King of the North: My Lord's Diary Weekly Summary

"In that case, let's hand over the reins."

Since the other party had already made it clear, Wayne stopped wasting words.

Kam was clearly prepared, immediately presenting the outpost log and a rusty key, and briefly explaining the structure of the watchtower and the scarcity of supplies.

Then, the men he had previously sent to the watchtower came out, bringing with them several sentries who appeared to be fully prepared for action.

The entire process was so efficient it was almost rushed.

After the handover with Wayne was completed, Kam visibly relaxed, and his complexion improved: "Sir, there is one more thing... Yesterday evening, a man claiming to be a villager from your territory sneaked here, saying he wanted to stay the night."

We've temporarily placed him in the shed behind the tower, you see…”

Seeing the knowing look in Cam's eyes, Wayne understood something.

"Oh? Interesting..."

"Over there, right?"

Seeing Cam nod, Wayne waved his hand: "You guys go ahead, I'll go back and check."

"Good luck, Your Excellency."

"Um."

Following Cam's directions before he left, Wayne circled around to the back of the watchtower.

There was a half-collapsed shack there.

Wayne stepped forward and placed his hand on the handle.

The Lord's Journal is not responding.

With a determined heart, he opened the door.

Just as Wayne had expected, what came into view was a familiar face with disheveled hair and a messy appearance.

Headhunter Barton.

It seems he was afraid of dying, which is why he fled to this southwestern outpost, which he likely knew from his time as a bandit lackey.

Wayne narrowed his eyes, quickly assessing the current situation—his presence here had also revealed some information.

As for Barton, the moment he saw Wayne's calm gaze again, he felt as if he had been choked.

He trembled and fell to the ground, making a terrified "hoarse" sound in his throat.

"So, you didn't listen to me?"

Wayne's voice was devoid of emotion, yet it sent a chill down Barton's spine.

"I went! I really went!"

Barton scrambled forward, only to be kicked away by Ronald: "Ugh..."

I...I reached the outskirts of the Phip Forest and delivered your letter to their people!

They sent me back to deliver a message.

Barton said, trembling, "They said...they said there was no need for a meeting, and they didn't want to take any risks."

Let me be a messenger. Keep me on both sides; use me to relay messages if needed.

Wayne sneered: "It's just a delaying tactic."

They were buying time to gather manpower and prepare for a surprise attack.

Barton was stunned, clearly not expecting Wayne to see through him so easily.

"Anything else?"

Wayne instantly realized that he shouldn't have expressed his judgment before the other party had finished revealing all the information—luckily, Barton wasn't sophisticated enough to realize that he was already preparing to discard the useful person.

He pressed further, "What else did they say?"

"There's...there's more..."

Patton racked his brains to recall: "You...you're right, they seemed to be going to bribe and win over Rachel Knight at the Northwest Outpost..."

Wayne gleaned the key information: "So, the outposts in the northwest and the bandits aren't on the same side?"

Barton paused for a moment, then nodded repeatedly: "I do know a little... It seems the Black Blade Gang tried to win them over before, but failed."

That Knight Rachel... seems a bit difficult to talk to.

Wayne nodded: "Are you aware of the situation at the Northwest Outpost?"

Patton quickly replied, "I know a little."

Sir Rachel Wilson is the Duke's personal border patrol captain, responsible for securing the border defenses.

She had ten regular cavalrymen and dozens of armed infantrymen under her command, well-equipped, who assisted in the defense of the border areas year-round.

The Black Blade Gang did try to probe before, but reportedly they were rebuffed.

That female knight... has a very strong personality.

Wayne seemed to be deep in thought.

Regular cavalry... they were not even in the same league as his conscripted cavalry.

Such a person, especially one under the Duke, should not be colluding with a rabble like the Black Blade Gang.

"Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

Wayne looked at Barton.

"The Black Blade Gang... has about forty bandits... and three leaders."

Barton's voice trembled even more, but he still spoke very quickly, as if afraid that Wayne would think he was being perfunctory: "The boss... everyone calls him 'Black Blade,' he wields a long black iron sword, and he's as strong as a bear."

The second-in-command was a cripple who walked with a limp, but he was ruthless and always came up with the ideas.

The third leader... has a thick beard, is in charge of robbing caravans, is greedy and belligerent, and likes to wield a machete.

He swallowed hard, his eyes darting around nervously: "Their group... their weapons were cobbled together from various sources, using woodcutting axes as battle axes, some of their spearheads were even rusted..."

And what's more! They're running low on food too. I overheard them say they can only last another month at most, and they'll have to be very careful with their food... really!

Seeing that Wayne didn't react, Barton became even more anxious and scooted forward again: "There's more! They're not a monolithic group!"

Several of the older members secretly complained that life was hopeless and that they wanted to... to quit and find another way to survive... but their complaints were suppressed. The leader said that anyone who dared to run away would be chopped up...

He was panting, looking up at Wayne on horseback, his eyes full of pleading.

Wayne listened quietly until the end, then asked, "Are you finished?"

"My lord, please spare me! I went as you asked, and I really have been gathering information for you—besides, I'm still useful; you definitely need someone to deliver messages!"

Wayne nodded, while Barton's eyes lit up with delight.

"Yes, Ronald, kill him."

"Why?!"

Patton's pleas abruptly ceased, turning into a desperate scream: "No! No! I'm still useful! I can help you hold off the bandits, give them false information, I can..."

Ronald had already drawn his sword and stepped forward.

Barton collapsed to the ground, futilely shuffling backward, tears streaming down his face: "No...you can't do this...you...you promised to give me a chance..."

Wayne looked at him coldly: "If we let you go back, you'll sell out all about us—that's the only way you can survive over there."

Moreover, the purpose of delaying has already been achieved.

You're useless now.

"No--!"

The sword light fell.

"Pfft."

With a muffled thud, the pleas for mercy came to an abrupt halt.

On the snow, another patch of dark red spread rapidly.

Ronald flicked the blood off his sword and sheathed it.

He walked over to Wayne and asked in a low voice, "Should we believe what he says?"

Wayne nodded: "It doesn't sound like a lie."

For him, lying reduced his own chances of survival.

The bandits also wanted him dead, so he had no reason to sacrifice the interests of either side to save his life.

Therefore, what he said should be the truth.

Seeing Ronald relax, Wayne added, "But precisely because of this, we are in even greater danger."

Ronald frowned upon hearing this.