Guided by the sheriff, Henwell and his group donât stay in the town center. Instead, they settle in a huge warehouse in the southwestern corner of town. The merchant caravans that usually occupy the place have long since been cleared out.
Henwell tosses a bag of gold coins to the sheriff, instructing him to grant most of the warehouse staff a paid holiday.
Then the knights keep outsiders away from their horses, personally washing and feeding them with high-quality bean cakes mixed with eggs.
Once the horses are settled, they immediately begin repairing the wagons.
After two months on the road, everyone has become skilled at wagon repairs.
Next, they take care of their weapons and armorâbows, crossbows, swords, and plate armor all require regular maintenance.
Heavy crossbows and armor have many metal joints. Traveling through wind, rain, and fog exposes these joints to moisture.
So they carefully wipe everything clean, sometimes even heating the metal parts before applying oil to prevent rust.
They work until evening, then enjoy a hot bath.
Barnett casually finds a few local families on the street, pays them with gold coins to prepare food.
Though not gourmet, at least the food is warm.
That night, Henwell doesnât assign anyone to guard duty.
Instead, he climbs to the highest point of the warehouse, carrying a bottle of wine and some small dishes, and starts eating and drinking on the rooftop.
In the middle of the night, as he sits cross-legged resting, Henwell suddenly grabs his large bow, pulls out some arrows, and swiftly fires seven heavy arrows into the surrounding darkness.
The arrows Henwell uses arenât special long arrows for the great bow but are standard heavy armor-piercing arrows.
With a few deep twangs of the bowstring, what flies out isnât a whole arrow but a metal arrowhead.
If you slow down the scene, youâd notice something remarkable.
At the moment the arrow leaves the string, the powerful force shatters the hardwood shaft from the tail end into splinters.
All the energy transfers to the triangular metal arrowhead, which tears through the air with a strange sound, disappearing instantly just beyond the bowâs limb.
Over a hundred meters away, the black-clad figures creeping cautiously suddenly explode as if struck by a heavy hammerâtheir heads blown apart in an instant.
Terrified, their companions dive behind walls, shielding themselves.
After a moment, they peek out again.
Under the moonlight, they see Henwell standing on the rooftop, holding his great bow.
The other black-clad man exchange a signal with partners, drag their headless comradesâ bodies away, and vanish once more into the darkness.
Just seconds after Henwell releases his arrows, the doors and windows of several guest rooms in the warehouse shatter.
Three figures leap out, swords in hand and round shields raised, scanning the surroundings.
More people rush out from the rooms, all armed, quickly spreading out across the courtyard.
The first three to jump out are Orak, along with Conrad and Hubertâboth Battle Knights under Henwellâs command. Naturally, they react the fastest.
Henwellâs other men follow closely, with Orakâs troops appearing last as they form their battle lines.
Compared to Orakâs group, which splits into several small formations to prepare for the fight, Henwellâs men take on two distinct roles.
A few former Lord Iron Guards rush toward the entrances, while Barnett leads the intelligence unit, who immediately roll into the shadows to hide.
Unlike the others, the intelligence members donât carry round shields but instead wield heavy military crossbows.
Henwell watches the scene below.
Orak blows a few whistle signals up to Henwell, a code asking about the enemyâs location and numbers.
Henwell waves his hand. âItâs nothing. Just some people who couldnât resist coming over to say hello. I told them to go back to sleep early.â
He continues, âEveryone, get some rest. But I think you should fix the doors and windows first.â
After lifting the alert, the group finds some nails. Without even using hammers, they press the nails into the wooden frames by hand.
Henwell turns to Conrad. âHand me a bow. Mineâs too heavy and noisy.â
Conrad dashes back inside, grabs his great bow and two quivers, and nimbly climbs to the rooftop.
âMy lord, let me stand watch. You should get some rest tonight,â Conrad urges.
Henwell takes the bow. âYou go rest. No one will come after midnight. I want to stay up here to think.â
Knowing he canât convince Henwell otherwise, Conrad jumps down and returns inside to rest.
Henwell unbuckles the leather strap on one quiver and pulls out the arrows planted in the straw core at the bottom.
Each quiver holds fifteen finely crafted arrows, all placed within easy reach.
From then until dawn, no more assassins come to throw their lives away.
Henwell leans against the flagpole on the rooftop and dozes lightly for four hours.
With his current constitution, Henwell only needs two hours of rest a day. If necessary, he can go several days without sleep.
At daybreak, everyone rises and washes up.
Henwell jumps down from the roof and, with Hubertâs help, removes his armor.
The early spring night is still chilly, and his undershirt is soaked through.
He changes clothes and takes a bath before instructing his men, âConrad and Hubert, you two stick with Barnett today. Heâs in charge of procuring supplies, buying wagons, and hiring drivers. Youâre responsible for his protection. Learn as much as you can. Barnett may be young, but heâs professionally trained and experienced.â
Barnett replies, âDonât worry, sir. Iâll handle it. With two veterans protecting me, nothing will go wrong.â
While Henwell rests, Barnett sends away the townsfolk who cooked breakfast and randomly selects new residents to prepare lunch and dinner.
They donât buy supplies from the townâs shops. Instead, they head straight to the warehouse district east of town and purchase a large amount directly from the merchant caravans there.
As for wagons, they simply pick out the best ones from the caravans and even pay a high price to hire a dozen or so teamsters.
These moves leave the approaching assassins scratching their heads.
What kind of bastard plays by no rules?
Poisoning and planting spies clearly wonât work, and a night raid is a joke.
Yesterday, a notorious mercenary group doing shady work was wiped out after just one encounter by the Lord of Blood Hill himself, who blew the heads off seven men with his arrows.
No one saw what happened, no arrows were visibleâjust that after Henwell shot, heads exploded.
The assassins start suspecting Henwellâs bow must be magical, possessing some extraordinary power.
They never consider that brute force could be the answer.
No matter what, last nightâs incident killed several knights.
Night raids are completely off the table now, but some assassins are already plotting their next move.