36 Burnt Food (1/2)
”We're under attack!” a shout pulled Luther from his sleep. At first he ignored the voice. But the word 'attack' resonated through his mind. He slid off his bed and looked outside. It was chaos.
”What happened?” Luther grabbed a soldier by his collar and asked aggressively.
”The said that the Castonians are attacking us from the burnt forest!” the soldier revealed
Luther's jaw dropped. How! How could the Castonians attack them from behind? The Castonians under their third prince were supposed to be ahead of them, not behind. Also, the nearest army was the garrison of Timur. They can't attack because the castle was under siege. General Rickard himself was leading the siege of Timur so there was no way for the Castonians to escape the siege. He refused to believe that they were under attack.
Suddenly another cry reached Luther's ear. ”The food wagons are burning! Help!”
The food wagons! Luther rushed towards the burning wagons. Since the camp of the Whistlers were the closest to the forest, it didn't take him long to reach the wagons. But it was too late. The fire had already consumed the two wagons. Even if they managed to put out the fire, the food was gone.
There was a corpse near the wagon. Luther saw stab wounds. He was confused. If it was a guerilla team, they would have killed all the sentries guarding the wagons. But there was just one corpse. Where are the rest of the sentries?
”Where are the sentries who guarded the food wagons?” he asked the soldiers.
”That would be us sire” a small voice sounded not far from him. Luther turned to the direction the voice came from. He saw three soldiers lowering their heads.
”What happened!” Luther roared as he approached the soldiers
”A pair of soldiers came running from the burnt forest sire. One of them was wounded. They said that the Castonians are coming and ordered us to inform the camp.”
”And you listened to them!?” Luther shouted ”You left the wagons!”
”We are sorry sire. We panicked. We left somebody behind” the soldier looked at the corpse ”But the pair must have killed him”
Saboteurs! Not guerillas but saboteurs! That was the first thing that went through Luther's mind. And they're good. They managed to trick the sentries. Luther could understand if there were only two or three sentries guarding the wagons. But eight? The saboteurs managed to trick all of the sentries.
But the fire was set not so long ago. The saboteurs were still nearby. Luther needs to catch them. That would gain him fame and erase his humiliation. If they could reveal the Prince's plan, then that would be better. He turned towards the Whistlers.
”Group yourselves into small groups and scour the surroundings. If you see two people riding their horses away from the camp, catch them. They are Castonian saboteurs. You need to bring them to me. I will give a hundred gold coins to each of the members of the team that catches the saboteurs! ”
After hearing of Luther's offer, the Whistlers ran towards their horses. There were so fast. Money makes a man gain lightning speed, Luther thought.
Luther then examined the food wagons. Nearly all of the food was gone. Their food situation was already bad enough before, but now it was abysmal. An army marches on its stomach. If they can't find food soon, many soldiers will die of starvation.
After a few hours, the Whistlers came back empty-handed. Well, maybe not empty-handed because a team of three was annihilated not far from the camp. Luther cursed the three morons. Useless! How could they lose! He was so close. Even if the saboteurs revealed nothing, catching them would increase his fame. But the three morons not only failed, they were killed. Weaklings!
Luther's anger was interrupted when his squire informed him that General Sigurd called for an emergency meeting. Upon hearing his uncle's name, Luther subconsciously trembled. The physical abuse he suffered still haunted him. Also he was not unfamiliar with his uncle's temper. Some people are going to experience hell today, Luther thought.
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The sun started to rise and blanketed the earth with its warmth. The birds were already singing their songs and the daylight had already illuminated the land. A new and beautiful morning dawned.
But Sigurd's morning was the opposite of beautiful. It was dark, gloomy and maddening. His knuckles were itching to beat somebody to death. He wanted to rip the bodies of the seven sentries kneeling in front of him.