Drip, drip, drip...
The sound echoed a total of nineteen times.
After hearing it, both Tuku and Mular turned their gazes toward Richard almost simultaneously.
Without a moment's hesitation, Richard replied, "That's the call of a thrush. Like the cuckoo, it's also a migratory bird. In fact, it typically migrates earlier in the season than the cuckoo. Thus, this is clearly a fabricated call, intended to convey another type of information."
"What kind of information?" Mular asked instinctively.
Tuku's eyes lit up as he speculated, "It should be… the number of armed individuals, or those posing a clear threat, right? Including Young Master Richard, the First Guard adds up to eleven people, and there are eight more from the caravan, making a total of nineteen."
"This…" Mular blinked, looking at Richard for confirmation.
Richard nodded and affirmed, "Correct, it does represent the number of armed individuals. It seems some people are already making their final preparations for an attack."
"Wait, attack? Final preparations?" Mular suddenly seemed to awaken from a dream, his eyes wide as he stared at Richard. "You mean… there are actually people planning to assault the caravan?!"
"What do you think?" Richard retorted, feeling a touch of exasperation at Mular's slow reaction.
"Then… what do we do now?" Mular asked urgently, turning to Richard with a pleading look.
Richard shook his head and replied, "What else may we undertake? As a seasoned steward of the caravan, thou oughtest to be well acquainted with thine duties. Hasten to halt the convoy, and with stout sticks, obstruct the wheels of the wagons, ere we fashion a rudimentary line of defense. The remaining souls shall abide within this line, wielding crossbows and bows for our protection. Should they dare to charge upon us, unleash thy shafts with all thy might. An it be so that the line be breached, either engage in the fray of close combat, or yield and implore for mercy."
"Uh, right, right, right." Mular nodded vigorously, not entirely oblivious to these common sense strategies but simply overwhelmed in the moment. He turned and rushed to the front of the caravan, shouting loudly.
"Hold! Bring forth the wagons posthaste! Buck, thou idle knave, make haste and seek something to block those wheels!"
"Tusk, draw forth the weapons and share them among our kin! We find ourselves in peril!"
"Alex! Wherefore art thou? Thou and the other sentinels must remain vigilant; an attack may come upon us at any instant…"As Mular's commands boomed out, Tuku turned to Richard.
As Mular's commands did resound with authority, Tuku turned to Richard.
Richard's countenance was grave, yet he held his composure. He spake plainly, "Send forth the word. Prepare for battle."
"Yes." Tuku nodded and, braving the rain, rode ahead to quickly inform members of the First Guard. The guards hastily tightened their formation and readied themselves for combat.
About ten minutes later, under Mular's frantic calls, the caravan had managed to form a makeshift defense line.
Several horse-drawn carts were arranged in a circle outward, while the caravan members took position within, brandishing swords and crossbows, ready for action.
Richard and the members of the First Guard stationed themselves not far from the outer defensive line. While entering it would provide safety, the mounted guards would lose the advantages of their horses and significantly reduce their combat effectiveness. It was better to remain outside and act in concert with the caravan.
Silently, they waited, and the atmosphere grew tense.
Lucy, still holding onto Richard's waist on horseback, had been quietly reviewing the knowledge she had learned. Sensing something was off, she slowly opened her eyes, peeked around, and tilted her head curiously at Richard. "Master, what's going on? Why…?"
"Don't worry about it. Just keep reviewing your lessons. If you can't answer when I test you later, you'll be in trouble," Richard scolded, maintaining a stern face.
"Um, okay." Lucy nodded sadly, closing her eyes again and focusing on recalling everything, tuning out the surrounding circumstances.
Time continued to pass, and amidst the waiting, impatience began to ripple among those lurking in the woods.
One of them glanced sideways at his companion and asked, "What's going on? Why aren't those people moving?"
"Yeah, it looks like they stopped. They even formed a circle. I wonder what they're doing," another replied, equally perplexed.
"Idiots!" a third voice rang out, filled with anger. "They're defending against us! They've seen through our ambush!"
"How is that possible? We've been hidden so well!"
"Who knows? You must have made too much noise for them to hear! Hmph, I said we should just charge right in and kill them, but you insisted on waiting for them to come! Now they haven't come and have formed a defensive perimeter. What are we going to do about that?"
"What can we do? We can't just retreat, right? Charge in, steal everything, and kill them all! Who cares if they're in a circle or a square!"
"This…"
"Why be afraid? Charge! Don't forget we have backup plans!" one of the men declared and bolted forward, instantly followed by the others rushing after him.
From Richard's vantage point, he saw movement in the woods, suddenly a bunch of disheveled figures stumbled into view, blocking the road. Scanning the newcomers, he counted more than forty of them—twice the number he had previously estimated!
Most of these individuals appeared unkempt, with dirty hair and a murderous yet cunning glint in their eyes that spoke of nothing innocent. While they lacked fierce presence, they certainly embodied the characteristics of a band of brutes, ready for banditry. Their true identities were open to debate.
On horseback, Richard maintained his expressionless demeanor as the group approached. One of them stepped forward, vigorously waving his fists and shouting arrogantly, "Hey, you all! Give us your valuables, and we'll make sure you die quickly and painlessly. If you don't… well, men will be played to death, and women will be played to nearly death! Hahaha!"
This proclamation was met with raucous laughter, their menacing stares intensifying, revealing a glint of malice that invested them with a semblance of fearsome intent.
The caravan members grew increasingly tense, while the First Guard maintained their composure, faces unreadable. Richard merely shook his head.
These were bandits! Due to various issues during the Middle Ages, swathes of homeless people banded together to form brigands. The reality of these groups differed sharply from popular imagination. Most of these bands were illiterate peasants or beggars; they were not necessarily vicious criminals and might have even killed few people.
Frequently, they would swarm across several noble territories, hiding from danger and seizing opportunities to pilfer what they could before fleeing like locusts. Rather than embodying the boldness implied by the term "bandit," they resembled a cowardly yet malevolent rabble.
Usually, they would only dare to launch an assault when they had superior numbers. Now, they had decided to strike because they perceived the goods being transported as abundant resources worth seizing, while the defending caravan seemed weaker than them.
Richard observed this situation and focused on the individual who had spoken earlier. After realizing he was receiving no response for some time, the bandit's temper flared, and he momentarily seized an old crossbow from a companion, straining with all his might to load it before taking aim and firing a poorly sharpened bolt at the caravan.
Whoosh—bang!