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The cavalry had come to one understanding: they had been made fools of by a band of ragged bandits, who stole several sacks of grain from them. Although this was only a small fraction of their total provisions, the cavalrymen felt uncontrollable rage. These proud knights could not tolerate being toyed with by a rabble. Almost everyone shouted loudly, demanding to hunt down and kill those bandits.
This terrifying aura, thick with the scent of blood, made their sole captive, the man struck in the knee by an arrow, tremble with fear. Each of these fully armored cavalrymen glared at him viciously. He could hardly imagine what fate awaited him, especially when those dreadful, bloodstained weapons occasionally hovered around him as if they would surge forward and hack him to pieces at any moment.
The arrow had not pierced his knee; its head had snapped off. It had only left the inner bend of his leg badly bruised and swollen, causing unbearable pain. He could not bend his knee at all. Now, he could only lie on the ground at the mercy of others, unable to move an inch.
"Marcus, come here."
A middle-aged man with a goatee approached, holding his helmet. Tesolus grabbed his arm and made him squat down beside him in front of the large tree.
"These fellows are quite clever, aren't they? Look, they hollowed out the base of this tree and dug a hiding hole large enough for three people. Then, they sealed it with mud, leaving only a small opening for air. The archers were merely decoys meant to divert our attention. From the very beginning, their objective was only to steal a few sacks of grain. They never intended to confront us directly.”
“They are somewhat cunning, but what they did was also extremely dangerous. Once our cavalry caught up with them, most of them would have probably died here."
Tesolus smiled and shook his head, not affirming his subordinate’s view.
"You're mistaken. I suspect that even before they acted, they had already planned their retreat. In this complex jungle, they're practically faster than monkeys, yet our powerful warhorses can't keep up with them at all.
“Did you see? They cut several branches in those shrubs and thickets, precisely exposing a gap just large enough for a person to slip through. I fear they have practiced this several times. To avoid provoking us too quickly, they aimed their arrows at our shields. Not a single arrow was shot at our unarmored warhorses. They have a meticulous leader.
"Moreover, look at these arrows..." Tesolus reached out and took an arrow from a nearby shield. He showed Marcus the bare, rough shaft and the arrowhead ground from stone. "I have never seen such crudely made arrows. They would shatter after a single use. Any man with even a little skill could make a dozen in a day. They used these inferior arrows to take our grain, showing no intention of coming out at a loss...”
Marcus had to admit that the general was right. There were one or more clever individuals among those bandits who had devised this plan. Only in this way could they have stolen the grain. Apart from a pile of arrows that could hardly be called anything but waste, they had lost nothing. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate, they had captured one prisoner.
All eyes turned to the man sitting blankly on the ground, his face pale.
"Marcus, tend to his leg. Do not let him become crippled. We will need him to guide us shortly."
The middle-aged man stood up, drew a sharp dagger from behind his waist, and reached out and yanked down half of the captive’s trousers, exposing the bruised and swollen bend of his knee amid his pallid expression.
Then, with practiced skill, he made two cuts on the knee. The incisions were not deep, just enough to let blood flow without damaging major vessels. Once sufficient blood had drained out, he tore off a strip of cloth and tightly bound the knee.
After this procedure, the man was able to move slowly, although the pain remained.
The man, still trembling with fear, looked at everyone uneasily. He had heard what had just been said, and deep down, he was having a fierce internal struggle. He did not know whether he should guide them to save his own life. But if he refused, he would surely meet a miserable fate.
"Marcus, who are these people?"
Tesolus looked at the beast hide draped over the man’s body and his short green checkered tunic. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
"My Lord, they are the mountain dwellers of Norska Province. They mainly live in forested and mountainous regions. Many of them are excellent archers and infantrymen, and some take banditry as their profession, causing significant security problems for the local area,” Marcus said with a smile.
"The governor of Norska once said, 'Rather than saying I rule over a populace, it would be more accurate to say I rule over a band of bandits. They occasionally spend a day or two as civilians; the rest of the time, they are busy with their main occupation.’”
Tesolus's lips curved into a smile. With considerable interest, he examined the distinctive short sword at the man’s waist. The unique pattern on the blade quickly explained why he felt a sense of familiarity.
These were clearly Battanians, the mountain-dwelling people from Mount & Blade II: Bannerlord, along with the invincible Fian Champions. However, in this world, the mountain dwellers were not a unified nation and did not have a concept of ethnicity. They still lived under Imperial rule.
Although he had long known that this world was utterly transformed, the situation he now faced exceeded even his expectations.
He had originally thought he had arrived in the world of Mount & Blade II. Now, however, it seemed as though someone had slapped a chaotic jumble of mods onto this world, altering even its most fundamental structures. It no longer resembled anything he knew. This world was essentially completely unfamiliar to him.
The excellent Battanian archers were troops he would always recruit in large numbers when playing the game. Thinking of those people, almost all of whom held longbows, Tesolus suddenly formed a new plan. He raised his head and looked at the man, then gave a slight wave. Two cavalrymen seized his arms and dragged him over.
"You should have heard what we just said. Have you made your decision? If you lead us to your shelter and they do not resist, I assure you that no one will die. Otherwise, I will have to execute you here and continue on my way."
The officer spoke lightly, but the man was terrified. The officer's attitude, treating life as if it were worthless, made him tremble all over. He was unable to utter a single complete sentence.
"I-I...I, I..."
"No need to rush. I will give you some time. When the shadow of this tree reaches my feet, you must answer me. My patience will last only until then.”
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