Chapter 13: A Thirteen-Fold Punch

Chapter 13: Heavy-Handed Strike

"Renn."

"My Lord."

"Why was there laughter outside just now?"

At the mention of this, Renn’s face darkened. Gritting his teeth, he said, "My Lord, those mud-legged peasants insulted me."

Drakus leaned against the tent’s support pole with his arms crossed, nodding nonchalantly. He spoke loudly in Bretonnian, "In the lands of Bretonnia, when peasants insult a noble, how should it be handled according to the local laws?"

Vranes strolled slowly out of the tent, also speaking in Bretonnian with an air of indifference, "The lord declares the verdict and the method of punishment."

Joniva began to struggle violently, as if wanting to say something, but a Black Ark Corsair nearby punched him directly in the face, followed by another strike to the nerve cluster beneath his armpit. The poor knight lay on his side, twitching like a large shrimp, while Basestin knelt on the ground, his heart turned to ash, seemingly praying to his goddess.

The long lives and social customs of the Druchii meant that no race in this world was more proficient in human anatomy than they were. Once, while wandering the deck, Drakus had even seen an off-duty Black Ark Corsair holding a book in one hand while gesturing with the other. There were many medical texts circulating among the Druchii, such as *Shocking! Secrets of the Human Body*, *Tips for Human Dissection*, and *My Insights into Human Anatomy*—a perfect combination of theory and practice.

The miserable state of Joniva stirred a sense of pity in Drakus; after all, they had eaten together just a moment ago. He looked up at the sickly green moonlight of Morrslieb, waved his hand, and said, "I am a man of status, and I have a kind heart; I cannot bear to see such things. Tonight is a good night—sacrifice them to Khaine."

The fate of these thirty-some peasants was decided by Drakus with a casual wave. The status of a mounted yeoman was undoubtedly what peasants craved most, as it meant they could serve as wardens or sergeants. To rise from a man-at-arms to that position took years, and even then, it was only possible through heroic deeds on the battlefield.

Every man-at-arms dreamed of becoming a mounted yeoman, largely due to the fairy tales circulating in Bretonnian folklore about yeomen rising to the ranks of knighthood through valor. In reality, however, no peasant was ever promoted; the Bretonnian lords had no desire to sully their status by associating with such mud-legged rabble.

The scent of blood permeated the air, and the Cold Ones in their cages began to hiss excitedly at the smell.

Next, three squads of Druchii soldiers, led by their captains and Edmund, knelt before the tent.

Drakus looked at them with a cold gaze and asked in a chilling voice, "According to Druchii military law, how should this incident be handled?"

These three squads had been responsible for the outer perimeter that afternoon. The fact that they had let a cavalry unit slip through was absolutely outrageous. Edmund was a centurion; although he had been on the ship coordinating the night landing, he still bore responsibility—that was just how Druchii society worked.

Hearing Drakus’s question, the Druchii present struck their weapons against their shields and shouted in unison: "Execute! Execute! Execute!"

The soldiers kneeling on the ground did not argue or beg for mercy; they simply lay flat, waiting for the impending verdict.

Drakus began to ponder: "Execute them all? Or kill the captains and decimate the soldiers? No, that wouldn't leave many soldiers left; I don't want to flip the cart later."

Renn, standing two swords' lengths away from Drakus, seemed to sense something, but hesitated for a long time before remaining silent.

Drakus said, "The offerings to Khaine are already sufficient. Fifty lashes for each man, and their share of the spoils is forfeited. Until we return to Clar Karond, you shall be the vanguard in every battle! Once we return to Clar Karond, the past will be forgiven."

The scene went still for a moment. Everyone was surprised by the verdict. These Druchii soldiers, who loved to watch the chaos, had clearly been placing bets. Several captains had been waiting to move up in rank—though for the Druchii commoner class, a centurion was the ceiling unless one performed some earth-shattering feat or was promoted by the grace of a powerful noble—yet there were still plenty of Druchii commoners who flocked to such positions.

Drakus heard the soldiers kneeling on the ground heave a sigh of relief. Edmund, also lying on the ground, turned his head to look at the standing captains.

Renn immediately played along, "What are you standing there for? Thank his Lordship!"

The Black Ark Corsairs carried out the punishment on the spot. Fifty lashes on the back were no laughing matter for a Druchii. Those who knew how to "play" could land all fifty lashes on the exact same spot on the spine, leaving the victim crippled or paralyzed afterward. Of course, these Black Ark Corsairs were not so socially inept.

A Scourgerunner Chariot soon arrived. Its design was quite unique: a single, wide, and sturdy wheel capable of withstanding bumps, allowing it to roam through wilderness, swamps, forests, and caves in search of suitable prey. The chassis was made of steel-reinforced black pine, with hollowed-out frames and copper-gilded, steel-reinforced swept wings. It was equipped with barbed hunting nets and harpoons with steel chains, capable of carrying one driver and two beastmasters armed with harpoon crossbows.

Edmund, having finished his punishment, walked up to the three captains and slapped each of them hard across the face. After that, he began issuing orders to get moving.

The soldiers began to apply a special potion, and a faint, unpleasant odor began to emanate from their bodies. Cold Ones would mistake this scent for that of their own kind. Of course, prolonged application of this potion would damage one's sense of smell and taste, but a Sorceress could cure that.

Renn, who had been responsible for support outside, took the opportunity to eat. Three cages containing Cold Ones and crates containing armor were pushed over.

In Naggaroth, the most famous cavalry unit was the "Ebony Claw" Cold One Knight order of Clar Karond, composed entirely of young Druchii nobles and serving as the vanguard for the Witch King Malekith. They had standing units, rotating units, and reserve units. Every young noble had to provide their own armor and a Cold One; in times of war, all nobles without military posts were required to answer the call and join the order. If a noble family in Clar Karond couldn't even provide a Cold One and armor, they were truly destitute.

After confirming that all the Druchii, including the two knights, had applied the potion, the three cages were opened. The three Cold Ones emerged restlessly, letting out hissing sounds.

The Bretonnian warhorses and pack horses grew terrified at the sight of the Cold Ones. Drakus frowned at the noise, snapped his fingers, and pointed at the horses, saying, "Improve the slaves' diet with those. Tell the crew to come move them in a while."

The three Cold Ones were behemoths weighing two tons each. Most of their weight was concentrated on their sturdy hind legs. Relying on their long, powerful tails, they could run quickly or even leap under their rider's command. Their smaller forelimbs were useful for walking, trotting, or catching larger prey. They would pin their prey with their forelimbs and then tear it to shreds with razor-sharp teeth.

They hunted in packs and were particularly adept at dealing with prey several times their own size. Once they spotted their target, a large group of Cold Ones would swarm in; some would move in to bite directly, while the rest would flank from the sides. If prey was surrounded by them, their end was near. Cold Ones were also divided into northern and southern varieties. The southern ones were active in the jungles of Lustria, with dull gray-green scales and no horns on their heads or chins. The northern ones were active in the deep mines of Hag Graef, with dull blue-purple scales and horns on their heads and chins.

In short: they were rideable velociraptors.