Bear School Astartes-Chapter 622 - 625. Something big happened

"What is... that?"

A group of cavalry, usually high and mighty, was left dumbfounded as they approached the entrance to Ring Mountain.

The cavalry squad leader tugged at the saddle of the scribe behind him and asked in a wooden tone.

Carriage wreckage, he had seen plenty. He had seen many burned wrecks, had even burned many himself.

But the crux of the issue wasn’t just the wreckage of those carriages!

It was about how the wreckage was piled, and... the cloth strips blown onto the wreckage by the hot wind, left unburned.

They were very simple black cloth strips, seemingly blown apart after being scorched.

On those black strips, there was a faint pattern of several pale human skulls, neatly arranged.

"Nausicca Cavalry Squad’s... battle flag?!"

The scribe nearly squeezed these words out painfully from his throat.

Their first reaction—something terrible has happened!!!

The Nausicca Cavalry Squad, even among the various Niflgaard Legions, renowned for their long histories and honored traditions, were quite famous.

And now... the situation...

"Damn it!" The cavalry leader blurted out uncontrollably, immediately urging his horse forward rapidly towards the exit of Ring Mountain.

"Have those Nausicca Cavalry Squad members gone mad? How dare they venture into terrain like this!"

The squad leader’s face was frantic with urgency, as if his mother were trapped in a sea of flames.

"Scribe! Where is the scribe?! Get over here!"

"Here, sir! I’m here."

The scribe’s helmet, loosened by his relaxed mood earlier, almost slipped off during the sudden acceleration.

Now he was pale-faced, adjusting his helmet while rushing over on horseback.

"Check the duty roster for me! See which Nausicca Cavalry Squads nearby are on duty, and find out how many are trapped!"

Upon receiving the order, the scribe didn’t bother wiping the cold sweat that broke out under his helmet and immediately fished out a duty roster from the saddlebag to check.

As he flipped through the pages, the three ten-man cavalry teams dared not breathe. The squad leader anxiously watched page after page being turned, murmuring constantly.

"At most, only fifty men? These elite cavalry, aside from large battles or serving great nobles, who would spare them?"

Finally, the scribe finished flipping through the roster, blinking repeatedly as he faced his superior.

"I found it, sir."

Having seen something, the scribe’s speech stammered.

The leader, however, failed to notice, as humans subconsciously avoid unfavorable answers.

"Who’s on duty? Thirty? Or fifty men?"

The scribe’s response was still stammering: "There’s a five hundred-man Nausicca Cavalry Squad deployment..."

"Don’t tell me these things that are obviously useless." The cavalry leader impatiently waved, as did the surrounding cavalry waiting eagerly for news.

"Five hundred men? Five hundred can crush a thousand Northern People’s cavalry in a charge! Such a Nausicca Cavalry Squad’s scale can’t..."

"But, they’re gone, sir."

The atmosphere suddenly turned deathly silent.

"What do you mean by... gone?"

The scribe was nearly in tears under his helmet: "Only this cavalry squad was deployed nearby! No others!"

"The one who dispatched them was Duke Adal Epp Dasrcy, accompanied by a thousand Black Infantry Archers and two thousand regular infantry."

The cavalry leader stared blankly at the giant black smoke column ahead, struggling to swallow.

"That’s equivalent to a mixed division..."

The flames in the mountain hollow were still scorching, with heat radiating outwards, causing a large circle of the terrain surrounding Ring Mountain to prematurely soften from the winter hardness.

And then, there was no further dialogue from the squad.

The squad immediately returned to camp, wanting to report their findings.

But upon returning, they discovered the camp had transformed from its orderly chaos into real pandemonium.

"Assemble! Emergency assembly!"

Noncommissioned officers barked like shepherd dogs, barking commands and cracking whips to herd their soldiers.

Employees, clutching baskets of documents and orders, rushed from tent to tent, without daring to pause.

The livestock vehicles responsible for transporting supplies and equipment further crowded the previously empty camp.

Soldiers hastily trying to assemble struggled past people and vehicles, as even the smell of dung seemed drenched in anxiety and chaos.

The din of armor and weaponry clashing, scraping, and jostling was maddeningly loud.

The situation didn’t resemble that of a victorious post-battle.

It reminded the cavalry squad leader of the suffocating, tense preparations before a major battle.

The scribe’s records and all paper documents were commandeered as soon as they entered the camp.

Thus, the cavalry squad wasn’t directly aware of the ripple effect their report might have caused.

They simply followed orders, returned to their tent for some rest.

But amidst the chaotic camp, news spread uncontrollably; even with no intention to hear, one could still find news piercing their ears.

"You know the temporary station we set up near the Sintra Border, don’t you?" Officers in groups walked past outside the tent.

They chatted while walking, occasionally sniffling, complaining about the damned Northern weather and savage lands.

"In one night, five hundred warhorses appeared there. As for whose reserve horses they are... Hmph, I don’t get it, can this even be kept secret?"

The cavalry sitting inside the tent, preparing to remove their armor, dared not breathe, even stalling their movements as if an invisible pause button was pressed.

Not until the officers’ shadows vanished from the tent canvas did they collectively exhale, slumping onto their bunks, exchanging silent glances.

They were cavalry themselves, well aware that in this region and at this time, only one unit could regard true warhorses as reserves, employing double horse configurations.

And not just one horse for battle, another as a packhorse, only one unit operates that way.

"And the numbers match up, right?"

The scribe suddenly murmured.

Immediately, the leader shot him a dagger-like glare.

"I didn’t hear anything, I don’t understand anything! Rest!"

The most experienced leader turned away, lying down, yet seemed to provide these young men with an opportunity to whisper their curiosity.

Hence, they whispered excitedly.

"Who could pull off something like this?"

"That’s a mixed division’s strength! An entire one!"

"Our sentries received no word, none whatsoever."

"Ghosts? Demon Spirits? Those Northern People often talk about these, don’t they?"

"That’s superstition! Only the Great Sun reigns!"

"But who knows, if those things could truly contend with a great army..."

As they spoke, the leader, previously seeming indifferent with his back facing them, shuddered involuntarily.