Through the Commander Scouter, I could pinpoint enemy positions—it felt like becoming a living radar. The fifty Burgundian light cavalrymen were divided into two units, sweeping through the northern fields and forests like hunters flushing out quarry. The guerrilla warfare seemed to have rattled them considerably. I hadn't even fallen for the ambush.
It appeared the Burgundian command had unleashed hunting parties to find us. But I had no intention whatsoever of engaging them. First, after raiding three locations, the light cavalry under my command had been reduced to forty riders, and even if we clashed with a single enemy unit, we would be outnumbered.
Engaging head-on in this situation would be reckless. If I first returned to camp to swap horses, then concentrated attacks on scattered smaller units, I could inflict considerable damage. Finding their supply lines would be icing on the cake. Coming down from the hill, I gathered the lieutenants.
