Gene felt that he must have lost his mind to have followed along earlier; wasn't guarding the convoy good enough?

If he could go back, he'd definitely give himself a slap twice.

But he understood that if he didn't drink, he'd probably never leave this room.

With a gritted tooth and closed eyes, Gene downed the cup of fresh blood in one gulp. He had thought it would be unbearable, but it slipped down like something smooth, followed by an unusual sensation coursing through his body.

Though he wasn't of nobility, his family was wealthy, and he was raised in luxury with servants to attend him, even having a carriage for longer walks, making his physical condition far better than ordinary people.

Nonetheless, he inevitably had some ailments of affluence, especially during his youthful folly when he indulged too much, leaving behind some troubles, making him somewhat disinterested in women out of a bit of insecurity.

But after that cup of blood entered his stomach, his heart violently throbbed as if agitated, gifting him an inexplicable strength throughout his body, the warmth radiating from his lower abdomen making him feel a bit dizzy.

"Realized it was something good, huh?" Michelle sneered with a sideways grin, "If it weren't for you helping me out, you'd never have been eligible."

Naturally, Gene reacted, carefully offering the wine cup with both hands, uttering a string of flattering words.

However, Michelle didn't care, snatching the cup and turning instead to the remaining dozen bandits.

"Heh heh heh! Next."

"Ah! No, please!"

"..."

Slowly, Gene also came out of that odd state, yet feeling parched, with his head somewhat foggy.

Simply put, glancing at those corpses again, there was no longer that previous repulsion, instead a bit of yearning.

"Even Count Bastia dared not provoke our family's old man; what is this place called Hamlet? It managed to defeat a order of knights?"

Michelle, empty-handed of the cup, seemingly inebriated, and no longer showing recurring emotional fluctuations.

Without even interrogating formally, the earlier torment had those bandits wailing and confessing everything.

That Bastia, that Hamlet, and the deeds they committed during their occupation, almost revealing even youthful peeks at the village widow's bathing.

They spoke not for survival but for death.

Upon hearing this, Gene withdrew his gaze from the corpses, unable to resist explaining.

"Most likely, these guys believed rumors; Hamlet I know, just a rundown town."

Gene was somewhat of a local, though he hadn't ventured to those rural areas, knowing here only Ovando was a city.

Suddenly, Gene realized that place was Walter's granary, immediately sparking a desire, and following those words, adding.

"I know Hamlet is nearby, with an old brick road leading there; no need to take these small paths. If sir wishes to see, there's no harm."

"Then let's take a look." Michelle was out for enjoyment, evidently not intending to return yet.

Hearing these words, Gene couldn't help smiling widely, aware that those bandits' words had piqued Michelle's curiosity, also implying Hamlet was likely doomed.

With this journey, seizing Walter's supplies, and then crippling Hamlet, Walter would be insignificant.

Heard his daughter was pretty, might as well endure it; otherwise, Michelle might ruin it all, just too kind-hearted...

As the convoy drudged along, the sky had already darkened, unable even to secure a spot to camp in the village, forced to pitch tents outside.

Those city defense forces were certainly displeased, but upon seeing the thrown-out bodies, they instantly fell silent and obediently complied.

"Hurry up and toss these away, damn it, I still need to eat."

"Could use a few people to help..."

......

These Barbarian Mercenaries were well-acquainted with the Empire's conditions, yet retained some Barbarian abilities, possessing remarkable skills indeed.

Upon breaching into Hamlet, they continually regrouped scattered Barbarian comrades.

Originally intending to reclaim those scattered by Cavalry charges, encountering dispersed Barbarians instead, they integrated into the ranks, naturally revealing those past occurrences.

Released by the Earl, then driven here alongside refugees, along with that Hamlet existing only in rumors.

The main force eventually reintegrated them, swiftly regaining numbers, rallying over a hundred people in just a couple of days here.

The ever-expanding group increased the pressure for food, no longer solvable by accompanying hunting, necessitating village and town raids.

Yet, Bastia enjoys a stable regime with military forces maintaining order, so naturally, village density is much higher.

Whereas chaos reigns around Hamlet, rife with bandits and brigands, resulting in sparse settlements.

Adding more trouble where cross-border villages were just ravaged by fleeing convicts and refugees, leaving plundered ruins, some scorched by fire.

Trudging along, the Barbarians felt the situation was even worse here than in the Mountains?

Seeing dusk approaching, tonight starving again seemed inevitable.

Until distant rising smoke pointed them to a location anew.

Soon enough, Barbarian scouts navigated the mountain wilderness, reaching the village outskirts, hidden using wilderness cover.

"Oh my! Got lucky!"

"How wealthy is this convoy?"

"Ancestor's blessing, such good luck..."

Muted astonishments reflected their excitement, initially thinking a village would alleviate food shortages was fortunate enough, yet unexpectedly hitting a jackpot.

Carts laden with goods, roughly surveyed as up to a hundred, if transported back to the Mountains, their tribe wouldn't fear winter.

But concerns lay with the convoy being far from simple, boasting over a hundred soldiers.

"There's the odor of blood!"

With just one remark spiraling them into caution, swiftly discovering bodies amidst grass, including several obviously Barbarian ones.

"Not from our tribe, possibly those released prisoners."

"Blood's drained, tortured until death."

"Who cares, get back and alert others."

Barbarians don't engage in complex debates, knowing only to feast upon this convoy, regardless of origins.

Scouts completing recon carried back news of a massive convoy, half loaded with goods.

Such intelligence ignited Barbarian fervor, nearly sobbing over feasting sheep after days of hunger.

All storming in recklessly risked exposure, hence reconnaissance in batches, thoroughly grasping the village's situation.

Soon enough, selected leaders congregated to study reconnaissance findings.

Indeed, the convoy exists; moreover, there's over a hundred guards, a village enclosed by earthen walls seeming to contain stationed soldiers.

"Could they be the Regular Army? Here to quell these refugees?"

"We're merely a hundred, yet they have two hundred, that's challenging."

"Fret not, those fellows look like pushovers."

"The earthen walls simply need scaling, without shells how do those Imperial People fight us?"

"Rob the hell out of them!"

Despite being outnumbered, Barbarians discerned those disorderly cohorts weren't elites.

Barbarian plans were methodical, targeting night raids under the cover of darkness, maintaining arms during preparation.

Raised in hunting, compounded with Imperial mercenary experience, preserving combat prowess, uncertain if the Earl regretted their initial liberation.

Regardless, Barbarians commenced discussing divvying up the spoils.

"How to split later?"

"The more Imperial People slain, the more gets divided, let strength speak."

"But how do we transport everything back?"

"By notifying the tribe to launch diversionary raids, attracting Bastia's border troops' attention, we then..."