Chapter 280 - Episode 273: The Pride of a Purveyor
The Valerian Highway connects the Marquisate of Bechtolsheim in the northwestern part of the Kingdom of Roadberg with the Marquisate of Galdwin in the southwestern part. A line of horse-drawn wagons was heading south through the northwestern section.
"...Still, to think that half of this shipment of supplies consists of scatter-shot arrows. It seems the front lines are engaged in quite a fierce battle."
"It's no wonder. After all, the enemy's numbers are vast. If they run out of scatter-shot arrows, the fate of the Roadberg Kingdom's Western Army will be sealed. One can never have too many... The blacksmiths, like Damian and the others who make them, must be having a hard time."
Leading this transport convoy were Philip, a purveyor, and Bart, an attendant.
Philip utilized the transport capabilities of his own trading company to carry weapons and other supplies, and upon arriving at the battlefield, he would proceed to take the next set of orders from Noein. It was by no means a rare occurrence in the Kingdom of Roadberg for a purveyor to venture to the battlefield to assist a lord.
And Bart's role was to provide support to ensure the convoy could reach the battlefield smoothly. Having a formal attendant from a high-ranking noble house within the convoy made things move faster when passing through the various noble territories of the northwest.
Philip and the company employees, the mercenary guards hired by the company, and Bart. A convoy of just under twenty people in total advanced along the well-maintained highway.
"At this rate, we should arrive at the battlefield a bit earlier than planned."
"True. We've been rushing a bit until now, so we could set up camp and rest early today... Stop!"
Bart shouted as he drew his sword. The mercenary guards also readied their weapons, and the merchants, including Philip, lowered their postures.
Almost simultaneously, armed men emerged in droves from the grass growing around the highway and surrounded the convoy. There were nearly forty of them.
Filthy attire and mismatched weapons. Some among them were even holding farming tools. They were clearly bandits of some sort.
"...As I thought, there are still bandits around here."
"Indeed. There are likely many regions where the effects of last year's poor harvest are still lingering... I wonder if their goal is the cargo and money?"
Hearing the words of Bart and Philip, a man who appeared to be the leader of the bandits grinned.
"You're quick on the uptake, aren't you? Much appreciated. And the horses and wagons too... hand them over quickly. Otherwise, I'll slaughter you all."
"These horses, these wagons, and the cargo—all of it belongs to the House of Viscount Arqvist. Are you committing this outrage knowing that?"
"Heheh, I don't give a damn about that. The fact that we've sunk to becoming bandits is all the fault of those nobles who are too obsessed with war to deal with the crop failure. Don't get in my way."
"...This cargo consists of military supplies. Without these, the Kingdom of Roadberg may lose the war and be occupied by a foreign nation. Do you still intend to steal them?"
"Who cares! That's just a matter of convenience for the nobles and their lackeys. From our perspective, it doesn't matter who we have to bow down to... Now, hurry up and decide whether you'll vanish quietly or die right here!"
The leader shouted, and the bandits, becoming agitated, took a step closer to the convoy while readying their weapons. In this explosive situation, tension ran through the mercenaries and merchants.
"...I understand. We value our lives as well, so we will hand over everything."
The one who answered was Philip.
"However, I have some personal belongings loaded in the lead wagon, so would it be alright if I just took those out? They are truly personal items, such as letters, and I don't believe there is anything particularly valuable..."
"...Well, fine."
"Thank you. I will take them out immediately."
Having obtained the leader's permission, Philip reached into the bed of the wagon, beneath the leather rain-cover.
"The rest of you, get away from the wagon. Don't even think about resisting... Hey you, not yet!"
"My apologies. The bed is a mess... Ah, here it is, here it is."
While Bart, the merchants, and the mercenaries were forced away from the wagon, Philip gave a wry smile as he was hurried by the leader and pulled his hand out of the bed.
In his hand, he gripped a Crossbow, its tip pointed toward the leader.
"Now then, thank you for waiting."
"Huh?"
To the leader's blank expression, Philip showed a perfect smile, as if facing a customer, and without hesitation, he pulled the trigger of the Crossbow as if it were the most natural action in the world.
The bolt, fired with force from point-blank range, easily penetrated the leader's leather armor and pierced his chest; the leader fell backward while remaining stiff.
"W-What! You—"
"Now!"
Bart shouted, cutting off one of the bandits who had raised his voice. At that signal, the mercenary guards also moved all at once.
Bart's sword flashed, decapitating the nearest bandit; a bolt fired instantaneously by one of the mercenaries pierced the stomach of a flustered bandit, and the sharp tip of a spear thrust by another mercenary pierced the chin of the bandit in front of him, protruding from the back of his head.
In a battle of just a few seconds, more than ten bandits were killed in an instant, and Bart and the others were already moving, targeting the next enemies.
"Damn it! These guys are insanely strong!"
"Weren't we supposed to definitely win because we had double the numbers!"
Being a gathering of amateurs to begin with, and having their morale crushed by the surprise counterattack, the bandits turned into a disorganized mob. While they wavered, they were cut down one by one, unable to even mount an organized counterattack.
One bandit with some grit launched an attack in a half-desperate manner, but he was cut down by Bart, who dodged it with ease.
"It's no use! Run!"
"Don't let them escape! If we leave them alive, they might attack other convoys!"
The moment the survivors fell below half, the bandits attempted to flee, and Bart and the mercenaries cut into their backs.
In the end, fewer than ten bandits managed to escape.
"...I suppose it was impossible to annihilate them all."
"Their numbers were quite large, after all. However, with their numbers reduced that much, they won't be able to attack other units."
When Bart muttered, the captain of the mercenary group who had pursued the bandits with him replied.
This mercenary group was not very large, consisting of a dozen or so people, but they had moved from their former base in Retovik to Noeina, and it was said they had earned trust as the exclusive force for the Skinner Trading Company.
"Well, that's true. You all did well, good work."
"Heheh, we're getting paid to eat, after all."
When Bart offered words of appreciation, the captain, who had a scruffy beard, answered with a somewhat vulgar laugh.
"Philip-san, that was a great surprise attack. Were you injured?"
"Thank you. I am fine."
Questioned by Bart, Philip answered with a smile while pulling the string of the Crossbow. After loading a new bolt, he approached the fallen bandit leader.
The leader, who was still breathing, looked toward Philip while breathing painfully.
"...Damn, to think I'd be done in by such a scrawny guy. You're just a merchant, right?"
Philip, asked this, answered the leader with the same business smile as before.
"Yes, as you say, I am just a merchant... a purveyor for the House of Viscount Arqvist."
Seven years ago, Philip had been a mere peddler. While he was appraised by his fellow merchants as having ability for his age, his recklessness in action was also pointed out.
Dreaming of success and attempting to take actions different from others, he traveled as a peddler to the Arqvist territory, which at the time was nothing more than a small village. There, he took what he saw and heard, reported it to Viscount Koenitz, and received money.
He was laughed at by other peddlers, who asked what he hoped to achieve by going to such a place, and was warned that even if a peddler flattered a noble a bit, they wouldn't gain connections from either lord.
Even so, Philip continued to move according to his ambition, and eventually seized an opportunity in the Arqvist territory. Now, in his early thirties, he is the chairman of a purveyor company for a high-ranking noble house. He has achieved greater success than any of his fellow merchants from back then.
That is precisely why Philip wanted to maintain the trust of the lord, Noein Arqvist, who was his benefactor and his finest client. He did not want to lose his current position.
"Purveyors have their own pride. For a merchant, the most important thing is trust. If one loses an important cargo at an important moment, it could damage the trust built up until now. I cannot afford to commit such a blunder... Now then."
The bolt Philip fired from the Crossbow pierced the leader's forehead.