Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 411 - 274: The Horse Is Gone Again_2

"After we’ve secured the primary objective, William will lead a team to sweep the area, searching for and eliminating any remaining Heretics. Make sure not a single one is left," Lance began, outlining the plan. "Once you occupy the warehouse, you few will form a Rapid Response Team to support the main force’s frontal assault, handling situations ordinary soldiers can’t manage. Junia and I will seize the central church at the first opportunity, drawing the enemy’s attention to provide cover for your actions."

"I’ll join the battle too," Geralt couldn’t help but speak up upon hearing the deployment. His professional ethics were sound; earning these forty Gold Coins had been too easy, and he felt somewhat guilty for not doing more.

"In that case, join us in taking the church," Lance naturally wouldn’t refuse. Especially now, when they were short on manpower, let alone a high-level combatant like Geralt. He just couldn’t assign Geralt to street-sweeping duties; if Geralt witnessed ordinary Heretics being slaughtered, he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach it. It was better to let him face the danger of fighting Ascension Cultists head-on. Keeping these outsiders close was more prudent—not out of distrust, but caution.

Only after everything was arranged did Lance finally speak again. "Remember to be extremely careful of the Ascend Witch’s Sorcery. If you encounter an enemy you can’t defeat, don’t force it. Retreat, or fall back to me. Disseminate these orders immediately, and don’t delay the army’s movement."

His tactics needed to be communicated to each squad captain, informing them of their respective frontlines and assigned tasks. Only with orderly execution could they prevent the battle from descending into chaos.

The army rested for a moment, and once the orders were given, they moved out again.

Lance, however, went straight to Dismas and handed him the Banshee Hand Axe. "Take this. It’ll be very useful against those Heretics who can heal quickly. But remember, the power inherent in these pieces of Extraordinary Equipment can influence you; be extremely careful."

Though the axe from the panel didn’t possess a restless Spiritual Essence, he still wanted to instill in everyone the understanding that Supernatural Power comes with a cost.

Dismas took the axe. Looking at its green-tinged blade, he felt a surge of power. This is definitely more than just an ability to inflict corrosive damage. However, the warning from the Lord quickly sobered him. Man should control power, not the other way around.

The troops quickly approached the town, and Lance charged out alone on horseback. "I will take the town gate by myself. Once I’m inside, the Cavalry will follow swiftly. Then, each squad will advance rapidly according to plan to seize the town."

Lance wasted no more words. He rode out alone, heading straight for the Heretic town. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Dismas couldn’t help but glance at Balistan; a hint of worry flickered in both their eyes. They didn’t know if the Lord had fully recovered from the secret ritual.

"Are we just going to watch?" Junia asked. She didn’t quite understand the relationship these men had with their Lord, but she knew that charging in alone was exceedingly dangerous. Even the most powerful Transcendents could exhaust their strength, and it wasn’t uncommon for one to be killed if overwhelmed and besieged.

"You—!" Dismas started to say, but Balistan cut him off.

"Follow military orders. The Lord has his own arrangements."

Tension spread through the rearguard. The success of the entire offensive hinged on whether the Lord could capture the gate.

Lance, however, seemed quite relaxed, riding his horse at a steady, unhurried pace. His gaze swept over the surrounding thatched huts. He had a faint feeling of hidden eyes watching him. This further confirmed his suspicion: something was definitely wrong here.

But before he could cross the drawbridge, Lance saw the figures at the town gate spring into motion. Simultaneously, the drawbridge began to rise slowly.

I’ve been spotted!

At this moment, Lance had no time for other considerations. He kicked his horse’s flanks, urging it to accelerate.

Fortunately, his solitary approach had significantly confused the guards. He was only about a hundred meters from the drawbridge. Accelerating, he urged his horse into a leap... but it fell short, crashing halfway across directly into the rising structure. The horse’s back was broken by the impact of its own momentum. Lance could even hear its pained whinny and the sickening snap of bone.

Before Lance could react, the powerful inertia threw him from the saddle. He slid down the inclined surface of the drawbridge, hearing only the horse’s desperate neighs and the sickening splash as it hit the water.

"My horse!" Lance roared inwardly, a wave of frustration washing over him. His previous warhorse had died triggering a Wizard’s trap, and he’d only acquired this new one two days ago. But it was too late to save it; the animal sank quickly, leaving only a trace of blood on the water’s surface.

Lance turned his head, his gaze as fierce as a wolf’s.

He scrambled to his feet and charged the gate. The guards, seeing he was alone, didn’t immediately try to close it. Instead, they moved to intercept this madman.

"Who goes there!"

"Quick, stop him!"

"Is he insane?"

But they would soon understand just what kind of man they were dealing with...

The raised drawbridge blocked the view of those behind. The observers in the rear reacted instantly.

"The Lord is in! Brothers, follow me! Charge!" Dismas, unable to contain his impatience, surged forward, leading the way.

At his call, the entire Cavalry unit charged. Geralt hesitated for a moment before urging his horse onward to keep up.

"Move out!" Balistan instantly focused; war was nothing new to him.

The army, receiving its orders, officially began its advance from the dense forest towards the town.

Dismas charged so quickly he outpaced the main Cavalry body. His sharp gaze was fixed on the gate, his mind racing with concern for the Lord’s situation.

The army’s appearance clearly startled the Heretics. Figures in ordinary clothing rushed out from the houses on either side, their postures anything but ordinary.

"Quick, stop him!"

"The Saintess will guide us to Ascension!"

"Fear not! Ascension is at hand!"

They were powerfully built, their expressions frenzied, displaying extreme aggression. They wielded various farming tools: hoes, pitchforks, long-handled flails.

Geralt noted their crazed demeanor as they attempted to intercept the fully armed Cavalry with their unprotected bodies. The sight of the pitchforks, in particular, stirred a familiar unease within him.

But Dismas and his men were no ordinary soldiers. One was a veteran rogue, and the others, to have become Cavalrymen, were all elites. Hitting a target even on solid ground wasn’t guaranteed, let alone firing a gun from atop a bucking horse—that was almost a matter of sheer luck. Yet Dismas raised his pistol and, with a single shot, felled a frenzied cultist. The man stumbled a few more steps before collapsing, a gaping hole where his head had been.

The Cavalrymen wielded sabers that gleamed coldly, not lances. The effectiveness of their harsh training was evident, as each charge drew a spray of blood. The Cavalry’s combat prowess was formidable. Their foes, not yet having formed ranks, were easily overrun.

Protected by their armor, none of the Cavalrymen were injured. Instead, the Heretics left several corpses behind.

Geralt had been ready to showcase his skills, but he didn’t get the chance.

However, as they charged up to it, the raised drawbridge showed no sign of lowering. The lack of a path forward made Dismas anxious. If anything had happened to My Lord...

Just then, the drawbridge shuddered and then slowly began to descend, finally clearing the obstructed view.

Geralt looked up. The town gates were wide open, the ground littered with severed limbs. Only one man stood there, casually handling the massive gate winch—a device that usually required three to five men to operate—as if it were a mere toy.

"Enemies!" a Cavalryman cried out, as the Heretics they had just broken through began to regroup and surround them.

Dismas desperately wanted to protect the Lord, but the bridge still needed time to lower fully. He had to hold their position. "Cavalry Captain, take command! Harass them, cut them down! Use the Cavalry’s mobility to inflict maximum casualties! I’ll hold the bridgehead..." Dismas glanced at Geralt. "You, do as you see fit."

"Yes, sir!"

Reynard was skilled in mounted combat and Cavalry tactics. These few handpicked Cavalrymen were being trained as the backbone for future army expansion.

"Cavalry Troop, attack!" The Cavalry Captain, taking command, spurred his horse forward, his bloodstained saber radiating a thirst for battle.

"Hamlet Must Win!" the Cavalrymen shouted in unison, their morale soaring as they charged directly into the ranks of the cultists.