A faint, flickering bird silhouette swept across the sky.
Under Daor's forced-march orders, the one hundred fifty captives were reduced to barely fifty survivors.
By noon, the bandit troop had reached less than five kilometers from Nohr Village.
A scout—one of the excited mounted bandits—came galloping back. Daor raised his right hand, and the entire column halted.
"How's the situation?"
"Boss, Nohr Village hasn't noticed us. The villagers are cooking lunch; the whole place is peaceful. I already sent the brothers to circle behind Nohr Village. No one will escape from us!"
"You caught anyone coming or going from the village?"
"Nope. It's broad daylight—no one's wandering around."
"Not a single person?"
"Not one…"
"Boss? How about we just rush in and take 'em?"
Big-Head scratched the back of his smooth, bald skull, a bloodthirsty grin on his face.
But Daor shook his head. After a moment of thought, he spoke to the man beside him.
"Zac, you take two hundred into the village and start the raid. I'll wait in ambush outside in case we walk into a trap."
"A trap? Boss, the brothers already checked. How could there be a trap?"
The scout looked puzzled.
Daor's expression turned extremely serious.
"Let me ask you: when we raided Nohr North Village earlier, did anyone leave or enter the village? Did we capture any?"
"Yeah, it was near dusk, we caught several woodcutters and hunters coming down the mountain."
"And this time? Did you catch anyone coming or going from Nohr Village?"
The scout shook his head.
"No. The boys watched a long time. No one went in or out."
Turning toward the lush Gorrell Mountain range to the west, Daor spoke in a heavy voice.
"This isn't normal. The mountain folk always work from dawn to dusk—farming and hunting. Hunters bring dry rations, go up the mountain, and cook their catch on the spot. But this mountain shows no sign of anyone today.
Hundreds live in Nohr Village, yet at noon not a single soul enters or leaves. That's too much of a coincidence."
"Boss Daor, I think you're right. It's possible Noxians already got word of our southern march and stationed soldiers in Nohr Village to ambush us."
"What? Impossible. We've been moving in secret—no survivors left behind. And the Immortal Bastion is far from Nohr. How could they arrive so quickly?"
Big-Head found it unbelievable.
"Maybe we made a mistake somewhere. Or maybe Mustak's tribes leaked our movement. Either way, we must be cautious. It's decided—Zac, lead the cavalry and two hundred men into the village. Be careful. I'll cover you from outside. If there's an ambush, withdraw immediately."
"Understood, Boss."
Watching Zac and the others ride ahead, Daor frowned again. Something felt wrong… but he couldn't pinpoint what.
"Maybe I'm overthinking. But caution keeps you alive…"
Meanwhile, inside Nohr Village, Lester was making final adjustments on a simple hand-drawn map of the settlement.
"Lord Lester, since you knew restricting movement would alert the bandits, why not use the elderly and weak to deceive them? Lure the unsuspecting bandits into the village and kill them inside?"
After hesitating, Meredith finally asked.
Adding another line near the village entrance with his stick, Lester replied without turning.
"Miss Meredith, the bandit troop has at least four hundred fighters, armed and armored. Excluding you five and the elders, we barely have two hundred able-bodied villagers with no real combat experience. Poorly equipped. Do you know what that means?"
"Well… it means we can't win?"
Meredith thought several seconds, pouting. She couldn't imagine any winning strategy if she were in command.
"It means we are absolutely inferior in numbers and overall strength."
Standing up, Lester straightened his collar.
"That's a gap no ambush or clever trick can bridge. Even if we lure them inside and gain a brief advantage, we'll quickly be dragged into a brutal melee and crushed. No matter how brave sheep are, how could they defeat a pack of tigers twice their number?"
"What does that have to do with you deliberately exposing flaws? Isn't this admitting we can't possibly win—"
Before Meredith finished, Uzal's crystal orb flashed. The mage fell silent.
A few seconds later, when the light faded, Uzal opened her eyes.
"Lord Lester, Cernos reports that his phantom raven saw the bandits split their forces. Besides the cavalry surrounding the village, nearly two hundred are advancing inside. The rest are hiding to the north."
"Tell Cernos to continue watching them."
"Yes!"
Seeing Meredith's expression lighten with sudden understanding, Lester smiled.
"Now you understand?"
"Compared to you, my mind really is slow."
Meredith bowed deeply, giving Lester the respectful mage's salute she had only ever given Lady Rose. Her eyes gleamed.
"Lord Lester deliberately created suspicious behavior to trigger the bandit leader's cautious nature. Making him split his forces and send only part into the village. That breaks their numerical advantage! Then with surprise and our prepared ambush, we can kill the first wave and seize the momentum…
My lord, you are brilliant."
Hearing Meredith's words, the thirteen young villagers armed first under Lester suddenly understood everything. Their admiration grew.
Even Allsop—who had resented killing the "innocent" villagers to harden themselves—now had to admit: if he were to serve Noxus, this was the kind of officer worthy of loyalty. Far better than the impulsive Noxian centurions who only knew how to charge blindly.
"Lord Lester is truly remarkable."
Margaret stood directly behind Lester—his appointed captain of the Noxian Black-Iron Guard, leading the other twelve youths. The cold, ruthless girl commanded natural respect.
"Margaret, you must think more. Ask me anything—don't be stiff."
"Yes, Lord Lester!"
Hearing Lester address her, the girl straightened instantly, heels together, face tense.
Lester gently patted the shy blonde girl's head, then looked at the others. His voice softened.
"You are still children. You shouldn't be on a battlefield. It's my failing that you were forced into this cruel world, using such harsh methods just to make you adapt.
If possible, I would rather build an era where children your age could study in their parents' arms—not raise heavy weapons to stab enemies…"
Allsop lowered his head, complicated emotions in his eyes.
He remembered his mother, sobbing at the Immortal Bastion gates, begging him not to join the fighting.
Maybe… maybe he should help Lester…