Chapter 8: Absentmindedness

Although Faerûn possesses a long history, it truly lacks any accessible textbooks on tactical strategy.

It cannot be helped; the first half of this world’s history belonged to dragons and giants, while the middle period was dominated by the glorious elves. It is only in the last few thousand years that humans have slowly stepped onto the stage of history. During this time, several brilliant human civilizations emerged, focusing either on psionic technology trees or magical technology trees. Take the Netherese Empire, for example—they even developed floating cities. Why bother with strategy and tactics when you can simply fly a floating city over an enemy capital, engage in point-blank warfare, and bombard them with magic?

Most importantly, Faerûn’s high-magic nature has fostered incredibly formidable individual power. Some monsters are immensely powerful, dragons fill the skies, and most civilizations exist as isolated city-states—Baldur's Gate and Waterdeep being the most typical examples.

Many strategies revolve around individual prowess, with little use for troop formations or warfare, so naturally, no one has invested much thought into the subject.

This does not mean that strategy and tactics are useless. Look at Tempus, the God of War and the number one battle-maniac among the gods; he secretly cultivated an illegitimate daughter, the Red Knight, and utilized last year’s Time of Troubles to promote her to his subordinate deity, overseeing the portfolio of strategy. He likely saw the potential in it.

When it comes to strategy and tactics, Zhang You’s ancestors understood them best. Under his father’s forced-feeding style of education, he had read many ancient books on the subject. The *Seven Military Classics* contained the wisdom of seven schools of thought: *The Art of War*, *The Methods of the Sima*, *The Six Secret Teachings*, *The Three Strategies*, *The Questions and Replies between Tang Taizong and Li Weigong*, and others.

However, reading is one thing, and memorizing is another, especially when it comes to such obscure classical texts.

In a moment of urgency, the only thing Gavin could recall from *The Art of War* was that "running away is the best policy."

One only regrets not having read enough when the time comes to use it.

The ancients did not deceive me. If I had known today would come, I would have memorized the *Seven Military Classics* until I knew them by heart, no matter what.

Gavin was not one to give up easily. After delivering Zalanda’s mobilization order to the captains of the Knott militia, he hurried back to his room, locked the doors and windows, set up a simple alarm trap, and then, fully clothed and clutching his one-handed sword, he crawled into bed. Within seconds, he entered a trance.

This was a special ability granted to him by the silver elven blood flowing through his veins—the trance unique to the elven race.

"Trance" is the common term; elves prefer to call it "meditation." It is a semi-conscious, deep meditative state. Four hours of deep meditation can equal eight hours of high-quality sleep for a normal human. This is also why elves are immune to sleep magic; unless they are unconscious, they generally do not fall into a natural sleep.

Whether standing, lying down, or sitting, one can enter a trance, but in terms of effectiveness, lying on a comfortable bed is best, as the body enters a state of relaxation once the trance begins.

The trance state is profound. Not only can one sense the condition of their body and the surroundings within four or five meters, but the consciousness remains highly active. Memories in the mind, in particular, roll out like film clips from time to time, allowing one to relive them.

This is why elves, despite living for seven or eight centuries, still have clear memories of events from centuries ago—they are constantly excavating their own memories during deep meditation.

However, exactly which memory is excavated is not entirely under Gavin’s control. It borders on dreaming, but it is not quite the same.

Zhang You II believed in the existence of psionic abilities precisely because he would occasionally enter a trance during deep sleep.

According to the only useful method Zhang You II deduced, it is a case of "what one thinks about by day, one dreams about by night."

By repeatedly reinforcing one's memory of a certain event before sleeping, the things that emerge in the mind after entering a trance are most likely related to it. Of course, it could also be a genuine dream, where all sorts of strange things might appear.

The night passed without dreams.

Gavin failed to conjure up any ancient military treatises; instead, he flipped through a hundred or so Tang and Song poems. They were of no use in Faerûn. If translated into Common, they would lose all their poetic imagery, and the locals of Faerûn would not be able to appreciate them at all.

When Gavin ended his trance, the sky was just beginning to brighten.

But some people were up even earlier than him. Zalanda was already busy directing the militia captains, moving back and forth to arrange the formations. It was unclear whether they hadn't slept all night or had only taken a short nap.

Compared to them, Gavin was still a bit too relaxed.

Zalanda and her team fully grasped the concept of racing against time; the sooner they withdrew from Knott Castle, the fewer variables they would face.

"Luring the enemy into the trap."

To implement this tactic, the hardest part was not how to lure the enemy in, but how to convince one's own people to accept such a bold and dangerous plan.

If this plan had been led by Roane, it would have been impossible to succeed, as his own people would have started fighting among themselves before anything else.

But if it were implemented by Zalanda, on this patch of land in Knott Castle, it was not a problem at all.

Gavin’s decision to propose this plan to Zalanda yesterday was based on this understanding.

"Today, we fight neither for Tethyr, nor for the Knott family, nor even for me, Zalanda—we fight for ourselves! Victory will surely be ours!" Clad in full armor, Zalanda sat on her warhorse, lowered her visor, and raised her longsword high, her fighting spirit soaring.

"Victory will surely be ours!"

"Victory will surely be ours!!"

"Victory will surely be ours!!!"

The fighting spirit of all of Knott Castle was ignited by Zalanda’s few short sentences.

"Open the gates!" Zalanda ordered again.

With a creaking sound, the heavy gates of Knott Castle slowly opened, like a monster opening its mouth, waiting for its prey to deliver itself.

"Haka... guah..." — Goblin: "What's going on?"

"*Sahara..." — Goblin: "I don't know either!"

"Gahara ah..." — Goblin: "Charge! The humans are running away!"

The sudden reaction of Knott Castle caused a commotion among the goblin tribe outside. A chorus of sharp, piercing goblin chatter broke out as they discussed the strange behavior of the humans, but with their meager intelligence, they could hardly reach any sensible conclusion.

When a small green-skinned creature, chattering and waving its crude weapon, charged toward the gate of Knott Castle, the other goblins didn't need the hobgoblins behind them to urge them on; they simply shrieked and joined the charge.

There is a reason goblins are nicknamed "cannon fodder fools," and their current behavior perfectly illustrated the origin of that term.

Especially as the goblins in the front charged into the gatehouse, more goblins behind them were stirred up and followed suit.

In their minds, as long as they could rush through the human gates, the humans would be nothing but "two-legged sheep" waiting to be slaughtered, even if they were nearly twice as tall and strong as them.