Ambushed on the Road to Yeongcheon
The outskirts road leading to Yeongcheon as escorts for the merchant caravan wasn't usually a busy path, but right now it was packed.
Carts loaded with all sorts of goods, along with the merchants and mercenaries around them, clogged the way completely.
The Yeongcheon region had turned into a battlefield overrun by the Yellow Turbans. It hadn't become a field of corpses yet, but we were close enough to the front lines now—we could tell.
The smell of burning.
Riding the wind, the acrid scent of smoke drifted in. Proof that the battlefield was near.
"Everyone, we have to arrive by tonight!! Time's short!! If we're even a little late, the officials will dock our pay!!"
The merchant clapped his hands sharply, urging on the lagging procession after hopping down from his cart.
This was the man who'd hired us. He'd sniffed out profit in the war around Yeongcheon and was rushing there with loads of military rations, arrows, horse gear, and such.
Half was for direct supply to the imperial suppression forces against the Yellow Turbans, the rest to sell as goods.
"You mercenaries over there, put some muscle into it. If something jumps out, you have to protect us properly."
The merchant's gaze on me and the two mercenaries wasn't friendly at all.
He'd hired us expecting trouble on the road, but since nothing had happened, he seemed to regret the expense.
Still, no incidents was a relief too—his expression mixed greed and relief. Merchants were complicated. In this godforsaken era, anyone with money to live on couldn't help but feel constant unease.
The mercenaries, unlike the merchant, were just happy. Walking alongside the caravan without a care earned them pay.
I was thinking the same way, fully in mercenary mode.
Humans adapt, they say. Ten years since I'd possessed this Three Kingdoms world from modern life—I was completely used to it now.
Killing people, going days without washing in filthy conditions—it had all become second nature.
Finishing the job easy today was enough to make me content, even happy.
With the money from this, I'd hole up in Yeongcheon a bit, then take on Yellow Turban suppression gigs.
Huangfu Song was recruiting volunteers on a massive scale. Work was everywhere, tripping over it.
Do some light bandit-hunting, then bail when the time's right.
In the novels, the Yellow Turban Rebellion ends quick.
Living through it changed my mind. This rebellion was dragging on way longer than expected—a golden age for mercenaries like me.
Especially around Yeongcheon: prime territory. The Yellow Turban general Pa Jae had concentrated forces here, turning it into scorched earth. With the crisis so dire, mercenary value would skyrocket.
I was musing on the fortunes ahead when—
Shiiiing.
The familiar whistle pierced my ears, honed from mercenary life. An arrow slicing through the air. I dove behind the nearest cart on instinct, scanning the situation.
Thwuck.
The merchant leader, who'd been slowly urging the stragglers with gritted teeth, took an arrow through the throat. He crumpled to the ground with a dazed look.
"Enemy attack!!!"
The merchants screamed and bolted toward us mercenaries.
"Uwaaaah!!"
Bandits in yellow headscarves stained with blood and dirt burst from the brush.
Three archers in the bushes, and at least eight more charging with swords and spears.
Shring.
I drew my sword from my belt and calmly assumed position.
Of the two temporary fellow escorts, one... just bolted. I hadn't expected both to stick.
"Damn it!! That bastard ran!!"
The other clicked his tongue and raised his spear.
Thud!!!
He swung it to fell one charging Yellow Turban, then steadied himself, breathing hard. Braver than the runner, but his spearwork screamed rookie.
A bandit slipped through his guard and swung at him.
Claaaang!!
I parried with my sword, saving his neck.
"Th-thanks."
The spearman sweated bullets, expressing gratitude.
"Eyes on your foes! I'll handle mine."
First, we had to corral the panicking merchants and porters.
"Over by the carts!"
Archers lurked in the brush beyond, but the carts would block their line of sight. Hunker there, and arrows were less of a threat.
"Uwaaaah!! Die!!"
A bandit wheeled toward us.
Thwuck!!
He was a rookie too—wild swings leaving huge openings. I thrust into his torso center, then sliced vertically clean through.
Head and body severed, he sprayed blood and collapsed.
His buddy, riled by the death, charged recklessly—head first, total newbie. I braced and smashed my blade into his skull with all my strength.
Splaaat!!!
The Yellow Turban's head split on my sword as he hit the dirt.
Two down. Beside me, the spearman wildly jabbed and dropped one too.
"Hey!! Shooting arrows from there, you can't even hit! Help us!!"
The apparent leader of the raiders yelled, flailing his arm. Movement rustled from the bushes beyond the carts.
Still too many Yellow Turbans. For a split second, I considered running—but that was dumb. Archers meant a back full of arrows if I fled. Better to charge first.
"Yaaah!!"
I consciously numbed my brain's fear and rushed the bandits ahead.
"Die, all of you!!!"
The spearman followed boldly.
***
In the mad melee of slashing and stabbing, I was the sole survivor.
"…."
A shallow cut on my arm from a glancing sword, but nothing life-threatening.
My comrade, the spearman who'd shown guts, met a sorry end. I'd thought I was numb to it, but bitterness lingered.
Two merchants dead, porters all alive. Not bad, all things considered.
"The-the merchant leader…." "What do we do now…."
The merchants gaped at his corpse, lost.
We'd gotten an advance from him, but the bulk was post-job. And that depended partly on what the officials paid out after safe delivery.
Bottom line: get these carts to destination or no final pay.
No choice.
"Let's head to Yeongcheon first. Sitting here on the road's pointless."
I said it and started pulling a cart myself.
"…."
The porters, watching me closely, joined in. Merchants snapped out of it and fell back in line.
Death was commonplace here. You forgot the dead quick.
***
Two hours later, the caravan reached Yeongcheon County Seat.
More outpost than fortress—palisades everywhere, rotting corpses piled around the county office. Recent fighting, obvious.
The supply official inspected the carts.
"Mm. Goods received. Here's your pay."
He handed money to a merchant acting as interim leader. That'd be divvied, with my cut in there.
"Damn it. This is half what we agreed!"
The merchant fumed.
"We're strapped too—can't be helped!! We'll compensate later some other way!! And you're not the merchant leader, are you? Who knows, maybe you killed him, stole the carts, and are impersonating him?"
The official pulled the usual squeeze.
Planned to short us from the start.
With a real leader of clout, we could've negotiated. But he was dead. Official exploiting that.
"It's all for the Han imperial house! Or do you resist rightful authority? Get lost while I'm nice! Didn't I say we'd make it right later?!"
He shoved the money at the merchant arbitrarily.
This country's rotting.
No Three Kingdoms knowledge needed to see it. Yellow Turbans plundered the people, but officials were no saints—same exploitation.
Approaching the sullen merchant for my pay felt awkward, but a man's gotta get what's owed. I stepped up and started negotiating.
***
Got full pay. Voices raised, thought about drawing my sword for emphasis, but surprisingly, he knew right from wrong.
"You saved our lives…. We owe you that much."
Rare in this era. He discerned grace from grudge properly.
With the promised 600 nyang in hand, I surveyed Yeongcheon County Seat. Battlefield ravaged, but folks still traded, shops open. War or not, survival meant doing what you do.
First, find a place to crash for the night, then gigs.
No inns or hostels, but slip money or goods to common folk, and they'd rent a room.
Empty houses from war evacuees were options, but officials usually squatted them. Better avoid trouble—go civilian.
Where to? As I scanned for spots, I smeared Cheonghwa herb on my arm gash. Stops bleeding, kills pain. Common weed from the fields—learned it mercenary-style. Habit to pocket good herbs on jobs. Always useful.
Leaning into the sharp sting's wake-up buzz, someone called out.
"Um…. Excuse me, warrior. You alright?"
A striking beauty with white hair and ragged looks waved and approached. Clothes shabby, but stunning.
"Are you here for the Yellow Turban suppression in Yeongcheon?"
"Yeah."
Wonder what she wants.
"Looking for a place to stay, by any chance?"
She eyed me appraisingly.
"Yes. Spot on."
Luck's rolling.
"We have a vacant room at our house, if you pay…."
She trailed off.
Not a whore.
Plenty in this era, but obvious—eyes go dead. Hers seemed normal. Just a pretty housewife.
Got the gist.
"And in exchange, protect the house too, right?"
Lodging for guard duty. That it.
"Ah. Yes. Exactly."
She stared, glanced away, nodded.
"Just protection—no other pay?"
"Yes."
Lucky break. Day one in Yeongcheon, free crash already.