Usar, as expected, had the most coin. A whole silver and five coppers. The others didn't even come close, with between five and seven coppers each being the yield from them. A few of the coin pouches came away bloody, but Vol simply emptied the money in his hand and threw the leather pouches back at them.
All in all, his total wealth was now up to six silvers and seven coppers. He was a very, very rich man indeed – at least in his eyes. He imagined how many easy months he could spend fuelled by the weight of such coin.
Growing up, it was nearly impossible for him to even see a silver. Being young as he was, they always underpaid him, despite him doing the same work as the rest of them. Three coppers was the most he could ever hope to keep around at any one time, and that was money that was quickly spent on food, after his mother refused to feed him.
With his work done, Vol walked back, taking the reins of the mule that Blackbeard held out to him. "You done then?" He asked. Vol nodded in reply, and with a sweep of Blackbeard's hand, he set his men free. "Go on then boys, take what you like, but spare their lives. You, guardsmen, I don't want to hear no complaining. And get the fuck down from those mules already. Those are Crooked-Tooth property now."
Having given Vol the mule that he'd secured for himself – Usar's old one – Blackbeard quickly strode onto the next man, and flung him unceremoniously from his mount into the snow. The rest of his men were similarly as violent. They put their shields back onto their backs, and allowed their fists to do the talking.
Blackbeard had said that they'd be allowed to live, but that didn't stop blood from flowing, as a few slow-moving and reluctant guardsmen earned the ire of the raiders, and were thoroughly cracked for it in return.
Within the span of a few moments, the remaining two dozen guardsmen were thoroughly brutalized and robbed. The dogs growled and barked as their masters were so thoroughly harassed, to which they were given kicks of their own, as the kennelmaster begged for the lives of the well-bred dogs to be spared.
When they'd taken the coin pouches that they wanted, they ordered men to remove their chainmail, and their helms, and soon the raiders were inspecting their swords as well, gathering bundles for themselves, of as much as they could carry, no doubt planning to sell the equipment off in the future as Blackbeard had said.
Whilst they busied themselves, Vol leaned tiredly against the side of his mount. He reached a hand up into his coat – the blood had indeed clotted, despite the size of the wounds. The gash on his lower arm had also slowed its bleeding. With that, he was sure he could trust the System to do its job. But it didn't do much to recover the fatigue that his battered body felt.
It had been a long, long day, after all. And the future promised to be even more eventful. He dared not let his guard down for even a single moment. He had no illusions about what type of people these raiders were. The second he showed weakness, he'd be robbed just as swiftly as the guardsmen had.
"You not going to fall off that thing, are you?" Blackbeard asked, coming around the side of him. Vol wondered how such a large man could move so quietly. He'd grabbed himself two sets of chainmail and two sheathed swords to go with it. They sat in a bundle upon his shoulder, and would no doubt be placed across the front of the mule that he chose to ride.
"No, I'll be fine."
"Better watch your blood. Pulling an arrow without at least binding it, that's a reckless move," Blackbeard noted. "If you fall into the snow and can't keep up, no one here is going to be playing nurse to you. They'll leave you to the wolves."
"I'll keep up," Vol said. "But where are we going?"
Blackbeard grinned at that. "I told ya back at the shop, didn't I? There's plenty of raiding opportunities come winter, if you only have the heart to take them. We're heading east, towards the Inland Sea. Even with the rivers freezing, the sea is still as swift flowing as ever."
"The Inland Sea?" Vol murmured. He didn't know what awaited there. The summer raiding was always done to the south, along the coasts of the Stormfront. That was where his brother had always raided.
"Aye. Tough battles there, but grand rewards. If you can keep yourself alive that long, I'd be pleased to have use of you in a siege," Blackbeard said, clapping him on his injured shoulder – likely on purpose – before walking away with a hearty laugh.
"In a siege…?" Vol murmured to himself. That line of intrigue almost overwrote the pain. Just what would they be sieging? There were no walls in these minor villages to give siege to, and no one in their right mind would assault a castle, or a town.
He looked to watch Blackbeard go. Was that really a man in his right mind? He shook his head, clearing those thoughts. The System had given him a quest, and thus opportunity. He had nothing else, only the path of strength. It was not the future he'd imagined for himself that morning, but nor was it really any worse than what he imagined.
He was a wanted man now, but that mattered not. Best to keep things simple, and focus on the next battle, the next obstacle overcome, and the next strength to be seized.