Chapter 112: Sometimes the Same Trick Takes a Second Try
The sound of hooves circled outside for a good while before finally stopping in the distance.
But that didn't mean the unwelcome guests had given up. Arthur listened to the muffled commotion carried by the night wind and realized that, unable to find the way, the attackers had dismounted and started a hands-linked, blanket-style search.
Hah. He knew it couldn't be such a coincidence that bandits arrived right after they set up camp.
"Dwarf obscenity, they knew exactly where we were! Was it that lad on the balcony?" Zoltan squeezed the words out through clenched teeth, tightening his grip on his axe: "The next time I see that bastard, I swear I'll split that handsome face of his!"
The attackers had very accurate intelligence. After only two sweeps, a shout of excitement went up from outside the woods:
"Ha! I found it! These two trees here are fake! They cast shadows, but they have no substance!"
Arthur, Kolgrim, and Zoltan exchanged a glance, all seeing surprise in the others' eyes.
How unreliable are these guys? Leaving aside their combat effectiveness, the mere act of shouting and yelling during an operation showed utter amateurism. Even slightly organized bandits wouldn't be this sloppy!
Half a minute later, when the attackers finally appeared in the torchlight, all three felt a profound sense of disappointment.
Compared to the Night Crows, this group's lineup could only be described with one word pathetic! Wooden arm guards, leather helmets, crooked swords, and the distant braying of a donkey...
This was just bandits! And the most destitute kind, who couldn't even afford horses! They were fewer in number than the Night Crows had been!
Arthur's eye twitched uncontrollably. Looking at this group of beggar-like enemies, and thinking about the horse-pits and crossbow traps they had set outside the camp, he felt a sudden sense of frustration, like punching cotton.
On the other side, the bandits had no idea they were being thoroughly mocked by Arthur's trio.
The leader, feeling incredibly self-important, raised what was probably the only unsullied sword among them, attempting to reflect the torchlight onto someone's face for intimidation. He failed because the blade, lacking maintenance, was coated in a mixture of grease and dust.
"Hark, you lot! Hand over the valuables quickly if you know what's good for you! Hand over the women too! Serve your granddaddy well, and maybe we'll let you live, you dogs!"
Arthur placed one hand behind his back, signaling 'hold steady' to Maria as the only archer in the team, Maria was hidden in the shadows between the inner and outer camp. The original intention of this placement was to prevent the enemy from outflanking them from another direction in that case, her position could support both fronts simultaneously.
But the current situation felt less like a tactical placement and more like casting pearls before swine…
"We don't have any valuables! You've got the wrong people! Now scram!" Zoltan planted his axe on the ground, then, as an afterthought, squeezed his throat and let out a crude, squeaky shriek: "Oh, you scared me, you big meanie!"
The dwarf's sudden flamboyance was so jarring that Arthur nearly vomited the dinner he'd just eaten.
"Bastards! Are you mocking me?" The bandit leader roared, brandishing his filthy sword: "Kill that dwarf woman first!"
Three minutes later, wails echoed throughout the camp. The bandits hadn't even reached the midpoint of the outer camp before they were lying scattered on the ground.
These men's fighting skills were as awful as their equipment. Arthur even had the luxury of leaving a few alive. Whether that was fortunate or unfortunate for these guys was anyone's guess.
He raised an acoustic shield to spare Ciri from certain unsavory scenes, then began the interrogation.
He poured a mug of beer and handed it to Zoltan before pulling the gag from the mouth of the leftmost captive: "Who sent you? If you don't tell me before that beer is finished, your head is leaving your shoulders."
"AHAHAHAHA… My leg! I'm bleeding everywhere!" The captive cried out in agony, his voice so loud it sent ripple after ripple across the acoustic shield.
But Arthur's voice was even louder than his: "Crying? Crying counts as time too!"
The captive's wails abruptly cut off. Even Zoltan on the side couldn't watch anymore.
"Just speak clearly, and I'll try to drink slowly."
The captive fought back the excruciating pain, swallowing a trembling mouthful of spit: "I don't know the specific situation, but…"
Pfft! The captive's body jerked violently. He looked down at his heart in disbelief, where sharp pain and cold spread madly through his veins. He collapsed in a spasm, seemingly leaving behind a final, habitual remark:
"But tonight's operation was highly unusual, boss…"
Zoltan put down his mug, sighed, and looked at Arthur with a reproving gaze: "You are too rude. At least let the man finish his sentence."
Arthur wiped the dagger clean on the corpse before straightening up and snapping: "What kind of time is this to play games with me? If you still value your lives, think carefully before you open your mouths!"
"Next! Continue with the unusual circumstances of your boss!"
With the first poor soul serving as an example, the second captive was clearly much faster-lipped. The moment the rags were removed from his mouth, he shouted:
"Two hours ago, the 'Strategist' suddenly came to see the Boss. Then the Boss called everyone together and said he'd received a message that there was a large group of rich targets nearby!"
Arthur nodded, pressing further: "Where is your Boss?"
"Killed by you. The two halves on the ground."
"Then where is the Strategist?"
"Chopped up by the dwarf. Died even worse than the Boss!"
Arthur's eyes instantly flashed with ill intent: "Then what use are you?"
"I-I-I-I… I know where their message came from!" The captive screamed, a visible plume of white steam rising from his head: "The Strategist's message was heard from a small box. He always kept it on him!"
Hearing 'small box,' an idea suddenly flashed in Arthur's mind. With a light flick of his dagger, he cut the ropes binding the captive: "Go and retrieve that thing."
The captive dragged his injured leg, scrambling over to the Strategist's body. After fumbling around, he held the item high above his head:
"It's this thing! Listen, there's still a voice inside right now!"
Arthur looked closely. Well, well. Wasn't this the magic communicator he had searched off Lyens's body back then?!
"Put that thing down immediately!" Arthur shouted instinctively, but the captive misinterpreted his meaning. Leaning his ear closer, he said solicitously to Arthur:
"This one might be a bit broken, the sound isn't very clear. I'll listen and relay it to you…"
Bang! A flash of fire suddenly erupted. The captive fell to the ground without warning, as if struck by a sledgehammer to the head. The fractured edges of his skull were scorched black by the flame, and he was silent forever.
"Just as I thought…" Seeing the familiar scene unfold before him, Arthur knew exactly who Corvo was that man was clearly in league with Lyens!