Our Family Has Fallen

Chapter 1422: Chapter 764: The Baron’s All-Out Battle (Part 2)

The territory that I should have inherited... nothing is left.

The Baron looked at his hate-filled son with some heartache, but he could only steel himself and warned:

”The battle will likely commence tomorrow; you must leave tonight. Remember not to be recognized, and once you’re outside, someone will meet you and take you directly to Totnes. Don’t go elsewhere, and don’t stop.”

After making these arrangements, the Baron returned and heard news of his forces’ continual retreat, leaving him feeling helpless.

This son is quite incompetent and rather spoiled; don’t expect him to handle matters like Bruce would. At this moment, he cannot rely on his son like the Earl does; he can only send him away, hoping to carry on the family bloodline.

Indeed, in just a few days, Hamlet’s army has already advanced to the Baron’s doorstep, with most of the territory captured, leaving the Baron in despair!

Though the Baron intentionally extended the opponent’s supply line by strategically retreating, the troops remain intact, but the frontline doesn’t lie. They are backed up against the town with no space left to evade.

Externally, he presents a staunch defense, while internally, he instructs his son to flee with their wealth. His words suggest prior preparation—these nobles are indeed cunning.

He absolutely cannot escape because he’s the Lord. If he flees, others will lose their claim, making resistance more difficult, and even his son understands that without a territory, a noble loses his foundation and cannot speak with authority.

Not to mention, he still harbors a shred of illusion, consoling himself that the previous actions were strategic delays, while others have yet to make their move, believing that this battle will eventually gather enough strength to defeat the enemy.

The Baron had considered some unconventional tactics, like assembling Knights for a night raid on the camp—a classic maneuver.

This tactic leverages the difference between Knights and common folk; well-fed Knights don’t suffer night blindness, unlike the populace, where night blindness is quite common.

Veterans know the battlefield stress is immense, and soldiers accustomed to the carnage are not mentally stable; any disturbance triggers a stress response. Even Hamlet’s forces are no exception, forcing many into retirement and psychological treatment.

The condition of feudal serf soldiers is universally known, so at night, a squad of Knights can easily cause chaos in the enemy camp.

If they could seize the chance to burn the enemy’s provisions, it would greatly demoralize them.

But the problem is Hamlet’s proximity to the sea, where fish and meat never lack, and soldiers’ diets are well-balanced, making night blindness a non-issue.

They attempted several times but failed, unable to breach even the outer sentries and patrols, resulting in Knights being shot off their steeds, unable to capitalize on their armor advantage, resorting instead to their speed.

This night proved especially arduous for the Baron...

Both sides felt the impending battle for tomorrow, as one had no more room to retreat, and the other was determined not to back down.

In Hamlet’s camp, those who should be resting did, and those on watch maintained vigilance, not letting the past days’ victories cloud their minds. Everything was orderly, exuding caution, leaving no vulnerabilities.

At dawn, the army gathered and mobilized as usual, but within these mundane actions lay a terrifying aura like a consolidated entity, an unstoppable, dreadful pressure.

Any enemy facing them would despair!

Like the Baron... who barely slept the entire night, instead falling into a daze.

”Sir? Sir?” the trusted aide called several times, awakening him, prompting the Baron to ask immediately.

”Have those folks come to aid us?”

Saying this, a hint of hope flickered in his eyes, before he shook his head and denied himself.

”Impossible, those folks are eager for us and Hamlet to fight to the death. We have no way out; the more we kill, the less pressure they face. They plan to wipe us out!

Even now, they’re plotting. Can’t they see that once I fall, it’s their turn next? If I can’t stop Hamlet, can they?

They know... they all know...”

Clearly, the Baron held back all night, while the Earl had Bruce to confide in. Yet he had no one, making his position as Lord pathetically lonely.

The trusted aide couldn’t offer much, merely reporting future developments.

”The army is assembled, the Knights await your presence.”

”I understand.” The Baron quickly composed himself, feigning seriousness as he stepped out of the room.

In the hall stood about a dozen armored Knights, just shy of donning their helmets—real noble Knights mostly stripped of land, chased along the way, visibly brimming with rage.

The Baron strategically retreating held most of his forces intact, allowing him to organize a counterattack, preserving a sliver of victory’s chance.

Though that probability... is merely a probability.

”No need for pleasantries; you all know the current situation. We’ve been depleting their resources for this battle, and now it’s our turn to strike.

Don’t expect a retreat; the Lord of Hamlet isn’t a genuine noble, that Dictator won’t tolerate nobles like us. We must win this battle.”

Upon the Baron’s entrance, he spoke unreservedly, his words laced with anger, matching the Knights’ palpable tension, but as he stated, they must win!

To reclaim their lost everything!

”Yes!”

Responding in chorus, the Knights departed, while the commoners outside required coaxing.

The Baron ascended to the balcony overlooking the street, surveying the assembled troops,

Are they truly weak? In a short time, a two-thousand-strong force was mustered, though most barely trained, lacking battlefield experience, mere spearmen.

There are intimidating mercenaries or wealthy merchant guards, accustomed to living by the blade’s edge, many with battle experience.

Despite losing some Knights, they still managed to muster over fifty—composed of noble Knights, their retainers, Church Crusaders, and some Wandering Knights.

Not to mention the monk bestowing blessings, waving branches dipped in Holy Water over the soldiers, empowered by the Holy Water, fearless of bullets, they charge forward.

Whether effective or not is secondary, but they certainly buy into it, attributing death to lack of piety.

On the streets, besides soldiers, many commoners gathered—some curious, others related to soldiers,

”Baron, lord!”

The Lord’s appearance immediately drew attention, and the Baron, showing no weakness, but anger, denounced Hamlet’s invasion, declared the brutality of the Lord of Hamlet, then resolutely roared at the soldiers.

”Battle! We’ll expel every invading enemy, leaving none behind!”

This proclamation ignited fervor around him, soon resulting in a wave of cheers outside.

Feeling the atmosphere, the Baron’s blood surged to his brain, strength bursting from his heart, filling him with warmth despite the winter chill.

Yet in his moment of urgency, he paused, as countless words swirled in his throat, but ultimately sinking back down.

He also yearned to fight alongside them—his presence surely boosting morale.

To ride into battle armored, gun in hand, might even duplicate Count Bastia’s tale.

But therein lies the difference amongst individuals. If he were the Earl—a fierce soul, brave even in old age—that grit is absent in the Baron, despite the noble lineage and skillful horsemanship, familiar with fencing, yet inexperienced in battle.

His past wasn’t forged through bloodshed, but by seizing opportunities; his fights were limited to minor noble skirmishes, bound by rules where loss meant reparations—not death.

But Hamlet’s madhouse differs, battlefield carnage unfazed by one’s status.

Ultimately, he utters.

”Victory inevitable!”

In the exhilarating environment, Knights took control of the army, and led the forces out...