Returning Fully Laden

The three of them were covered in bundles and bags, looking exactly like walking baggage racks.

"You've worked hard following me to wipe out the bandits. You're carrying quite a bit of loot now, and staying here might draw jealous eyes. It's too dangerous. I'll lend the three of you my horses, mules, and donkeys. Load your things up and hurry home together to hide them."

"It's best to take the little path we came by, so you don't run into that lot from Brodick."

Roger pointed at the pile of "farming-tool weapons" rented from the islanders on the ground. "Take all of these. They can protect you, and you can return them to their owners for me while you're at it."

"Once things settle down in a few days, I'll send someone to invite you to Red Mill for a victory celebration."

Fat Widow and the others naturally thanked him profusely, then led away the horses, mules, and donkeys and set off on their journey home...

After waiting another half hour or so, the large group from Brodick Castle finally arrived at the entrance to Rocklanza Village, accompanied by dozens of islanders who had come to watch the excitement.

At the market town, they had heard Gray Rat tell the thrilling tale of Young Master Roger slaughtering dozens of pirates in a single night, and they could not resist coming to see for themselves.

The area around the mill was thick with weeds, and at first the group did not spot the rows of corpses in the clearing.

When several excitement-seekers went ahead and approached the clearing, cries of alarm erupted everywhere. One timid gossiping woman fainted on the spot.

Just as several islanders took the chance to cop a feel while rescuing the unconscious woman, White-faced John arrived outside the mill at last, riding in with his "troops."

White-faced John was wearing a fine suit of chainmail, with a knight's longsword at his waist. Though he was no knight at all, he certainly looked the part.

The "all-show" White-faced John saw the corpses from horseback and was badly frightened as well. His snowy, tender face turned wax-white, and his body trembled faintly without pause atop the horse until the one-armed old constable and two constables stepped up to help him down.

"Th-these were all killed by you?" White-faced John asked, his trembling hand pointing toward that open-air corpse field.

"If we didn't kill them, were we supposed to wait for you to lead your troops here and wipe out the bandits?" Roger sneered.

White-faced John was choked speechless. At the sight of corpses carpeting the ground, all the arrogance he had once relied upon drained away, leaving him dumbstruck.

The one-armed constable hurriedly stepped forward half a pace and gave White-faced John's chainmail skirt a slight tug.

Only then did White-faced John remember something. He asked loudly, "Where are the pirates' money, weapons, and armor?"

A trace of ruthless savagery instantly surfaced on Roger's previously indifferent face. He had not expected this fellow to actually have the nerve to demand the pirates' wealth, weapons, and armor.

"There are no weapons or armor. The pirates' loot has all been divided among the warriors who wiped out the bandits."

"What? You gave it all to those lowborn rabble?" White-faced John looked around and indeed saw the islanders clutching quite a number of things.

"Who allowed you to make such decisions on your own? I am the master of Allen Island!" White-faced John's arrogance suddenly surged back up.

Roger was having none of it. With a cold laugh, he said, "If you truly have the ability, go take it from their hands. But let me warn you: half the corpses here were killed by them."

"Besides, you are not yet the master of Allen Island. If you push them too far, they might really dare to kill you."

A few words from Roger left White-faced John sputtering and twitching with rage.

"All right, my future Lord Baron. Commoner Roger Campbell obeyed your command and led the warriors to purge the pirates. All pirates have been slain, and their corpses are now presented to you for disposal."

After saying that loudly, Roger lowered his voice and pointed to the pile of most battered weapons and armor beside him. "The worn-out horses, weapons, and armor borrowed from Brodick Castle are all here, returned in full. Those pirate corpses are worth a little money too. You can chop off their heads and sell them to other lords."

"This padded armor is quite good. I'll take it as a reward from my future Lord Baron."

Roger turned to leave, then halted and looked back over his shoulder. "That Blackhide Dog who came out of the prison rendered great service. Per your orders, I have already declared him innocent. The other two performed only passably. You can decide how to deal with them yourself."

After speaking, Roger strode away. White-faced John had just wanted to order the constables behind him to stop Roger when he saw that Roger had already placed his right hand on the hilt of his hunting knife.

White-faced John swallowed the words that had reached his lips.

Roger strode coolly north toward Sheltered Cape, leaving behind nothing but a heap of broken weapons and armor, along with naked corpses strewn all over the ground.

And Allen Island's acting island master, standing there disheveled in the wind.

By the time White-faced John outside the mill finally let out an earth-shaking roar of fury, the pirate ship carrying Roger had already sailed beyond the headland and vanished behind the ridge.

"Young Master Roger, where are we going now?" Ponytail asked excitedly as he pushed open the cabin door at the base of the stern tower.

Roger, seated on the wooden bunk in the cabin, tossed several gold coins in his hand into an iron chest. The coins landed in a silver goblet, ringing out with a crisp, pleasant clink.

"Lamlash Bay. We'll anchor at Holy Island." With that, Roger lay back in utter relaxation on the foul-smelling little wooden bed.

The dazzling afternoon sunlight streamed through the gaps in the stern tower's oak planks and shone directly onto Roger's eyelids.

In the depths of sleep, Roger stepped upon endlessly rolling clouds and arrived in a place that looked like heaven. Naked angels with halos over their heads beckoned to him. He reached out and pushed open two enormous golden doors carved with patterns, when a blinding ray suddenly shot through the crack and jolted him awake.

"Dreaming, huh." Roger opened his eyes and glanced sideways, slowly adjusting to the somewhat dim surroundings.

This was the pirate ship's stern cabin. Compared to the low, cramped cabins beneath the deck, it could be called luxurious.

The enclosed cabin measured a good fourteen or fifteen square meters. Though the stern narrowed at the rear, most of the room was still spacious enough.

An oil lamp and two filthy undershirts hung from a central support beam. Apart from the little wooden bunk by the starboard side, there was a small square table carelessly strewn with wine bottles and cups, two short stools, an empty wooden rack for weapons and armor, and a row of shelves nailed to the left wall for washbasins. Above the shelves was a tiny glass-paned window.

If one could ignore the stench filling the room and the filthy chamber pot beside the bed, it was not bad at all. The former owner had probably been a rather particular merchant.

"Young Master Roger, you're awake?" Hearing Roger stir, Little Horseherd, who had been squatting outside the cabin door all this while, immediately pushed the door open and came in.

"How many hours did I sleep?" Roger asked quietly, picking the crust from the corners of his eyes.

For the past two days, his nerves had been stretched to the breaking point, and the ceaseless killing had already left him utterly exhausted in body and mind. Not long after boarding the ship, he had fallen into a deep sleep.

Little Horseherd was still not accustomed to the concept of an "hour." He held back as he calculated for a long while before answering, "You lay down around the third bell of noon. It should be nearly the fourth bell now."

"I slept for three hours?" Roger felt as if he had only shut his eyes for a brief nap, yet three hours had already passed.