Chapter 216
The forest felt quiet… too quiet.
Trevor stepped down from the cart with a grumble, brushing off his coat. His boots hit the dirt road as he looked around, already annoyed. But when he saw the mercenary guards—men known for their loud mouths and rough ways—standing frozen with wide eyes and stiff postures, the irritation drained from his face.
His brows furrowed as he followed their gazes.
From the dark, misty trail ahead, figures on horseback emerged slowly—ten, maybe fifteen of them. Clad in worn but well-maintained armor, their silver and black plate shimmered faintly under the slivers of sunlight breaking through the dense forest canopy. Dust stirred beneath their hooves, and each step echoed louder than it should've.
The armored men didn't speak. They spread out in silence, forming a half-circle around the caravan. Their horses snorted, iron shoes crunching against the gravel road.
Trevor's confusion deepened. "Are they… guard ... .But their appearances look like bandits?"
He had traveled through many dangerous lands and met all sorts of troublemakers. But these people didn't look like any guards he'd seen. Their gear was too clean, too uniform but the faces were filled with savegery.
"That's the damn problem, sir," one of the guards growled, gripping his axe tightly. He was a broad man with a missing eye and a sword strapped across his back. "We can't tell if they're bandits or damn soldiers. Either way, we're stuck."
Another mercenary, shorter but lean and wiry with a scar running across his jaw, spat to the side and added, "If they're bandits, we shoot 'em now. But if they're army boys? We attack and we're screwed."
"And if they are bandits and we wait too long, they'll be on top of us," someone muttered from behind.
Trevor clenched his jaw, thinking fast. "Then don't attack yet. Tell the men to form a defensive ring—raise the shields, stay ready."
The mercenary captain gave him a doubtful look. "Formation? Ha! You think we're bloody knights? My men barely know how to use shield"