Chapter 263: Suspicion

The noble alliance’s forces were numerous and diverse; Baron Corien could not possibly house them all within his castle.

In accordance with the needs of defense, he selected a relatively flat area near the southern border of the Stonehold to establish the encampment.

After the meeting concluded, Ronin mounted his Cloudstrider and departed Stonehold Castle with Ridal and the others, arriving at the camp.

“Lord, as you commanded, the commanders’ tent has been erected at the very rear, and I’ve stationed guards along the slope beyond.”

Geoffrey led Ronin to the exterior of the “Grand Command Tent,” detailing the surrounding arrangements.

The former chieftain of the wilder tribes was deeply satisfied with his current position and duties.

He knew that among all of Ronin’s followers, Ridal, Macken, and Elron were unquestionably in the top tier—unshakable.

And he understood that as long as he performed his duties diligently, he would rise into the second tier among the other followers.

Now, with the rapid flourishing of the North U territory and the Lord’s status growing ever more noble, Geoffrey found renewed motivation.

Even when he had been chieftain of the wilder tribe, he had dreamed of achieving glory—this was the finest opportunity yet.

Ronin glanced at the tent. Galil had arranged the supplies well; this tent was far larger than his own, resembling a small room.

The tent faced the slope, where infantry stood guard; no one else would approach.

To outsiders, Ronin’s caution seemed excessive—but he did it primarily to facilitate Carlos’s landing.

“Come in, all of you.”

Ronin summoned the twelve transcendentals—including Ridal—into the tent for a small council of North U.

The meeting clarified the objective of this campaign: seize Red Mountain Town and secure the territory’s first iron mine.

Beyond that, Ronin emphasized that this war was an invaluable learning opportunity.

The twelve knights accompanying this expedition would one day become captains, commanders, governors—Ronin needed them to observe, to learn.

Reconnaissance, defense, logistics, camp sanitation, potential problems—no detail was too small to heed.

Ronin entrusted Ridal with the specific assignments and personnel allocations, then departed the tent after announcing that a post-campaign debrief would follow, where each man must present his insights and reflections.

“Thank goodness the Lord didn’t ask us to write a report.”

David exhaled in relief. He’d picked up some literacy from Eileen, but not enough to compose a proper report—and his handwriting was peculiarly awful.

Not just David—Tom, Bablin, Tomas, even Geoffrey struggled.

Ridal chuckled. “You’d rather swing a thousand swords than write two words in your spare time. Don’t find yourselves unable to write when the Lord demands it.”

After leaving the tent, Ronin climbed the slope alone and summoned Carlos.

Red Mountain Town had been blockaded by the Polant Bandits; during wartime, no one could enter from the direction of Stonehold.

Ronin had hoped to obtain a map of Red Mountain Town from Corien, but the man claimed none existed—and promised to draw one within a day.

The speed was impressive, but the map’s detail and accuracy were not to be trusted.

“Does Corien truly have no map… or does he have one and simply refuse to give it to me?”

It was hard to imagine a man entrusted with border defense possessing no map at all. This could only be considered dereliction of duty.

Moreover, from Corien’s expression, Ronin saw not a trace of regret or guilt over the death of the Fifth Knight Order and Sir Hahn.

“Why on earth was the commandership of the Fifth Knight Order ever entrusted to Corien?”

Ronin could not fathom it.

Yet fortunately, terrain observation did not rely solely on maps. With Carlos, such obstacles were negligible.

At his call, Carlos—already lurking in the nearby wilderness—landed swiftly atop the peak.

Ronin mounted the dragon’s back and soared into the sky.

“Maintain the light-bending illusion. Don’t fly too fast.”

Ronin warned, “Avoid crowds. Red Mountain Town has a knight of your caliber.”

“Don’t worry, Master. As long as I stay thirty or fifty meters up, they won’t spot me!”

Carlos’s light-bending spell was executed with flawless precision, and his speed was effortlessly controlled—truly difficult to detect.

Ronin glanced at his level progression: (16/12500). It had increased slightly, but barely.

Even reaching the next level seemed daunting, let alone full maturity.

Perched atop the dragon, Ronin soon hovered above Red Mountain Town. Without effort, he spotted the iron mine—a cavernous, reddish fissure in the earth.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands of miners labored tirelessly within.

“Miners” was a generous term—they were, in truth, enslaved people. Overseers cracked whips at any who moved too slowly or looked askance.

At the mine’s edge, Ronin saw piles of corpses—dozens, if not more than fifty.

“These people must have dragged every resident of the town here to extract enough iron.”

Carlos continued southward. Ronin watched wagon after wagon trundle along the road, hauling mined ore toward Cassir Town to the south.

Clearly, one of the Polant Bandits’ objectives in seizing Red Mountain Town had been this very mine.

But when Ronin observed the terrain connecting Red Mountain Town to Cassir Town, he froze.

It was a narrow, hundred-meter-long passage, no more than ten meters wide, squeezed between two valleys. From above, it resembled a mountain cleaved clean in two by a single sword-stroke—extremely perilous.

A long, constricted corridor flanked by steep peaks—no enemy could easily pass through.

And Ronin noticed boulders piled atop both ridges—clearly intended as rolling defenses.

“How on earth did Hahn’s five knight squads lose here?”

Ronin was baffled.

“Corien said Hahn was drunk that night, lax in defense—that’s what allowed the enemy to strike. But that’s too convenient.”

“And even if he drank, not every knight would have. One squad holding this pass could have held it for hours.”

A sudden realization struck him. His brow furrowed.

“Could there be something wrong with Corien?”

He had never doubted Corien before—had simply assumed his eagerness to attack stemmed from a desire to atone for past failures.

As for assigning Stonehold to logistics, Ronin had never suspected Corien of ulterior motives—he truly believed the task suited him best.

“But would Hahn, facing imminent war, truly be so foolish?”

Once the seed of suspicion took root, it sprouted swiftly, wildly.

If Corien truly had something to hide…

A chill crept down Ronin’s spine. (End of chapter)