“We’re in position!”
“Roger that. Go big and loud. I dunno if they’ll flee or charge, but get ready to close in.”
“Aye. Don’t get yourself hurt.”
“No worries.”
I was wearing tanned wyvern hide with mithril-plated armor over it. An ordinary iron arrow from your average bow stood no chance of piercing that. Hell, even a steel bolt from a goats-foot crossbow wouldn’t get through. In testing, a single 7.92 mm round from our bolt-action rifles couldn’t even pierce it. Obviously, light machine gun fire would still ruin you, but for this sort of raid, I felt well protected.
“So, how are we doing this?” Grande asked.
“Let’s approach from the front wearing these robes. But you don’t have to put the hood up.”
“Hmm?”
I handed her a basic hooded robe. She shrugged it on but didn’t bother with the hood. Her blonde hair still shone bright; my robe hid the gleam of my mithril.
As we approached, Grande whispered to me, “They’ve spotted us. The lookouts on top of the gate are panicking.”
“Not super surprising considering we’re not exactly hiding.”
“What’s next? Charge in?”
“Act like we’re running away.”
“Really?”
“Just pretend.”
We broke into a run, eyes on the camp. The gate flew open and five cavalrymen rode out. They were lightly equipped, curved blades at the ready and clearly keen on attacking us. We were roughly a hundred meters away from the gate. Yeah, that seemed about right.
“They’re coming at us.”
“Then let’s say hello, shall we?”
I pulled an assault rifle from my inventory and shouldered it. These cavalrymen were racing straight at us, making them perfect targets. A bolt-action rifle might be too slow, but this rifle had thirty rounds and was capable of firing six hundred rounds a minute. So, I set it to semi-auto.
Pow! Pow! Pow!
Every time I pulled the trigger, the assault rifle cracked with a glorious sound and a cavalryman would launch backward off his steed, blood spraying. The horses, scared by the sudden eruption of noise, reared and halted, which let me focus on my next targets.
And just like that, the five cavalrymen were dead.
“That weapon of yours is absurdly strong in areas with good visibility. Do you even need my aid?” Grande asked.
“I dunno.”
After deploying the cavalrymen, the bandits slammed the gate shut again. The lookouts atop it stared like they’d seen a ghost. Of course, I had no intention of taking it easy on them either. I reloaded my assault rifle, then pulled out my bolt action rifle with a four-times zoom scope, especially made for sniping. I dropped to one knee, shouldered it and aimed at a lookout on the gate.
Steady…
Pow!
The sniper’s rifle was louder than the weapon before it, and the lookout’s shoulder gave out causing him to fall atop the gate. I raised the bolt and pulled it back, ejected the shell, then returned it to its initial position before loading the next round and bringing the bolt down.
“One more.”
The second shot rang out, punching through the man’s sternum, just below his neck. He was sent flying back into the camp.
“Well done. What is our next move?”
“This.”
Grande’s expression tightened as she made a small, displeased “Urgh.”
I had produced anti-tank RPG. You know, the weapon from that one movie—the one where the soldier spots the rocket and yells the name of the weapon? Back when I first met Grande, Melty beat her up good and proper, and I aimed this thing at her. I guess that triggered some bad memories for her.
But I didn’t have time to worry about Grande’s feelings. I gripped the front-side handle with the trigger in my right hand, shouldered the RPG, and wrapped my left hand around the back-side grip near the middle. I looked down the ironside and aimed at the wooden front gate.
“I’m going to fire now. Don’t stand right behind me.”
“Mm.”
Once Grande had repositioned herself to my left, I fired.
Kaboom!
The RPG’s solid fuel burned, accelerated to near-subsonic speed, and smashed square into the center of the gate.
The explosion tore a hole clean through the wood. If I’d developed thermobaric rounds that worked with blast pressure, the gate might’ve been vaporized, but I wasn’t quite there yet. Anti-tank RPGs could punch a hole through a wall; they didn’t always level entire structures.
“You opened a hole in it.”
“I’ll keep firing until it’s completely gone.”
I reloaded and fired, reloaded and fired again, round and round chewing at the door until it was gradually reduced to nothing.
“I guess I’ll stop there.”
“Are you sure?”
“I want them to think I’m out of ammo. Or magic. They probably don’t want this place discovered, so I bet they’ll come out here to get rid of us.”
If the camp’s existence became known, Merinard’s royal military—in this case, Madame Zamil’s forces—would sweep in eventually. And if that happened, the bandits would be forced to abandon this place and flee. With only two witnesses here, it made sense to force them into a position where they had to move before things escalated further and to keep our mouths shut.
From their point of view, I must’ve looked like a mage of some kind. If I suddenly stopped attacking, they’d assume I’d run out of magic energy. A seemingly spent mage and a dragon that looked like a small child in a weird outfit? They’d probably think they could crush us with numbers fairly easily.
“See? Here they come.”
“Oooh. They’re pouring out.”
They all had swords, shields, and spears, and, like Grande said, they really were just flooding out of the camp. About thirty in total, I’d say.
“What now?”
“I think it’s time to put one of my golems to work.”
“What about talking, er… What do you call them? Prisoners?”
“Don’t see the point. Death to anyone who lifts a blade against the king consort. Nice and simple.”
“That certainly is easy to understand.”
I watched as Grande nodded like she’d just heard the perfect answer. I set a golem warrior—a hulking construct armed with a golem-sized steel weapon—and set it down.
“Target: the people approaching us. Crush them.”
“Voh,” the golem replied, then began to lumber forward toward the approaching group of bandits. It moved with heavy, deliberate strides. It looked slow, but each step covered more ground than a galloping horse.
“Talk about one-sided. Ah, some of them are avoiding the golem and coming this way,” Shemel observed.
“I figured they would.”
I still had my assault rifle in hand. A couple of cavalrymen tried to charge, and I gunned them down in half a heartbeat. If any crawled away alive after the battle, I suppose I could let them live. I’d probably kill them, though.
“They’re scattering and trying to run away.”
“Handle the guys running to the right. I’ll take the left,” I said, switching to my bolt-action rifle. Shooting men in the back gave me no pause. These were bandits and there was nothing noble about them so there was nothing to be saved. I didn’t care if people called me self-righteous after the fact. If I was going to do this, I was going to get them all.