1004: 341.
What?
Where did these troublemakers co from?
How dare they cause trouble on the Transylvanian Barbarians’ turf!
1004: 341.
What?
Where did these troublemakers co from?
How dare they cause trouble on the Transylvanian Barbarians’ turf!
“What a hellhole!
I truly bought into those bastards’ bullshit, saying that I’d be released early if I fought in Transylvania?
Pah!
This damned place is even worse than the sewers of North Wind Castle.”
On the streets of the small border town Bata Sin in Transylvania, a guy in a baggy Northlander military uniform sat on the curb, gnawing on a hard loaf of bread laced with sawdust, his face filled with dissatisfaction.
He gazed at everything around him with a cynical and disdainful look, and the scars on his face, coupled with his fierce expression, made it clear he wasn’t so kind-hearted, peaceful soul.
The complex black tattoo peeking out from his wrist, which carried a special aning, hinted at an identity beyond that of a regular person.
This was a Black Hand mafia.
Well, that’s the highfalutin term for it, or in plainer language, organized criminal thugs.
The tattoos on their hands and bodies didn’t co without aning; each pattern signified sothing unique.
Few outside their circle could decipher these intricate ssages, but there were talents in Transylvania capable of such understanding, like Miss Doris of the Blood Rat Gang, for instance.
Her series of tattoos on her arm, shoulder, and back indicated that although Doris is now a laughable gang leader under Murphy’s rule, she once had her days of glory among these “forces of darkness.” But now she has gone straight…
er, of course, if you look at it from another angle, climbing into the vampire clans and making it to middle managent is pretty much considered making strides in the mafia world.
In that sense, Doris was really lucky.
“Boss, we’ll need to gather soon.
Are we going?”
Next to this guy were three other shifty-looking fellows, all clad in Northlander uniforms, but there was no disguising their petty thug deanor.
One of them, sporting a mohawk, glowered fiercely at anyone who ca close as if trying to kill these despised idiots with his gaze, then spat on the ground and asked their leader:
“Those officers escorting us said that once we get to Transylvania, they’ll wash their hands of us.
This is the last muster, then we’ll be free.”
“Free my ass!”
Another, shorter and older-looking guy with a worried frown said:
“The Transylvanian People are going to use us as cannon fodder in war.
That bitch, the Wolf Queen, sold us here like commodities, and those shitty officers can’t wait to kick us to the curb.
They don’t care about us; they’re just dumping us here to die.
I say, why not run for it?
A lot of people fled along the way, right?
It doesn’t seem like anyone’s going out of their way to catch them.”
“Bullshit.
Anyone who runs before reaching Transylvania is a fool.
They’re still prisoners if caught within the country, but once we’re here, we can temporarily shake off our past.”
The scar-faced boss, who had been silent, cramd the last bit of the hard loaf into his mouth.
He dusted off the crumbs from his hands and swept a cold gaze across the onlookers in the street, any local who t his ferocious eyes quickly turned away in fear.
He thoroughly enjoyed the fearsoness bestowed upon him by others, so he stood up and declared:
“Let’s go.
Gather up.
After those dogshit officers leave, we’ll find a place to start anew.
I’ll see if I can get in touch with old man John.
Maybe we can extend our family’s influence here.
Transylvania has been at war for ten years, poor as it may be, but free of other gang influences.
We might just be able to make sothing big out of this.”
“Hey, the boss is right!”
The three henchn imdiately followed, walking side by side down the street, boldly taking up half of it.
They paid no mind to the whispers of the people around them, ready to go to the barracks for the last ti muster as the “Nordtof Border Defence Force Pioneering Group.”
This so-called Pioneer Group had only been ford half a month ago, and its mbers were all “heroes of the world” like these four guys.
To be honest, to scrounge up 6000 prisoners for Murphy, the Wolf Queen’s officials had indeed put in quite an effort.
Because this “war assistance” had reduced the prison population of North Wind Castle by half overnight.
The officials rubbing their hands in anticipation were still awaiting news.
If Governor Murphy appreciated this model, then the prisoners rotting in jails all over the country were in for a “treat.”
With this sche, Governor Murphy would have enough manpower to confront the Black Disaster, the Wolf Queen Majesty would fulfill her political agreents, prisoners could earn their freedom by partaking in war, and North Wind Castle’s police departnts could make their annual reports look a bit better.
This was basically a win-win-win-win situation.
Sotis you can’t help but admire the “creativity” of these feudal bureaucrats in this regard; as for whether these ex-cons would cause any trouble in the currently unstable Transylvania…
That wasn’t a concern for those bureaucratic masters; they never intended to bring these criminals back anyway.
It was clear that they hoped Murphy would treat this rabble as disposable pawns, making everyone’s life easier and without a doubt, no one would raise any moral objections.
The group of prisoners, halfway coerced and halfway enticed to co to Transylvania, knew the troubles ahead, which is why these four “heroes of the world” had already made plans on their journey here.
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