Night Raid

Kuan Kim-pan was only briefly shocked, but he did not take this so-called member of the Austrian royal family to heart.

After all, Austria was a name he had never even heard of; he figured they couldn't be any stronger than the Dutch, and Chenla had defeated the Dutch in the past.

Although that had only been a small detachment of Dutch troops, through long-term propaganda, it had been transformed into a tale of the Chenla army slaughtering tens of thousands of red-haired devils, with the rest trampling each other to death, countless falling into the sea, and the Western barbarians finally submitting a memorial to beg for surrender, claiming vassalage and offering tribute.

In the eyes of the Chenla people, the Qing Dynasty, Vietnam, and Siam were the strongest nations in the world, followed by the British and French; aside from these five, Chenla had no rivals left in the world.

But in consideration of the gold bars the other party had given, Kuan Kim-pan still spoke the truth.

"Our sovereign, His Majesty Ang Chan, is not in the country. As for trade between our two nations, as long as you abide by our laws and pay the required taxes, there will be no problem. Lord Ambrosius, if you wish to inspect the military might of Chenla, I can arrange it for you."

Then, Kuan Kim-pan glanced at the Western monks nearby and added.

"The sovereign of Vietnam detests Western missionaries, so you had best watch yourselves. Do not wander the streets without cause; my men will arrange a guesthouse for you."

Ambrosius had wanted to push a little further to see if he could meet the so-called princess.

However, Ambrosius remembered Franz warning him not to be too hasty, so he decided to exercise some patience for now.

After all, he was nominally here as a military observer, not to chase women.

He was only a bit worried about the priests, but these brothers-in-arms were not as manic as he had imagined; instead, they had purchased a batch of local clothing to dress themselves as much like the locals as possible.

A missionary named Pacini told Ambrosius.

"We people are not even afraid of death, so how could we be afraid of waiting? On the contrary, for you, Archduke, to risk your life to come with us, you truly are a noble man."

Ambrosius felt a bit ashamed upon hearing this, wondering what Father Pacini would think if he knew he had only come here to chase women.

They hired over twenty coolies from the pier to help move their luggage, and upon arriving at the guesthouse, they found it barely habitable; although the place was not small, there were only four guards and a dozen servants, and the official in charge of the guesthouse had long since vanished.

Yet, when their heavy luggage hit the floor, the eyes of those guards seemed to brighten for a moment, before they returned to that half-dreaming, half-waking state.

At night, exhausted from the long journey, everyone had fallen into a deep sleep.

Outside the courtyard wall, a grappling hook was thrown up and caught the edge; then, a figure vaulted over the wall and headed straight for the rear door bolt.

The bolt was pulled back, and a dozen men in black masks, wielding gleaming broadswords, filed in.

Under the command of a leader, they split up, seemingly intending to wipe out everyone in the guesthouse in one fell swoop.

The first man in black kicked open a side door, but before he could shout his lines, he was blown away by a high-powered rifle.

In truth, not everyone was sleeping.

Both the first and second watches had an officer leading four men responsible for night security; firstly, it was a professional habit—even on the ship, they had never let their guard down—secondly, the eyes of those locals were very strange, and thirdly, their primary duty was to protect Archduke Ambrosius.

The shadow scaling the wall had been spotted immediately, and the entire team had entered a state of combat readiness.

With the first gunshot, the lights in the rooms were turned on, and dozens of rifles fired in succession; the men in black were thrown into disarray by the light and the incoming bullets.

The battle ended in a very short time; the gunfire ceased, and the screams followed suit.

Of the fifteen men in black, save for one who lay on the ground and barely escaped death, the others had all been claimed by bullets.

Sart, a monk whose face was covered in runes, hauled the lucky survivor up from the ground and tossed him into the room.

The man had not yet recovered from the battle, his body trembling incessantly, and the smell of urine wafted from his lower half.

The officer on night duty slapped him, instantly knocking out two of the man's teeth.

"Who are you people? Why did you do this?"

The man in black remained silent, and the officer raised his hand again.

"Li An sent us."

"Who is Li An?" the officer continued to ask.

"..." The man in black stammered.

Another slap.

"He is the Vietnamese commander in charge of the pier. He took a fancy to your cargo and told us to take it, and while we were at it, to cut off your heads and send them to Hue to claim credit."

The man in black was named Yun Sheng, just a minor Chenla official who had only helped the commander Li out of fear of the Vietnamese.

Had he known it would cost his brothers their lives, he would never have taken the job, even if it killed him.

The two slaps had already cost him half his life, so he simply confessed everything he knew in one go.

Father Pacini asked.

"Then, child, who are you?"

Yun Sheng knew that the person before him was a Western monk, and compared to the fierce-looking men around him, this Western monk seemed much easier to talk to.

He immediately grasped at the straw, saying.

"Master Priest, this lowly one is named Yun Sheng, just a ninth-rank military officer of Chenla. I beg you to show mercy and let me go."

Father Pacini shook his head.

"Child, the only one who can save you is yourself."

Yun Sheng did not understand the Western monk's words.

The others around them, however, understood Father Pacini's intent, merely looking at Yun Sheng with helplessness or cold sneers.

Thus, Yun Sheng was semi-coerced into joining the church, and Father Pacini, overjoyed, decided to open a bottle of red wine to celebrate.

But soon, the soldiers of Chenla arrived, and upon seeing the corpses strewn about, they could not help but feel a sense of shame.

The leading officer looked at his dozens of subordinates and, summoning his courage, spoke up.

"How could you be so cruel, killing people at will?"

Ambrosius had just killed for the first time and was only just recovering; although his Chenla was not very good, he could still tell that the other side was shifting the blame.

"Did you not see that those men were armed? Breaking into our residence at night, what did they intend to do?"

"You cunning foreigner, do you think that just because there are no witnesses, this official dares not arrest you? Men, seize him!"

However, the Chenla soldiers in uniform behind the officer did not dare to step forward to make an arrest; instead, they prepared to flee.

After all, these soldiers only had broadswords and spears in their hands, while the men opposite them held muskets.

At this time, Chenla was extremely backward; it was considered quite good for a battalion of soldiers to have a few matchlocks. Even among the Vietnam, the equipment rate of matchlocks was very low, with cold weapons remaining the primary armament.

Moreover, most of these matchlocks were crudely made, with the probability of injuring the enemy being almost as high as the probability of injuring oneself.

Father Pacini, well-versed in the officialdom of Southeast Asia, spoke up once more.

"You must be the official troops of Chenla. We are guests of your Lord Kuan Kim-pan."

The Chenla officer immediately let out a long sigh of relief and put on a smiling face.

"So you are guests of Lord Kuan Kim-pan. We will certainly investigate this matter thoroughly and see that justice is served for you all."

He then ordered his subordinates.

"Carry the bodies away, and the rest of you, stand guard properly. If any more scoundrels disturb the rest of our honored guests, I will hold you accountable."

Inside the post house.

"They call themselves soldiers?" Ambrosius roared.

"Archduke Ambrosius, is this not a good thing? As military observers, our purpose is twofold: to learn advanced tactics and to understand the strength of the opposition. Did the higher-ups not send us here to prepare for the establishment of colonies in the future?"

Another officer expressed his deep agreement; they did not consider the economic or political aspects, simply believing that since all the great powers of Europe had colonies, the Austrian Empire should have its own as well.

The surrounding Catholic priests felt the same way, for it was far easier to proselytize in a colony than to hide and scurry about as they were doing now.

Ambrosius sighed, lamenting how he had ended up with this group of madmen who wanted to establish a colony with only a few dozen people.

Ambrosius thought back to that brat in Vienna and cursed inwardly.

"So much for the princess I was promised!"