Chapter 259: Leader of the Bandit Group

Stonehold.

Since May, the shadow of war had hung over this city.

Faced with the sudden loss of Redmount Town and the annihilation of half the knightly orders, the people here lived in daily dread, fearing that one night’s sleep might be their last before the sun rose again.

Fortunately, reinforcements from Wushan Fortress arrived, easing the tension.

That night, in the study of the Baron of Stonehold:

“Captain Corien, the remaining squads of the Fifth Knightly Order have been taken over by Sir Torul.”

Corien let out a cold snort, his face icy. “Captain? Briso, do you really think I still hold the title of Fifth Knightly Order’s captain?”

With Torul entering Stonehold bearing Rulans’s orders, the few surviving squads of the Fifth had been swiftly seized.

Torul said nothing outright; Rulans issued no formal dismissal. But Corien knew—after the disaster at Redmount Town, his title as captain was gone.

From this moment on, he was merely a vassal of Wushan, a baron of Stonehold, with only three knightly squads under his command from his own lands.

Beyond this bitter blow, Viggins demanded he commit every knightly squad within Stonehold Ridge, and supply provisions for the knightly forces of Wushan Fortress and the northern Wushan territories, to atone for his failure at Redmount Town.

And it was certain: even if Wushan Fortress won this war and reclaimed Redmount Town, the iron mines there would never be his again.

Briso chuckled softly, dropping the subject of captaincy. “I hear the commander of this noble alliance is Ronin, my lord. How well do you know this Ronin?”

“A mere boy who just came of age.”

Corien’s tone dripped with contempt. “Whether he hid his strength all along or stumbled into knighthood by luck, it doesn’t matter. Even if he’s performed decently these past half-year, it cannot erase his past ignorance and folly!”

Thinking of Viggins and his son, his disdain deepened. “You know Viggins’s command ability. Do you truly believe his son could surpass him?”

The player sees the board; the spectator sees only shadows.

Corien knew only that Ronin had slain Resen and become Viscount of Northern Wushan—but knew nothing of the man’s fundamental transformation in character and conduct.

“So what shall we do in this war?”

Briso asked, yet his faint smile suggested he already knew Corien’s answer.

“Shall we obey Ronin’s command—or…”

“Of course we obey his command!”

Corien cut him off. “I lost at Redmount Town already. If I now defy orders and cause us to lose this war, will I not become the perfect scapegoat for the noble alliance’s rage?”

“That’s true,” Briso murmured inwardly, nodding.

Neither man feared defeat—or that the Polart Bandits might press forward and threaten Corien’s lands.

After all, Wushan Fortress had sent many knightly squads to this alliance. Even if every one of them died, the enemy would bleed thickly.

Corien drew a deep breath, his eyes glinting with calculation.

“Go. Prepare. Tomorrow, we must ride out to meet the commander and the noble alliance as they enter the city.”

…

Meanwhile, inside Redmount Town.

The grand hall of what had once been Knight Hahn’s mansion now glowed brightly with candlelight.

Five towering figures stood within, their shadows stretching wide across the walls.

They were the leaders and core members of the Polart Bandits.

“The noble alliance from Wushan Fortress has arrived. They’ll likely attack Redmount soon,” one said, voice tinged with unease.

“So what? We drive them back, then.”

“Hah, yes. We took Redmount—do you think we’ll give it up?”

Others chimed in—some anxious, others fearless—but none suggested surrender.

“Enough!”

The bandit chief, Amicus, raised his voice, silencing the room instantly.

“Hordan, from now on, keep every man on watch. Prepare for battle at any moment.”

Hordan, the deputy chief, bowed. “Understood, Chief!”

“Worrick, have all the iron ore we’ve mined been shipped out?” Amicus asked.

A knight below answered quickly: “All the early stockpiles from Redmount Mine, plus the ore we’ve extracted recently, have been loaded onto wagons and sent to Shorehaven.”

“Good. There’s still time before war begins. Tell the miners—every hour not spent eating, they’re digging. Even when they sleep, let them sleep in the mine.”

“Why, Lord?”

The deputy frowned slightly. This was the behavior of a man planning to plunder every last ounce before fleeing—was he already thinking of retreat?

“Hah. Always prepare multiple exits. If we’re forced to abandon Redmount, we’ll take as much iron as we can with us.”

“I understand, Lord.”

Worrick, in charge of the mines, grinned cruelly. “I’ll make sure those miners dig deeper than ever.”

“Remember to feed them well. Let them sleep two or three hours each night.”

Amicus added kindly. “Too tired, and output drops.”

“I’m sure the miners will be grateful for your mercy.”

They discussed further, then dispersed.

Though the Polart Bandits were unrecognized by the kingdom and all nobles, their inner structure was disciplined—not a rabble, but an organized force.

As his men left the hall, Amicus rose and stretched, his golden knight’s frame cracking with satisfaction.

He, a Golden Knight, could have followed any noble—perhaps even earned a fief, become a titled knight, entered the aristocracy.

But what was that compared to ruling his own land, free and unchained?

Years ago, he’d seen Wushan Fortress’s decline. With noble backing, he chose this spot to rise—and even now, he admired his own foresight.

Now, if he kept his balance, avoided a kingdom-wide crackdown, he could sit like a true noble on the southwestern edge of Wushan, Shorehaven and its surrounding towns his domain.

What difference was there between him and the landed lords?

“The noble alliance of Wushan… it’s been years since I last tested your strength. I wonder if you’ve grown sharper.”

A faint smile curled his lips—perhaps at some private thought.

“Hah. Lord Rulans thinks to use us as a stage for his grandson’s glorious war. How amusing… that plan is doomed to fail.”

(End of Chapter)