattle and sheep, and retreat to Hamlet. You, take a fast horse back to Hamlet immediately and tell Instructor Barton to declare a Level One War Alert," Reynard ordered.
The soldiers below were startled upon hearing "Level One." They hadn’t even entered such an alert level when they faced that monster before. What kind of enemy were they dealing with this time?
"What are you standing around for? Hurry!"
Reynard watched the two depart, his expression still fraught with intense unease. Both of his arrangements were conservative, even hinting at a defeat before the battle had begun.
It’s indefensible, Reynard thought. He had fought with the Crusaders for many years; while he might not boast of other skills, his judgment of situations was exceptionally clear. Given what he’d seen, unless all five thousand inhabitants of Hamlet were soldiers, it was impossible to defeat an enemy of this magnitude. His only choice was to use the intervening distance to continuously wear down the enemy, then establish the first defensive line at the farm. He would then use the distance between the farm and the town for further engagement, finally utilizing the town itself to divide and annihilate the enemy. Reynard considered using strategic depth to wear down the enemy, and then...
Suddenly, he realized something, and a look of horror spread across his face.
All of Hamlet’s remaining food for the year was stored at the farm, and the fields surrounding it held next year’s harvest! If something went wrong, all five thousand townspeople would face starvation for the next two years. Moreover, with the outside world in chaos due to war and famine, trying to buy grain to alleviate the situation would likely bankrupt this fledgling town. We can’t retreat! We must defend it to the death!
"Quick!" Reynard commanded. "Instruct the farm manager to leave a group of Serfs to use the farm to set up defenses! Tell Barton to bring all the soldiers here and mobilize the militia at any cost!"
With the new orders issued, the few Cavalrymen he had brought with him were all dispatched. Reynard continued to watch the monstrous army, feeling an immense and growing pressure.
Soon, the entire town was mobilized. News of the approaching monster army spread among the townspeople, and the conscription of the militia only heightened the public’s panic. As the one responsible for guarding the town, Barton was prepared to use the army to suppress any disturbances. However, to his surprise, while the people were scared, they showed no intention of causing trouble. On the contrary, some actively responded to the call. This was entirely due to the series of arrangements previously made by Lance. Most of these people were refugees with nowhere else to go, and they cherished Hamlet’s policies too much to consider leaving.
Instead, many who wanted to fight for a chance actively responded to the call and joined the militia, whether to protect their families or to earn military honors and secure better conditions for them. The army collected their equipment and headed out in succession.
Barton only knew fragments about the situation at the front from the messengers, but he was aware of the dangers. If they couldn’t hold, forget development; Hamlet’s very survival would be questionable. But at this moment, all he could do was ensure stability in the rear, mobilize more people to the farm, and pray that those on the front line could manage...
North of the labor farm, a portion of the Serfs had been selected. They were vigorously digging traps and trenches, while others piled up makeshift barricades to form a blockade. This land had only recently been cleared and had no crops planted yet. Reynard had chosen it as the first line of defense, intended to repel the enemy and buy time for the farm behind them to transport supplies. Even if they couldn’t hold it, they had to salvage what they could.
The Serfs, of course, knew the enemy was coming. They didn’t want to risk their lives here, but the sight of the equally busy soldiers made them feel that perhaps digging wasn’t so bad after all. Not to mention the two beheaded corpses nearby, which served as a stark warning: either dig, or someone else would be digging their graves. The original batch of Serfs had long been liberated by Lance and had returned to the town. These current Slaves were all here due to crimes they had committed, so Reynard cared little for their lives. War has no mercy; every life is merely a pawn in the grand scheme of battle. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Upon the lookout tower, Reynard stood, sword in hand, with Dismas and Reynard who had hurried over beside him.
"It’s fortunate that the watchtowers arranged by the Lord spotted the enemy first," Dismas said. "Otherwise, we would have had a serious problem if the enemy had launched a surprise attack."
"I led the Cavalry to get a closer look," the other man reported. "Most of these monsters aren’t human; they’re predominantly wild beasts. Their movements are slow and stiff, very similar to the Infected you described, Sir."
"If that’s the case," Reynard ordered, "issue the following instructions: avoid close combat as much as possible. Wear armor if available; if not, wrap vital areas with cloth. If anyone gets injured, immediately wash the wound with water, then bandage it securely to prevent infection."
"Everyone grab a spear; if there are no spears, a stick will do. Do not fight alone; form up in ranks. Be vigilant of all fallen monsters; they can only be killed by attacking the head or through dismemberment."
"The only good news," Reynard continued, "is that these monsters don’t move very fast. If we can use these three lines of defense to weaken them as much as possible, then we can rely on the farm to annihilate them completely in the end. That’s the ideal scenario."
As the three discussed, the battle preparations were finalized. It wasn’t until Barton had secured the evacuation to the rear that he appeared with the Artillerymen.
"How’s the situation?" Barton asked.
"See for yourself," Reynard said, gesturing to the telescope set aside.
Previously, though the monster had been powerful, there had only been one. Barton’s expression changed, however, when he saw the hordes of Infected emerging from the wilderness. Looking at these monsters reminded him of that war: the sky-blotting tide of hideous creatures, the army’s rout...
"Are you alright?" Reynard asked, noticing Barton’s ragged breathing.
"Can we really win?" Barton lowered the monocular telescope, his voice heavy with doubt, his expression solemn.
"I don’t know," Reynard replied, calmly raising his sword and pointing towards the enemy. "I only know that if we don’t fight, we certainly can’t win."
"I understand," Barton said, looking at the other two. Seeming to have made up his mind, he nodded in agreement.
Dismas, observing his grimly resolute expression, chuckled. "Don’t look so grim! Anyone would think you’re being sent to your death," he said, offering a comforting word. "It’s not like we’re marching to our deaths. These monsters may seem numerous, but in reality, they’re basically wild dogs that anyone could kill. As long as My Lord returns, everything will be alright."
When Balistan touched upon this, it immediately silenced everyone. What on earth had My Lord experienced in the wilderness? And why hadn’t he returned yet?
JINGLE! JINGLE! JINGLE!
A scout, riding at full speed from the front lines, shook a bell violently, sounding the alarm. "Quickly! Quickly! The enemy is approaching!"
This cry sent the Serfs digging trenches into a panic. Gripped by fear, they dropped their tools and tried to flee, and chaos began to spread. This naturally caught the attention of Reynard and the others on the tower. Barton raised the telescope again and saw that the monsters, though still moving strangely, had inexplicably sped up their approach.
The telescope was passed among them, and soon Reynard reached a conclusion.
"Hurry!" he commanded. "Immediately move the Serfs to the second line of defense! Soldiers, advance and use the fortifications to hold back the enemy! Preserve your strength as much as possible!"
With that, Reynard swept his gaze over everyone present and declared in a deep voice, "The war has begun!"