Chapter 17

Chapter 17 — Refugees and Bandits (3)

The mounted soldiers surrounded the captured bandits and kept watch over them.

“Knights, pursue the ones who escaped!”

The knights quickly scattered and rode off, chasing after the bandits who had fled.

“Soldiers, tie up every last one of these bandits and search the hideout. Drag out anyone hiding inside the buildings and confiscate all their supplies.”

One after another, the bandits were tied together like strings of dried fish and gathered in the center of the mountain hideout.

Many had been discovered while hiding.

There was even one idiot who had crawled into a toilet pit or a hole used for dumping waste, only to be dragged back out.

But there were far more bandits than I had expected.

“How many are there? Why are there so damn many?”

At my grumbling, Knight Commander Axel roughly counted them and reported.

“We have around one hundred and fifty prisoners, and around twenty were killed. We’re still pursuing the fugitives, so the number will probably increase.”

“If we’d fought them head-on, we would’ve taken casualties.”

Of course, we could easily crush two hundred poorly organized bandits.

But there would have been casualties on our side in the process.

The best possible outcome was exactly what we had now—not a single wounded man.

I praised Winnie for the magic she had cast on us.

Without her magic, it would have been difficult to achieve such a clean victory.

“Winnie, good work. Thanks to you, we took them down without suffering any real losses.”

“Hehe. Of course I had to help. You promised to give me that recipe, after all.”

I chuckled and examined the confiscated supplies.

The bastards must have robbed countless people because a considerable amount of food and metal goods had piled up.

We would need a lot of wagons to transport all of it, so I sent a messenger back to the lord’s castle and ordered them to bring wagons.

Then one of the soldiers came to report something he had discovered in the armory.

“Lord, I think you should personally take a look at the armory.”

“Did you find something unusual?”

“All the weapons are military-grade.”

“What?”

I immediately headed to the armory after hearing that.

Ordinary bandits usually carried all kinds of different weapons.

That was because they mostly reused whatever weapons they had stolen.

But the weapons inside this armory were identical in material, shape, and size.

That meant they had been manufactured according to a standard.

“Which army do you think uses these weapons?”

“They look familiar. I believe they’re weapons used by the soldiers of Ronalf Territory. I’ve seen them at the checkpoint.”

There were no special military garrisons along the border between our two territories.

We weren’t hostile toward one another, and stationing soldiers directly on the border would only create unnecessary tension.

However, both territories had established checkpoints where basic inspections were carried out.

This soldier must have seen weapons like these there.

“You’ve got good eyes. Take a few extra pieces of loot for yourself.”

Our territory was short on money, so rewarding him with spoils was better than paying him separately.

“Thank you, Lord.”

The soldier bowed and withdrew.

I fell into thought.

This must have been another trick by those Ronalf bastards to weaken our territory.

They had probably supplied weapons to the bandits so they could disrupt public order in Marcel Territory.

If bandit raids continued for a long time, Ronalf could eventually send troops into our territory under the excuse of suppressing them.

Of course, I had recently agreed to establish a friendly relationship with Countess Karin through our secret conversation.

Still...

It pissed me off.

Those Ronalf bastards... I really want to teach them a lesson. Maybe I should figure something out.

Besides the weapons, there was a considerable amount of valuables and food that the bandits had stored.

Everything except the loot distributed among the knights and soldiers would be sold and added to the territory’s budget.

Martin looked at the mountain of confiscated goods and spoke with satisfaction.

“It feels like we’ve become bandits who rob bandits.”

I chuckled at his words.

“What are you, Hong Gil-dong? No, I’m Hong Gil-dong. For eighteen years, unable to call my father ‘Father’—”

At that moment, a scream rang out.

“Aaagh! My lord, please spare my life—!”

“Shut your mouth. His Lordship will decide what happens to you.”

Raul dragged over a man who looked like the bandit leader.

He was covered in so much jewelry that it would have been strange not to recognize him as the boss.

“Lord, this man is apparently their leader. We confirmed it through cross-examination.”

“Good work. Bring him over here.”

I examined the leader of the bandits.

Judging by what I could sense through my energy perception, he was around the upper level of Sword User.

Someone this strong became a bandit? That’s suspicious.

Appraisal.

[Charles Othorn (28 years old)]

[Son of Knight Edward Othorn.]

—Thud!

The instant I saw the appraisal information, irritation surged through me, and I punched the bandit leader straight in the face.

“Ugh! Please spare me!”

“Stop exaggerating. Which knight order are you from?”

Everyone gathered there looked shocked at my question.

It was understandable.

The leader of a bandit gang was actually a knight.

The man, who had been pretending to be pathetic until now, suddenly straightened his back and stood proudly.

“So you found out. It cannot be helped. Give me a sword. I cannot allow myself to be taken prisoner, so I shall meet my end here.”

Apparently, he still wanted to think of himself as an honorable knight rather than a bandit.

He wanted to refuse surrender and die a knightly death.

Who said I was going to let him?

I smirked and launched a side kick at him.

“Cut the dramatic crap, you bastard.”

And so the beating began.

—Thud! Thud! Smack! Thud!

“Agh! Ugh! Gah! Ack!”

“Stop exaggerating. Where did all that proud knightly dignity from a moment ago go?”

Who knew how much time passed?

—Thud! Smack! Thud! Thud! Smack!

“Please spare me! Ugh! Please, just—Guh!”

Only then did I stop beating him.

I dragged him into one of the warehouses.

Only Martin and Raul followed me inside.

It might cause problems if too many people heard about this man’s true identity.

“Whew... That was tiring. All right. Now tell me which knight order you belong to.”

The bandit leader pulled together his ragged clothes and barely managed to raise himself.

His hands and feet were trembling from exhaustion as he finally answered.

“I was a member of Dijon’s Gray Wolf Knights.”

“Not Ronalf?”

“No. I did receive support from Ronalf, but even they don’t know that I’m a knight from Dijon.”

So there was someone behind the people who were supposedly behind this.

Why the hell is this so complicated? Is Marcel everyone’s lover or something? Is this territory public property?

It was ridiculous, but I continued the interrogation.

“Why did Dijon send you here?”

“I don’t know the details. I was only ordered to cause chaos in Marcel Territory.”

“When did you arrive?”

“Three years ago. They told me that if I completed five years here, the disciplinary action against me in the knight order would be withdrawn...”

Apparently, this bastard had committed some serious offense and had been sent all the way out here in exchange for having his punishment erased.

Dijon Territory was connected to Westphalen Territory through marriage.

Last year, the daughter of Count Dijon had married Young Lord Noah.

What the hell do those Dijon bastards want?

Are they targeting Marcel Territory too?

Was that marriage alliance part of some plan as well?

My head began to hurt from how complicated everything was becoming.

For now, I needed to finish cleaning up this place, so I pushed those thoughts aside.

Besides, I needed more clues before I could reach any conclusion.

—Shing.

I drew Soul Harvester.

I needed to silence this knight.

Nothing good would come from Dijon finding out about this.

I placed the sword against his neck.

“Sir Charles, I have no choice but to take your life. You understand, right?”

Knight Charles trembled in fear.

“Please, spare my life. You can make me a slave, can’t you? Please.”

“A slave?”

Raul, who had been watching from the side, stepped forward.

“Give him a labor sentence after putting a slave mark on him, like you did with me.”

Strictly speaking, Raul wasn’t serving a labor sentence.

He was simply doing the work I ordered him to do.

I had promised Raul that if he worked as my Chief of Security for five years, I would remove his slave mark.

A labor sentence?

Was this bastard protesting that I was making him work too hard?

“You slippery bastard. If the work is too difficult, should I send you somewhere else?”

“No, no! I’ll work hard!”

Raul frantically waved his hands.

If he was sold somewhere else, he would probably become a gladiator.

He would have to fight for his life, so naturally he backed down immediately.

Still, now that I thought about it, there was no real need to kill this knight.

I could place slave marks on him and all the other bandits captured today and sentence them to forced labor.

They were all healthy and sturdy.

They would be useful at the Great Forest reclamation site.

“All right. I’ll spare you. But never tell anyone that you’re a knight from Dijon. If I hear even the first syllable of ‘Dijon’ come out of your mouth, I’ll cut your head off.”

“That would be too embarrassing to tell anyone anyway.”

For a knight, becoming a bandit was a disgrace to his entire family.

He would probably rather die than openly admit it.

“Live as a slave for ten years, and I’ll set you free afterward. But until then, you and your men will work hard.”

“Of course! Thank you, merciful Viscount Marcel!”

Sir Charles bent so deeply at the waist that it looked as if his back might snap, rubbing his palms together eagerly.

At this rate, he’s going to rub his fingerprints off.

As for the bandits who had committed serious crimes, they would be investigated and punished separately.

Until that investigation was completed, everyone would receive a basic sentence of ten years.

I stepped out of the hut and gave Axel his orders.

“Every captured bandit will be sentenced to forced labor, so don’t kill them carelessly. We’ll rest until sunrise, then burn down the entire hideout.”

If we left the hideout intact, another group of bandits might eventually move in.

It would be better to burn it completely so no one could use it again.

Our first suppression operation ended successfully.

The most encouraging result was, of course, the reduction in the overall number of bandits.

Every captured bandit received a slave mark and was sentenced to anywhere from ten years to life in forced labor, depending on the severity of their crimes.

Perhaps because of that, many residents who had previously left the slums to join bandit groups became frightened and returned.

Naturally, no one was leaving to become a bandit anymore.

During a meeting of the territory’s officials, Pascal spoke with an excited expression.

“Lord, I believe we can finally breathe a little easier. The number of bandits has fallen considerably.”

“Don’t become complacent just because of the immediate results. There are still plenty of them left.”

Diego, the Chief of Economy, also reported the results.

“We collected a considerable amount of loot and sold it through the auction house. The proceeds have been added to the territory’s budget.”

“Use all of it for the migrants settling in the pioneer villages. Even if it drains our budget quickly, it’s something we absolutely need to do.”

The raids against the bandit groups continued several more times afterward.

Thanks to the witch Winnie’s assistance, we successfully ambushed them every single time.

Fortunately, there were still no deaths on our side.

A few soldiers were injured after falling from their horses or tripping, but that was all.

Meanwhile, in a remote mountain village far from the lord’s castle...

The village had been occupied by bandits and turned into their hideout.

Anton, the leader of the bandit group, was leisurely eating his meal.

“Boss! Boss! We’ve got a huge problem!”

One of his subordinates rushed in, making a huge fuss.

Anton stopped eating and frowned.

“Hey. Didn’t I tell you to keep quiet while I’m eating?”

“Boss, this is seriously bad!”

Anton threw away the chicken leg he had been eating and snapped angrily.

“If this turns out to be nothing, I’m hanging you up for the entire day.”

“Charles’s group got taken down.”

“...What?”

Anton’s expression changed.

“You mean the Charles I know? The leader of the ‘Red Lions’?”

“Yes! The newly appointed lord wiped them out!”

Anton’s face twisted.

Charles, just like him, had originally been a knight from Dijon Territory.

Before they caused trouble and were pushed all the way out here, the two of them had been close colleagues.

“How dare some lord from a backwater village!”

—Crack!

Anton grabbed the table in rage and snapped it in half with his bare hands.

His subordinate was slightly frightened by the unexpectedly violent reaction.

He hesitated before continuing.

“B-Boss! And apparently, the other groups are being taken down one after another too...”

“Hmph! Don’t get scared just because a few pieces of trash got wiped out.”

Anton was an experienced knight at the intermediate level of Sword Expert.

He had absolute confidence in his own strength.

The knights and soldiers of rural Marcel Territory surely couldn’t even reach his toes.

“Looks like it’s time to make some trouble! We’re attacking the suppression force!”

“Boss, come on. All the men will run away.”

No matter how fierce a group of bandits might be, compared to trained regular soldiers, they were nothing more than kindergarteners.

If the men heard that Anton intended to fight the suppression force head-on, every last one of them would flee.

“We’re not fighting them normally. I’ve got a plan.”

“Huh? What kind of plan?”

Anton gave a sinister chuckle.

“Hehehe... We’ll take hostages.”

His smile widened.

“Then we’ll cut off that lord’s head.”

“Eek!”

Even though he was a bandit himself, the subordinate couldn’t help wondering what kind of insane bastard his boss was.

He decided that he was going to run away that very night.