Marauders and Scoundrels

Boom, boom, boom—

The heavy pounding of hooves rang across Eagle Town as a band of mounted bandits charged through, trampling the newly paved road into clouds of dust and sending gravel flying!

Yorick, a subject of the territory, had heard the commotion long ago. He dragged the only wooden bed in his home to the door and braced it there, pressing his withered back against it as his heart pounded.

"Papa, I'm scared..." Little Yula, his only daughter, stood before him trembling, both hands clutching the filthy, tattered hem of her clothes.

"Don't be scared, don't be scared..." Yorick gently pulled his daughter into his arms and listened nervously to the sounds outside, cursing inwardly.

Damn those bandits!!

Ever since Baron Donald had massively disbanded his private soldiers five years ago, every year—every single year!

Those demons wearing human skin came to Eagle Town, burned houses, seized food, raped women, and slaughtered the territory's subjects!

Yorick's eldest son and his wife had both died beneath the iron hooves of the marauders.

Yorick's heart had long since gone numb. He could barely feed his daughter, and his body was growing weaker by the day. Perhaps death would even be a kind of release.

But ever since Raven inherited Eagle Town, the town had improved day by day.

Yorick was already thirty-three this year. He had even participated in the private-soldier selection. Though he had not been chosen, he had received five kilograms of Coarse Wheat Flour as a reward!

Recently, he had also heard from Simon, a soldier, that Lord Raven intended to distribute the fields for them to cultivate themselves: three acres for every man and two acres for every woman. They would no longer receive rations each year, but only needed to hand over a fixed amount of grain, keeping the rest for themselves!

By that calculation, his family would receive five acres of land. As long as he worked hard, he could manage it himself. Even if each acre produced only seventy percent of a harvest, he could keep three hundred and fifty kilograms of wheat a year—that is, three hundred kilograms of Coarse Wheat Flour.

Moreover, after planting wheat, they could grow turnips, cassava, and lettuce in the fields. They could keep all of those for themselves and would not have to surrender any of them!

When that time came, life would become much easier. His pitiful Little Yula would no longer cry from hunger during the lean season. Perhaps they could even trade their surplus vegetables for meat in Shining Gold Town!

But before those good days had truly begun, those damned bandits who deserved to go to hell had come again!

Lord of Light, were You not supposed to love all people? Why would You not let wretched people like us live a little better?!

The hoofbeats drew closer and closer, and Yorick's heart rose into his throat. He hugged his daughter tightly with one hand and gripped the pitchfork beside the door with the other—if anyone dared enter, he would fight them to the death!

Gradually, the hoofbeats faded into the distance. A sheet of cold sweat spread across Yorick's head, and he slowly slid down to sit on the floor.

It seemed they had finally escaped disaster this time.

But he soon realized that something was wrong, because the town was far too quiet.

There were no screams, no sounds of houses collapsing, and none of the vicious laughter that could jolt someone awake from a nightmare.

Since when had marauders become so scrupulous?

He boldly edged over to the window, opened it, and poked his head outside. The bandits had indeed gone farther away, but judging by their direction, they were heading for Eagle Fortress!

Their target was Lord Raven!?

"Great Lord of Light, may You bless the good." He drew an imperfect holy emblem over his chest with both hands. "May You bless Lord Raven. I hope he remains safe!"

Many other subjects were doing the same.

As he prayed, the bandit party had already reached the front of Eagle Fortress. At the very front of the group were six completely black steeds, each standing a full two meters at the shoulder. They wore heavy chain barding, which glowed a blood-red color under the light of the torches held by their riders.

These were the Bloody Highlands' specialty: the first-rank magical beast Blood-Eyed Warhorse. Their strength, speed, explosive power, and endurance all far exceeded those of ordinary warhorses. They were also the greatest reason the Bloody Highlands' marauders could come and go like the wind!

The rider atop the lead Blood-Eyed Warhorse was a burly man clad in a full suit of plate armor. A scimitar hung at his right waist, while a bloodstained spiked warhammer hung on his left. His skin was dark, his face square, and a twisted scar ran from his left cheek to his lower right jaw, dividing his otherwise intact face in two like a centipede crawling across it.

"Anderson 'Scarface'"—he was the leader of this band of marauders, a First-Rank Dark Knight, and a rising star in the eastern Bloody Highlands!

As the outline of Eagle Fortress reflected in his eyes, a flame called ambition began to burn fiercely.

According to the Slate Family, as long as he could drive the baron out of Eagle Territory, he would not only gain the huge sum of One Thousand Gold Coins, but would also receive the Slate Family's support from then on.

The Slate Family was the true master of Nord Province—a count's family!

Though the Bloody Highlands were a lawless land, they were not lacking in opportunities or wealth. Its specialties, such as Shadow Crystals, Yellow Sand Essence, psychedelic fruit, and Dragon Scale Grass, were not worth much in the Bloody Highlands. But once they flowed into the Cairns Empire and the Insar Empire, they could be exchanged for enormous fortunes.

Behind every famous major force in the Bloody Highlands—people such as Infek "Mad Sand," Mongar "Blood Eye," and Avilia "Spider Queen"—there stood the shadows of the two empires, or even the Church of Light.

Why couldn't he, Anderson, be the next one?

"Chief, something's wrong."

The speaker was Anderson's deputy, Belly "Mustache." Though he was clearly a marauder, he wore a slick, carefully groomed mustache. His eyes looked as though they had been rubbed with oil, constantly darting about.

Those words pulled Anderson back from his thoughts. He raised his arm, and the party behind him came to a halt amid the chaos of neighing horses and shouting men.

The sight before Anderson made his brows lift slightly.

The drawbridge of Eagle Fortress lay on the ground, the doors to the hall stood wide open, and several chests of silk were scattered before the entrance. Only a few rooms still had their lights on. It was practically undefended!

The bandits all saw the scene clearly and began whispering among themselves:

"Looking like this... that baron named Raven didn't run away before we even attacked, did he?"

"Impossible, right? He's a baron, after all. And this castle is huge, with a moat around it. It shouldn't be that easy to breach."

"Not necessarily. I heard that baron only inherited the territory recently. He used to be a 'Sand Rat,' and his nickname was even 'Little Bee.' How brave could he possibly be?"

Those words triggered a burst of mocking laughter.

"Sand Rat" was underworld slang. In the Bloody Highlands, it referred to cowards who dared not venture out to raid and only cheated and swindled people within their settlements.

Even criminals had a chain of contempt. These hardened bandits who lived by the blade naturally looked down on such spineless weaklings.

"Chief, what do we do?" Belly asked, greed already shining in his eyes.

He had already decided that Raven, who had just inherited Eagle Fortress, must have fled. Otherwise, why would the castle gates be wide open?

This was a castle—a noble family's castle with a long history.

And from the time they crossed Eagle Beak Mountain, passed through Eagle Town, and reached the castle, they had spent less than half an hour. Raven could not possibly have had much time to move his property!

In other words, most of his wealth was still inside the castle.

At that moment, Eagle Fortress was like a beautiful woman stripped bare. No one could resist such temptation!

That was also what most of the bandits were thinking.

But Anderson, their leader, slowly shook his head. "Raven managed to leave Hyde Slate helpless. He doesn't seem like someone who would casually abandon his own castle."

"Chief, you're giving them too much credit." Belly sneered contemptuously. "One is a Sand Rat, and the other is a delicate flower raised in a greenhouse. What schemes or tricks could they possibly have?"

Those words stirred Anderson's heart, but he still felt something was wrong. Raven's reaction had been far too fast. How could he have withdrawn before they had even arrived?

His gaze swept across the area around the drawbridge, searching for traces of traps. At that moment, a glint in the grass caught his attention.

"Rotten Tooth, go bring that thing to me," he ordered.

The marauder called Rotten Tooth dismounted and, following Anderson's direction, found something golden in the grass. He raised it high and carried it over to Anderson.

"Chief, your eyesight is incredible!" Light flashed in Belly's eyes. "Now can we go in!?"

Anderson cast him an annoyed glance but said nothing. He casually tossed the object to the ground and waved his hand. "Enter the castle!!"

The object landed on the ground and was trampled by the hooves of the horses following behind. It rolled back into the grass beside the road—it was a badge engraved with an eagle battling a dragon.

This was the Griffith Family Emblem.

The fact that even something like this had been abandoned showed just how hastily Raven had fled.

And when Anderson rode into the castle and saw the scene within, everything confirmed it.

The areas on both sides of the courtyard should have been training grounds, but the cheap spears and their weapon racks now lay crookedly across the ground. Filthy footprints remained on them, while Leather Helmets and leather gloves were scattered in the corners.

Copper Coins and silver coins lay scattered along both sides of the road. Some had been trampled deep into the earth. Several wooden chests had been knocked over by the entrance, with silk spilling from them. A chest of red wine had fallen out as well, its contents soaking into the silk on the ground.

Inside the hall, a large number of tables and chairs had been overturned. The carpet lay rolled up, and filthy footprints stretched inward.

"Haha, I knew it! That Little Bee must have been scared witless!" Belly laughed as he picked up an unbroken bottle of red wine. He used his knife to smash open the bottle's mouth, tipped it back, and took a drink. "Damn, this wine is delicious!?"

The bandits flooded into the hall. Some stared at the red wine in Belly's hand with expectation and longing, but without Anderson's order, none of them dared act.

Their leader, however, did not relax. The castle was simply too quiet—quiet to an unnatural degree. Everything made him feel that something was wrong.

At that moment, a loud clang came from the corner. Anderson turned his attention toward it. "Who's there!?"

The person hiding in the corner was none other than Weston, Raven's stepbrother.

This should have been his sleeping time, but Raven—damn Raven—had deliberately targeted him. Using the excuse that the cook was injured, Raven had served only white bread and meat soup for dinner. There had not been a single large piece of smoked meat!

He was the noble young master Weston. How could he go without meat? He would never grow tall!

But before he could protest at the dinner table, Raven silenced him with one fierce look.

Weston had decided to endure it for one night, but unfortunately, he could not sleep while hot and hungry. He had no choice but to risk being scolded by Raven and sneak into the kitchen to find something to eat.

Normally, even at night, at least two private soldiers guarded the warehouse and kitchen, which were considered high-priority areas. But today, there was not a single person there!

At first, he had felt fortunate. He entered the kitchen and ate nearly half a smoked mutton leg with the leftover meat soup from dinner, which was still warm.

But when he tried to cross the hall and return to his room, he saw a horrifying sight—a group of vicious-looking marauders clad in Chainmail had appeared in the hall!

He had never actually seen such people before, but he had certainly heard of them!

Every one of them was at least five feet nine, clad in heavy Chainmail, and carrying weapons still stained with blood that had not yet dried!

At last, he understood why the castle had been so quiet tonight.

Damn Raven! He must have known the marauders would arrive tonight, then fled with his private soldiers without notifying anyone else!

Weston had wanted to escape while they were not paying attention, but in his panic, he knocked over a vase placed in the corner!

The deafening crash triggered an unprecedented burst of instinct in Weston. His legs took enormous strides, and at that moment, he felt his speed was almost equal to that of a galloping horse!

But before he had taken two steps, his throat tightened. After a dizzying spin, the ceiling inexplicably appeared before his eyes, followed by the faintly visible face of a man with a mustache!

He could never have imagined that someone who looked like rat poison could possess such strength. The man dragged him by the back of his neck across the floor as effortlessly as dragging a rabbit.

"Ah—" Shattered porcelain pierced through his clothes and sank into his flesh. The friction tore the wounds wider, and the pain was even worse than when Raven had shaved off his scalp!

Mustache said coldly, "Shut up, or I'll kill you right now!"

Weston quickly clamped both hands over his mouth. Though pain made his eyes roll back, he did not dare make a sound.

Looking at Weston, who resembled a fat pig, a trace of disgust flashed through Anderson's eyes. "Are you Raven?"

"No! I'm not, I'm Weston!" Weston cried miserably. "My lord, if you have a grudge against Raven, then we're on the same side!"

"Raven is scum, a bastard, a thug, and a lecher!!"

Before Anderson could even question him, Weston spilled everything he knew about Raven, including the "truth" he had heard—that Raven had fled with his private soldiers and abandoned the castle!

"Heh, so he really is just a useless Little Bee." Only after hearing Weston's account did Anderson relax. With a trace of disdain, he said, "He took a perfectly good baron's territory and managed it into this state. He doesn't even dare defend his own castle. What a useless piece of trash!"

Sensing the hungry gazes of his men, Anderson gave an order. "Search everything! As usual, the women don't matter. Bring all other valuables to me! Whoever finds something can keep thirty percent of its value, and everyone else will share twenty percent!"

Fire blazed in the marauders' eyes. "Yes!"

Why had Anderson risen so quickly, commanding seventeen murderous bandits despite being only first-rank?

Besides his formidable personal strength, it was because he understood how to share profits, ensuring that everyone who followed him gained enough benefits!

The marauders scattered. Before long, screams, curses, and cries of pain began echoing through the castle!

Weston's face grew paler and paler. He could recognize many of the voices inside, including that of Old Ogin, who had driven his carriage before!

Anderson sat in the hall, waiting for his men's reports. For some reason, Belly had not gone anywhere either. Instead, he looked Weston up and down with interest. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. What a rich young master. Such tender flesh would be excellent with wine."

Weston felt his brain seize up. He swallowed. "Y-you... what are you doing!?"

"Obviously, I'm going to butcher you and eat you." With a clang, Belly drew the Enchanted Longsword from his waist and gestured over Weston's body. "You know, people like you are the most delicious and the easiest to eat. The thighs especially—fat and tender, far better than pork or beef. They're even comparable to the finest mutton."

"Don't eat me, don't kill me..." Weston was terrified enough to weep openly. "I-I'm still young. I won't taste good! I have money. I can—I can give you lots of money!"

"Haha, the entire castle belongs to us now. Do you think we're short of the little money you have?" Belly slapped the flat of his blade against Weston's fat face. "Cry. Cry a little more. Your flesh will taste better later."

As he spoke, he turned toward Anderson. "It's fine if I deal with him this way, right, Chief?"

The latter did not even raise his head. "He's a useless piece of trash. Do whatever you want with him. You don't need to ask me."

Those words instantly awakened Weston. "I'm useful! I'm useful!"

"I know the withdrawal password for Fedro Commerce, and I also know where my mother Denise lives!"

"Your mother?" Flames suddenly ignited in Belly's eyes. "Is she beautiful?"

"Beautiful, incredibly beautiful! You've definitely never seen a woman as beautiful as her!" Weston nodded frantically. "And no one has touched her for more than a decade. I'm willing—I'm willing to offer her to you. Please let me go!"

"Really?" Belly licked his lips. "Where is she?"

A few minutes later, Belly arrived outside Denise's room and kicked the door panel apart!

Belly twisted aside to avoid a wine bottle thrown at him, then entered amid a scream of utter horror.

Riiip—

"Tsk, Madam, you're wearing far too much."