A blade-like wind swept over the frosty land.
Tyrone frowned as he felt the tiny Ice particles floating in the air scrape past his cheeks.
As the white atmosphere subsided, the view of the Argand Forest filled the field of view again.
He grabbed the reins and glanced over the gray-shaded path through his puffed robe.
At the mouth of the quiet forest road where the curtain flowed, fine frost powder was slowly floating in a faint light.
At first glance, he couldn't tell what caught his attention in the seemingly calm landscape. Tyrone, who looked around with narrow eyes, soon turned his gaze over his shoulder.
Lowell, the chairman of the giant merchant guild that influenced the East as well as the North, and his men were slowly following in line.
Looking carefully at the pale faces that looked somewhat tired from the long journey, Tyrone spotted the two wagons at the back of the line and his eight men lined up around them.
Finally confirming that there was nothing wrong, Tyrone drove his horse down the road again.
At that moment, a rustling sound was heard from the front.
Tyrone, intuitively aware that it was not the sound of the wind, immediately drew his sword. At the same time, arrows flew through the trees.
"It's a surprise attack!"
Tyrone, who narrowly deflected the arrow, shouted, and the warriors drew their swords in unison. However, the enemies were one step faster. Dozens of monsters jumped out of the thick ground covered with fallen leaves and put a noose around the legs of their horses.
The startled horses jumped up violently and let out loud cries.
He instinctively swung his long sword with his thighs to keep from falling out of the saddle.
With a squeaking sound, hot blood splashed up on his face. Through the crowded vision, he saw the monster retreating with his blood-soaked forearm, clutching. The man was wearing a helmet made of a beast's skull on his face.
'Are you a Zramite?'
Tyrone, his face distorted viciously, spurred his horse in pursuit of the retreating man.
But this time, a long window stretched out from the left. Tyrone, who narrowly prevented the horse's body from being pierced, pulled the reins viciously
Excited, his warhorse, Elark, broke the rope that bound his ankles and raised his front legs high. Soon after, the skull of the man who attacked him was shattered like a soft pumpkin by the hooves of the massive war horse.
Seeing the scene, the enemies hesitated and retreated. Tyrone, who had turned his head without missing the gap, looked at the rear.
The merchants of the north were hanging from the saddle of the dragon and drawing their swords against their enemies. However, those who have not received military training cannot properly respond to surprise attacks.
Soon, a merchant was thrown off his horse by a Zramite. Tyrone, who recognized that he was the guild leader of the White Silver Alliance, immediately spurred his horse and unfurled his long blade diagonally.
The long sword, which stretched out like the wings of an eagle, slashed the head of an enemy approaching his escort target.
Tyrone, who had crushed his blood-gushing body with his horseshoe, turned his head to kill the next enemy. Before he knew it, the enemies were hiding among the trees at a wide distance.
As the marauders disappeared in an instant, he gritted his teeth and shouted at his men.
"Don't chase them! Reorganize your ranks and prepare a defensive posture centered on wagons!"
His men immediately surrounded the carriage.
However, the enemy did not seem to have any intention of launching a second attack immediately. Tyrone, who was looking around the quiet forest as if he were dead, descended from the saddle and stood over the man strewn on the floor. Fortunately, the man who seemed to be seriously injured and let out a groan and pain stood up in a daze.
"I said, What kind of attack is this?"
"Come to your senses and get on the horse quickly! We need to get out of this forest quickly."
A man with dark brown hair that was not typical of a Baltic sat down on the saddle with a grumble.
After confirming that the man was ready to ride, Tyrone approached Elark again. Just as he was about to get on the horse, something rose from the distance.
He rolled over instinctively. Thanks to this, he was able to narrowly dodge the blade that flew towards his side, but he was helpless against the attacks that followed.
Before he could straighten his posture, they kicked his abdomen and fell to the ground with a loud groan.
In front of him, a golden-eyed man dressed in animal skin approached like the wind and raised a crescent-shaped sword. Tyrone, who sensed death, stiffened his whole body.
At that moment, a long spearhead rose above the monster's chest.
"Ugj!"
The golden-eyed man looked back, vomiting blood.
Tyrone, who reflexively turned his gaze after him, saw a pale, shiny blonde man on a gray warhorse, and his eyes widened.
A man with a cold face who couldn't believe he was a living person raised the spear with one hand. Then, the monster's body, pierced through its abdomen like a fish in a harpoon, rose into the air and cut through the air in a large circle.
Halberd's axe blade, which swung at terrifying speed, cut through the waist of three Zramites who surrounded him. No matter how many times he saw it, it was an unbelievable power.
"What are you waiting for? Get ready to defend right away."
The man, who mercilessly threw the corpse hanging from the tip of the spear on the floor, instructed in a dry tone.
Tyrone, who had just come to his senses, hurriedly stood up. However, the enemy was retreating rapidly, as if they had already lost their fighting spirit.
Barcas looked at the warriors who followed him.
"Hurry up and track them down."
Before his instructions were about to fall, dozens of knights rushed through the trees.
The ruler of the East, who had been looking at the scene with an expressionless face, lowered his gaze to him again.
Tyrone, who had barely regained his composure, hurriedly gave an example.
"Thanks to you, sir."
"You're lucky, Drakhan. If I hadn't received a tip that a group of marauders was encamped in the forest of Argand and was conducting a search, you would have suffered a major upheaval."
The answer came not from the Grand Duke of the East, but from Darren Drew Sheerkan, who played the role of his aide.
He dragged his horse out through the trees and looked at the corpses strewn on the floor.
"By the way, I didn't expect the Zramites to come to the vicinity of Kalmor and set it up."
The tongue-in-cheek man turned his head to the ruler of the East and asked a question.
"Wouldn't it be better to start a subjugation before the cold wave hits?"
"...The timing is not good. For now, let's expand the reconnaissance network and take action in the line of controlling the road."
The man who handed the blood-soaked axe spear to the servant turned his gaze to the frozen northern merchants. They all looked like they were facing ghosts.
The ruler of the East led his horse to him and greeted him in a dignified tone that was not appropriate for the situation.
"Welcome to Kalmor. I'm sorry to have to go through something unfortunate from the first day."
"Oh, no, Your Excellency! When you lead the top, this kind of thing is always followed."
The merchant politely shook his head. As the head of a giant guild, he seemed to have noticed Barcas's identity right away.
The man flattered him with his skillful speech.
"By the way, you are truly an amazing skill. Your reputation as the strongest spear knight on the continent is not an exaggeration. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed Your Excellency's majesty. How can such tremendous strength be in such a nimble..."
"I will postpone the small talk until later. Now the priority is to get out of the forest."
The dry voice, without any inspiration, cut through the merchant's flattery with a single knife.
The northerner immediately lowered his head without showing any signs of regret.
"Nothing! I will quietly follow in Your Excellency's footsteps."
When the northerners gave their subordinates a wink, the men organized their ranks in unison.
Barcas, who had been staring at the scene with keen eyes, finally turned his horse's head. Tyrone drove his horse to his left, carefully examining his surroundings for any surprises. Fortunately, he was able to reach the mouth of the forest without much injury.
After a moment of relief, Barcas, who was driving his horse in an upright position, suddenly pulled out his bow.
Could it be that an enemy has appeared?
Tyrone immediately drew his sword.
Barcas, who was staring at the densely shaded forest, drew his bowstring. Soon after, a sharp cry echoed along with the sound of food ducking.
He looked at Barcas with a puzzled face, not grasping the situation. At that moment, the hound, which had been quietly following as if it were not there, ran out like the wind, bit something, and returned.
Pheasant?
Tyrone blinked in the distance.
A large hunting dog proudly held out a bird with an arrow at its owner.
Barcas jumped off his horse, opened the dog's jaws, snatched the pheasant, tied his legs with a leash, and hung it on the saddle.
Only then did he spot three or four brown cuckoos hanging near the horse's muzzle.
Darren explained in an awkward tone to him, who looked puzzled.
"The Grand Duchess likes pheasant meat. It seems to be easy to eat because it has less bitterness."
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