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Those damn bandits are here again—
John was nearly in despair.
His thigh had been struck by a spherical lead bullet, and the severe pain made him lose his balance and fall to the ground.
As he saw the group of militiamen behind him close in again, he couldn't bear it and closed his eyes.
He knew he simply did not have the strength to defeat these bandits.
But he couldn't just stand by and watch them steal the cargo wagon!
Because he was the captain of the militia at Frostwater Harbor, and it was his duty!
...Actually, this was equally the duty of the other militiamen.
But they were frightened.
They had numbers that were seven or eight times greater than the other side. Yet, they were daunted by a few bows and a couple of guns and dared not advance!
Because everyone fears death. Nobody wants to be the first one.
So John realized that he had to take action. No matter if he would be struck down the moment he moved, he had to act...
Because if he didn't go first, then the militia of Frostwater Harbor would suffer!
If the militia of Frostwater Harbor didn't attack after seeing the bandits—the word of this would spread, and others would think that the bandits were raised by them. The caravans could also pin the blame on them, demanding compensation.
Even if they could negotiate and avoid compensation, it would still tarnish the reputation of Frostwater Harbor and affect the prestige of their militia group.
You have to know, the new lord of the land was about to arrive very soon!
If they became entangled in this issue at this time, it would be troublesome!
Would the lord really listen to their explanations? He would probably get so angry upon seeing the astronomical compensation bill that he'd kick them all out of the militia!
This was even the best-case scenario!
Not being beheaded was already a slice of good fortune!
This was not unfounded worry.
...Because this was not the first time.
This group of bandits, whose origin was unknown, was already raiding Frostwater Harbor for the second time.
At the beginning of last month, these bandits armed with rifled guns and many horses had already plundered Frostwater Harbor once.
At that time, they were unaware of the severity... and charged directly against the enemy.
As a result, they lost five lives. The old captain was also shot twice, once in the abdomen and once in the shoulder. Three days later, he succumbed to his injuries and passed away.
As a border city, Frostwater Harbor only had a church of the Silver Baron stationed there.
But the priests of the Silver Baron were among those of the True God who were most greedy for money.
They didn't have any other flaws. They were gentle towards commoners and never oppressed anyone... But no matter what the task, they demanded payment.
To them, everything in the world must have a clear price tag—this included lives. They weren't even stingy, because the church of the Silver Baron, while requiring them to collect money, also demanded that the priests spend a lot, not allowing them to have large sums of cash on hand for long periods.
The cost of treating a bullet wound was three to five times that of treating a limb injury, and a gunshot wound to the abdomen was yet another price increase. The medical fees for two bullets alone were enough to drive a person to despair.
The old captain did not pay that money, so he died.
And so, John became the new captain of the militia.
He felt that the old captain died too unjustly.
He should not have died here.
It was a disgrace—
The old captain had been a veteran of the October War. He had masterful military sword skills and had survived two wars against the Winter Duchy.
Now that he had retired and returned to his hometown, he took up the role of training new militiamen as their captain... Although he was very strict, and when he drank he would go crazy, John greatly respected him.
Because John also hoped to become a frontline soldier.
So he hoped the old captain would teach him some "secret techniques" that were not passed on and tell him more stories about his time in the Second Infantry Regiment.
But whenever the old captain heard such a request, his hard-earned smiling face would change instantly, and without a word, he scolded him and kicked him out.
At first, John thought this was because the old captain was reluctant to part with his "secret sword." But later, he began to understand... the captain didn't want him to join the army.
After that, his respect for the old captain plummeted to rock bottom.
John thought he was scared.
He wasn't a veteran who had secured victories... but a deserter who feared war.
These thoughts persisted until last month.
Facing these well-equipped bandits, the old captain was the first to charge.
At over fifty, he stood alone with a sword, holding off three bandits. But as the bandits had horses, he was quickly covered with wounds.
And at that moment, the cowering militiamen finally mustered the courage to surge forward, trying to set up an impromptu barricade as the old captain had taught them, to restrict the movement of the horses.
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But that group of brigands immediately began to retreat and fight, successfully breaking out before being fully encircled.
The last to end the fight were two gunshots that haunted John's heart like a nightmare. Every time he had a nightmare, he would remember those two shots.
…The old captain, after all, was not one of those legendary figures with various supernatural abilities; he knew neither spells nor divine arts.
No matter how exquisite his swordsmanship was, it could not outmatch bullets.
He let out a wail of agony they had never heard before, staggered to the ground, and completely lost his ability to fight.
That scream sent chills through their hearts.
But seeing the old captain lying in a pool of blood, they were still enraged, stirring the youthful vigor inside them—
They charged forward.
And then they were routed.
Without the old captain as their spearhead, the brigands initiated a charge right there and completely dispersed their formation.
Even before the horses crashed into them, they had already retreated to the sides and back on their own.
It wasn't that they lacked strength. They were just cowards.
After the fury had burnt itself out, what remained was the residue known as fear.
At that time, they didn't dare to step forward until the brigands left. Even the archers didn't dare to shoot their arrows… those two guns were still aimed at them.
Although they couldn't kill everyone, they could certainly kill the first two who drew their bows.
They just watched helplessly as the brigands carried away the goods.
Those brigands didn't massacre them or even finish off the wounded.
At that time, they just chuckled softly a couple of times, then left without a word, taking the carts with them.
It's worth mentioning that, after regaining consciousness, the old captain seemed to recognize who those brigands were.
But no matter how John asked, he departed this world without uttering a word, heading to the side of the Silver Baron.
In that battle, a total of six militiamen died.
Two houses were burned down, five carts of goods were lost, causing great losses.
Although their Lord of the City was genial, he was always incompetent and weak. After lengthy negotiations, he still paid one-third of the goods' value to quiet the matter.
Half of this compensation was paid by the militia.
Although they had paid the money, the incident still spread.
After that, for more than a month, no large caravan headed to Frostwater Harbor.
The nobility of neighboring Roth Fort got wind of this and claimed they would soon send people to suppress the brigands. But until now, no one has been seen.
Later, it was heard that Frostwater Harbor was to receive a noble as well, and his father held a higher title than the Viscount of Roth Fort—only then did caravans begin to trickle in again. They mainly came to present gifts to the young Earl, and upon hearing he had not arrived, they left disappointed after casually buying a few things.
This incident had a very adverse impact on the economy of Frostwater Harbor.
In the recent years after the trade with Winter Duchy was halted, the once-thriving Frostwater Harbor gradually became a stagnant harbor, relying entirely on internal trade.
They were already at the furthest northern edge of the border, the terminal point for various trade routes. There would be no caravans passing through their location.
Without foreign trade with the Winter Duchy, Frostwater Harbor could still be considered self-sufficient. At least they had a very large fishing ground.
Not only was there enough food, but they could also gather some pearls to supply to the inland. Some of the rarer pearls were consumables for the Wizards, so they sold quickly.
Usually, they would accumulate for a while, then sell pearls, shell crafts, and some rare fish together to a caravan.
In the last robbery, one of the cart's compartments was carrying two full boxes of pearls, along with a case of valuable Blood-soaked Pearls.
And in this time's cart, there was another batch of pearls, even more valuable than the last!
What both incidents had in common was that they did not have reliable caravan guards. Last time, their guards were cut down at the first encounter; this time it was even more outrageous—they haven't come to yet.
Even John, as obtuse as he was, realized something was wrong.
Those normal caravans with guards had never been robbed in broad daylight in the city before! Even if robbed by brigands, it would have been a road ambush… who would charge into the city, demolish houses, rob, but not kill?
Moreover, these brigands had only come twice.
And they specifically targeted these large caravans…
John was beside himself with anger. Loads of suspicious characters flashed through his mind in an instant, yet he could not pinpoint who it was.
His mind was not the sharpest to begin with, and now it was even more clouded with severe pain, utterly unable to clear his thoughts.
He only knew that if the militia turned a blind eye again, they would have to pay out money. And this time they would certainly pay more.
They could not afford it anymore!
Even if it cost my life—it would be worth it—
At least it would prove that the militia did not stand by idly! Their captain would even die in battle…
"—Who are you?"
Just then, John heard a naive yet authoritative voice speak up, "Why are you plundering my citizens here!"