British hegemon

Chapter 22 Choosing Warriors

"White Face? Who among your underlings is nicknamed White Face?"

Near the abandoned mill in northern Lockland, Olaf, the third pirate leader, who had just finished lunch, was taken to a secluded spot by his henchmen, who told him what they had overheard from the ponytail.

"Third leader, we don't have anyone nicknamed 'White Face'; perhaps 'White Face' isn't a nickname, it's just that he has a white face," the henchman whispered a reminder.

The three leaders suddenly realized, their expressions turning serious. Their right hands instinctively tightened their grip on the hilt of their swords, and they glanced back at the mill. "You mean the sea monster?"

Although this young henchman was not old, he had been a pirate for two years. However, he was small and thin and was always bullied. Only the three leaders took care of him on a regular basis.

"His face is the whitest, and he's long wanted to take over the chief's position." The henchman, who had been beaten up by the sea monster many times, now held a deep grudge.

The three leaders didn't respond. He pondered silently, "The sea monster colluded with that bastard baron to kill the Great Leader."

"No wonder he was so eager to encourage his men to take revenge on Brodick; he was planning to use our lives to secure his wealth."

"Damn it, I've disliked him for a long time." The veins on the third leader's hand, which was gripping his sword, were bulging.

The henchmen grew increasingly frightened. "Let's tell the rest of us to run!"

"No, that bastard was prepared. His trusted men have been sticking to us these past two days, he's definitely wary of us." After a moment's thought, the third leader whispered to his underlings, "You secretly contact the guys who usually hate the second leader and tell them to be wary of the people around him."

The henchman responded in a low voice, picked up the hay from the ground, and returned to the fire in front of the mill.

"Roger, who exactly are you? How did you manage to kill Wolf in one blow..." The three leaders couldn't help but look up at the south.

......

"...At that moment, young master Roger swiftly thrust forward, instantly killing the giant bandit Ulf, with blood splattering everywhere..."

"At that moment, I was also filled with courage, so I grabbed a low stool and was about to smash it down, managing to hold off two pirate henchmen..."

One listener questioned, "That's not right. I heard the stableman say that it was the ponytail that lifted the low stool to stop the pirate minions."

"By the way, where's the ponytail? I haven't seen him."

The bald man, his toad-like eyes bulging, glanced at the lazybones who had interrupted him earlier. "That coward with the ponytail ran away a long time ago. He wouldn't have had the guts. It was clearly me..."

Outside the Moulin Rouge, seven or eight thugs and twenty or thirty islanders surrounded the bald man, listening to him recount with great enthusiasm and spittle flying, the exciting story of "Young Master Roger, under the secret orders of the Baron, ambushing and killing the pirate kingpin Ulf."

The truth eventually came out, and the islanders who had been "deceived" into coming to the Moulin Rouge learned that Roger had killed the pirate Wolf.

Upon learning that their opponents were not the barbarians of Loklanza, but rather murderous and arsonist pirates, more than a hundred people immediately fled, most of them women and children.

These are all idle people who are extremely bored during the off-season. Since the crops in the fields don't need much care during this season, they follow the trend to come and watch the excitement and have a free meal.

However, about two hundred of the bolder islanders chose to stay, because after lunch, the white-faced young master John from the castle came out and calmed people down.

The group learned from the pale-faced man that Baron John had arranged this ambush before leaving and had also prepared a backup plan, but he did not elaborate on it for the sake of secrecy.

The pale-faced man explained that he had summoned everyone to Brodick to select warriors to defend the town and castle, awaiting the return of the Baron's army.

Young Master John also raised the commission for ordinary applicants from one penny to two pennies.

The islanders were eager to defend the town and castle, as they could earn a substantial reward.

But for the vast majority of ordinary islanders who came following the trend, there was another piece of good news that made them stay—Young Master Roger, who had just been appointed as the "garrison" commander by White-faced John, declared in court that as long as the islanders stayed, they would be provided with a free meat soup porridge at sunset, all they could eat.

To attract more islanders, Roger spent two more pennies to hire the two troubadours who were hiding in the Moulin Rouge, so they could sing lewd songs under the oak tree in front of the mill.

These islanders, whose spiritual lives were empty, were immediately overjoyed.

Having stabilized the islanders, Roger began selecting "warriors" to form a "bandit suppression army."

Baldy and his ilk were no help in this kind of thing, so Roger asked the sheriff of Brodick Castle for assistance.

The sheriff was over fifty years old. He was short and stocky, wearing a half-body chainmail and a simple one-handed sword at his waist. The palm-sized burn scar on his face and his left hand, which was severed at the shoulder, were both brought back from the battlefield.

Although the sheriff seemed reluctant to work with him, Roger felt at first glance that he was a man worthy of trust; the composure he possessed, honed through life and death, was not something that could be easily faked.

After careful recollection, Roger realized that this one-armed sheriff was no ordinary person.

His name was Govin, and he had been Roger's grandfather's personal bodyguard, accompanying Roger's grandfather in many battles.

After his grandfather's death, he became the infantry commander of the current Baron of Arron, until five years ago when he fought against the English while serving under Baron John and lost his left arm.

Even though he was over fifty, Baron John still made him the sheriff of Arron Island, which shows how much he relied on him.

The one-armed sheriff loathed the wicked young master Roger beside him.

But today the safety of the entire island of Arran is at stake, and he happens to be the sheriff of Arran, so he has no choice but to obey young Master John's orders and take a sheriff out of the castle to help select able-bodied men.

The sheriff, looking troubled, arrived at the crossroads and stood alone under the stone pillar.

"Everyone gathered around to be chosen."

"Get over here, all of you! Now!" The one-armed sheriff yelled at the groups of islanders chatting and gossiping in his loud voice.

The security guards immediately grabbed short batons and ran into the crowd, beating and driving them away.

Dozens of islanders who were preparing to apply for the job gathered around, and the rest of the idlers also turned away from the friars' lewd songs and tunes to watch the spectacle.

Seeing that there were already seventy or eighty islanders gathered around waiting to be chosen, the one-armed sheriff glanced at Roger.

Roger nodded to the man with the severed arm. "Master Govin, you have experience in selecting soldiers, so I'll leave it to you."

The man with the severed arm gave Roger a strange look. This evil spirit seemed to have changed a lot since he last met him.

However, he didn't bother to wonder if Roger's head had been damaged; he just wanted to finish this ridiculous mission as soon as possible and go back to guard the castle.

"...Little Devon, you're only twelve years old. Why aren't you at home helping your mother herd sheep? What are you doing here? Go home." The sheriff of Broken Walls pulled out a teenager.

"Haji, your father just died in battle last year. Do you want your younger siblings to starve to death? Get out."

"Crooked nose, you cowardly bastard! Your mother is dying, and instead of taking care of her, you're out here scamming money and wasting your life. Get lost, or I'll knock your crooked nose off!" The sheriff kicked a guy with a crooked nose out of the line.

"Old woodcutter, how old are you? Why are you still causing trouble? Grab your broken axe and watch the show from the sidelines."

"Fisherman, your wife has just passed away. What are you doing here? If you die, who will support your three children?"

The one-armed sheriff, with half of his sleeve twirling, walked back and forth among the recruits, driving out those islanders who were either incapable of fighting or unsuitable for it.

This old man had served in the military for many years, had rich combat experience, was familiar with the island's situation, and was highly respected. Roger was glad that he had found the right person.

The one-armed sheriff already knew Roger's true purpose in recruiting "warriors." He couldn't bear to let those islanders who had no skills or family ties accompany that evil young master to their deaths, so he was very strict in his selection.

"Fat widow, what are you doing here? Fighting is a man's job, when did it become your place to get involved, a widow?" The one-armed sheriff stopped in front of the fat widow in the last row.

The fat widow lived up to her name; she was not only fat but also robust. Roger glanced at her and saw that she was taller than him and twice his size.

"Sir, isn't it just about defending the city and fighting pirates? I'm not afraid of pirates."

"Even a coward like Missing Tooth got chosen. I could kill him with one hand." The fat widow said, raising her arm, which was thicker than a normal person's calf. "If the pirates dare to come, I'll grab them one by one and kill them both at once."

"Fat widow, you can still squeeze another one down there, and fuck three of them to death at once." Someone made this ridiculous joke, and the crowd burst into laughter.

The fat widow looked in the direction from which the voice had come and found that it was the thug she had just mentioned, Miss Tooth, who was mocking her for "killing" her husband.

The fat widow, her anger rising, pointed at the thug and said, "Missing Tooth, you bastard, do you want me to knock a few more of your front teeth out?"

An even louder burst of laughter erupted from the crowd.

The one-armed sheriff, his face ashen, ignored the fat widow.

He glanced at the bald, toothless thugs mixed in with the recruitment team, too lazy to clear them out. He decided to let these scoundrels and the evil young master go to their deaths, thus eliminating these scumbags.

After several rounds of searching, only less than fifty of the seventy or eighty islanders who had applied had survived.

"Young Master Roger, that's about it. The rest are all relatively strong, and about ten of them have followed the Baron on the island to fight, so they are stronger than ordinary farmers."

"Please take your pick and choose again. Once you've chosen, take your men to the castle armory to select weapons," the one-armed sheriff said, turning to leave.

Roger quickly grabbed him, only to realize he had grabbed the empty sleeve of the man's shirt, so he quickly let go.

"Does young master Roger need any help?" The one-armed sheriff asked, somewhat displeased.

Roger didn't say anything, but took out a few silver pennies from his sleeve, pulled his other hand (which had lost its arm) into the pocket, and said, "Master Govin, you've worked hard. Take this money and buy the guys a beer."

The man with the severed arm raised his hand and glanced at the six silver coins in it, his gaze towards Roger becoming even more complex.

He wanted to say something more, but the words caught in his throat. He nodded his thanks and led the guards back to the castle.