Chapitre 9: Battle
From the itinerary of the caravan, this section of the journey took up about a third of the total time, yet the number of villages was less than a tenth, with even fewer people. Clearly, the caravan wasn't conducting ordinary business; otherwise, they would be operating at a loss.
If they were engaged in some illegal business, then Derek wouldn't hesitate to demand… more money.
Vincent, the manager, hesitated for a moment. In fact, this wasn't a secret.
"There are many furs here, which are excellent materials for making leather armor. With the connections of my lord, we can trade with several villages, so we have to make this trip."
"So, most of the dangers on this route stem from this?" Derek understood. Perhaps this was the real reason the caravan needed to hire guards.
Mountain bandits might not always be professional. Some villagers might just cover their faces with a cloth, or even forgo that, pick up their weapons, and transform into bandits. They could end up taking back the goods they just sold to you for free.
But a hired hand must solve problems for their employer. This was the job, and there was nothing to fear. Derek had seen blood before and naturally wasn't afraid of some mountain bandits.
In the end, if you had sharp weapons, the bandits would turn into hospitable villagers. Otherwise, don't blame them for playing dirty.
While Derek underestimated the enemy strategically, he was careful tactically. He proceeded with standard arrangements, and the soldiers who had been somewhat relaxed became tense again.
The Goat Caravan's long-time customers weren't many, clearly indicating that the owner's influence was limited. But due to the old connections, things went smoothly.
Seeing that they were about to head back, with only two stops left, Derek became even more vigilant. He knew the caravan wouldn't spend money without a reason; there must be some danger ahead.
So far, they hadn't encountered any trouble, which meant it might be waiting further ahead. The last two mountain villages were deep in the forest.
The veteran members of the caravan spoke less, and the caravan guards gripped their weapons tightly. In such an atmosphere, the psychological pressure on the new soldiers was significant.
Derek understood that while appropriate pressure could accelerate growth, excessive pressure could lead to a breakdown. His men were not battle-hardened veterans but a group of rookies.
So, some pressure relief was necessary.
"Relax a bit, don't be afraid. I've killed more bandits than I can count, and I've hung the heads of barbarians in my family hall."
Derek's language was crude, and he was boasting to an extreme. He had indeed participated in anti-bandit operations with the knight's regiment, but the number of bandits he had personally killed was in the single digits, and he had never encountered any barbarians.
But it didn't matter; others wouldn't know that he was boasting. On the contrary, Derek's identity as a knight made his words quite credible. In his previous life, Derek had been influenced by web novels. Though he couldn't write one himself, he was adept at fooling these newly enlisted soldiers who had just left their farmlands.
He spun such vivid and colorful tales that they sounded like legendary stories, making the bandits seem like mere vegetables being effortlessly chopped down. The mood among the men gradually eased, reaching an optimal state. This way, when a situation arose, they wouldn't be trembling with fear, unsure of how to respond.
Whether the bandits were as incompetent as Derek described was uncertain, but they were certainly not highly skilled. Especially those acting as bandits without any organizational discipline.
Suddenly, with a thunderous crash, a boulder was pushed down from an unknown height. The entire caravan remained unscathed, and a ragtag group of bandits emerged in disarray. A few stray arrows flew toward them, weak and feeble. Except for one unlucky fellow hit in the backside, no one was hurt. However, the psychological pressure increased, as facing an armed opponent at a distance always caused stress.
Derek had already prepared for this. Seeing the bandits emerge, he immediately commanded the caravan to close ranks, regardless of the number and strength of the enemy.
"Circle the wagons! Everyone, get to the center!"
The bandits had only a few archers, and they were using short hunting bows with insufficient power. The panicked caravan slowly but steadily followed Derek's stern commands.
Vincent, the caravan manager, though well-traveled and experienced, had rarely encountered such a situation. Seeing Derek take charge so forcefully, he didn't mind as this was not his area of expertise.
Vincent had spotted about a hundred bandits scattered around. From a numerical standpoint, they were clearly at a disadvantage.
"How could this happen? I knew this trip was unsafe. I should have hired more guards."
In reality, thanks to some connections at the Perez Count's estate, his trading company had secured more profitable routes. But such routes encroached on others' interests, and wouldn't the local mountain folk be jealous?
One or two or even ten times, he should be thankful for the slow response of the mountain folk. Otherwise, someone would have acted long ago. It was impossible not to foresee this day, but his optimistic mindset, bolstered by previous safe trips, made him overlook the risks. Hiring more people would reduce profits, and businessmen always chase profit.
Derek ignored Vincent's regrets. He didn't feel the situation was particularly dangerous.
Combat isn't always determined by which side has more people. Derek dismounted; staying on the horse now would make him an easy target, especially since the horse was so poor that he feared it wouldn't obey during a charge. Drawing his steel longsword from his waist, he saw that the caravan had yet to complete its formation.
"We need to buy some time."
After all, these were just common people, not a professional army, and their efficiency was a major concern.
"Form up! Interlock ranks! Prepare to charge!"
The stern order, loud voice, and rigorous training began to show their effect. The spearmen moved instinctively, advancing as commanded. Compared to the disorganized bandits, the spearmen's combat power was overwhelming. If they had more numbers, Derek was confident they could resolve the fight with one charge. Even now, they launched a counter-charge.
In just twenty or thirty meters, the spearmen angled their weapons slightly, reaching full speed.
Thrust!
The spears of the front row struck their targets directly; dodging was impossible. As their momentum broke, some bandits tried to step forward and slash at the spearmen. Then, the spears from the rear row extended forward.
The interlocked formation, although reducing the lethality of the charge, quickly became stable and secure. Thrust, withdraw, thrust. Whether they hit or not, each movement was mechanical.
The training paid off; on the battlefield, there wasn't a need for excessive skill. Strength, speed, and a bit of technique were enough. The bandits, rushing forward, tried to dodge while swinging their weapons, attempting to cut down the spears. At this point, the ragtag nature of the bandits became evident. Some wanted to flee, others wanted to charge, and the chaos showed a lack of unified command.
A few bandit leaders shouted commands, but each had different ideas.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone