CHAPTER 132: CHAPTER 132: OVANDO_1

Looking back at the caravan that had just been attacked, all the soldiers had not fully disengaged from combat mode. They all clutched their spears or crossbows tightly, displaying extreme tension, but there was no panic, only an air of grim familiarity.

"Clean up the battlefield, and check each other for injuries," Lance ordered, frowning at the numerous corpses strewn across the ground.

These so-called bandits were nothing more than refugees resorting to highway robbery. Armed with mere sticks and stones, they still dared to charge forward.

He wasn’t sure if it was because of the tall tales previously told in the presence of the farm owners, but a very abnormal situation had arisen on this journey.

Since it was the city guards’ responsibility to clear the nearby bandits and maintain order around the city, logically, the further one got from the city, the more bandits there should be. Yet now, the situation had reversed: the closer he got to the city of Ovando, the more attacks occurred.

Originally, he thought other caravans hadn’t taken this route because they couldn’t set sail from Hamlet, but now he realized the issue was not that simple.

The disappearance of the caravans was due to multiple factors. The most direct reason was the disaster in several central provinces that had spread to their area, causing an outbreak of refugees and bandits and leading to skyrocketing transportation costs. Those without strength didn’t dare leave the city, and those with strength wouldn’t waste resources on a cargo of grain that would net little profit.

Unexpectedly, his words meant to frighten the farm owners had coincidentally turned into reality.

If that was the case, it was no wonder that no one had dealt with Hamlet’s troubles for so long. In these times of chaos, even the landlords had no surplus grain. Who the hell would care about a rundown town?

This also indicated that the disaster might be more severe than he had imagined.

Natural and man-made disasters always hurt the common folk the most.

Lance couldn’t help feeling a sense of sorrow. But he was powerless to do anything about it; he couldn’t even sort out his own troubles.

Trading was no easy task; the many situations they had to face on their journey were arduous—camping in the wild, exploring routes, repelling attacks.

If these ten soldiers thought they could escort this merchant caravan all by themselves, it would be impossible. To their adversaries, they were nothing but easy prey. The real fighting power had to come from Lance and his companions.

They had passively encountered no fewer than ten waves of bandits on the road, not to mention those Lance actively sought out.

However, most of these couldn’t really be considered bandits but rather mere mobs, barely able to withstand a single charge from him.

Some bandits also took advantage of the situation to gather the mobs and expand their power, aspiring to become local warlords.

Unfortunately for them, they caught his attention and then became experience points for him.

The inclusion of the dog trainers, William and Fergus, had greatly eased the difficulty of keeping watch at night. If the enemy approached, the dogs would be sure to alert them. With the dogs’ warning system in place, they never suffered a night attack.

The distance they had traveled would possibly be just a half-day drive in modern society, but it had taken them almost seven days—this was despite him having abandoned most of the settled routes and having the convenience of a horse-drawn carriage.

For the inexperienced, everything was complicated, but luckily they managed to resolve all issues in the end, treating the detours as opportunities to gain experience.

Moreover, the hardships along the way allowed the soldiers, who lacked significant combat experience, to grow.

After half an hour of rest, the team set off again, and Lance, seeing the weary faces of his soldiers, shouted encouragingly,

"Ovando is just ahead! If we move quickly, we can spend the night within the city walls."

"OH!"

Lance’s words infused the caravan with renewed energy. Hearing they wouldn’t have to camp in the wilderness again, the exhaustion on everyone’s faces eased slightly.

The team continued to wind along the road. Lance stayed behind to dispose of the dozen or so corpses before hastily catching up on horseback.

As the silhouette of human structures appeared on the horizon, he knew he wasn’t far from Ovando.

Continuing along the main road, he saw an increasing number of refugees gathered beneath the city walls ahead. They had formed a large camp, estimated to hold at least three to five thousand people.

Perhaps because they were near the city, order had finally returned. They didn’t exhibit a strong desire to attack, but their longing and greedy gazes were threatening enough.

As they neared the city, some refugees began to stir, shuffling their emaciated bodies closer to the caravan.

"Sir, please save us~"

"Give us some food... We haven’t eaten in days."

"..."

The soldiers couldn’t help but tense up, gripping their weapons, ready to fend off those people.

"Attention! Kill anyone who dares to approach," Lance snapped, his face icy.

Ignoring their fatigue, the soldiers immediately aimed their weapons at the ragged refugees, driving them all away.

They didn’t care about the survival of these refugees; they only knew this shipment was crucial for Hamlet’s development and for each one of them.

Faced with weapons, the refugees dared not approach further and scattered.

He couldn’t save them. Even a small amount of his grain wouldn’t make a splash.

And any sign of soft-heartedness would cause the remaining refugees to swarm like hyenas sensing blood.

"Enter the city," Lance commanded, directly ignoring the resentment hidden in their eyes as he led the caravan forward.

In this era, a so-called city was a settlement with tens of thousands of inhabitants. To develop to such a stage, several prerequisites were almost certain, one of which was a key water source.

Ovando was situated near a tributary of the Donovis River. The commercial activities dependent on this waterway spurred the city’s continuous growth, and the influx of people after Hamlet’s decline breathed new life into Ovando.

To some extent, Ovando had, in recent years, supplanted Hamlet, effectively becoming the central hub of the surrounding region.

That was the situation Lance had heard from Walter. The city was built on the remains of Hamlet and was also the biggest obstacle to his quest for reclaiming his territory.

A city with a population of 20,000 to 30,000, surrounded by walls, garrisoning at least a thousand Empire soldiers—any move against it would touch a sensitive nerve of the Empire...

As he thought about this, Lance’s face turned sullen. Damn it, he cursed inwardly.

If only his ancestor had spent a bit more effort on the territory, he wouldn’t have left me with so much trouble!

When the caravan arrived at the city gates, the guards were quite curious. After all, at this time, only large merchant caravans with numerous mercenary guards dared to travel.

Yet this caravan, with only a few people, had returned with a full load of goods, and all of them were unfamiliar faces.

However, the guards didn’t inquire further. Even the routine inspection was perfunctory. After collecting the entrance tax, they allowed them into the city.

The squad leader weighed the money pouch that had just been handed to him and slipped it into his pocket. After all, he had been doing this for years. He could tell if there was a problem just by feeling the weight of the bag.