I was a knight in the Middle Ages

Chapter 476: Captive Corps

"Lord Alpha, they're willing to go with us, but they're afraid of going to the battlefield—they're worried about being recognized by the enemy and bringing harm to their families. They'd rather move supplies to the rear." Quinte's red eyes gleamed in the midday sun, and his palm brushed against the polished handle of the battle axe at his waist. "These people are scared out of their wits, yet they still want to see their families."

Alpha tapped the iron guard on the saddle with his fingertips and squinted at the mutants huddled in the distance. "Have the dwarves make some helmets with iron masks—they'll cover their faces so those people won't recognize them. If you really don't want to use a knife, go to the logistics team and move food and supplies, or carry the wounded. You have to be of some use."

Alpha paused, his voice lowered - in this land, mutants never had the option of "leaving freely" if they wanted to survive, and Alpha would not be so soft-hearted as to let them leave.

As Quintai nodded, the armor on his body made a metallic rustling sound. "That's a good idea. They're not afraid of bloodshed, but of having no one to rely on after my death."

When the final count was made, out of the two thousand men, one thousand clutched their newly-received battle axes and followed Quintiles in shouting earth-shaking slogans;

Five hundred men took the iron-faced helmets hesitantly, their armor jingling against their bodies;

The remaining five hundred people held the hemp ropes and stretchers, hid behind the crowd but held the corners of their clothes tightly - at least they had a shelter from the wind.

As they are now, it is impossible for them to integrate into the world of ordinary people. At least they will not become the outsiders and the targets of everyone's hatred in Alpha's Legion.

"Quinte, you have nearly 2,800 Berserker Knights." Alpha untied the leather map scroll from his waist and thrust it into the other man's hand. "I'll give you the 200 cyborgs. Based on this base, we can expand it to 5,000 and form the 'First Berserker Brigade.' Remember, the warhorses go first to the brothers who are willing to charge, and the lame mules are left to the logistics team."

As the sun climbed past the zenith, the camp was filled with the neighing of horses.

Alpha watched Quintey lead the knights into formation—those wearing chain mail in front, those wearing iron masks in the middle, and the logistics team carrying sacks following at the end. They were like a winding gray-black snake, but with a more gritting fierceness than when they came.

"Let the vanguard battalion go ahead. We must reach the outskirts of the mining area before 3 p.m." Alpha swung the stirrups and mounted his horse, his cloak rustling in the wind. "Keep an eye on those men wearing iron masks. Don't let them let you down on this first battle. If they get really scared, retreat and don't drag down the others."

When he turned around after giving the instructions, Mashu was already waiting by the side with a warhorse, and two newly forged rapiers were tied to the saddle.

When Alpha took the long reins, his fingertips felt the grass seeds stuck on the horse's mane - this was the "lucky gift" that Quintiles' brothers had given to the warhorse this morning, saying it would ensure safety.

As the horses galloped out of the camp, the roar of the forge was heard behind them - the dwarves were working on a batch of iron helmets, and sparks splashed on the loess, like a handful of broken sunset.

Alpha suddenly remembered what Quintiles had said: "Mutants are not afraid of death, but they are afraid of dying without a name and being harmed by their enemies."

Now that Alpha has given them names and masks, all that remains is for those enemies hiding in the dark to experience the heat of the blade of hatred.

As the horse's hooves trod across the gravel road, Mash suddenly spoke, the wind carrying the tail end of her words: "Sir, the tide at the dock..."

"Whether the tide is rising or not, we have to keep a close eye on it." Alpha gripped the reins tightly, and when the black horse leaped up with its front hooves, he saw the reflections of the iron-faced helmets merge into one on the distant horizon.

"Lord Alpha, look at these guns and ammunition. They are different from the other batch." Mars was directing his men to move supplies on the ship.

Alpha stared at the eight huge transport ships on the dock - some seventy to eighty meters long and some twenty to thirty meters wide, even larger than his newly built warships, fully demonstrating the strength of the Pirate Alliance. These were merely ships that the other side could abandon at any time.

"Move out the dangerous goods, leave the food and supplies on the ship, and unload the equipment." Alpha tapped the side of the ship with his fingertips, his eyes wandering over the hull structure, obviously pondering the use of these huge things.

"Mars, you guys go out of the port first and wait for us to come back. We'll discuss the merchant ship issue later." Alpha frowned slightly. The crisis of the mining city was still like a stone weighing on his heart, and he really couldn't spare much energy.

"Remember, when you encounter a crisis that cannot be resolved, give priority to rescuing people and evacuating the ship. These boatmen should stay here, they will be useful to me." The fleet was formed less than a year ago and these experienced professional sailors are in great need.

"Yes, sir!" A trace of relief flashed in Mars' eyes - warships are easy to build, but skilled boatmen are hard to find even with money. It seems that he has not been abandoned.

"Oh, sir," Mars suddenly remembered something and lowered his voice, "South of Portos is all fertile land, and there's a revolution going on right now. If we sell them weapons and equipment, we can get a lot of food back."

Mars started his business by trading supplies with Portos, but was framed and ostracized by his superiors. Now when he brings up the old story again, there is inevitably some emotion in his tone.

"Okay, what do you need?" Alpha picked up a magic gun casually, and the moment his fingertips touched the gun body, his brows frowned slightly.

This gun actually uses machine tool processing technology, while the other one next to it still uses the traditional covering forging process.

The former was clearly the technology of the mining city, but Alpha did not say anything and just turned the gun twice in his hand.

"Sir, this batch of magic guns are of new type, they must be short of this." Mars stared at his movements and carefully observed his expression.

"The magic spear has certain requirements for its user. It must be at least a junior knight to activate it. The restrictions are too great." Alpha picked up the magic spear of the Pirate Alliance again.

The workmanship is very crude, and it may not be accurate if shot at a longer range, but the bullet is extremely thick.

Alpha stroked the bullet casing with his fingertips and suddenly realized: the other party had developed a shotgun. There was no need for precise aiming. As long as it was within the scattering range, it would be a complete suppression.

"Bring two hundred magic rifles and three thousand rounds of ammunition." Alpha didn't hesitate and placed the rifles in the wooden box. The sound of metal clashing was particularly clear in the wind at the dock. "Remember, keep an eye on the food when trading. Our fleet is not only short of weapons, but also needs to equip ourselves with sufficient weapons."

Mars took the order and left, the sound of his footsteps mixed with the sound of carrying supplies gradually fading away.

Alpha looked at the surging waves on the sea, and the cold and hard touch of the machine cutting on the magic gun was still lingering on his fingertips - how could the technology of the mining city appear on the weapons of the Pirate Alliance?

This question swirled in Alpha's mind, but was temporarily interrupted by the sound of a fleet horn coming from afar.

"Let's settle the Portos deal first." Alpha dusted off the sawdust on his hands and glanced at the equipment piled high on the dock. "As for these... the truth will eventually come to light."

The sea breeze lifted Alpha's cloak, casting a dark shadow in the sunset, which looked very much like the unclear thoughts in his eyes at the moment.

"Lord Alpha! An elite team of knights, about fifty people, just broke out from the South Gate. Witnesses said that the leader looked like the bandit leader Philos, and was heading towards the mining city!" Mashu received the news of his subordinates riding horses and sent the information as soon as he received the news. There was still gunpowder smoke on the subordinate's armor.

Alpha tapped the hilt of his sword with his fingertips and glanced at the mottled arrow marks on the distant city wall - did Philos run away?

It doesn't matter. The enemy's retreat has been cut off long ago. Alpha still has General Kuslers's two thousand elite troops, plus the newly recruited troops, there are now seven or eight thousand troops.

"Arm your troops! Target the mining city, chase them." The cloak fluttered in the hot warm wind. When Alpha jumped on his horse, his spurs hit the stone steps, sparks flying.

"Sir! Cavalry spotted in the west! They look like the Hague bandits from before." Melissa pushed through the crowd, sweat still seeping from the lining under her chain mail.

"This bunch of lingering trash." Alpha sneered, his fingertips brushing the animal head carvings on the hilt. "Let Quintey lead the Furious Knights to crush them—remember, don't kill them all."

"Yes!" Mashu was about to give the order, but he raised his hand to stop her.

"Wait. Those people in The Hague are all cavalry, right?" Alpha suddenly narrowed his eyes and stared at the dust rising from the western sky.

"We're still short of two to three thousand war horses, so we can borrow theirs." Alpha tightened the reins, and the horse pawed its hooves nervously. "Let Da Gama lead the dwarf chariots as the vanguard, and Quinte will divide into three groups to outflank the rest of the way. I want to devour them all, horses and men, and not leave a single one alive."

The corners of his mouth raised with a hint of ruthlessness, as if he had already seen the miserable appearance of those bandits being crushed by the chariots.

Behind him, the sound of armor clashing and the neighing of war horses intertwined into a web. Four thousand elite knights had formed into a square formation, and the sunlight flowed on the tips of their spears like a handful of scattered silver.

"Tell the brothers," Alpha suddenly raised his voice, his voice drowning out the endless military orders, "Capture Hague's horse, and tomorrow we will rush to the aid of the mining city! Let Philos see who is the master of this land—"

The night wind carried Alpha's words across the dock wall. In the distance, the flag of the Hague Bandits was faintly visible, and the skull totem swayed in the setting sun, unaware that it had already become a meal in the eyes of others.

Mashu gripped the dagger at her waist tightly and looked at Alpha's straight back in front of her.

The young man who fought alone has finally become the "Alpha Master" who is feared by the enemies.

The sea fog grew thicker, and the drums of war rumbled muffledly in my throat.

Some people bent down to check the bridle of the warhorse, some wiped the undried blood on the battle axe, and Alpha's eyes were always fixed on the west.

It wasn't a crisis there, but supplies delivered to his doorstep, another stepping stone towards the throne.

"set off!"

The moment the whip cracked, the horse's hooves crushed the debris all over the ground.

"Captain Stanford, there is a cavalry waiting for us outside the Constanta Palace!" Adjutant Hals held the telescope in his hand, and the tube made a dull sound when it knocked against his palm. Unfortunately, the broken lens could not see the specific situation in front clearly.

Stanford wiped the sea salt off his helmet and smiled confidently, "General Philos must have sent them to meet us—after all, we just broke out of the Druid War Zone, so that's a victory, isn't it?"

Before he could finish his words, he was choked by the sea breeze and started coughing. The lining under his armor was still stained with undried sea water, and it weighed heavily on him.

"Slow down and stand up straight! For the general's welcome ceremony, we have to show the style of naval knights." Stanford lowered his head and pulled the alliance badge on his chest. The silver anchor chain shone with tiny lights in the sunlight.

"Captain, something's wrong!" Hals suddenly narrowed his eyes, and the telescope lens reflected a knight a kilometer away.

The armor was dark in color, unlike the usual navy blue used by the Alliance Army. It looked more like… “Their armor style… doesn’t seem to be the standard for our navy knights.”

"Don't scare yourself." Stanford waved his hand, the spurs tapped the horse's belly, and the warhorse stepped on the thistles on the roadside.

"This is the Palace of Constanta! The center of the Maritime Alliance, and the Imperial Knights also have garrisons stationed here. Who dares to act recklessly here? Even if we just suffered a defeat..." Before he finished speaking, the formation of the knights in front suddenly changed - the originally loose formation seemed to be tightened by an invisible hand, and it actually took a standard encirclement posture.

The sound of horse hooves grew closer and closer. When they were two hundred meters away, black figures of riders suddenly emerged from the horizon on both sides, and the grass fragments crushed by their iron hooves mixed with dust rose up in the air.

The dust and fog obscured the sun from behind, and one could vaguely see long spears swaying like a forest.

Hals's hands began to tremble, and he nearly dropped the telescope. "Captain! They've surrounded us! This is an attack formation!"

"Ridiculous! We were attacked outside the city of Constanta?" Stanford finally realized that something was wrong. He pulled the reins suddenly, and the warhorse stood up, with its front hooves digging sparks on the cobblestone road.

"Send a messenger quickly! Tell them we are the Alliance Navy and ask them to lay down their weapons immediately..." Before he could finish his words, a knight in front of him suddenly drew his bow. Amidst the whistling sound of arrows piercing the air, the brother who was sent to report the news fell into the dust with his horse, his back full of arrows like a dying hedgehog.

The moment the blood seeped into the cracks in the stone slabs, Stanford finally saw the flag on the opposite side clearly - it was not the blue and white anchor of the Alliance, but the golden lion emblem of the Imperial Knights!

The lion head embroidered with silver thread was baring its fangs and claws in the wind, just like his wildly beating heart at that moment.

"How, how could this happen..." Stanford felt a bitter taste in his throat, and cold sweat trickled down his spine beneath his armor. "The Imperial Knights? Aren't we allies? Could it be... could it be that they've broken with the Sea Alliance?"

The sound of horse hooves all around was like thunder, and the encirclement was getting smaller and smaller.

Some people began to pull at their horses' bridles to retreat, but they ran into the imperial cavalry rushing in from behind—the tips of their spears were pressed against their lower backs, and they were pushing towards the center like sheep.

Stanford reached for the sword at his waist, but found his palms were covered in sweat and the hilt was too slippery to hold.

Stanford suddenly remembered what General Philos said before he set out: "Go with confidence, Constanta is our rear base." But now he felt that sentence was like a thorn, piercing his brain filled with seawater.

"Captain! They are shouting at us to lay down our weapons!" Hals' voice was filled with tears. Indistinct shouts came from afar, mixed with the crisp sound of metal colliding.

Stanford looked up and saw that the commander of the Imperial Knights had taken off his helmet. There was no smile on his bearded face, only cold murderous intent - just like the blood-stained black flag on the flagship of the Pirate Alliance that they had seen in the naval battle just now.

The wind suddenly died, and thistle down fell on Stanford's salt-stained armor.

Stanford finally understood that the so-called "rear base" was never a harbor, but a net cast by the hunter - but at this moment, he became the fattest fish in the net.

"Let's break out."