Facing our barrage of arrows, the enemy charged head-on. This time, they didn't advance steadily—their lack of shield bearers made a slow advance suicidal under our rain of arrows.
They sprinted toward us, but I didn't order our troops to retreat while shooting. The past two battles had been overwhelming victories, with no close-quarters combat. We had relied entirely on ranged attacks to decimate the enemy. Some of our Battanian soldiers, burdened by guilt, even closed their eyes while firing. It seemed the only way to awaken their ferocity was to let them experience melee combat firsthand—to make them understand that mercy meant nothing when the enemy would cut them down without hesitation.
When the enemy closed in, only thirty or forty remained, yet they fought desperately. To them, our Battanian soldiers were traitors, and their hatred made them ruthless. This brutality forced our men to see that kinship meant nothing on the battlefield.
After a few minutes of fighting, we wiped them out, capturing their lord. Once again, I chose to release him. At this stage, I didn't need ransom money, nor did I want to make lasting enemies—unless provoked. What I needed was reputation. Letting him go would spread word of both my martial prowess and my chivalry, laying the groundwork for future lords to pledge allegiance when I established my own kingdom.
We looted only the most valuable items before pressing onward, eager to leave Battanian territory. As we marched toward Swadia's Sargot, a scout reported:
**"Master, a Battanian force lies ahead—about sixty or seventy men, resting in the woods."**
I ordered, **"Another one? Move in quietly and finish them quickly. Prioritize their cavalry."**
Leaving a few infantry to guard our supplies, I led the archers forward. At fifty meters, we halted. The enemy was cooking over campfires, with a few sentries patrolling. Our archers picked them off silently. We crept closer, and at twenty meters, unleashed a volley.
Before they could react, most fell riddled with arrows. The survivors scrambled behind trees, but the fight ended swiftly. We surrounded their tent, and I stepped inside to find their lord and a few guards brandishing weapons.
**"Who dares ambush us?"** the lord snarled. **"Our main force is nearby. Surrender now, and I might spare you."**
I smirked. Even in defeat, he remained arrogant. But I kept my tone calm.
**"I am Gattar, a Swadian serving King Harlaus. Your kingdom declared war first, so this is justified. But I won't kill you—I have honor. Introduce yourself, lower your weapons, and I'll let you go."**
**"Truly?"** he asked warily.
**"Of course. Stand down,"** I told my men.
Relieved, he complied. **"I am Melidir, of Fin-Uvan, one of Battania's oldest bloodlines. Lord of Car Banseth. If you must take a prisoner, let it be me—spare my men."**
**"Your concern for them is commendable,"** I said. **"We may be enemies now, but perhaps allies later. Go."**
He bowed. **"I'll remember this. Until we meet again."**
I gave them horses, and they rode off. My Battanian soldiers, moved by my mercy, grew more loyal. Word would spread—both of my strength and my fairness.
As we resumed our march, another force intercepted us—a dozen cavalry at the forefront. I ordered archers to fire warning shots, and the arrows landed before their hooves. Their leader, a woman in armor with a bow, was the first female lord I'd encountered here.
**"Swadians, surrender!"** she shouted.
I laughed. **"Many have demanded that. They're either dead or captured now. But I'll offer *you* a chance—yield, and I'll spare you. Such delicate skin shouldn't be marred."**
Enraged, she hissed, **"Curse you, Swadian! I'll feed your corpse to my hounds!"**
Her force charged—seventy-odd men, mostly archers with few shields. We kited them, our superior marksmanship thinning their ranks. Their cavalry fell first, their mounts shot from under them. By the time they reached us, half were dead.
**"Advance!"** I commanded.
The battle lasted minutes. We crushed them, capturing the wounded lady lord. Her horse was dead, an arrow in her side.
**"Still defiant?"** I taunted. **"What fool brings a band of misfits against us?"**
She glared. **"I've lost. Kill me if you must, but Battanians don't yield."**
**"I won't kill you,"** I said. **"Tell me who you are, and I'll set you free."**