Several carriages rolled at an unhurried pace across the Wilderness toward Hamlet Forest, the stretch of woodland outside the town.
These carriages were nothing like ordinary ones. Their cabins were broad and spacious, built from thick hardwood. The bandits' crude light crossbows would never pierce them; even a musket fired at close range would fail.
Small holes dotted the cabins, serving both as firing ports and peepholes. But there were no windows, and apart from a door that could be barred, there was no way in or out.
If attacked, the passengers needed only to unhitch the horses, shut the door, and drop the bar. The cabins themselves made excellent barriers, strong enough to serve as small fighting forts.
Unless the attackers were professional soldiers in heavy armor, ordinary bandits would have to charge through a hail of arrows from the cabin, reach its door, and hack it apart with axes before they could threaten anyone inside.
They would inevitably take several volleys along the way. Who knew how many would die with arrows in their bodies, their lives lost before they ever laid hands on the money?
Even the fiercest bandits could only gaze at carriages like these and sigh.
They knew perfectly well that such carriages must be carrying either people of exalted status, large sums of money, or precious treasures. But however tempting the prize, it meant nothing if they could not seize it.
A white emblem—a cross set within a shield—was painted on each cabin. It was the mark of the famous church legion, the Shield of the Heavenly Father.
The legion was not especially powerful among the church's subordinate organizations, but it was the best known, because its members were the most eager to meddle.
Whether the trouble involved demons, monsters, or Devil worship, as