I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 381 Two Ambushes
In the afterglow of the setting sun, the majestic city walls of Baiyan City cast huge, cold shadows, like a lurking beast.

Inside the city walls, in stark contrast to the despair and chaos of the refugees outside, there was a deliberately maintained, repressed calm.

The largest mansion in the city originally belonged to a wealthy merchant, but it has now been requisitioned by the Minisian army as a command post.

In the study, the fireplace was not lit and the windows were not open because of the hot weather, which made the air in the room somewhat stuffy.

A man dressed in the uniform of a high-ranking officer from the Kingdom of Minicia stood with his back to the doorway in front of the tall, ornate window.

He was not particularly tall or imposing; in fact, he was rather thin. But the golden tassels on his epaulets and the intricate medals on his chest silently proclaimed his power.

The golden light of the setting sun outlined the general's slightly graying sideburns and illuminated his meticulously trimmed short beard.

The general held a glass of deep red wine in his hand, swirling it leisurely, the amber liquid rotating within.

He was the newly appointed General Hoffman of the Kingdom of Minicia, in charge of the eastern defense line. Born into nobility, he was known for his cunning and ruthlessness, and was privately called "Red Fox" in the army.

"General, I have already arranged for people to secretly spread the news of Baiyan City's lack of troops through the refugees."

A slightly younger voice rang out behind the general.

The person who spoke was General Hoffman's adjutant, a young officer from his family.

"General, will this work?"

General Hoffman did not turn around, but simply brought the wine glass to his lips, took a small sip, and kept his gaze fixed on the window... From there he could see the orderly streets of the city, soldiers patrolling, and occasionally civilians hurrying by, heads down, not daring to look around.

“It’s useful. The remnants of the Tia family are still hiding in the mountains and haven’t been found by us, which shows that their strength is still there.”

General Hoffman's voice was deep and steady, with a touch of the languid tone characteristic of aristocrats.

"It's just that our interrogators are not capable enough. Almost a month has passed, and we still haven't been able to get the most crucial information out of the men in the Tia family."

At this point, General Hoffman sighed.

"General, should we use..."

The adjutant made a gesture.

“Once we use it, they will definitely ask for our help.”

"No, they are nobles after all. Even if they are defeated, they must maintain the dignity of nobles."

General Hoffman thought for a moment.

“Go back and kill the interrogator… As for the issue of them talking, as long as we capture Elena Tia, their psychological defenses will naturally collapse.”

The adjutant remained silent for a while before nodding vigorously.

Seeing this, General Hoffman lectured the promising young man in his family.

"Don't be soft-hearted, and remember that you are a nobleman. If your gloves get dirty, you should throw them away. Don't think that you can wash them and reuse them... You are all adults, don't be too frugal."

As he spoke, General Hoffman's gaze swept over the open map on the desk, which clearly marked the location of White Rock City, as well as the surrounding villages and towns that had been ravaged by the Reteria cavalry.

Seeing the general's gaze, the adjutant quickly spoke.

“Someone reported to me that the refugees outside the city also seem to be fleeing south, to the territory of the Bagnians.”

"Let them go."

General Hoffman finally turned around; his eyes were ice-blue, like a misty, icy lake, eerily calm.

“A bunch of useless burdens. It’s better for them to escape to the Bagnians, deplete their food supplies, and create chaos—that’s our objective…”

He paused, his eyes sharpening.

"It's the secret of the Tia family, those women and their family fortune, and the remaining power they might have gathered. Ideally, we should capture Elena, so that His Majesty the King will be pleased."

He put down his wine glass, walked to the huge oak desk, and pointed to the mark of White Rock City on the map.

"Release the news again."

The general spoke as if stating an obvious fact.

"The news must reach the ears of the women of the Tia family who are hiding in the mountains like rats, so that they may know that their fathers, husbands, brothers... are still alive in this city."

The adjutant immediately understood.

The male members of the Tia family who were captured by the Retelians were not executed or sent to the mines as rumored, but were secretly transferred and imprisoned in White Rock City.

This was the most deadly bait the general had thrown out.

"Over there in the dungeon..."

The adjutant asked in a low voice.

"Add two shifts to ensure those hostages... stay alive."

General Hoffman's tone was completely flat.

They are the bait; they can't die until the fish takes the bait.

The adjutant understood that Baiyan City was a huge trap. The general had stockpiled far more food and supplies than needed to defend the city and had also secretly stationed an elite force there, while outwardly pretending to have a weak army and only seeking to protect himself.

He used the refugees' desire for survival to spread the message, but his ultimate goal was to lure the exiled female relatives and remnants of the Tia family who still had the power to resist to come for "rescue" or "refuge".

Once they step into this seemingly safe fortress, they will be caught in a trap that has already been set.

"understood."

……

"This weather is so hot!"

In a grove of trees a few kilometers from White Rock, Olaf crouched behind a large rock, waving his hands vigorously to fan himself, trying to drive away the suffocating heat and the buzzing mosquitoes in his ears.

His tall frame, encased in heavy plate chainmail and studded leather armor, resembled a human steamer, sweat dripping down his bulging muscles and leaving dark craters in the dust.

"Damn it, this metal suit is no human being!"

He cursed under his breath, then ripped off the slightly deformed horned helmet, revealing his head, which was soaked with sweat and had a very short buzz cut, his scalp glistening in the setting sun.

Behind him, dozens of players from the Valangi Warband were resting in various poses under the sparse shade of the trees.

Some were wiping their massive two-handed axes or spears, others were checking the buckles on their leather armor, and many more, like Olaf, were trying to catch their breath in the damn heat.

The air in the grove was filled with the smells of sweat, leather, and a faint hint of rust.

Olaf was a little angry, not only because of the weather, but also because his comments in the group were ignored.

So, while the others in the group were still discussing, Olaf decided to lead the Valangi Legion to White Rock City as fast as he could, to make some achievements first and let other players know that although the Valangi Legion was smaller in number, it was still capable.

"Boss, look over there!"

A burly man leaning against a tree trunk, his face painted with indigo battle markings, pointed his thumb toward the path leading out of the forest. His ID was "Eric the Skullbreaker," and his voice was rough and hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing together.

"Fatty, looks like you just came from the city, the tire tracks are really deep!"

Olaf squinted and peered through the gaps in the leaves.

Sure enough, a small convoy was slowly making its way along the dusty road.

Three covered carriages, their wheels leaving deep ruts in the soft ground, were surrounded by only a dozen or so guards dressed in light leather armor and carrying spears. They were all listless from the heat, and their helmets were askew.

The lead rider lazily hung his head.

Olaf looked up at the sky with suspicion, then looked up again at the edge of the grove.

"It's getting dark, what are they doing leaving the city?"

"Forget about this and that, let's just do it..."

Eric said impatiently, but was interrupted before he could finish speaking.

"You idiot, you've thrown away all the things our ancestors left behind!"

Olaf slapped Eric hard on the head. The dull thud made Eric flinch.

"The Vikings relied on courage to plunder, but even more so on their brains, not just on being bullies who could swing axes!"

He pointed to the convoy that was gradually disappearing into the distance, his voice lowered, carrying the vigilance of an old hunter.

"Imagine, as dusk approaches and the city gates are about to close, a fully loaded convoy doesn't enter the city but instead rushes out."

The guards were lax and disorganized, as if they wanted everyone to know how easy it was for them to rob.

And the wheel mark is deep enough to trap a cow? Ha, isn't that the perfect template for a fat sheep?

His icy blue eyes swept over the surrounding warriors like icicles, and the players who were just restless were intimidated by his aura and quieted down.

"There are two possibilities now. One is that they are bait, and after we jump out, a large group of archers and musketeers will rush up from behind the carriage and turn us into sieves."

Secondly, these three vehicles serve as a target, used to protect the actual transport convoy behind them.

"So what do we do?"

"Wait."

Olaf said.

"Tell the guys up ahead to be careful and not to give ourselves away. Let's stay in the grove and not go out. If these three cars are really easy targets, we can catch up with them later."

Eric, take two men and follow them... Be careful, don't get spotted.

"okay."

Eric excitedly led his men to follow, while Olaf and the rest of Varangi remained in the grove, feeding the mosquitoes.

Before long, a player lying in the shade suddenly opened his eyes.

"Boss, things are bad. Eric reports that the easy target ahead has been intercepted."

"Who did it?"

"It's Xiao Erlang's backpacking group; there are more than twenty of them!"

Just as Olaf was about to give the next instruction, a firework shot into the sky in the direction of Fat Sheep and exploded with a "bang".

Olaf understood immediately at a glance.

"It really is a trap."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the sound of horses' hooves echoed from the road outside the grove. Olaf immediately and secretly climbed up a nearby tree to get a better look.

A troop of cavalry could be seen galloping towards the sheep caravan outside the woods.

Olaf knew the problem at a glance.

"The Little Erlang backpacker group is in big trouble!"

Olaf remarked that he recognized this battle group. Unlike the Varangian Battle Group, which focused on heavy infantry, this group was entirely composed of line infantry with cuirassiers. The players within the group all used flintlock muskets and cuirassiers, specializing in ranged anti-infantry units. As for cavalry, they had no effective countermeasures.

On a large battlefield, players in the Xiao Erlang Backpack Group are not actually afraid of enemy cavalry. On the one hand, when enemy cavalry appears, their own side will have friendly forces such as tiger crouching cannons and spearmen to deal with and cover them.

With the addition of flintlock muskets from the Little Erlang Backpackers, even if heavy cavalry charged from the side, they could calmly face them, and even at the cost of total annihilation, they could hold off the enemy cavalry and allow their allies to come and wipe out the enemy.

However, this is a small-scale skirmish. According to Eric's report, Xiao Erlang's backpack group only has about twenty people.

Furthermore, since they were in an ambush, their men would certainly not be able to gather together. Once the Minisian cavalry charged from behind, these young men would not have a chance to form ranks or even fire volleys.

They're finished.

The best-case scenario is that some of these twenty or so people will manage to escape; the worst-case scenario, of course, is that the entire group will be wiped out.

"Boss, what happened?"

Olaf, who had just slid down from the tree, scratched his head vigorously.

"Nothing's wrong, it's just that the fat sheep ahead was indeed bait, and a cavalry unit just passed by."

"Then let's..."

"us?"

Olaf's smile turned sinister.

"Of course, we'll prepare a Viking-style grand welcome for our triumphant 'warriors'!"

He suddenly pointed out of the woods.

"The cavalry just charged through that road outside. They slaughtered all those unfortunate 'youngsters,' seized their 'spoils,' and are quite satisfied. They'll definitely be heading back the same way, trotting and clattering!"

His gaze swept over his ravenous warriors, his voice low and inflammatory.

"This grove of trees is their burial ground, you bastards! Get moving and turn this place into Odin's slaughterhouse!"

At the command, Varangian's warriors instantly unleashed astonishing efficiency, their previously languid figures transforming into activated war machines:

“Oka”.

Olaf roared at a burly man holding a large round shield.

"Take a few men and drag over the fallen dead trees from over there. Place them by the roadside as obstacles, but don't arrange them too neatly. Then dig a few horse traps by the roadside, and make sure they're well hidden!"

"Eric!"

"Boss, Eric is still up ahead and hasn't come back yet."

“Then you strong guys, cut some vines for me, sturdy old vines, and tie them to the roadside about a foot off the ground. Then hide them well, the more concealed the better.”

Olaf skillfully set up the ambush site.

"Don't use muskets and tiger-squat cannons. Those of you with javelins and crossbows, find the high earthen slopes on both sides of the road and hide well. When the cavalry rush into our trap and cause chaos, then send them into the crowd."

Shoot men first, then horses; horses are expensive.

Olaf turned his head and growled at the Varangians behind him who were carrying heavy weapons.

"All of you carrying heavy weapons, lie in ambush behind the trees and bushes on both sides of the road. When the enemy cavalry is thrown into disarray, charge out and kill them all!"
Remember, if we are spotted beforehand, you all immediately launch a charge, hold off the prey, and prevent them from escaping or charging!

"learn!"

There were no complaints, no hesitation.

The Varangians sprang into action, chopping down large trees with axes, dragging roadside barriers to create obstacles, burying tough vines in the middle of the road, and covering them with loose soil.

The spearmen and archers nimbly climbed to their chosen positions, holding their breath and focusing intently.

The heavy axemen, like lurking bears, crouched behind cover closest to the road and most convenient for charging, their massive weapons resting on their laps, their eyes coldly fixed on the end of the road.

The entire edge of the grove instantly transformed into a highly efficient killing workshop, filled with a repressive yet fanatical atmosphere.

Time ticked by amidst the tense preparations.

Dusk had completely fallen, the moon had not yet risen, and only sparse starlight could barely outline the road.

In the distance, the sporadic gunshots and screams coming from the direction of the "Little Erlang" backpack group had long since subsided, leaving only a deathly silence, like the calm before a storm, oppressive and suffocating.

"coming!"

The lookout, perched atop the tallest tree, lowered his voice and sounded the alarm to those below.

Soon, everyone heard the dull sound of horses' hooves again, approaching from afar, at a slow pace, carrying a sense of relaxed exhaustion from a victorious return.

Olaf could even faintly hear the cavalrymen's unrestrained laughter and the clanging of something bouncing on the vehicle.

Clearly, they had easily dealt with the players who dared to steal the bait and were now escorting the spoils back to White Rock City.

The sound of hooves grew closer, and the Varangians, who were lying in ambush, could already see the vague outlines of the horses and the swaying figures of the riders. There were about twenty of them, and their formation was more loose than when they left.

"Stay calm...stay calm..."

Olaf lay hidden behind a thicket of bushes, his massive two-handed axe resting gently beside him. Like the most seasoned hunter, he was almost breathing, with only his icy blue eyes flashing with a bloodthirsty light in the darkness as he stared intently at the cleverly concealed tripwires and shallow pit traps in the middle of the road.

The night helped Varangi, as the darkness concealed some flaws that players had not been able to fully exploit.

The lead cavalryman seemed oblivious. His horse's hooves stepped over the edge of the first shallow ditch. The horse only staggered slightly but did not fall. The rider cursed in dissatisfaction.

The cavalrymen behind them laughed and followed, their formation becoming even tighter as they entered the death tunnel that Varangi had meticulously prepared.

It's now!

Olaf took a deep breath, stood up, and let out a deafening roar.

"For Odin... take action!!!"

The moment the signal was given, several sturdy vine tripwires sprang up from the ground, taut and straight, catching the riders completely off guard.

"Sorry..."

The leading warhorses were caught off guard, their front hooves suddenly tripped by the vines.

Because they were not sprinting at full speed, but rather jogging at a relaxed pace, this sudden obstacle did not cause any devastating fractures or forward rolls.

The warhorse, tripped, neighed in terror and pain, rearing up violently and staggering, instinctively trying to break free of its restraints.

The riders on horseback were violently thrown off their horses by the jolting, losing their balance and falling off.

"what……"

"Damn it, there's a tripwire!"

"Steady up, steady the horses!"

Exclamations and curses instantly replaced the previous cheerful conversation.

The first two or three riders were caught off guard and were thrown off their horses in a sorry state, feeling dizzy and disoriented.

The cavalry behind reacted a little faster, desperately tightening their reins in an attempt to control their startled or equally tripped mounts, which plunged the front half of the column into chaos.

A dozen or so horses spun around in panic, rearing up and neighing. The riders frantically tried to control their horses, and the formation instantly collapsed. Soldiers who fell from their horses struggled to get up, but the weight of their armor and the impact of the fall slowed their movements.

Although it wasn't as disastrous as being tripped up during a high-speed charge, this sudden obstruction and chaos had already achieved Olaf's goal... disrupting their formation and depriving the cavalry of their most precious speed and impact.

"Waraha!!!"

The Varangian warriors, who could no longer contain themselves, charged out of the darkness on both sides of the road like wolves that had smelled blood, their heavy footsteps echoing like thunder across the earth.

The spearmen and archers in the trees were the first to attack.

Short spears and crossbow bolts, accompanied by a piercing whistling sound, shot towards the chaotic enemy ranks like venomous bees, targeting cavalrymen who had temporarily lost their mobility, were struggling on their horses, or were getting up on the ground.

Amidst a hail of arrows and javelins, a cavalryman reining in his horse was struck in the neck by a crossbow bolt and fell from his horse without uttering a sound. Another cavalryman, who had just gotten up, was plunged into the thigh by a short spear and fell to the ground again with a scream.

This barrage of firepower terrified the cavalry.

Following closely behind was the ferocious charge of the Varangian heavy axemen.

"For Odin, kill them all!"

Olaf, as massive as a bear, charged ahead, his terrifying two-handed axe whistling through the air as he slashed down at a cavalryman who had just regained control of his mount and was trying to draw his sword.

The cavalryman was terrified and hastily raised his sword to parry.

Then, the cavalry sword, forged from fine steel, shattered like a withered branch before the raging force, while the axe blade, still brimming with momentum, cleaved fiercely into the cavalryman's breastplate.

With a sickening cracking sound of bones shattering and gushing blood, the cavalryman, along with his cleaved breastplate, was sent flying like a rag doll!
"Scatter...scatter...form a defensive formation!"

A cavalryman who appeared to be a squad leader roared hoarsely, trying to regroup his troops.

But before he could finish speaking, another Varangian heavy axeman charged from the side and chopped his horse in the leg. The warhorse neighed in agony and crashed to the ground, pinning the rider beneath it. His screams were then silenced by the axe blade that followed.

Having lost their speed and impact, the cavalry found themselves at a significant disadvantage on the narrow road against the ferocious, well-equipped, and well-prepared heavy berserkers.

Their sabers and rapiers seemed so weak and powerless when faced with heavy battle axes and long-handled axes at close range. The Varangian warriors were like moving meat grinders, and every swing of their heavy weapons brought up a shower of blood and broken limbs.

They worked in perfect harmony, forming groups of three: the shield bearers held off sporadic enemy counterattacks, while the heavy axemen ruthlessly reaped lives.

The battle quickly escalated into a bloody massacre.

The resistance of the Miniese cavalry quickly crumbled in the face of Varangi's ferocious offensive.

Some tried to turn their horses around and escape, but were blocked by tripwires and dead trees lying in ambush behind them. Unable to run fast, they were then hacked to death by the pursuing Varangian warriors.

A few clever cavalrymen abandoned their mounts and tried to escape on foot into the roadside woods, but were immediately hunted down by Varangian archers and lightly armed pursuers.

In just a few minutes, what was originally a relaxed and pleasant journey home turned into hell.

A strong stench of blood filled the air, drowning out the scent of grass and trees on this summer night.

The road was littered with dead warhorses, mangled corpses, and scattered weapons.

Olaf stood in the center of the pool of blood, his massive axe blade dripping thick blood. He surveyed the killing field he had created with his own hands, his face devoid of pity, only a cold sense of satisfaction.

"Brothers, clean up the battlefield."

He roared in a hoarse voice,

"Strip off all usable armor and weapons, inspect the horses, take away those that are not dead, and don't let the dead or wounded go, chop them up, put them in bags and carry them away, they can be used as military rations, leave all the enemy corpses where they are and don't care about them!"

Five minutes! We're leaving in five minutes!

The warriors of Varangi immediately sprang into action, like the most skilled butchers and scavengers, efficiently looting the spoils, their faces beaming with the excitement of a successful raid.

Olaf walked over to the abandoned wagons loaded with odds and ends and spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.

The bloody ambush ended, and Varangi, with the captured armor, weapons, and a few usable warhorses, quickly disappeared into the dark forest, leaving behind only a mess and a lingering smell of blood, silently announcing their presence.

(End of this chapter)