Chapter 75 The Border of the Kadero Province—Unusual Circumstances Among the Border Monster Clans

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Night had fallen, and the army had halted five or six kilometers outside the goblin tribe’s territory. Thanks to the cover of a nearby hill, the goblin clans on the other side would not notice anything unusual. Lighting the oil lamp, Verin summoned the ten centurions of his force for a meeting.

“This is our seventh cohort’s very first battle since its formation. I don’t care what your previous habits were—if you have any questions, bring them up now. When the orders are given, I do not want to hear a single dissenting voice.”

Verin surveyed the group with a stern gaze, his warning chilling. Of the ten centurions, only two were his own men; the other eight were not his trusted followers, and he had no idea of their true quality.

A full five or six minutes passed in silence. Seeing no one spoke, Verin directed Kyle to unroll the sheepskin parchment. An enlarged map was spread before them, and with the markings above, everyone could clearly understand the surrounding terrain.

“For this first engagement, we will annihilate the goblin tribe here.”

“The third, sixth, and tenth centuries will set out at four in the morning, circle around to the lower reaches of the goblin settlement, and establish a blockade to prevent any of them from escaping.”

“The fourth, fifth, and seventh centuries will move through the flanking forests to attack, while also keeping watch on the outskirts to guard against enemy reinforcements.”

“The rest will follow me for a frontal assault.”

As Verin issued orders, he indicated the marching routes on the parchment map.

“Obey my commands to the letter. Any who disobey will be executed.”

“Yes, sir!” Whether out of fear or submission, the officers all responded loudly.

Verin then dismissed the meeting, instructing the centurions to prepare their troops.

“Master, there is something I need to report,” Kyle said once the others had departed.

Noting the seriousness in Kyle’s expression, Verin ordered towards the tent’s entrance, “Clear everyone within twenty meters of the camp. No one is to approach without my command.”

“Yes, Master.” The ten knightly squires on guard answered in unison and began to carry out the order.

Once the surroundings were quiet, Verin signaled for Kyle to sit.

“Master, today the officers below reported that among our soldiers…”

After hearing Kyle’s detailed report, Verin asked gravely, “Is this common?”

“Very. There are already no fewer than ten cases confirmed.”

“I see.”

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Verin fell into deep thought. Experienced veterans were exactly what he needed. Moreover, each soldier had a family to support; if he could attract them to Lake of the Wishing Star, it would greatly ease the population shortage.

However, these soldiers technically belonged to other nobles; currently, they were only under his control in the name of the defense force. He had authority to command, not to own.

“This is a tricky matter,” Verin muttered, shaking his head, unable to think of a good solution for the moment. To offend so many nobles over a few hundred soldiers would not be in his best interests.

“Let’s set this aside for now. Tell the officers to keep their mouths shut; nothing must leak out,” Verin instructed, rubbing his temples.

“Yes, sir,” Kyle replied, bowing his head.

…

At dawn, Verin looked over the four hundred soldiers ready to move, then glanced at the sky.

“Move out.”

Following the winding river, the four hundred men traveled light and fast toward the goblin settlement.

By midday, the main force had reached their position. Through gaps in the shrubs, Verin could clearly observe the goblin camp’s outer defenses.

Noting the nearly unguarded state of the goblin tribe, Verin stood, drew his knight’s longsword, and gave the loud command:

“Attack!”

All four hundred men rose as one and, led by their officers, charged down the hillside toward the goblin settlement.

Goblins lazing about on the periphery spotted the sudden human incursion and shrieked, warning their kin of the enemy attack.

“Waaaah! Waaaah! Waaaah!”

Goblin warriors inside the camp grabbed crude wooden hammers, stone axes, and fishing spears, surging out en masse—only to be slaughtered in moments. In less than three minutes, their resistance collapsed and they fled in all directions.

A particularly burly goblin, seeing his kin scatter, let out a few desperate wails before being beheaded by an ordinary soldier.

Watching his men storm the camp, Verin, commanding from the hillside, could hardly believe his eyes.

“That’s it?”

“It appears so,” Kyle replied quietly beside him.

“Come on, let’s have a look.”

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Still incredulous, Verin walked down the hill into the goblin camp. The thirty or so surviving goblins had been driven into the center of the encampment, surrounded by soldiers who eyed them like hungry beasts. Terrified, the old, weak, sick, and frail buried their heads in the dirt, desperate for a sense of safety.

“Who here can speak the common tongue?”

One ugly goblin, hearing the question, lifted his head to look at the youth in ornate armor surrounded by soldiers, and replied in heavily-accented common, “Respected lord, I can speak.”

“Tell me, where are your tribe’s warriors?”

Verin strode up to the ugly goblin, planting his sword in the ground before him, his tone brooking no argument.

“M-my lord, our ch-chief and the g-grand elder took the warriors and followed the d-divine one—they left,” stammered the goblin, trembling at the sight of the longsword so close.

“Divine one?”

At this key detail, Verin’s brow furrowed. Was there some higher power orchestrating the recent attacks on the western border?

But after a moment, he shook his head, dismissing such thoughts. If the sky fell, there would be someone taller to hold it up. For now, he was merely a minor frontier knight; such matters were not his concern.

“Clean it up.”

With the commander gone, the soldiers closed in and slaughtered the remaining goblins.

By afternoon, the other two detachments had arrived at the goblin camp to report in. Over the next few days, Verin wiped out several other monster tribes, finding much the same situation: almost all were old, infirm, or children, with most of the able-bodied having left with their so-called divine emissary.

Half a month later, the seventh cohort, its task complete, returned to camp for rotation.

When they departed, the slopes of Deer Gate Mountain had been barren. Now, on their return, three sides were walled.

Gazing at the compacted earthen ramparts, Verin had no doubt of their defensive strength.

He ordered the troops to rest, then made his way to the central tent to report to Flora.

“Aunt, that is the general situation. I suspect these monsters are plotting to gather their forces and break through the provincial defenses,” Verin reported upon entering the tent.

“Your guess is correct, but you are still a bit off,” Flora replied seriously, drawing a document from the table and handing it to Verin.

His heart skipped a beat as he hurriedly opened it to read.