After leaving the training grounds, I rode westward and arrived at the village of Tevia in the Southern Empire before nightfall.
Tevia was a small village nestled against a mountain, its architecture typical of medieval Europe, much like the villages I'd seen in movies like *Braveheart*. The village was far from wealthy. As I rode in slowly, most of the people I saw were women, children, and the elderly—a clear consequence of years of war. The able-bodied men had been conscripted almost entirely. The villagers paid little attention to an outsider's arrival, too busy with their farm work. Some grumbled about poor harvests and heavy taxes, while others complained that Lord Farong only sent tax collectors but no soldiers to deal with the bandits who frequently harassed the village.
These problems seemed universal in this era. I made my way to the village center and found the elder, Mavignon. After explaining my purpose, he and two other landowners, Avigos and Urios, agreed to let me recruit six young men with some combat experience (Imperial Recruits) for 120 denars.
This was my first armed force on this continent. Though weaker than even bandits, it gave me hope for one day unifying the land. After spending the night in Tevia, I set out south the next morning with my six recruits toward Zestia Village.
As soon as I entered Zestia, I saw a crowd gathered in the center, surrounding a bearded old man—likely the village elder or a landowner.
"Fellow villagers," he declared, "we of Zestia have lived for generations by farming and livestock. But now, war and taxes are crushing us. We barely survive, and yet these bandits seek to cut off what little we have left! They don't dare raid the village directly, but they ambush us on the roads to town—especially the road to Poros. They've stolen our pigs and killed our people!"
"Let's fight them! Avenge our kin!" one young man shouted angrily.
"With just us, we can't win," the elder replied. "But we can't just wait to die either. I've sent word for mercenaries or anyone willing to help. If they aid us, I'll pay them in denars. From today, we must also train harder. If we must fight, we'll make them pay in blood!"
I tied my horse to a tree and approached the crowd, which had begun to disperse. The elder noticed me and asked warily, "Hello, stranger. What brings you here?"
"Nothing in particular. I was passing through and saw the commotion. I overheard something about bandits?"
He sighed. "Yes, the bandits grow bolder by the day. Those vermin lurk in the hills outside town, robbing and killing travelers. Now, few dare transport goods to market. The lords and soldiers do nothing. Life is hard enough—soon, we'll have no choice but to turn to banditry ourselves!"
"Doesn't the village have a garrison? Why not have them deal with the bandits?"
"Don't even mention those garrison troops! They're worse than useless—more like a band of thugs. I wouldn't be surprised if they're splitting the bandits' loot! Even if they fought, they couldn't wipe out the bandits. But if just a few gangs were eliminated, the rest would think twice before attacking us."
He studied me. "You seem capable. That sword at your waist suggests you're a warrior, perhaps even a commander. You could help us."
"Me? That depends. How many men do you think it'd take?"
"I'd wager just ten well-trained fighters under a capable leader could handle them. Five or six days would be enough to deal with a few gangs."
"I don't have a lieutenant, and my group is only seven strong. I came here hoping to recruit more men for my own purposes."
"Then listen, young man. Recruit whoever you need from our village. And if you deal with the bandits, I'll pay you 550 denars. Just eliminate two or three gangs within a day's ride of here."
"Fine. I'll take the job—consider it my good deed."
And just like that, I'd stumbled into a thankless task. After being warmly hosted by the villagers, I picked six of the least unimpressive young men in Zestia—no wonder the elder said I could take my pick; there wasn't much to choose from.
With the whole village's hopes on my shoulders, I set out with my ragtag band of Imperial Recruits—more like a peasant rebellion than an army. Most carried pitchforks or sickles. Only I, on horseback with a short sword and lance, looked remotely like a leader. *With this sorry lot, the bandits might just flee in terror!*
*And if they run, I'll run too—I've got a horse, after all!* I chuckled inwardly. Before the battle even began, I'd already settled on the best of the *Thirty-Six Stratagems*: *Run away!*
We headed north, avoiding the main bandit-infested road to Poros. Instead, I aimed for Tevia's direction, hoping to pick off isolated bandits.
First, it improved our odds. Second, I didn't need to wipe them all out—just kill enough to satisfy the villagers. *In these chaotic times, why risk my life? My grand dream of unifying the continent can't end here!*
As I strategized how to minimize losses, a dozen men burst from the trees. Their leader, a scar-faced brute on horseback with a sack of javelins, sneered:
"This tree was planted by me, this road was built by me! To pass, leave all your food, goods, gold, and silver! Little lambs, disobey this mountain wolf, and today will be your birthday next year!"
"Boss, you mean *death* anniversary."
"Shut up, I know that!"
"Great King, the saying goes: *This tree was planted by me, this road was built by me…* Your education is lacking—did you skip school?"
"Oh ho! A scholar among peasants! Drag that horse-riding smart-mouth down here! Who does he think he is, riding a horse like mine?"
His thugs moved forward.
"Come any closer, and we'll kill you!" one of my men brandished his pitchfork.
"Great King, we've no quarrel with you. We've no gold or treasure—just these tools, worthless to you. Let us pass, and we'll repay you later."
"Enough talk! They barely outnumber us—don't fear them!" a Zestian youth snapped. "You took our village's coin, yet you cower? We should've fought ourselves!"
The bandit leader's eyes gleamed. "Ah! Zestia sent you? How *fortunate*! We just robbed their farmers and lost two brothers doing it. Men, spill their blood—show them the fangs of mountain wolves!"
They charged. My stomach twisted—*I never should've taken this job!* But then I thought, *This is just a dream—or if it's real, fate wouldn't let me die so soon!* Gritting my teeth, I roared:
"Charge! Kill them all!"
My men surged forward like madmen. Their fearless assault stirred something in me, and I spurred my horse into the fray.
I speared a bandit with my lance, and the brawl began.
Fifteen brutal minutes later, half my men were down. Only four of us, including me, remained standing. The bandits still had seven or eight.
Bloodied and bruised—though whether from adrenaline or dream logic, I felt no pain—I glared at the enemy.
The bandit leader, shocked by our resistance, snarled: "Kill them all! Leave none alive!"
They rushed us again.
"Charge!"
No retreat now. I led the final desperate attack.
"Master, look out—!"
A javelin streaked toward me—
Darkness.
I hit the ground hard, vision blurring. The last thing I saw was my men surrounded before everything faded.
*My first battle in this world… and I lose?*
*This can't be right! Even in a dream, there should be a proper ending—at least let me marry first! And if this is real transmigration, why drag me to the Middle Ages just to die leading peasants against bandits? What kind of joke is this?!*
*First mission, first command, first battle—and it ends like this?*
*Pathetic.*