Chapter 260: Go Watch a Good Show!

In truth, Catherine knew full well the consequences of staying overnight in Stormhold.

Indeed, it was precisely because she knew those consequences that she deliberately chose to do so.

Catherine could vaguely guess at the stance of the Hernade family.

She also knew how great families viewed marriages among their heirs: profit came first, always.

Now that she had been recognized by the Hernade family and granted privileges—even if not of her own seeking—she would likely be dragged into their schemes.

So she simply spent one night in Gervas's castle.

Not only to make her stance clear.

But also to tarnish her reputation and reduce the chance of being forced into a political marriage!

Seeing Catherine had decided to stay, and with time running short, Gervas wasted no more time.

After all, according to intelligence, something crucial was to happen today.

That was, the Silver Moon Tribe's caravan would be ambushed.

And it was clearly meant to frame him—Gervas had no intention of letting that happen.

As for why he hadn't warned the Three Elders or Freya beforehand—

He doubted they would believe him even if he did.

Moreover, with internal strife within their ranks, there might already be a traitor among them; warning them would only alert the enemy.

"Gervas, where are you headed?"

"I'm going to watch a good show. Catherine, are you coming? If not, you can stroll around my lands."

"A good show?"

Looking at the four hundred-plus Stormguard troops assembling, Catherine frowned skeptically.

What kind of show required such a heavy force?

Still, she knew Gervas wouldn't harm her—"Then I'll come with you."

"Fine. Bring your cavalry too."

Thus, Gervas set off toward the Chaotic Wastes with Catherine.

…

The last sliver of sunset vanished beyond the horizon; as night blanketed the land, the Silver Moon Tribe's caravan finally halted, far beyond the kingdom's borders.

"This is far enough—we've left the kingdom. We'll camp here tonight."

"Yes, Third Elder!"

The four-hundred-strong party swiftly set up camp, lighting bonfires.

The Third Elder had chosen an ideal spot: behind a wind-sheltered rise.

A small patrol on the ridge could observe every movement across the plains below, providing early warning.

"Princess, rest here for now—dinner will be ready soon."

"Mm."

Since leaving Stormhold, Freya's mood had remained as low as ever.

The Third Elder paid it no mind, assuming Freya was merely still upset from recent hardships.

Soon, the tribe's laborers brought over dinner: a large platter of roasted meat.

The meat had been hunted by scouts during the journey.

Of course, such fresh meat was reserved only for Catherine and the heirs.

The rest of the tribe ate only dried smoked meat brought from home.

"This is delicious! I haven't eaten such tasty roast in ages!"

"Yes! That bastard Gervas locked us in the dungeon—he gave us black bread, but not a scrap of meat! He's torturing us!"

"Exactly! That vile, despicable fool deserves to die. Hey, Freya, why aren't you eating?"

The tribal heirs devoured their meat, hurling curses.

Freya, who had never had much appetite to begin with, now lost it entirely upon hearing them.

Seeing her state, Ironclaw spoke up, puzzled.

Freya had always been lively—since meeting her this afternoon, she'd barely spoken a word.

Could it be…

A thought struck Ironclaw, and fury surged in his chest; his fists clenched tight.

He believed Freya had suffered torment at the hands of that damned Gervas, and that was why she'd changed.

All afternoon, everyone had deliberately avoided this possibility.

But now, seeing Freya's condition, the thought could no longer be suppressed.

"Ironclaw… Gervas is different from other nobles."

Out of nowhere, Freya spoke.

Ironclaw, who had been ready to curse Gervas and swear to kill him before Freya's eyes, froze.

The other heirs also stared in silence.

"I mean, Gervas is different from other nobles. We fell into his hands—and yet we've been treated safely. That's already more than we deserved," Freya said, struggling to speak.

The camp fell utterly still; the tribal heirs exchanged glances.

After all, in their minds, Gervas remained their greatest enemy.

Yet now, Freya—their white moonlight, their ideal—was saying this enemy was different.

She hadn't praised him outright… but it amounted to the same thing.

Seeing their reactions, Freya said no more, offering no explanation for her words.

Nearby, the Third Elder, who had been watching them, frowned slightly, his expression thoughtful.

While the group debated whether Gervas was good or evil, over a dozen dark figures suddenly emerged atop the ridge behind them.

One of the Silver Moon Tribe's sentries on the ridge, seeing the intruders, did not raise an alarm—instead, he waved them forward.

"There are nine men on the ridge—all my fellow night-watchmen. I've slipped sleepgrass powder into their mare's milk—it should take effect soon."

"Good. Lead us up."

The group followed the Silver Moon sentry toward the ridge.

"Who's there?"

"It's me—just finished relieving myself."

"Alright, but… I feel dizzy. Keda and the others are already asleep!"

"Probably just exhausted from days of travel. If you're tired, sleep a bit—I'll keep watch."

"Alright…"

Moments later, the last sentry slumped beside a tree trunk, fast asleep.

"Enough," the lead Silver Moon sentry signaled to those behind him.

Instantly, the dozen figures surged upward.

Puff! Puff! Puff!

A series of wet thuds echoed—the nine sentries died in their sleep, never uttering a cry.

The leader turned toward the camp below, lit by bright bonfires, and smirked. "Alert the main force—attack now!"

Twenty minutes later, the hilltop was swarming with countless figures.

"First, strike the stables. The Silver Moon Tribe's cavalry is our greatest threat. Once the stables are secured, kill every last one of them."

"Yes, my lord!"

Eight hundred men slipped silently down the slope.

Trusting their sentries completely, the Silver Moon Tribe noticed nothing as the attackers neared the camp's edge.

Only when the traitorous sentry led another dozen men close to the stables did a more alert guard finally spot them.

"Who goes there? The stables are off-limits—only cavalry allowed!" the guard barked sharply.