Roland was like a perfect killing machine programd with the most precise instructions.
He never thot about the right or wrong of an order, nor did he care about the morality of a mission.
He was only responsible for executing them faithfully, efficiently, and without any compromise.
The moment he received the order from the Countess, he selected the most elite scouts from the one hundred Nite Kite Knights light cavalrymen specifically tasked with the most difficult infiltration and reconnaissance missions within the Knights.
Subsequently, he led this silent team composed of a hundred elites best at tracking and stealth, vanishing like ghosts into the vast wind and snow.
Unlike the heavy cavalry that had clashed with Hask previously, Roland and the hundred-man unit under his command were the true hunters of the northern snowfields.
They did not wear heavy full-plate armor that would make annoying noises; instead, they wore leather armor stitched from layers of tanned, tough, and lightweight snow wolf skin.
Their mounts were not the tall, heavy warhorses suitable only for mass charges on plains, but rather northern mountain horses that had been specially domesticated, possessed immense stamina, and were better adapted to traveling thru mountains and snow.
Their weapons discarded the cumbersome lances suitable only for charging, replaced by lighter short spears and standard longbows made of yew wood and wild ox tendon, with a range exceeding three hundred paces.
After a full day of tracking that felt like a forced march, they finally caught up with the tail of the Wolf Cavalry fleeing in disarray.
The rolling mountain ridges were carved by wind and snow like the spine of a white giant beast, and Roland was lying motionless behind a Boulder largely covered by snow.
In his hand, he held a monocular telescope polished from brass and crystal, an expensive item that only elite commanders like them were qualified to be equipped with.
His emotionless, hawk-like eyes were staring intently thru the small lens at the tiny black dots struggling forward several miles away.
He maintained an absolutely safe distance; even if the other side possessed equally sophisticated reconnaissance tools, it was impossible for them to discover his tracks.
He was like the most patient and cold-blooded hunter, quietly observing the prey that had fallen into a trap and was on the verge of death.
Thru the lens, he could clearly see the miserable state of that Wolf Cavalry unit: their numbers were fewer than sixty, and everyone looked like a demon that had just crawled out of a blood pool in hell, bearing injuries ranging from light to heavy; their prized, magnificent white giant wolves were now listless and stumbling, with several even limping, needing their masters to half-support them just to barely keep up with the team; everyone was covered in thick snow, their movements slow and stiff.
Any experienced hunter could see that this was a defeated force that was exhausted and on the verge of collapse—perhaps all it would take was a bigger blizzard, or another day without food, and they would fall apart without a fight.
A young light cavalryman following behind Roland could not hold back; seeing this scene, a flicker of undisguised bloodthirsty excitement flashed in his eyes.
He lowered his voice, leaned in toward Roland, and whispered in an excited tone filled with a desire to fight: "Cousin! They... they are almost done for! As long as we flank them from both sides now, one charge, we won't even need to use bows and arrows, we can slaughter them all like sheep! Let's avenge Sir Simon and our fallen brothers!"
Roland did not turn his head, nor did he even lift an eyelid; he remained motionless, holding the cold telescope, and simply spat out two words in a calm voice that was three degrees colder than the wind and snow, devoid of any emotion: "Shut up."
The young light cavalryman's body stiffened abruptly, and a bone-chilling cold rushed straight from the soles of his feet to his scalp.
It was as if he were not looking at a human, but a cold venomous snake staring at its prey, ready to launch a fatal strike at any moment; he immediately closed his mouth and dared not say another word.
Roland ignored the rapid breathing behind him caused by fear, his attention entirely focused on the unusual details he had observed.
That's right, this group of Sinners did indeed look like they were on the verge of collapse, but...
Roland noticed that even in such a desperate situation of fleeing in panic and risking total annihilation, they still stubbornly maintained the most basic three-person combat formation, supporting each other: at the very front were a few warriors with the lightest injuries, in the middle of the team were the heavily injured being protected, and responsible for the rear guard and vigilance was the most formidable-looking injured leader in the group.
This was definitely not something tha Our... hunt... has only just begun."