Among them, there were also so wily scoundrels and ferocious mbers of the Barbarian Tribes—none of these fellows were easy to deal with, but they had no choice but to behave themselves in the face of the feared Order of Knights.
This was why Bruce had to bring the Order of Knights to back up the operation.
Driven by the city defense force, they were forced to pick up their ager belongings and get moving. If they were even slightly slow, they would be beaten with sticks and fists, not to ntion the hoarse shouting driving them on.
"Damn it, move faster!"
"If you delay, you're all dead!"
"..."
The column was inching forward, like an old man nearing the end of his days, each step an imnse struggle.
However, Bruce, seated atop his warhorse and clad in gleaming silver armor, didn't show the slightest change in expression.
A contingency plan had been prepared days ago. Why did the Earl insist on delaying, only setting out today?
Bruce knew his father had done so to wait for the rumors to fernt and to round up these refugees.
The war had affected a vast area across the Empire, more severe than a drought. Many refugees, including those from within Bastia territory, had poured in, causing even greater chaos to local security.
These people were a real headache, and now was the perfect ti to pack them all up and take them away.
These were just the ones rounded up from the city's outskirts in the past few days; throughout Bastia, there were likely tens of thousands of refugees in total.
The Earl had wildly touted Hamlet's wealth and beauty, making the refugees yearn for it, all to drive them there.
These refugees would be a huge burden on any territory, making governance incredibly difficult.
The reason was simple: the land's carrying capacity was limited. People already lived here, and an influx of refugees would encroach upon the locals' living space.
Given the level of grassroots administration in this era—which essentially relied on the Holy Light's blessing—it would be a miracle if problems didn't arise.
Driving the refugees to overrun Hamlet... the Earl had calculated this perfectly.
Not to ntion, criminals fresh from prison, mbers of the Barbarian Tribes, and assorted ruffians had also been conveniently slipped into their ranks.
These individuals were all troublemakers; they wouldn't even need orders to wreak havoc on local security.
The Earl's ruthlessness was truly apparent.
To Bruce, his father's move not only solved Bastia's refugee problem but also tossed a ticking ti bomb toward Hamlet.
All he could say was that his father was as cunning as ever.
Driven by the city defense force, the refugee column, consisting of two to three thousand people, was set in motion. Laura was called before Bruce, with the middle-aged man right beside her.
She had been summoned because she had made the journey once and was to brief the nearby person in charge.
It was just a matter of asking a few simple questions, including the routes they had taken there and back.
"Alright, you may leave," the person in charge said, gesturing with a smile.
Bruce didn't say a word, remaining as silent as a Knight statue, only speaking to the person in charge after Laura had left.
Laura said little. The route had already been decided, and how this caravan would traverse it wasn't sothing a re mber of the Eagle Flock like her could influence.
She wrapped her green cloak tighter around her and blended back into the crowd; she was now just another Guard for the caravan.
However... Laura's gaze swept over the crowd, her eyes briefly pausing on two inconspicuous figures.
One leaned on a crutch wrapped in cloth strips, while the other was shrouded in bloodstained rags, head covered as well, hiding any bare skin. The two kept close to each other, inconspicuous among the refugees.
It went without saying who those two were. But what interested Laura was spotting other mbers of the Eagle Flock among the refugees.
It wasn't their faces or other physical features that gave them away, but their bearing and posture.
Such things couldn't escape an eagle's eyes.
It wasn't hard to guess their orders: blend in with the refugees and infiltrate. She'd seen plenty of similar mission requests at the counter.
What a coincidence, I'm also infiltrating.
My friends, when the ti cos, I might need to borrow one of your heads.
The column departed. Laura felt the bargaining chips in her possession growing ever more substantial...
The Earl's fa was not built on hot air but on hard-won battles. Within Bastia's territory, it was very safe; they encountered no trouble en route.
Of course, any robbers or bandits would think twice upon seeing such a massive column. The sight of the Order of Knights bringing up the rear would send them fleeing without a trace.
Instead, more refugees were continually herded into the column along the route. Perhaps the rumors hadn't reached these parts yet, so they were apprehensive and anxious, coerced toward this unknown destination.
The real trouble was that so people simply did not believe the rumors about Hamlet, thinking that the Order of Knights intended to drive them to a deserted place and then kill them.
These rumors had intensified over the past few days, even sparking a large-scale disturbance.
In the dead of night, a sudden disturbance broke out. Chaos spread rapidly, and then those people scattered and fled.
The camp erupted in the darkness. The disorganized refugees were unard, which was their only saving grace.
But the sheer force of two to three thousand people erupting like this was not to be underestimated.
Their commotion alerted the Order of Knights stationed nearby, who then subjected them to a brutal and rciless suppression.
Under Bruce's command, the Knights hunted on the periphery like sheepdogs managing a flock, herding the scattered refugees.
At the sa ti, the Regular Army also joined the fight, continually pressing the refugees, shrinking their space, driving them back, and containing them within a designated area.
The panic-stricken refugees even rallied under the leadership of so mbers of the Barbarian Tribes mixed among them and then launched an assault.
At this, Bruce commanded the Order of Knights to aim their Lances at the refugees who hadn't even grasped what was happening.
Knight charge!
The next second, Lances pierced through bodies, and iron hooves trampled them, easily breaking through the refugees' line in a single charge. Only after about a hundred bodies were left behind did the refugees finally beco compliant.
This was why Bruce was here; their uprising had been anticipated.
Could they possibly outsmart the Earl?
For a seasoned nobleman like the Earl, dealing with this rabble was child's play.
It was also evident that Bruce's capability to command in battle was leagues beyond Alvin's; he suppressed the situation with ease, even effortlessly preventing the refugees from scattering in a rout.
Even in areas where Alvin prided himself, Bruce utterly outclassed him. This was the Heir cultivated with all the resources of an Earl's family under the system of Nobility.
Chaos erupted suddenly. Laura, startled awake by the sudden chaos in the night, reacted faster than anyone else.
This was an intentional slaughter. The mbers of the Eagle Flock hidden among the refugees couldn't possibly have missed the initial signs of the disturbance. The fact that they allowed it to happen spoke volus.
Laura didn't know the deeper reasons, nor what those nobles were thinking—perhaps they were rely killing for sport.
Her only concern now was for those two; her bargaining chips absolutely could not be compromised.
Thanks to Laura's arrangents, Margaret and the woman with her were on the outskirts of the crowd, relatively close to the caravan.
Over these past few days, Margaret had truly co to understand what refugees were, what hell was.
It was a world she had never encountered before. The stench of despair perated the air, so palpable she could almost taste it with every breath, causing a profound unease.
Watching the refugees being brutally treated, she desperately wanted to intervene. However, she was constrained by the need to hide her identity. Moreover, the constant stream of atrocities happening around her was far beyond her ability to control. It all felt like a suffocating shackle.
Gradually, the sa numbness visible on the refugees' faces began to creep onto hers. Just two or three days of travel had inflicted an unprecedented weariness upon her.
It was more than physical exhaustion; it was a spiritual drain, as if she were being assimilated by the despair of the refugees.
Then the disturbance erupted. Her composed nature enabled her to react swiftly; she imdiately dragged the woman beside her away from the chaos, heading toward the caravan.
This decision saved her. The two of them avoided the charge of the Order of Knights, but the refugees were not easy to deal with either.
Others were as quick-witted as Margaret. But so of these 'clever' ones, noticing in the chaos that the woman with Margaret had inadvertently revealed herself, began to harbor ill intentions toward the pair.
"It's her! I heard her voice just now, that's a woman's voice!"
"She's stunningly beautiful~"
"Heh heh heh~ Delicious..."
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