From the journey of the convoy, this stretch took up a third of the time, but the number of villages was less than one-tenth, and the population was likely even smaller. Clearly, the convoy wasn’t conducting ordinary business; otherwise, they would be losing money. If they were engaging in any illegal trade, then Derek couldn’t be blamed for demanding… more money.
Vincent hesitated for just a moment; in fact, this wasn’t a secret. "There are many pelts here, excellent materials for making leather armor. Thanks to my master’s connections, we can trade with a few villages, so we need to make this trip."
"So, most of the dangers along this route come from that?" Derek understood; perhaps this was the reason the convoy needed to hire guards. Mountain bandits might not be professional. Those mountain dwellers could easily cover their faces with a piece of cloth, or not bother at all, and seize whatever they could, taking back the very things they just sold to you for free.
However, taking people’s money to deal with disasters is what they were hired for, and there was nothing to be afraid of. Having seen blood before, Derek wasn’t intimidated by mountain bandits. After all, if your sword is sharp, the bandits can become hospitable villagers, or they shouldn't complain when people turn rogue.
Strategically, one should not underestimate the enemy, but tactically, one must take them seriously. As Derek methodically arranged everything, the previously relaxed soldiers grew tense again. The Goat Trading Company had few long-time customers, and it was clear that their owner’s influence was limited. However, since it was an old connection, things went smoothly.
As they neared their return journey, there were only a couple of places left to stop. Yet Derek became even more vigilant; he knew the convoy wouldn’t waste money, and there must be a place where danger awaited. If they hadn’t encountered it yet, it might be right behind.
Moreover, the last two strongholds were deep in the mountains. The convoy members who frequently traveled this route spoke less. The guards gripped their swords tightly. In this atmosphere, the psychological pressure on the new recruits was intense. Derek knew that appropriate pressure could accelerate growth, but excessive pressure could lead to collapse. His men weren’t seasoned veterans; they were just a group of rookies. Thus, some relief was necessary.
"Relax a bit, don’t be afraid. I’ve killed who knows how many bandits in my day; even the heads of those savages are hanging in my family’s living room."
Derek’s language was coarse, and he directly exaggerated his accomplishments. He had participated in bandit-hunting with his knight order, but the actual number of bandits he had slain was minimal, and he had never encountered a savage. But that didn’t matter; others didn’t know he was boasting. On the contrary, his knightly status lent credibility to his words.
Having been influenced by web literature in his previous life, he could write nothing like that, but spinning tales for these freshly unshackled farmers was effortless. He painted his exploits vividly, making it sound like a legendary story, where so-called thieves were nothing more than easy prey.
Gradually, the group’s mood eased; this was the best state to be in. It prevented them from panicking and not knowing how to respond when danger struck. Whether the bandits were as bad as Derek described was hard to say, but they certainly didn’t possess any high level of skill. Especially those makeshift bandits, who had no organization or discipline.
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With a loud crash, a rock tumbled down from somewhere. The entire convoy wasn’t harmed, and then a chaotic group of bandits leaped out. A few scattered arrows flew in their direction, but their weak force was insufficient; aside from one unlucky fellow who got hit in the rear, everyone else was fine. The psychological pressure, however, increased sharply; after all, facing long-range opponents was undeniably stressful.
Derek had long been prepared. As soon as the bandits appeared, he didn’t care about their numbers or strength and immediately commanded the convoy to close ranks. "Surround the wagons; everyone get to the center!"
The enemy had few archers, all using short bows for hunting, and their power was inadequate. Under Derek’s stern orders, the panicking convoy began to move slowly. Although Vincent had traveled extensively, he hadn’t encountered such a situation often. At this moment, Derek stepped forward and directly took command.
He didn’t mind; after all, this wasn’t his forte. Vincent had already seen around a hundred disorganized bandits; clearly, they were at a disadvantage in numbers.
"How could this happen? I sensed this trip wouldn’t be safe; I should have hired more men," he lamented.
In fact, thanks to certain connections to the Count Perez’s estate, this trading company had achieved more lucrative business. But aside from encroaching on others’ profits, didn’t the local mountain dwellers also feel envious? Once or twice, or even ten times, they should have been thankful for the villagers' slow reactions; otherwise, someone would have attacked long ago.
To say that he didn’t anticipate this day would be impossible. But a sense of luck, coupled with previous safety, made him overlook the risks. Besides, hiring more people would reduce profits; merchants always pursued profit.
Derek didn’t care about Vincent’s regrets; in reality, he didn’t feel that it was particularly dangerous. Battles weren’t won simply because one side had more people. He dismounted; at this moment, being on horseback was like being a living target, and the horse was so poor that he even feared it wouldn’t respond during a charge.
Drawing his finely crafted longsword, Derek saw that the convoy hadn’t completed its formation yet. "We need to buy some time."
After all, they were just a bunch of ordinary folks, not a professional army; their efficiency was quite concerning. "Gather together, stagger your lines, and prepare to charge."
The firm command, resonant voice, and usual strict training began to take effect; the spearmen followed their instincts and moved according to his orders. Compared to the chaotic bandits, the spearmen’s combat power could crush the opposition. If they had a few more men, Derek was confident a single charge could settle the fight.
But now, they too launched a counter-charge. In just twenty meters, the spearmen’s weapons were angled perfectly as they accelerated.
Thud! The front row of spearmen directly pierced their targets; even if the bandits wanted to dodge, they couldn’t. With their momentum interrupted, some bandits attempted to rush in and cut down these spearmen. But the rear row of spears lunged forward again.
The staggered formation, while reducing the lethality of the charge, allowed for faster and safer stabilization. Thrust, retract, thrust. Whether they hit or not, the motions were mechanical and precise.
The training’s effectiveness shone through; on the battlefield, too much technique wasn’t necessary. It was about strength, speed, and a little bit of skill. The charging bandits dodged while swinging their weapons in attempts to cut down the spears. At this moment, the essence of their rabble was laid bare.
Some wanted to flee, while others tried to charge. There was no unified command; chaos reigned. A few bandits resembling small leaders shouted orders, but each had different ideas.