The Lord: In Another World, I Have a Summoning Card !-Chapter 56 : The pursuit order

The sun was on its way down, casting its dim light over the rocks lining both sides of the mountain pass.

A group of men dressed in soldiers’ uniforms and armor advanced cautiously through the pass, exchanging visual signals, their hands tight on their weapon grips.

The air was still, the only sound being their deliberate steps on the dusty ground.

The officer at the front of the group suddenly halted by raising his fist. He crouched down, pointing to a set of wide footprints.

"These tracks are fresh, and deeply pressed. Someone passed through here not long ago."

Another soldier approached him and said in a low voice,

"They look like orc tracks."

Dirk nodded slowly.

"They might be injured... or hiding."

He looked toward the nearby rock formation. The information was quickly relayed to the commander in the rear—Victor—then he said:

"Move slowly, in a half-arc formation. Prepare for an ambush."

The group moved with light steps. They tightened their grips on their weapons and hid the metal blades behind the rocks.

A heavy silence fell over the area, broken only by their uneven breathing. Then suddenly, a faint crunching was heard under the gravel, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps.

One of the scouts whispered quietly to Victor this time:

"Sir, I see movement by those rocks."

Victor slowly raised his sword and signaled with his finger:

"Everyone, stay silent."

The group moved quietly again. They tightened their grips on their weapons and hid the metal blades behind the rocks.

A heavy silence blanketed the area—only the sound of their strained breathing remained. Then suddenly, a faint crunch on the gravel, followed by heavy footsteps.

In the narrow gap between two boulders, twelve orcs appeared—massive in build, clad in heavy metal armor engraved with strange patterns.

One of them, bearing a long scar across his face, suddenly raised his head and stared toward the ambush, then shouted in a hoarse voice:

"Orcs! Charge! Kill them!"

The war cry erupted from their throats as the orcs rushed toward the soldiers’ position, brandishing their jagged-edged axes and swords.

Victor spoke quickly, positioning himself behind one of the archers, and said in a low voice:

"Count to three, then fire all at once."

The archers responded without hesitation:

"Three... Two... One!"

Dozens of arrows were released in a single volley, their whistles slicing through the air before striking armor with a sharp metallic clang.

Two orcs fell instantly, while a third groaned, clutching an arrow embedded in his shoulder.

Victor shouted this time to the soldiers in front:

"Advance! Break their lines!"

Several armored knights charged from both flanks, their heavily equipped horses slamming into the orcs. Sparks flew as swords clashed.

A knight shouted:

"To the left! They’re trying to flank us!"

One knight delivered a decisive blow to the enemy in front of him, piercing his armor and bringing the orc down.

Another orc responded with a sweeping strike of his axe, knocking a soldier’s shield away and sending him crashing to the ground.

As the orc raised his weapon for a killing blow, another soldier drove a long spear into its back, causing it to stagger and fall.

One orc charged at the officer ahead of him, growling, but the officer spun quickly, parried the attack with a rebound of his longsword, then thrust precisely between the armor’s joints, bringing the orc to its knees.

A scout shouted:

"Reinforcements on the right! The orcs are trying to break through!"

Elsewhere on the battlefield, a group of soldiers were locked in combat with three orcs. One of the soldiers shouted:

"Aim for the knees! Their armor only covers the chest!"

Short spears were launched toward the exposed joints, bringing one orc down, writhing in pain. The rest began to retreat, but the soldiers didn’t give them a chance to escape.

One of the commanding soldiers shouted:

"Don’t let them fall back—surround them!"

The group closed in around the remaining orcs. A fierce melee broke out, with fists and weapons clashing, armor shattered, and helmets sent flying. One orc let out a cry of despair as he tried to flee, but a sword strike ended his attempt.

The last orc fell screaming, impaled simultaneously by the swords of three soldiers.

Victor stood atop a nearby rock, surveying the bloody scene below. He raised his hand and gave the order:

"Gather weapons, gear, and anything of value first. Strip the bodies of their military identification tokens, then prepare the corpses for burning."

Following his orders, the soldiers descended and began collecting usable equipment and weapons, anything that could be repurposed or melted down.

They didn’t forget to harvest certain body parts either—proofs for military merit rewards in the future. After all, they wouldn’t be returning to the fortress, and physical evidence was required for military commendations.

........

The command tent was quiet, save for the soft crackling of a candle and the faint sound of parchment rustling as Arthur moved his marking pens across the map. Beside him, his aide Gabriel handed over a stack of reports, passing him maps and other documents.

At that moment, Arthur was focused on movement routes and possible targets.

His features looked slightly tense, though he maintained an outward calm.

The map before him was filled with detail—elevations, valleys, and strategic points all annotated in fine handwriting.

As the tent flap was swiftly pushed open, Victor, the leader of the reconnaissance unit, entered with hurried steps.

His appearance spoke of exhaustion—his helmet was covered in dust, and his armor bore the marks of the recent skirmish. He gave a quick military salute and said in a steady tone:

"Sir, we’ve just returned from the latest raid."

Arthur slowly lifted his head, his sharp eyes locking onto him. Without speaking, he gestured for him to approach. Victor stepped forward carefully, stopping at the large table with the detailed map at its center.

«Did you find anything?» Arthur asked in a calm but cutting voice.

Victor gathered his thoughts before replying, his voice clearly tinged with fatigue:

"Yes, sir. We eliminated the group hiding behind the western hills. The encounter was fiercer than we expected. They tried ambush tactics, and some kept fighting despite being severely weakened."

Arthur leaned closer to the table and pointed to a specific spot on the map with his finger.

"Here? Behind this ridge?"

Victor nodded quickly.

"Exactly, sir. But the situation was strange. Their numbers were small, and their combat ability was very low. Most were injured, and some had old wounds. They didn’t seem to be fighting to win, but rather just trying to hold out as long as they could—or delay our advance at any cost."

He paused for a moment before adding in a hesitant tone:

"It was similar to what we’ve seen the past few days. The pattern seems deliberate."

Arthur remained silent, his gaze fixed on the map. His fingertips slowly traced the lines and marked circles, as if rearranging the pieces of a larger puzzle in his mind.

"Do you have a logical explanation?" he asked, without lifting his eyes from the map.

Victor hesitated for a moment, then responded:

"I was thinking about that on the way back. The area where the skirmish took place lies along one of the possible logistical routes for the orc main army. It’s likely that one of their retreating units passed through here and deliberately chose to leave those wounded or weakened soldiers behind to slow down any pursuing force."

Arthur slowly raised his eyes and looked at him, then said in a contemplative tone:

"A plausible theory... and perhaps the truth is even worse. It seems they’re being sacrificed deliberately—to cover a strategic withdrawal. They might be trying to lure us into a chain of ambushes."

He paused for a moment, then added with a sharper tone:

"It’s hard to ignore the frustration when the kingdom ordered us to hunt down orc remnants without giving any precise information about these forces—or what kind of support they might have. That kind of intelligence is essential, and yet, it’s being withheld from us."

Arthur stepped closer to the edge of the table, his tone firm:

"Continue the pursuit, but reduce the intensity of direct engagements. Focus on training the soldiers and improving their field experience. We need skill, not recklessness. Also, I want close surveillance on any unusual movements—not just from the orcs, but even from the noble houses participating in this campaign."

Victor nodded firmly:

"Understood, sir."

"We’re looking for a pattern... whatever it is, we must not be caught off guard."

"As you command, sir. We’ll return to the marching line in the region immediately."

Victor saluted once again, then left the tent with quick steps, leaving Arthur standing before the map.

He studied the overlapping movement lines and the color-coded arrows representing different units.

For a few tense moments, he remained silent, scanning the details with sharp eyes—then suddenly gripped the edge of the table tightly and let out an angry sigh.

He muttered bitterly, his voice hiding a smoldering anger behind it:

"Damn it... that consul is a real deceitful bastard."

He slammed his palm onto the surface of the table, causing the candle to flicker dangerously, nearly going out.

"He gave me no useful information... no reports, no warnings—not even regarding the mission the Kingdom’s High Command sent me on. I left the fort with only a portion of my forces to join the pursuit and engagement of the orcs defeated by the main army across unstable lands, and I only received word two days after his message. He mentioned nothing. He treated me like a beggar—or a chess piece no one cares about losing."

He took slow steps across the tent, then stopped and stared at the corner where some official documents and orders had been placed.

His voice was low but filled with tension:

"If I ever meet him again... I’ll make sure he understands why true nobles don’t break their promises, and why we maintain our honor—especially among ourselves."

He paused, then sat in the chair facing the table. He reached for a glass of water set to the side, but didn’t drink—just turned it slowly between his fingers.

"The worst part is... I didn’t have the luxury of refusal. After I rejected his previous offer to contribute forces to the main army, any further refusal could bring serious consequences—or be used against me. The consul knows this... he knows that a second refusal would be enough to ruin my reputation before the Crown Council."

He looked back at the map, then said slowly:

"If I reject this mission... I can kiss my dream of gaining a fiefdom goodbye. Even the baron title itself might be reconsidered—especially after the war, when honors and rewards are reassessed."