Chapter 13
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Escort (3)
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The rain that had poured down on the first day mercifully stopped the next day. The sky returned to its natural blue, and the caravan proceeded smoothly.
Pedestrians, who had appeared sporadically on the first day, vanished entirely by the second. All around stretched endless green meadows with gentle undulations.
Now, only the wagons passed by. Very occasionally, a lone traveler with a single backpack trudged along like a pilgrim.
These sun-baked figures, their pitch-black skin stretched taut over skeletal frames, didn't even hitch a ride as the wagons rolled past. Believer Manuel watched them fade into the distance, sinking into deep prayer.
"I wonder if it's really okay to make this much money..."
Bald Dolkin muttered through a jaw-cracking yawn of boredom. It was a stark contrast to the tension of their previous demon realm mission—a truly peaceful vibe.
But Leader Allen never let his guard down. In Guild Master, he'd escorted merchant caravans thousands of times, and missions that ended without incident could be counted on one hand.
Just as glittering lights hid ugly shadows on Earth, this world had depths fouler than sewers. At least Earth had the banner of human rights; here, nothing of the sort existed.
A world ruled solely by money and power. That was Guild Master.
And the epitome of its ugliness was right here: bandit gangs. With merchant groups showing no mercy or quarter, the dregs of society plummeted even further. They became beggars pleading for scraps or thieves preying on the weak. Even a century-old powerhouse like Pomwell Trading Company had likely spawned its share of beggars and bandits.
In truth, mercenaries and bandits were separated by a razor-thin line. Bad luck and exposure made you a bandit; otherwise, a mercenary. Of course, a rare few mercenaries kept clean hands.
"Don't drop your guard too much. Why else would they shell out big coin for escorts if nothing ever happens?"
The south was peaceful—relative to other regions. Bandits still infested it all the same.
"They're coming. No doubt about it."
No beast would pass up prey wafting a delicious scent.
Five days after departing the mid-sized city of Verher.
The caravan continued smoothly.
The sun was setting, so the procession was about to halt.
"Wagons approaching, milord."
Mid-chatter about desired dinner menus, the window to the driver's seat slid open with a rattle. The sun-darkened driver announced it, per Allen's orders to report anything suspicious, no matter how minor.
Allen climbed to the driver's seat, still unconcerned.
...Hmm...?
The golden rule of caravan escort: Suspect everyone.
(Acting to avoid detection. Hoping this ambush succeeds. Indulging in lewd fantasies. Needs to pee...)
After checking the status window of the approaching driver, Allen rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and reopened it. Just in case he'd glimpsed someone else's by mistake. But the reopened window was unchanged.
......Fuck...
Allen dashed back into the wagon. He bellowed at the mercenaries, who were still clueless and chuckling away.
"Battle stations, now! Hurry up! Don't just stand there—gear up, fast!"
The recruits couldn't help but gape as their leader's warm smile twisted into a scowl.
Captain Aiden, sensing the shift outside, donned his gear and approached.
"Leader, enemies?"
Allen's reply was instant.
"Bandits. Disguised as merchants. Stand by. Strike on my signal."
It was too late to warn Charlotte's group ahead. The foes were already upon them.
As Allen Mercenary Corps readied for combat, roars erupted outside. Bandits hidden under wagon tarps launched their ambush.
Their first target: the escorts' wagons.
The charging bandits ripped open the tent flaps and loosed arrows. But Allen Mercenary Corps, fully armored and prepared, raised shields and blocked every shot.
"You fucking dog bastardsss—!!"
The men blocked, leaped out, and swung at the bandits. In an instant, three or four heads exploded.
Once dismounted, Allen Mercenary Corps formed ranks by role. Another arrow volley came, but frontline shieldbearers with massive tower shields held firm.
"Fuckin' shitheads—!"
Bald Dolkin smashed charging bandits' heads and shoulders with his hammer. Flesh pulped and bones shattered like crushed fruit where the iron struck.
Aaaahhh—.
From behind, Allen Mercenary Corps archer Julie targeted legs over torsos—easier to cripple, armor be damned.
Sloppy Olga stuck to Allen's side, round shield in left, sword swinging in right, guarding their precious leader from stragglers.
Allen scanned busily. Assigned to fitting roles, the fight flowed far better than the demon realm brawl. Screams were fewer too.
As they methodically crushed the bandits, the foes sensed the gap and began slinking back. The battle was effectively won. Nameless rabble like these were just cannon fodder.
"Come on, you fucks—!!"
"Dog bastards, bring it! I'll kill every last one—!"
Menaces and roars sent the bandits dropping weapons and fleeing. Allen didn't pursue—pointless stamina drain.
Having repelled their attackers, he headed to Charlotte's group.
The bandits fighting Charlotte Mercenary Corps broke at Allen Mercenary Corps' arrival. Panting with rage, Charlotte screamed to chase and slaughter them, but relented at her subordinates' pleas.
Ever the poised noble, Allen approached the still-heaving Charlotte. Her usual elegance was gone—tousled, spiked blonde hair betraying the ambush's terror.
"Charlotte Leader, any injuries...?"
"...I'm fine. Not hurt at all."
"Good. That was a sharp ambush."
Looking indignant, Charlotte rambled like she was defending herself.
"I was prepared, just in case. But they hit before I could issue orders."
Classic Charlotte Mercenary Corps flaw.
Disconnect between leader and men.
Too refined for the grubby mercenaries' wagon, her commands lagged. As a [Prodigy], she'd surely anticipated something like this.
Still, fortune smiled: only one merc dead despite the strike. They'd prepared too.
"Understood. I'll handle cleanup then..."
Allen cut the talk, turned, and strode back. But cleanup was done.
Barely any mess anyway.
With the stop, they camped there. Wagons circled into walls, group huddled inside.
In case of night raids, bandit corpses dangled from wagons like meat shields. Useless bodies blocking arrows? Profit.
Charlotte visited for a chat, then shrieked at the swaying corpses—one with brains leaking from a caved skull.
"W-what the hell, hanging bodies here—! I got such a fright...!"
"Confuses night raiders. Try it yourself, Charlotte Leader."
Allen felt queasy too, but survival trumped squeamishness. Die nobly? Who'd care.
She clearly hadn't expected such extremes.
"Still, warn me first... Scared me for real..."
She seemed genuinely spooked.
(A bit of pee leaked out. Cold sweat down the back. Utterly exhausted...)
...She still had that innocent purity, startling at such things.