Lord: Starting from the Pit-Dwelling Courtyard

Chapter 43: Dodok

By the time the supplies in the valley were inventoried, it was almost dawn.

Two carts were loaded with weapons and two with food. Later, the militiamen who arrived pushed the carts back home, the wheels leaving deep ruts on the dry, cracked soil.

Fanta led his men to chase for ten miles, but they couldn't catch Devon. They only found a blood-stained cloak on a rocky beach. The cloak was made of thick woolen material, the style of a cavalryman, and there was a tear in the back from which blood was seeping out.

Fanta rolled up the cloak, tucked it under her arm, and took it back to Ron.

When they returned to their territory, it was just dawn.

Mad met Ron on the city wall, took the things from his hands, and reported in a low voice that nothing unusual happened last night and everything was calm in Harland's direction.

Ron nodded, indicating that he should keep an eye on things.

Ron returned to the pit courtyard and placed Devon's cloak, dagger, and two letters on the stone table.

Old Hall stood to the side, looking down at these things.

"Devin isn't dead. Fanta chased him for miles but couldn't catch him, only finding his cloak." Ron spread out the parchment. "But these two letters are enough. Lord Degea might not know that Devon was colluding with Angus territory."

Old Hall was silent for a moment, then spoke.

"What does the young master intend to do?"

"Devin didn't inform Lord Degea beforehand." Ron picked up the dagger, flipped it over, and placed it on the table. "Novia was much nicer to us than Bard was when he came to discuss business last time. He and his brother aren't on the same side. Next time Novia comes, show him these two letters. Let him know he owes us a favor."

Old Hall nodded, then asked, "After something like this, will Novia come back?"

Ron nodded: "Definitely. On one hand, it's to test the territory's attitude, and on the other hand, it's to determine our strength. They want our brick formula, but if we're strong enough, what if they can't take it from us? Then they'll have no choice but to trade with us honestly. Novia is the room for maneuver."

Old Hall nodded thoughtfully: "This is also a struggle between the two brothers. If Devon wins, Novia will be in trouble in the future, and vice versa. Lord De Gea has a good plan."

"That's why it's said that none of the lords who become lords in the wasteland are easy to get along with."

The spoils captured during the valley raid were inventoried by noon that same day and all were put into the armory.

Doron and Mad were responsible for distributing the captured knives and spears to the various militia units, while Mrs. Moriel checked the captured items against the list and put them into storage in the No. 2 pit courtyard.

The first basement level of the No. 2 pit courtyard is the administrative hall, the second basement level is the territory's armory, and the granary is built on the surface.

The ground is hot, which also means it is dry, and the grain is not easily affected by moisture.

For the next five days, Ron set up an eight-bull crossbow on the top of the watchtower. This was not for killing enemies, but mainly for shooting goblin heroes or high-level goblins.

The giant goblin has reached the level of a full-fledged knight, and it is difficult for ordinary soldiers to kill it.

Not to mention the Goblin Hero, who is comparable to the Earth Knight.

On a hill far from Ashwood territory.

After tending to his injuries, Devon gritted his teeth and said, "What exactly happened? Why did the Ashwood people suddenly attack us?"

The once mysterious and powerful black-robed mage is now in a terrible state.

The man in black robes said with a grim expression, "We were careless. We were probably discovered by a low-level mage from Ashwood Territory. It's quite normal for a territory with two architectural mages to have a full-fledged mage."

In a fit of anger, Devon punched a nearby low sand dune, which aggravated his wound, causing him to grimace in pain.

"Never mind, we must meet with Dodok as soon as possible. We want the people of Ashwood dead."

Dodok is a mole that De Gea territory has cultivated among the goblins over the years. Now he is a goblin hero, and one of the best among them. This is also the reason why De Gea territory has been able to use goblins to eliminate other pioneering lords in recent years.

It was almost dark when Devon led his remaining troops across the last dry gully.

The sunset over the wasteland sank from gray-blue to rusty, and then to a murky black.

The wind was blowing in from the north, carrying sand and an increasingly strong stench.

Blood, rotting fur, feces, charred bones—this complex stench is left wherever the goblin army goes.

If you follow this smell, you won't go the wrong way.

Behind him were the remaining soldiers who had escaped from the valley; only four remained, and all of them were wounded.

The black-robed mage walked at the very back of the group. His tattered black robes were torn to strips by the thorns of the wasteland, revealing his thin forearms and several bleeding abrasions underneath.

His hood was long gone, and his burned face looked particularly grotesque in the twilight. The pitted skin stretched from his forehead to his jaw, and his left eyelid was burned outwards and would never close.

He had to stop to catch his breath every few steps; the aftereffects of excessive magic consumption caused his fingers to tremble uncontrollably.

Along the way, he had thought a lot. The archers must have been lying in ambush here in advance, and the angle from which the arrow rain covered the entire camp was the only one.

The people of Ashwood should have already figured out their location.

The black-robed mage was implying that there was a traitor within the camp.

Unfortunately, he couldn't find any evidence and didn't know who to blame. After all, hundreds of people in the territory knew about the location of the camp, and he didn't know who had tipped off the Ashwood Territory.

In fact, the black-robed mage already had a goal in mind, but unfortunately he had only just joined the Dehea territory, and even though he was valued by Devon, his status was not as high as that person's.

Even if Devon believed him, it was no use.

He could only keep this goal to himself, and next time, he would definitely seize the opportunity to deliver a fatal blow to the other party.

Now, after a day and a night of tracking, they have finally found the trail of the goblin army.

First came a few stragglers, skinny little goblins with ribs protruding, carrying sharpened wooden sticks, dragging their feet forward on the sand.

When they saw Devon and his group, a fervent glint flashed in their eyes. They did not attack immediately, but stopped in a daze, staring at the group of humans with their cloudy eyes for a moment. They sniffed around, and after finally confirming the scent, they showed a lack of interest and continued walking forward.

Those were herbs that Dodok had prepared for the people of Degea, herbs that could help goblins determine that they were not enemies.

Soon a squad of wolf riders arrived.

The ribs of a dozen or so dire wolves were bound with leather straps to serve as reins, and the goblin cavalrymen on their backs wore leather armor stripped from human corpses, with short bows slung across their backs.

The lead wolf rider saw Devon, reined in his dire wolf, and questioned him in goblin language mixed with Common tongue words.

Devon ignored him, raised a dagger with the wheat ear pattern of the De Gea territory engraved on the hilt, as well as a horizontal scratch, which was the token of his promise to Dodok.

The wolf riders led them across the last stretch of gravel, and after crossing a low sand dune, Devon saw the goblin army.

The campsite covered the entire valley, stretching from the foot of the dunes to the horizon, with dark tents huddled together like fungal growths on rotting flesh.

There were countless campfires, and around each one were crowded gray-green figures. Some were roasting meat of unknown animals, some were sharpening knives, and some were just squatting there, staring blankly at the fire.

The sounds of clashing weapons, the growls of dire wolves, the groans of wounded soldiers, and some kind of high-pitched war song mingled together, buzzing across the entire valley.

Five thousand!

No, there could be more.

During this period, new tribes joined the community.

There are at least 600 tents visible, and if each tent houses eight to ten goblins, the army is already over 5,000 strong.