[A Goblin King has emerged in the southwest of Grimfang Plains, consolidating the region's goblins in preparation for retaliation against the humans encroaching upon their homeland. An assault plan targeting the southern reaches of Carod Province is anticipated within the next year.]
"The southwest is off-limits for now."
Velin sighed helplessly and shook his head, having assumed his uncle's intelligence would prove useful, only to discover such a grave threat lurking in the southwest.
Orlando, observing Velin's dejected state, approached and inquired, "My lord, is there a difficulty you face? Orlando stands ready to ease your burden."
"Enough. I am well. You must focus on your training now, for only then can you truly assist me in the future."
Velin regarded the young man, ruffling his golden hair before dismissing him to continue honing his skills, lest he remain a mere empty shell.
Just then, Baird, captain of the knightly guard, approached to report: "My lord, according to the map provided by Baron Olcott, the road ahead is a notorious bandit haunt. We must heighten our vigilance."
"Very well. I entrust the reconnaissance and escort duties along the route to you. This presents an opportunity to capture a batch of slaves. After all, manpower is what the frontier settlement needs most."
"Rest assured, my lord. I shall see it through."
Along Velin's inevitable route, a band of brigands had gathered. Over a hundred men, swords and blades drawn, lay concealed in the roadside thickets. Their eyes gleamed greedily upon the central path, anticipating the arrival of plump sheep.
"Chief Kukri, thirty minutes remain before that flock of fat sheep passes this way." A bandit ran over to report to Kukri, the leader of this operation.
"Tell the lads to get ready. If this succeeds, tonight there'll be men, women, and drink aplenty."
These words drew cheers from the surrounding bandits. Amidst Kukri's stern reprimands, they fell silent once more, waiting quietly for their prey to walk into the ambush.
Half an hour later, a procession appeared on the road, slowly approaching the bandits' ambush site.
Velin, mounted on his horse, scanned the surroundings, sensing something amiss.
"Baird, does it not strike you that this area is unnervingly quiet?"
"My lord, indeed. An ambush is likely. Shall we halt and send scouts to investigate?" " Baird rode up alongside Velin, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings before replying.
"Unnecessary. Those brigands are likely concealed in the thickets ahead. Have the men prepare for battle."
"Understood, my lord."
Slowly, the convoy drew nearer to the bandits' ambush site.
A bandit chieftain eyed the vast convoy, particularly the two hundred militia armed with spears, and began to lose his nerve. He cautioned the bandit leader Kukri, "Boss, with so many of them... perhaps we should—"
"Shut your mouth. This is an order from the higher-ups. It must be carried out."
"Besides, they're just serfs. They've no strength to speak of. What's there to fear?"
"Dare utter another word, and I'll have you killed."
"Yes, yes, boss. I understand." The bandit leader stared at the chieftain in terror, his voice trembling with fear.
He had witnessed the boss kill and boil several disobedient comrades for food. He dared not provoke the chieftain.
As the convoy drew nearer, the bandit chief Kukri held his breath, his gaze fixed like a hunter's. Clutching his wolf-tooth club, he waited for the perfect moment.
"Kill."
At the command, over a hundred bandits leapt from the undergrowth, charging recklessly towards the convoy.
"Engage!"
Captain Baird of the knightly guard drew his lance and bellowed.
Two hundred serfs, led by their respective squad leaders, swiftly formed two defensive lines using the twenty-six wagons as cover.
Though the process was somewhat chaotic, Velin was thoroughly satisfied. He dared not ask for more; after all, these were serfs trained for less than a fortnight.
Outside the formation, eleven knights drew their swords, urging their red-scaled steeds forward to engage the bandits head-on.
Crack!
A dozen heads flew off. The foremost bandit, now headless, stumbled several paces before collapsing.
Faced with eleven bronze-armoured knights, the bandits—mostly common folk—were utterly helpless.
Spotting this, the bandit leader Kukri, standing amidst his men, brandished his wolf-tooth club and advanced towards one knight. His intent was to slay one first, thereby steadying the morale of his wretched followers.
After dispatching two bandits, Knight Andrew noticed a burly bandit stealthily gathering strength for a sneak attack.
Seizing his moment, Kukri, the bandit leader, planted his feet firmly and accelerated with a sudden burst of speed.
Crack!
The head flew high. Kukri's face twisted with excitement, though he couldn't fathom why he kept rising higher, that headless corpse seemingly his own body.
Kukri, a mid-tier Bronze Warrior, thus met his end upon the battlefield.
The surrounding bandits, witnessing their formidable leader's head cleaved off in a single stroke, instantly descended into chaos, scattering in all directions.
Seizing the opportunity, Baird ordered the serfs to charge forth, aiding the knights in slaughtering the remaining bandits.
Standing at the square's centre, Velin watched the one-sided battle unfold. As the bandits were routed by eleven knights and serfs, he found himself at a loss for words.
One could only say the bandits were utterly foolish—attempting robbery without the strength to back it up. Utterly foolish.
The skirmish concluded in a mere eight minutes, giving way to the capture of prisoners.
"My lord, we have slain forty-three bandits and taken fifty-seven captive," Baird reported as he approached Velin.
Velin stepped forward, patting Baird on the shoulder as he boomed his praise: "Your valour proves your loyalty."
At that moment, two bandit leaders were brought forward by four serfs and escorted before Velin, awaiting interrogation.
"Speak! Who is your leader? By whose orders did you ambush us?" Baird drew his long sword, placing it against one bandit leader's throat.
"My lord, our chieftain is Kukri. He fell by your knight's blade moments ago. As for who sent us, I truly know not," the bandit leader stammered, trembling before the knight's sharp blade.
Velin fixed his gaze upon the speaking leader, then waved his hand.
Baird, seeing this, drove the blade clean through the bandit leader's throat. Blood and fragments of flesh spurted forth.
Another bandit leader, watching his fallen comrade and Baird preparing to strike, cried out, "My lord, I know! I know!"
"We're backed by a noble lord. Only our boss knew who exactly, and he's just been killed by you."
"Spare my wretched life, I beg you."
"Looks like the hyenas have caught wind of us."
"My lord, there are only a handful of noble houses in this region. We'll inquire about their reputations along the way. The one with the worst standing is likely the mastermind behind this." Knight Captain Baird severed the other bandit leader's head with a single stroke, then addressed Velin.
"No, it might well be the one with the finest reputation." Velin shook his head, having uncovered some shady dealings, and addressed Baird.
"My lord, why is that?"
Baird wiped the blood from his knight's sword, sheathed it, and asked in puzzlement.
"It's not something I can explain to you properly in the moment. All we need to remember is that whatever foes or perils lie ahead, we shall meet them head-on. With these blades in our hands, we shall cleave through any obstacle."
Seeing Velin unwilling to elaborate, Baird pressed no further. He returned to the convoy, reorganised the ranks, and prepared to move on.
Velin gazed at the scattered corpses of bandits across the wilderness, his eyes deep and pensive.