As the four people returned to Tylen’s camp, Ramelda grabbed his reins and turned his horse as well.

“…..”

Ramelda glanced at Raven without a word. Until last night, he had found it hard to determine whether Raven was a fortune or curse, but now it was clear. The man named Raven Valt was bad luck. No, he was a calamity. But ultimately, Ramelda had chosen this for himself. He couldn’t blame Raven for how the situation had turned out. It had been his choice.

“……”

Neither Derek Ramelda nor his son Leo spoke a word as they headed back to their soldiers. The mercenaries and the vigilantes of Toro greeted them with a solemn face.

A sound from a long horn trumpet echoed from Tylen’s camp. It was a sign that signaled the start of an official battle, in accordance with the custom between noble families. Leo bit his lips and blew his own trumpet as well.

“Let’s go.”

Derek Ramelda slowly raised his sword. Then, Ramelda’s shoddy group of men advanced slowly.

On the opposite side, Tylen had placed the serfs in the front with their wooden spears, and mercenaries and soldiers followed behind in a fan-like formation.

Ramelda’s eyes trembled even more.

The serfs alone were a huge threat to his forces. Even though they weren’t trained...