89: Well-trained robbers 3

Randall's greatsword severed the head of the last elite monster, and the dirty blood was scorched into blue smoke before it could splash on the Holy Emblem.

He spun around, his tower shield deflecting three poisoned arrows, and his iron-shod boots sparked on the ice as he charged the enemy formation!

Holy Light flowed across the shield's surface, forming a conical wall of light, deflecting stray arrows several feet away.

I stood on the carriage roof, estimating the distance—over 120 feet, beyond the effective range of an ordinary hunting bow. What was worse, the Dragon King was in a tough fight, and Black Little Leopard's hind leg had a deep, bone-visible wound.

Three wounded Goblins retreated behind the lines, where a slightly shorter figure was pressing his palm onto their wounds, casting a healing spell. The wounds healed at a visible rate!

"Damn, it's a Priest!" I thought, sensing trouble.

"John! George! Get everyone to defend the carriages to the death!" I shouted, my voice a little hoarse, "Wait for us to return."

Then, I leaped from the carriage, heading straight behind Randall.

The arrow rain suddenly intensified.

The enemy clearly sensed the danger; a dozen Goblins turned their bows towards Randall and me.

But I had already leaped out of cover, sprinting along Randall's Holy Light trail.

The ice mist stirred up by his charge became the best cover; poisoned arrows chased my afterimage into the snow, and the rising poisonous smoke obscured the enemy's vision.

During the eighty-yard sprint, the feeling of my boots slipping on the ice surface made my heart race.

Black Little Leopard suddenly appeared to my left; its fangs precisely snapped the wooden shafts of two poisoned arrows, the arrowheads clinking to the ground.

I used the momentum to roll into the shadow of a roadside spruce; when my back hit the tree trunk, it shook down powdery snow—just in time to glimpse the Goblin Priest casting a healing spell on the sixth injured soldier.

"By frost as a guide..." I began to chant the incantation in a low voice, and the blue-white rays bursting from my fingertips tore through the wind and snow.

That cold light accurately struck the Goblin Priest, and ice crystals rapidly spread along its finger joints.

The Goblin Priest's casting movements immediately stiffened like a puppet.

"Righteous Judgment!" Randall's furious roar and the clang of his sword exploded simultaneously.

His leaping figure left an afterimage in the wind and snow, and the arc of light from his greatsword, sweeping upwards, bisected the frozen Priest along with two injured Goblins.

The sound of the Dragon King's wings cutting through the air as he circled at low altitude suddenly grew sharper.

The airflow from its mouth, mixed with ice particles, formed transparent Wind Blades.

Two Goblins attempting to flee had blood blossom from behind their knees, stumbling before Randall finished them off with a decapitating blow.

Black Little Leopard limped back to my feet. I quickly poured an antidote and a healing potion onto it, then ordered it to stay by my side.

"Southeast thirty degrees!" I knelt, nocking an arrow, the arrowhead tracking the three fleeing figures.

Randall plunged his greatsword into the ice for leverage, launching himself into the air like a javelin, Holy Light condensing into a spear of light at his sword tip.

As the spear of light pierced the first fleeing enemy, my arrow precisely shot through the throat of the second.

The third monster despairingly raised its shield, but was blinded by the ice mist stirred up by the Dragon King's dive.

As it stumbled and crashed into a frozen birch tree, Black Little Leopard's fangs had already clamped onto its windpipe.

The wind and snow had stopped at some point.

I leaned against a large tree by the road, panting, watching the last Goblin fall beneath the Holy Knight's sword. Randall stood in the center of the pile of corpses, the Holy Emblem on his shield still faintly glowing, scorching the filthy bloodstains into wisps of blue smoke.

...

Of the nineteen carriages from the three trade companies, six cargo wagons were severely damaged.

Burning goods cast distorted shadows on a patch of ice beside the road.

The Amn Trade Company's guard captain sat slumped beside a charred wine barrel, cradling a guard who had been shot in the abdomen—the young man had already lost his breath.

"Eight dead, eleven severely wounded," George's hoarse voice came from behind me.

He was using a dagger to cut open John's leather armor; a blackened arrowhead was lodged between his ribs. "Wounds caused by poisoned arrows need immediate purification, but we only have five antidotes left."

I squatted down, my fingers brushing over Black Little Leopard's still not fully healed wound on its hind leg.

The intelligent beast licked my wrist, its golden pupils reflecting my ash-stained face. "Use my share." I poured a bottle of healing potion onto its wound.

Randall knelt on one knee in the blackened snow, using Holy Light to burn the corrosive poison from John's ribs. The young man bit down on a piece of wood, cold sweat soaking his back. "Remember this burning pain," the Holy Knight's voice was colder than the wind and snow, "Next time you see a Goblin wearing bone ornaments, be smarter."

After treating all the wounded, Randall organized people to put out the fires on several cargo wagons.

This skirmish exposed a fatal weakness:

Our resistance to such large-scale ranged firepower was too weak. When the Kobolds' fireballs struck, if Randall hadn't taken the brunt, the loss of carriages and personnel would have been even greater.

For such a large trade company, our armed forces were still too few, especially those capable of withstanding such an arrow barrage.

"Old Hather," I pointed at the burned-out cargo wagon, "Come and help me inventory the remaining supplies." Old Hather rapidly recorded in the ledger, his frozen fingers making the quill pen creak.

Among our own carriages, the two-wheeled carriage was on fire, burning some wood and a small amount of fur.

Another four-wheeled cargo wagon was put out by George and his team with snow when it first caught fire, so there was not much loss.

However, many poisoned arrows were stuck in the wood on the roof.

The luxurious four-wheeled carriage, however, was not hit by fire arrows, though it also had many poisoned arrows stuck in its body.

Many of the exquisite carvings on the front were damaged and would need extensive repair.

The horses pulling the two-wheeled carriage had taken an arrow at the time but were promptly detoxified and treated. The other white horses, which we carefully protected, were unharmed.

If there's an opportunity in the future, it would be good to make a set of armor for each of the warhorses.

The arrows stuck in the carriages also needed to be recovered one by one.

Most of the remaining two carriages of goods from the village trade company were also damaged.

There were six of them in total, and three died in this battle.

The severely wounded trade company leader had just been healed, and now, looking at the bodies of his companions, he cried out in pain.

When he saw me approach, he turned and knelt before me, "Sir, I'm afraid our remaining goods are not enough to cover the treatment costs, and the villagers are waiting for us to bring money back..."

"Your survival is more important than anything," I helped him up. "We can find another way for the expenses."

I thought for a moment and continued, "You came out to earn money. How about working for me for the next month?"

"Work?" the trade company leader asked.

"When we reach Gorebest, we will indeed need manpower," I continued. "Basic salary plus sales commission. Old Hather will discuss the specifics with you later."

The Amn Trade Company had three four-wheeled cargo wagons severely damaged. Two of them had minor body damage, and another could be repaired and used.

I asked Old Hather to negotiate the purchase of the vehicles and treatment costs, among other matters.