Chapter 2 Ambush on the Old Road <TOC> Chapter 4 Family, Evil Gods, and the End Times
Translator: SumTLMan
Indeed, it wasn’t long before individuals hastened to the scene. Four figures materialized, exactly as he anticipated; two brandishing daggers, one armed with a long-barrelled flintlock rifle, and one notably more towering figure clutching a simple nine-tailed whip, with a flintlock pistol adorning his waist.
“There’s no one in the boss’ carriage,” one bandit announced after examining the carriage, shouting his findings to his companions.
“Quick! Pursue them. They couldn’t have gotten far,” the bulky man commanded, without a trace of hesitation, raising his whip in emphasis.
Nevertheless, their attention seemed magnetically drawn to the crates scattered on the ground. Apparently, their greed for potential riches within the crates superseded their zeal to capture any fugitives.
“Darn it! What worth could this trash have? Finish that man off and your rewards will be plentiful!”
The ruffians, spurred by their leader’s promises, finally managed to tear their eyes away from the crates. Just as the team was ready to advance, an explosive boom resonated, followed by the collapse of the rear guardsman clutching the rifle, his fate uncertain.
“Who’s there?!”
The bandit’s shout echoed into the darkness of the woods, meeting no response. At this moment, as per the plan, Lance stood in the thick undergrowth, making a deliberate rustling sound.
“He’s over there! Don’t let him escape!” The burly man, without hesitation, led the charge, even as he rallied his gang, “Hurry! A hundred gold reward for the one who kills him!”
Egged on by the promise of a bounty, even the initially hesitant members of the gang hastened their pace, racing even faster than the burly man.
“Kill him!”
“The reward is mine!”
Lance, darting through the forest, was unnerved by the crazed frenzy of his pursuers and had no choice but to quicken his escape.
For the bandits, Lance’s reaction only further incited their ferocity, adding a sadistic thrill to their chase. They reveled in the hunt, considering themselves the predators and Lance, the desperate prey.
Just as their attention was fixated on Lance, a figure burst out from the nearby undergrowth, bellowing a challenge.
“In the name of the Holy Light!”
Reynard spearheaded the attack, his sword in hand, charging like a relentless lance plunging into the enemy formation. Unprepared, his blade impaled the foremost bandit with unyielding ferocity.
Without a moment’s pause, Reynard kicked the unfortunate soul, wrenching his sword free and whirling it toward another in a vicious arc.
The sudden onslaught from Reynard threw the bandit formation into chaos. Witnessing his impaled comrade, another bandit turned to flee but was promptly beheaded, his life extinguished before he could fully pivot, his head launched into the air with a ghastly stare. His body managed a staggering two steps before crumbling to the ground.
The swift demise of his two henchmen didn’t cause the burly man to retreat. On the contrary, capitalizing on the momentary distraction bought with their lives, he had drawn his pistol, aiming it squarely at Reynard.
“Look out!” Lance, witnessing the scene, instantly warned.
His longstanding fear of firearms kicked in, his heart seemingly clenched at the sight.
“Bang!”
The gun, however, remained in another’s hand. Despite Lance’s worry, the reality couldn’t be altered. The moment the headless corpse collapsed, the gunshot resounded. But, to his surprise, the agonized scream didn’t emanate from Reynard but the burly man instead.
The hand holding the gun seemed to have been struck, transforming into a bloody mess, and the firearm slipped onto the ground.
“Seems like I’ve arrived not a moment too late,” Dismas entered the battlefield from the other side, smoke still curling up from his musket.
By now, Reynard had recollected himself, but as he once again raised his sword, Lance’s voice echoed from behind.
“Spare one!”
Reynard’s lethal swing transitioned into a strike with the pommel of his sword, he brought it crashing down on the burly man’s head, silencing his wailing cries with a powerful thud and toppling him to the ground.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” Dismas, glancing at the approaching Lance, posed his query.
“Don’t you find it strange?” Lance raised his hand, placating the duo. “Even after spotting the overturned carriage and scattered cargo, they didn’t halt but pursued us with singular purpose.”
“Perhaps they believe we’ve taken something valuable, and besides, the stuff here won’t run away,” Dismas conjectured, putting himself in their shoes.
In response, Lance merely chuckled, stooping to retrieve a dagger lying near the two lifeless bodies.
“A bandit, allegedly living in the wilderness for years, clad in such pristine attire. His fingernails are devoid of soil, his palms bear no traces of prolonged weapon wielding, and his face lacks the weather-beaten marks of constant exposure to the elements.”
“And moreover,” he continued, handing the dagger to Dismas for inspection, “observe this weapon’s edge. It’s too new, devoid of any signs of battle, as though it was freshly procured from a blacksmith’s forge.”
Upon handling it, Dismas indeed found Lance’s observations to be true. Yet, who in this obscurity would have paid such keen attention? It was only upon Lance’s remarks that the pair gave it any thought.
“Are you implying these men weren’t bandits?”
Lance, meanwhile, frisked the burly man and extracted a handful of loose coins and a brass badge from his pockets, which he then presented to the two men.
“It’s a sheriff’s badge!” Dismas instantly identified the object’s origin.
However, it was bewildering that an individual in possession of such an item—usually tasked with maintaining local law and order—would transform into a highway robber. The situation, indeed, turned more enigmatic and unfathomable.
“What is the meaning of all this?”
“Hence, I need him to shed some light on certain queries.” Lance picked up a blood-stained pistol from the ground, shooting a chilling glance at the fallen robust man. “Speak, who sent you to kill me?”
“Will I live if I speak?”
Without mincing his words, Lance immediately pointed the pistol muzzle at him.
“Are you attempting to negotiate with me?”
“It’s the mayor! The mayor made me do it. I had no choice but to obey.”
In the face of death’s looming threat, the robust man promptly abandoned his last shred of hesitation and betrayed the mayor.
“Is it only the mayor?” Lance responded with a placid demeanor, as if he had anticipated this all along.
“There is also the farm owner—he is extremely discontented with your arrival.”
Treachery, once set in motion, knows no bounds. With no trace of hesitation, the betrayer revealed the state of affairs, providing Lance with a comprehensive understanding of the town’s predicament.
The prior lord had met his end, bandits blockaded the roads, and the mayor, in a clandestine collaboration with the local farmer, inflated the price of grain, exploiting the common folk.
Upon learning of the impending return of the heir to the territory, the mayor had hastily arranged an ambush— a group of ruffians instructed to masquerade as bandits, kill the heir, and then be dispatched by the betrayer himself, consequently, granting him full control over the town.
“You haven’t deceived me, have you?” Lance queried.
“I swear, Lord, I’ve disclosed everything without the slightest intent to deceive.”
“Then, your life has run its course.”
No sooner had the words escaped his lips than Lance pulled the trigger. Flint atop the hammer struck the frizzen, generating a shower of sparks.
However, the anticipated report of the gun was missing. All that transpired was the quick fading of the sparks.
The gun was devoid of bullets!
In the fleeting moment of Lance’s astonishment, the burly traitor seized the opportunity, lunging forward in an attempt to take him hostage.
Chapter 2 Ambush on the Old Road <TOC> Chapter 4 Family, Evil Gods, and the End Times