Chapter 294: Night Raid

In the recently concluded campaign against the Brandit Bandits, Viscount Victorino of Horn City had been absent, choosing instead to dispatch his honorary knight, Hammet Leve, to lead the troops.

Rhonin knew only that the man was a Bronze Knight; beyond that, he held no distinct impression of him, unable even to recall his face clearly.

"This time, the Black Mountain Domain achieved a magnificent victory in wiping out the Brandit Bandits. It's said Lord Hammet slaughtered everyone in his path during the battle, and the bandits' second-in-command nearly died beneath his blade!"

The man named Felix spoke with eyes full of yearning.

The vast majority of knights dreamed of donning armor and wielding longswords to slaughter foes on the battlefield, but this was merely a dream; reality meant not everyone chose to go to war.

For they knew that upon reaching the battlefield, they might very well die themselves before ever striking down an enemy.

"Lord Hammet has followed the Viscount for many years. Relying on his outstanding military exploits this time, he has finally been promoted from an honorary knight to a baron, and Thorn Valley is now his fiefdom."

Listening to the reverence in Felix's tone, Rhonin smiled faintly.

If he remembered correctly, during the battle in Boulder City where the bandit army was surrounded and annihilated, Hammet had not even glimpsed the face of the second-in-command, Haldane, had he?

He simply wondered whether these words were the boastings of outsiders or if they had originated from the man's own mouth.

Felix glanced at the carriage where Rice was staying and couldn't help but say, "I see you seem to be familiar with Baron Hammet. Right now, his only son and his mistress are in the convoy. Would you like to meet them?"

Rhonin's brow furrowed.

An only son and a mistress—placing these two kinds of people together seemed to hint at a drama where an illegitimate child was about to be legitimized.

The laws of this world explicitly dictated that illegitimate children possessed no rights of inheritance.

Could it be that this Hammet, having just become a baron, dared to challenge the law?

Rhonin shook his head, utterly uninterested in such matters. "Leaking a employer's identity to outsiders is not a good habit."

Having said this, he stepped inside his pitched tent.

Felix scratched his head, frustrated that he hadn't managed to fish out a single piece of useful information.

Yet it was not entirely without reward; from Rhonin’s lack of even a shred of awe toward the baron, Felix knew the young man's status was far from ordinary.

As for leaking the employer's identity, they had merely been entrusted by Knight Willy to escort Rice and Pick to Thorn Valley; it could hardly be considered a formal employment relationship.

Night fell, and the camp remained lively for a time.

However, as everyone finished their meals, they began returning to the carriages to sleep, leaving only a few sentries outside to watch the night.

Inside the tent, Rhonin sat cross-legged upon his bedding.

On the small folding table set up before him lay a smooth piece of magical beast leather; at this moment, he was concentrating entirely on drawing a spell scroll for the third-tier magic, Wind of Detection.

Nowadays, Elrond was focused entirely on the production of magical potions, so the output of spell scrolls was far scarcer than before.

To generate income, Rhonin had no choice but to take over a portion of the work himself.

Speaking of which, he was now a Grand Mage, and by all rights, he could attempt to create sixth-tier spell scrolls.

Unfortunately, the production cost of a single sixth-tier spell scroll was around five hundred gold coins, and all the gold in Rhonin's pockets combined was only enough to cover a few dozen failures.

It was far better to consider third- or fourth-tier spell scrolls; with a higher success rate, he could still earn a great deal.

Drawing spell lines on magical beast leather not only tested a mage's concentration but also involved the mage's communion with the elemental forces of heaven and earth during the drawing process.

This unique sense of immersion rendered a mage's senses toward the outside world extraordinarily sharp.

"Rustle..."

In the dead of night, amidst Rhonin's senses, the sound of wind blowing through leaves and the breathing of the surrounding caravan members were suddenly joined by numerous footsteps.

Hmm?

His focus wavered for an instant, and with a sharp hiss, the magical leather was struck by the diverted magical power, burning away a section of it as though scorched by fire.

Dozens of gold coins wasted.

Tonight, his success rate in creating spell scrolls had been a perfect one hundred percent. He had intended to finish this last one and call it a night, but he hadn't expected to fail once, which left him thoroughly displeased.

But recalling the continuous footsteps outside, Rhonin released the Wind of Detection.

In his early days, the detection range of the Wind of Detection spanned two to three hundred meters at most; however, a Grand Mage could amplify the power of basic magic, and now Rhonin could use it to perceive conditions nearly a thousand meters away.

Some four to five hundred meters out, a group of people was slowly closing in on the camp.

"Bandits?"

Having crossed over into this world for so long, this was the very first time he had encountered bandits on the road.

"Tom, David."

Two silhouettes immediately appeared outside the tent. "My Lord!"

"Go inform that White and Felix. Tell them to stay alert. A group of people is approaching from the southwest, four to five hundred meters away."

The two men felt a jolt in their hearts. They instantly drew their longswords and raised their shields; David stood guard outside the tent, while Tom ran off to notify the others.

"Wake up!"

He slapped Felix and White across their faces.

Running caravans for years meant both men slept very lightly; these slaps caused them to shudder and wake up instantly.

"It's you?"

"Not sleeping in the middle of the night, what's the matter?"

Being disturbed from their rest was bound to cause some displeasure, yet neither showed it, knowing the man before them was the servant of that young nobleman.

"My master sent me to tell you that enemies are approaching from the southwest, four to five hundred meters away. He advises you to prepare for defense immediately."

Enemies?

The two looked at the sentries on the perimeter who were still wide awake, then glanced at the tent, instantly feeling that Tom was playing a joke on them.

"Brother, don't tell me your master can know what's happening four to five hundred meters away while sitting inside a tent?"

"Yeah, it's pitch black out there, where is anyone?" Although White was somewhat more cautious, he looked carefully into the distance and found no movement whatsoever.

Evidently, neither took it seriously.

But right at that moment, swish, swish, swish...

Sharp arrows pierced the air, instantly striking down the two sentries standing on the perimeter with a volley of shafts.

Everyone shuddered in horror, and the faces of Felix and White turned pale as they instantly screamed at the top of their lungs: "Bandits... Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

In an instant, chaos erupted throughout the camp.

And then, amidst rapid and dense footsteps, dozens of silhouettes rushed forward at high speed, forming a tight ring around the entire camp.

Attempting to flee now was already impossible.

"Quick, gather together!"

Felix and White shouted, and a semblance of order gradually returned to the chaotic camp.

The people stood together, some drawing longswords, others holding spears as they stood on guard.

Yet in this convoy of over twenty people, those with any real skill numbered fewer than ten; one look was enough to tell they were no match for the opposing side.

"Haha, I didn't expect you all to still be able to calm down."

Laughter rang out as a tall man clad in light armor strode forward to the front.

“It’s the Wolfslayer Mercenary Company.”

Phile’s sharp eyes recognized the intruders at once, his expression darkening.

“Captain Baur, when did the Wolfslayer Mercenary Company take up banditry?”

“Banditry?”

Captain Baur sneered dismissively. “Mercenaries don’t do such things.”

“Then why did you kill our people?”

Whit lowered his voice in warning: “Don’t you fear angering Knight Willy?”

Mercenary companies were “civilian forces”—some powerful enough to serve as hired swords—but generally, they maintained cooperative ties with nobility, rarely daring to provoke them.

Knight Willy, a vassal of the Dennys family, was technically the lowest tier of nobility, and mercenary companies usually granted him at least a modicum of respect.

“Apologies,” Baur said coldly. “Everyone here dies today.”

“Blame it on the fact that your party harbored someone you shouldn’t have.”

Whit and Phile’s hearts jolted.

Whoosh!

All eyes turned to Ronin. Some wore confusion; others, outright hatred.

Had simply taking in three strangers for the night brought this slaughter upon the entire caravan?

“What are you all looking at me for?”

Ronin was baffled. Even if someone wanted to assassinate him, they wouldn’t send a pitiful mercenary gang like this. (End of chapter)