In the Germelin hinterland, a city on a major transport route, the locals were already in utter chaos.
News had long since spread that the Leite Kingdom's troops had marched in and the Germelin frontline troops were completely annihilated.
In fact, that was the case: with the main force of the Germelin Kingdom invading the Leite Kingdom being wiped out, it had become a matter of time before the Leite troops invaded Germelin.
Evacuees carrying luggage, dragging their families from the border areas, retreated here, and mingled among them were some wounded soldiers and nobility's carriages seeking refuge.
The hodgepodge of people congested the roads, making the entire city seem overcrowded and creating an oppressive atmosphere.
Watching the crowded streets from his window, the city lord of Germelin, an Earl of the Kingdom, complained angrily, "Useless! All useless!"
Just moments before, he had received a message that a small town 30 kilometers away from him had been captured by the Leite Kingdom's troops, and his location had become the front line of the war zone.
An officer hurried in, standing behind Lord Earl and reported with his head bowed, "My lord! The enemy is approaching! Only two of our scouts have returned, the rest are out of contact!"
They had hoped to clarify the situation around them, but the scouts they sent out were clearly no match for the rangers from Northern Ridge. The differences in combat experience and weaponry were such that defeat was hardly a surprise.
Since most of the scouts had not returned, the nearby circumstances remained unclear, shrouded in the fog of war, which would make anyone uneasy.
Hearing that his scouts had not returned, the Earl subconsciously thought they had fled rather than being annihilated by the enemy.
In his view, the likelihood that so many scouts were wiped out was slim to none; more likely, the scouts without constraint had turned into deserters.
And indeed, he was not mistaken in his thoughts, as quite a number of the scouts he had dispatched had become deserters—after all, the level of their regular training left much to be desired, so the presence of deserters was hardly surprising.
This was much like certain Kuomintang troops during the Liberation War: seemingly numerous and well-armed but in reality poorly trained, with extremely low initiative, unable to dispatch small units for recon or transfer them promptly... They were ultimately crushed with ease by the Liberation Army, like zombies.
Thus, he cursed vehemently, making the reporting officer even more unable to lift his head, "Cowards! At the country's time of need, relying on these base commoners is a mistake! They are all natural-born slaves! After this is over, they all should be executed!"
"What, what should we do now, my lord?" asked the officer, completely at a loss about what to do, thus inquiring in hope of some ingenious plan from the person in charge.
He knew that things were unsafe outside the city; the Leite military forces had already advanced to an unknown location, and any encounter outside the city walls would likely lead to a dead end.
Defending from within the city was actually a more rational defense strategy, as even if the enemy began their siege, surrendering could allow them to negotiate terms, rather than inexplicably losing their lives.
As expected, an Earl would still be an Earl, who, even in times of such chaos, held onto some of his own ideas—at the very least, he had to maintain his demeanor and seemingly offer some of his own thoughts.
The Earl then spoke to reassure the officer, "Don't panic! Have our men hold the city walls! They have come from afar, surely without many cannons; we definitely have an advantage in cannon numbers..."
Yet, these loyalists, seemingly unable to hold out even for a single day, had let the city fall to the advancing Leite military, who appeared to have arrived without significant heavy weaponry...
For a moment, the Lord Earl, who had prided himself on the combat prowess of his private army and had deemed himself somewhat talented in warfare, turned deathly pale and faltered, nearly collapsing to the ground.
The officer, who knew not whence came his information, pointed towards the direction of the city gates and yelled, "Their cannons have blasted open the gates, our men are scattered!"
"Counterattack! Counterattack! Push back the attackers! Push them back!" The Lord Earl barely gathered himself from the panic and despair, furiously shouting as he prepared to lead his trusted guards toward the direction where the gunfire was steadily intensifying.
The officer, fearful of death and keen to flee or surrender, quickly tried to persuade, "My lord, our troops have dispersed! Let's flee while we can!"
But this Earl of Germelin possessed a certain resolve, glaring at his cowardly subordinate, he fiercely scolded, "Flee? Flee what? I am the City Lord! I am the Earl! I am the Earl of Germelin! There is no 'flee' option with me!"
Fired up by the chaos before him, he recklessly drew the S2-type left-wheel handgun, manufactured by the Great Tang Group, which gave him a profound sense of security, and aimed it at the craven officer.
The officer, not expecting the Earl to draw his gun so uncharacteristically, was still standing there, frozen in shock.
"Bang!" Before the officer could beg for mercy or say anything else, the Lord Earl pulled the trigger of his handgun, firing a bullet.
"Ah!" The bullet struck the officer squarely in the chest. He screamed and clutched at his chest as he fell backward, tumbling down a short flight of just three stairs, to lie dead where he fell.
Feeling as if he had regained control of the situation, the Lord Earl waved his left-wheel handgun in front of his luxurious estate's gate, vigorously motivating his guards, "Listen up, everyone! Follow me into the fray! Drive back the enemy! Anyone who charges with me will get a reward of 100 gold coins after! No, make it 200 gold coins!"
As the saying goes, under substantial rewards, there will be brave men, and he believed that such a hefty sum would surely inspire some to fight to the death for money.
Thus, he grandly declared, as if he too were sacrificing a great fortune for the country, "For the Kingdom of Germelin!"
"For, for the Kingdom of Germelin!" A few guards, cautious and tentative, echoed the Lord Earl with a ragged chorus of slogans.
"Bang!" At that moment, another gunshot rang. Several soldiers with M35 steel helmets and rifles at the ready were taking aim from the street corner.
One soldier, helmet adorned, raised high a wolf banner, running from one side of the street to the other.
All the guards from the Kingdom of Germelin started to panic; it was their first time encountering the enemy so close.
In the frenzy, someone finally noticed the Earl lying on the ground with a bullet in his head: "Ah! The Earl, Lord Earl... he's dead! The Lord Earl is dead!"
"Run! The Lord Earl is dead!" Another guard, seeing the Earl's bloody face, also began to shout.
"Run for it!" The remaining people started yelling, some kneeling to beg for mercy, others scattering like birds and beasts.