Perhaps because of the rain of the previous day, a thin fog began to rise over a large area of the Acasta Plains in the evening.

By the time the soldiers set out for the forest on the south side after dinner, the fog had reached a point where it was impossible to see from a distance of several tens of meters.

The forest in the mist looks like the place where the headless knights of Avenella are haunted, and everyone has adopted a tight formation in order not to be left behind.

The fog was a godsend for the Avenella army who were trying to stealthily move forward, but the already low visibility of the night, combined with the fog, made the faces of the knights and sergeants walking through the forest look solemn.

Superstition combined with the real danger made the whole forest feel hostile, and many of them became nervous and watched left and right at the slightest disturbance.

The aristocracy who admired the Sivalier-style lifestyle may have never really made it into the plain.

Composed of expensive armor and elaborate rituals, they may have isolated themselves from nature while distinguishing themselves from the average Arvenella. Edward carefully observed the archers who were headed, and in order to make a living, they walked the mountains and forests all year round with a vigorous and light step, and they walked faster than a war horse in difficult terrain. The posture blended with the white mist, a natural temperament and a well-honed movement that was honed while hunting wild animals that were far more alert than humans.

The scarcity of supplies led these peasant-turned-archers to use skill and experience instead of tools, using the stars as an indication of direction, judging from every trace of unnatural marks on the ground and the growth of vegetation which side was safe for the army to follow.

Edward pondered, like so many other Arvenella generals sitting on horseback at this moment.

The knights and sergeants were well equipped and trained, but when the march was actually made, a thousand archers made less noise than ten Arvenella knights. There was so much to learn from the absolute 'majority' of the 'majority' of Avenella, whom they hadn't really paid attention to before, the blonde-haired prince thought, the details of what Henry had said to him a few hours earlier that made him think more deeply.

A hundred years ago, the united Avenela people came to the plains of Acasta, but they were truly united, perhaps never before.

The nobles from West Valier have always been the nobles of West Valier, and if they want to make this kingdom truly strong, they cannot break down the barriers between the people and the nobility.

He retracted his thoughts and focused on the present moment - the biggest problem was time.

The exact timing of the attack on Fort Ellen is unknown, but as the day draws closer to transporting supplies to it, Sivalier could attack Ashenir at any moment. Considering that none of the three are too far apart from each other, Awasika, Fort Ellen and Ashinier, they don't actually have much of a lead.

It would take two days to get from Fort Ellen to Ashinir without a detour, and a day and a half to get from Vavasika to Ashinir under normal circumstances—and the location of the ambush, which would have been too short for them to take the normal road.

With only half a day's buffer time, considering that the main force of the West Valiers is extremely mobile cavalry, Edward's troops are likely to pass by the other side if there is a slight error. All the previous efforts would have been in vain if the ambush had been lost and the other side had been allowed to march in for a long time, so Prince Edward, who had twisted the entire army into a single line after that speech, ordered his archers to lead the whole team through the forest as vanguards, and the time to reach the designated place was pressed into one night.

There is no time to delay, and the fate of the whole country is pinned on their own people at this moment.

The fog was thick and the fog would not dissipate until at least tomorrow afternoon, and given the danger of the night march, the Sivaliers would probably not set out until the day after tomorrow. In other words, they will have at least a full day to prepare for the ambush.

Everything depends on these two days.

Breathing in the cold, damp air of his mouth and nose, Edward tightened his grip on the reins.

......

The moon sets, the sun rises, and the day passes.

The thick fog was not dispersed by the hot sun until the afternoon.

The undulating grasslands in front of Fort Ellen reeked of unpleasant stagnant water, and Sir Amedé de Bertion frowned and pinched his large nose, characteristic of Sivalier.

He had always hated the land, the annoying cold wind that still howled in the castle, the weedy land, the people and the nobles who didn't know what to do here.

"Phew. Sir spat hard into the plain, and the mist stained the velvet cloak he had draped over with dew, which made his unhappiness even more invigorating.

"Do you miss the golden wheat sea of Inznir? A well-dressed nobleman of about thirty-five years of age, with a white beard, shrugged his shoulders at Sir Bertion, who spat back with another spit.

"Where these boars live, even the air smells of pig manure. Sir looked rather unhappy, and the expression on the man's face was still grim: "Your Excellency Count Antoine has given orders, Sir, you and I will be the spears when we set off early tomorrow morning." ”

"Teach these hillbillies what real knights are. The nobleman, whose blonde hair was all combed to one side, smiled playfully.

"It's a pleasure. Sir replied.

Sunset, sunrise, another day passes.

Sir stood at the door of the castle and ordered two of his servants to put plate armor on his body, the hem of the dark blue burqa hanging from the underside of the breastplate, and the soft chainmail apron attached to the perimeter of the armour protected the upper part of the thighs.

It took more than five minutes for the servants to skillfully thread the tough leather thread on the armor through the holes in the armor and then tighten it, and it took more than five minutes for the entire suit of armor to be put on neatly.

"Click. With the help of the servant, Sir got on his horse, and he took the helmet from the servant, and the conspicuous blue tail feathers on the top of the helmet represented his noble status. He put on his helmet, then lifted his visor and turned his head to look behind him.

The others were more or less ready, hundreds of flags were raised, and violets and roses hunted in the winds of the Acasta Plains.

"Depa, Vala, Sivalier!" cried Count Antoine, sitting in the center.

"Oh!!!" in fact, he and the sergeants responded with their weapons held high.

"Vala!Sivalier!" Sir Bedion smiled slightly, and then pulled the reins first.

As long as the fools of Avenella don't get into the saddle of their horses in fright, in front of this iron horseman.

"Knock knock knock!" The remaining water on the plain ground was trampled by pairs of horses' hooves, and the invincible Sivalier hoplites began to advance. Even the horizon trembled as the knights marched in clusters, armed with rifles, and all sorts of aristocratic ornaments painted every inch of the hem of the cuirass, helmet, and burqa.

If there were people who knew the coat of arms of the nobility or were familiar with the knightly jousting here, they would surely be dazzled by the sheer number.

Twenty-five thousand knights and sergeants, heavy cavalry of steel, with expensive plate armor made of steel and sturdy horses of good blood, could not be possessed by any other country on the west coast except Sivaliers.

Even in recent years, the three newly built orders of Avenella, which are known for their wealth, have combined to be just over 10,000, and now only half of the knights are located in Vavasika.

It's no wonder that the West Valiers are so confident.

"What about our infantry from the east?" said Sir Bertion, who led nearly a thousand cavalry out at the forefront, and the blonde nobleman, who was already fully armed, said to him, and Sir pouted again, not in the slightest to take them seriously.

"Don't need those fools, it doesn't make any difference if they come back when we crush Avenella's army and start the siege. ”

"Rush!"

As Sir pulled the reins and drove his horses into a gallop, the air around him became rapid, blowing through the helmet's observation port onto his face.

"That's true, sir. The blonde nobleman next to him said this with a smile, and shouted backwards, and the people behind him began to speed up with them.

Only when he was galloping could he feel a little affection for the land, the vast wilderness allowed the horses to run without worry, and he had even begun to consider whether to invest in the creation of a huge knightly arena in the vicinity - at least more than half of the field represented the highest standard of knightly jousting in the royal capital Prospel - and in time it would become the territory of Sivaliers.

Thinking so, the knights and sergeants behind him began to form a narrow formation led by him as Sir moved around, while the more troops in the rear maintained a relatively dense appearance.

The wind was howling, and it became more and more intense as it broke out of the windshield of the forest on the east side of Fort Ellen Sentinel. But Sir didn't bother with those things, and he led the lead of nearly a thousand cavalry towards the slightly undulating plains ahead.

It was not far away, as long as they stepped over the hill in front of them, and after a little more progress, the center point of the plain, known as the land of eternal spring, would appear in their field of vision.

Sir Berduen commanded his horse skillfully, and the descent should have slowed the horse, but he and his companions continued to run at full speed.

"Smack-"

A few slight sounds faded into the wind, and Sir frowned, "Pop-pop-pop-" More sounds began to sound in a dense manner, and he and his companion followed the sound to look to the right.

- There was nothing there, and Sivalier's cavalry flanks would be quite vulnerable when attacked, especially if there was no infantry to coordinate them.

But Sir Bertion, and any of the other knights, were battle-hardened veterans, and they knew this very well, so they set out at a distance of about six hundred metres from either side, always at the centre of the road.

The excellent view from both sides of the Flat River at this distance allowed any army that wanted to sneak up on them to reveal themselves at the first moment of departure, and all the Iron Horsemen of Sivalier needed was to turn their heads and regain the advantage.

Six hundred meters was the distance from the slightly raised ground on the east side, beyond which there was nothing but empty wasteland and silver-white sand.

Further on, there is the dense Protacian forest.

There are no blind spots, whether it is hoplites or heavy cavalry, as long as they show their heads, they will immediately expose themselves.

Shaking his head, ignoring the small sound that had preceded him, the confident Sir Bertion began to think of something unrelated. The beach is said to have a great view, so when Sivalier takes this treasure land, bring your family here. He softened the expression on his face as he thought back to his newborn child and his wife, who always had a gentle smile on her face.

"What's that?"

"What?!"

The knights behind him grew noisy, and Sir looked back with a disgruntled frown, then looked up in line with their gaze.

Thousands of tiny black dots filled the sky high in the sky, and they were only noticeable at such a distance against a clear sky-blue background.

Sir "......" his eyes widened, the sudden appearance of something from nowhere was very familiar to him, and the completely unforeseen attack at this distance had made him miss the opportunity to warn his allies.

"Oh, damn it!!," the blond-haired nobleman's hysterical growl came from the left rear, but was then muffled by a dense burst of air.

"Woo Blah T

"Shoot—Ding!" The frantically falling rain of arrows from the great height could not be stopped, and some of the arrows landed on the knight's armor and bounced off, but many more hit the unprotected horses.

"Hoosh!!"

Sir Berduon's horse was the first to fall while running, and the whole side and neck of the horse was full of arrows and threw him out with a scream.

The soil was soft and protected by plate and cotton armor, but even so, he was dizzy from his fall.

"Uh-" Jazz lay on his side as he felt the sharp pain and numbness in his back, hands and feet, and watched feebly as his companions fell one by one in the black rain.

'See, those in the back......,' thought Sir Bertion, who had tried several times but had not been able to get up.

"Knock knock knock—" The sound of horses' hooves came from behind him, and then a small group of horsemen with mountain lion insignia in a single column ran up to the hill at full speed - judging by the direction of the sound, they must have been hiding in the forest ahead.

"Hey, Sivalier bastards, we're here!" the knight of Avenella shouted behind him in a loud voice, then turned and ran.

“...... Knock knock!" The earth-shattering sound gradually became louder, and Sir Bertion's pupils widened as blood flowed from his huge nostrils as he had fallen, and every bone in his body ached, but his tenacity as a battlefield veteran and the pride of the Sivalier nobles made him grit his teeth and prop up half of his body, and roared hysterically.

"No!!Don't come here, it's a trap!!"

"Knock knock knock!!"

"Vala!Sivalier!!"

The sound of the knight's shouting and the sound of the horse's iron hooves falling in unison drowned out the roar of the knight, and the moment the first horse rushed over the hill, a dense row of figures stood on the hill on the east side, which should have been empty.

"Open the bow!!"

"Bang!" Edward's long sword pointed straight at the Sivalier army that was more than five hundred meters away, exposing its flanks.

Then shouted loudly.

"Put!!"

"Smack!"

"Bang Bang!"

Arrow after arrow swooped down on the West Valier knights with a sharp and deadly whistling.