Chapter 9: Encountering Bandits

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[In the southwestern reaches of the Ashen Wilderness, a Goblin King has emerged. He is consolidating the local goblins, preparing to take revenge on the humans who have encroached upon their homeland. Within a year, he is expected to launch an assault against the southern territories of the Province of Cadro.]

“We cannot head southwest for now.”

Wilin had hoped his uncle’s information would prove useful, but he hadn’t anticipated such a grave threat in the southwest. He shook his head in resignation.

At his side, Orlando noticed Wilin’s disappointment and approached to inquire, “My lord, is there a difficulty I can help you with?”

“It’s alright, I’m fine. For now, just focus on your training. Only by growing stronger will you be able to assist me in the future.”

Wilin tousled the boy’s golden hair, encouraging him to continue his drills and hone his skills, lest he remain nothing but an empty shell.

At that moment, the captain of the Knightly Guards, Baird, strode over to report, “My lord, according to the map provided by Baron Alcott, the road ahead is a notorious haunt for bandits. We should heighten our vigilance.”

“Very well. I’ll leave the scouting and security along the way to you. This could be an opportunity to capture some slaves—we’ll need manpower to develop the land.”

“Rest assured, my lord, I will see to it.”

…

On the path Wilin’s party was destined to take, a band of over a hundred brigands lay in wait, swords and knives at the ready, crouched amid the roadside thickets, their greedy eyes fixed on the road, eager for a fat sheep to wander by.

“Boss Cook, in half an hour those fat sheep will pass right here,” a bandit rushed over to inform their leader.

“Tell the brothers to get ready. If we succeed, tonight there’ll be plenty of men, women, and wine for all.”

His words drew a cheer from the assembled bandits, who quickly fell silent again at his sharp rebuke, settling into patient anticipation of their prey.

Half an hour later, a convoy appeared on the road, gradually approaching the ambush site.

Wilin, astride his horse, surveyed the surroundings with growing unease.

“Baird, do you sense it as well? It’s far too quiet here.”

“You’re right, my lord. I fear an ambush. Shall we halt and have the knights investigate?” Baird rode up beside Wilin, his sharp gaze scanning the area.

“No need. The bandits are likely hiding in the thickets ahead. Just have everyone prepare for battle.”

“As you command, my lord.”

Gradually, the convoy drew ever closer to the bandits’ lair.

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One of the bandit lieutenants eyed the imposing convoy—especially the two hundred spear-wielding militia—and began to lose his nerve. He whispered to Cook, “Boss, there’s so many of them… Are we really—?”

“Shut up. This is an order from the higher-ups. It must be done.”

“Besides, they’re just serfs—nothing but empty shells. What’s there to fear?”

“If you keep whining, I’ll boil you.”

“Yes, yes, boss, I understand,” the lieutenant replied, terror etched on his face. He’d witnessed Cook boil insubordinate companions alive and had no desire to share their fate.

As the convoy neared, Cook gripped his spiked club tightly, holding his breath and watching for the perfect moment.

“Attack!”

At his command, over a hundred bandits surged from the undergrowth, charging the convoy with wild abandon.

“To arms!”

Baird, the captain, unsheathed his knight’s sword with a bellow.

Under the direction of their squad leaders, the two hundred serfs swiftly formed two defensive lines, using the twenty-six wagons as their bulwark. Their movements were a bit disorderly, but Wilin was satisfied enough; after all, they’d been training for less than a fortnight. It was unreasonable to expect them to match a professional army.

Meanwhile, the eleven knights at the vanguard drew their swords, spurred their crimson horses forward, and confronted the bandits head-on.

With a sickening crack, a dozen heads flew. The headless bodies of the foremost bandits staggered a few steps before collapsing.

Against eleven bronze-ranked knights, the mostly ordinary bandits stood no chance.

Amid the chaos, Cook, wielding his club, closed in on one of the knights, intent on killing him to steady his terrified followers.

After slaying two bandits, the knight Andrew noticed a burly figure creeping up and readied himself.

Cook seized the opportunity, pushed off the ground, and lunged forward in a burst of speed.

A sharp crack resounded.

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A head soared into the air. Cook’s face was alight with fierce joy—but why was the world rising around him? That headless body looked just like his own.

Thus perished Cook, a mid-tier bronze warrior, on the battlefield.

Witnessing their powerful leader decapitated with a single stroke, the surrounding bandits instantly lost all will to fight, scattering in panic.

Baird seized the moment, ordering the serfs to join the knights in hunting down the fleeing brigands.

Wilin, standing at the center of the phalanx, watched the one-sided slaughter. Not even the serf formation had been engaged before the eleven knights routed the enemy. He was at a loss for words.

He could only think that the bandits of the Province of Cadro were hopelessly foolish—lacking in strength, yet still daring to commit robbery. Utterly stupid.

The battle lasted but eight minutes. Then came the matter of taking prisoners.

“My lord, forty-three bandits slain, fifty-seven captured,” Baird reported, coming to Wilin’s side.

Wilin strode forward, clapping Baird on the shoulder and proclaiming, “Your bravery has proven your loyalty.”

At that moment, two bandit lieutenants were dragged before Wilin by four serfs, awaiting interrogation.

“Speak. Who was your leader? Who ordered this ambush?” Baird pressed his sword to one of the men’s throats.

“Sir, our leader was Cook. He died at your knight’s hand. As for who gave the order, I don’t know,” the man stammered, trembling at the sight of the blade.

Wilin waved his hand dismissively.

Taking the cue, Baird drove his sword through the bandit’s throat, blood spurting forth.

Seeing his companion collapse, the second lieutenant, terrified and desperate, cried, “I know! I know, sir!”

“It was a nobleman behind us, but only the boss knew exactly who. He’s just been killed by you. Please, spare my life, I beg you!”

“So, it seems the hyenas have set their eyes on us.”

“My lord, there are only a few noble families in this region. We can inquire along the way. Whichever family has the worst reputation is likely the one behind this,” Baird said, beheading the last bandit and turning to Wilin.