Chapter 47

"We should begin by deciding when we will attack," Viper said.

Lucas glanced at him but didn't opine. He waited for the others to speak their minds first.

"We attack in two days," Edith tapped on the table. "It's enough time to prepare our men. We must strike while the iron is still hot. The sellswords are at their weakest now."

Harland nodded. "We won't get another chance like this again."

"I agree," the young chief, Gasper, spoke.

Lucas noticed Viper's gaze falling on him. The latter was likely waiting for a decision from him as well, but Lucas didn't want to commit to a decision in front of them yet. He kept his silence.

"Next, we should speak about our route," Viper said, staring at Lucas. The two of them were the ones who really needed to worry about a route, since Gasper, Edith, and Harland would be moving through their own territories.

Harland and Edith didn't speak, and neither did Lucas. There was no good choice, really. He didn't trust Gasper and he wasn't on good terms with Edith.

When Viper got no response, he spoke again, but not before glancing between Lucas and Edith. "I believe that Lucas and I should move and return through Gasper's territory."

Edith shrugged indifferently.

Lucas didn't want to depend on the new chief of the east, but he believed that Edith was much more volatile. She was rash and perhaps unreasonable at times. He didn't want to test her. He glanced at Gasper and found him keeping a straight face, but only the gods knew what was hidden behind that face.

"Ahem," Viper cleared his throat, trying to get through the silence, since no one actually replied to him. "The most important part would be how we will attack the fortress. We will need ladders at least."

"We can build some crude ladders. Properly sawed and pointed logs could do well as a rams," Harland suggested.

Lucas snorted, finally speaking when the folly went too far. "It's not that simple. The men carrying that log would die before even ramming the gate once, and I doubt you can build ladders good enough for a siege."

Harland glanced at Lucas but didn't retort while Viper seemed deep in thought.

"My men can build the ladders," Gasper said. "There are many refugees among them, and some of them would know how to do some woodwork."

Lucas found the words reasonable but a bit too convenient. He gazed at Gasper and waited to see anything on his face. But there was nothing to be seen. Gasper spoke as if he'd just gotten the idea, but also as if he didn't care whether the others accepted it or not.

"Are you certain we can depend on you regarding the ladders, Gasper?" Viper was the first to question. "We can't have any mishaps happen during the preparation for the attack."

"I am certain," Gasper said flatly. "It won't harm for every crew to build some additional ladders though."

Viper nodded in response then fixed his eyes on Lucas again, this time apparently with no intention to move them away. "Will you join us Lucas? Everyone else is going to have a hand in this." He ran his sharp eyes over the chiefs around the table. "And you should have a hand in it too."

Lucas faintly pressed his lips. He wasn't certain if it was a good idea to attack the sellswords, but he was certain that it wasn't a good idea to stay back when everyone else was going forward. It would contribute to isolating him from the other chiefs. And he already had conflicts with the brother and sister on the opposite side of the table.

Viper seemed to be quite serious about the matter, his eyes still fixed on Lucas.

Lucas noticed the gloating gaze of Edith, and the urging eyes of Harland. The young chief, Gasper, seemed to be trying to keep an indifferent expression, but his constantly moving eyes betrayed him.

He thought of how it would go if the Viscount came to the Red Rain band's rescue in time. It would be dangerous, but staying at his camp would also be dangerous. The other crews would be on the other side of the basin while he would be on his own, an easy prey for the Viscount should the latter decide to take it.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

After a moment of hesitation, he decided to take the risk. But while the other chiefs would take most of their men to the assault, Lucas would take all of his. The fates of his men and himself might be decided in a single moment on the day of the assault, and leaving some of his men behind would only be foolish.

"I will join the attack," Lucas said, watching Viper's relieved countenance. The backstabbing filth looked too relieved. Lucas had a thought. Had Viper been worried that he would exploit this opportunity to attack his camp while he was away attacking the mercenaries? If so, then no wonder he had been so anxious to get Lucas to follow the herd.

"Very good," Viper's wide smile threatened to split his mouth apart. "This decides it then. I suppose everyone is agreed on everything we've discussed so far?"

Nobody objected. But Lucas thought he saw a familiar expression on Gasper's face, an expression of triumph. It was only for a fleeting moment and he wasn't certain it was really there, but it only made his doubts grow deeper. Perhaps he was imagining it, but perhaps he wasn't as well. Regardless, he would have to take the obvious risks. He would traverse the coming storm and hopefully come out of it as whole as he was before entering it.

There would be a storm, yes. That was for certain. He didn't doubt his instincts for a moment. They were tempered by years of experience and a soldier's forewarning senses.

Whether he would survive the storm, however, was something his instincts couldn't tell him.

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Three days after Gerald had the 'merchant' of Ard send the bandits the warning letter, he received a letter of his own from Gasper.

The long letter described what happened in the bandits' assembly, word for word. Apparently, Gasper had written down the words spoken by every one of the chiefs during the assembly. It was no wonder that the letter needed to be written on several parchments.

Gasper also asked for ladders for the siege. The mercenaries would make short work of the attacking bandits if the latter didn't have any siege equipment. If the assault were to prove too costly, it would likely end with a bandit retreat that would keep the Red Rain band problem unresolved.

There was a knock on the study's door, and Gerald's eyes left the parchments on his table. "Come in."

"You summoned us, my lord?" Arthur entered first, followed by Robard.

"Yes," Gerald said. "I need you to have a letter delivered to Gasper, Arthur." Then he remembered the matter of the ladders. He thought of sending the oldest ladders in Ard to be used by the bandits, but he quickly abandoned that thought. The ladders were supposed to be crafted by Gasper's men, which meant that they had to at least look newly crafted. Old ladders or ones that had been used in the recent battle might arouse the bandits' doubts towards Gasper.

"I also need you to head to Kale's workshop and have him craft some crude ladders," Gerald continued. "Perhaps you should even ask him if he has some slightly flawed ladders remaining from the time he crafted the ladders for our assault on Luwin. The most important thing is for theses ladders to look as new as possible."

"Yes, my lord," Arthur nodded. "This means the bandits have swallowed the bait right?"

"Indeed," Gerald smiled. He couldn't wait for it all to end. He had better things to do in the times to come, and he had to be rid of the bandits and Grina before taking even a single step forward. "Have you decided where it would be best to ambush the bandits, Robard?"

"Yes, my lord," Robard said.

Gerald spread a map of the basin on the table and looked at his head knight. "Show me."

Robard pointed at an area in the southwest and said, "In the west, we can trap and surround the bandits in this hilly area. The high ground can help our archers and crossbowmen suppress any resistance from the enemy, while our cavalry can strike their rear. The infantry only has to halt the enemy's advance while the rest of the army annihilates their ranks."

"Very well," Gerald nodded. "What about the east?"

Robard shook his head. "Unfortunately, my lord, there are no good places for an ambush along the bandits' expected route. In the east, we will have to depend on Gasper's numerous men and the element of surprise."

Gerald frowned. According to the letter, the deserter knight would be passing through the east, and he was the most threatening out of all the bandits. His men were mostly, if not wholly, tempered soldiers and he likely had a lot of experience. He was the least likely to panic during the ambush, and Gerald would have liked to have more advantages against him. Although Gerald was glad that the bandits were split in two like he'd wanted, there was still the threat of a bloody resistance from the former knight's crew.

"The bandits of the west will perhaps have less than 2000 men for you to ambush, Robard. Can you handle them with just two regiments?"

"The terrain should easily tip the scales in our favor, my lord," Robard said with a thoughtful expression that was unfamiliar to Gerald. "The rabble of bandits are likely to panic, and that should make their numbers worthless as well. Two regiments is enough, my lord."

Gerald nodded. "Then I will be taking a regiment to the east to join Gasper in ambushing the northern bandits. His recruited refugees are no match for a real enemy. And we don't know how many of them will remain after their attack on the fortress."

He would have to make due with a single regiment, since the fourth regiment of his army was at the southern pass, and most of its men were either wounded or newly recruited and still receiving their training in Ard. He'd sent them to the southern pass to prevent his enemies from escaping the basin. If Edgar were to successfully flee from the bandits, then killing him at the southern pass would be a simple matter. And Gerald could always claim that the mercenary was killed during the bandit assault. As long as his reputation wasn't tarnished among the public, there was nothing for him to worry about. A man's reputation and honor were decided by the tongues of common men before noblemen. The common man would spread the word, after all, and other nobles would mostly have to make their judgments based on the words of the people.