Munitions Empire Chapter 4: 4 Who isn't a smart person?

"Deal!" After a brief pause, Wes nodded, accepting Tang Mo's negotiation terms, "But... during the journey, should bandits or other dangers arise, I won't promise your protection."

"I'm grown up now." Tang Mo didn't rely on this fellow for safeguarding in dire straits; trust between them was still too shallow.

Truth be told, Tang Mo worried more that this burly fellow might plot to murder and plunder him en route, so while eyeing him steadily, he added, "I'll take my own companions."

"Truth is, I had two goals in coming here," Wes replied indifferently, "First, to broker a partnership between Lord Earl and yourself."

"The second goal..." He prolonged his words, gazing at Tang Mo, "I find you intriguing too. What do you say? Fancy hiring a capable mercenary like me?"

"Aren't you working for Count Fisheo?" Tang Mo sidestepped the hook, arching his brows slightly as he peered into the man's eyes and countered.

"Not at all, sir, I'm a free agent!" Wes gestured innocently, "Count Fisheo pays me in gold, so I handle tasks for him. But after meeting you, I see great promise in you. Offer me gold, and I'll gladly pledge my allegiance."

"Your loyalty comes awfully cheap," Tang Mo scoffed mockingly.

"Perhaps so," Wes cocked his head casually, "yet once paid, my loyalty is guaranteed."

"Time will tell. Should Count Fisheo genuinely want my weapons, rewarding you would be fitting." Tang Mo stayed neutral, avoiding any firm yes or no to Wes's proposal.

"No rush, Lord Tang Mo," Wes dipped his head in a bow, spun around, and headed out, "I'll go tend to my horse... The poor thing's been galloping all night..."

That evening, after barely three hours of rest, Tang Mo rapped on Roger's door. The fellow, who bore a slight uncle-like resemblance to Tang Mo, was rising from his bed right then.

"Northern Ridge?" Roger's eyes widened in mild shock upon locking gazes with Tang Mo, then he cautioned, "The kingdom's north spans wide with few inhabitants, and its paths are treacherous."

"I've studied the map. Iron, coal, copper mines abound there, plus other ores—most supplies we purchased come from those parts... Teaming up with Count Fisheo will sweep away all obstacles." Tang Mo stroked the Left-Wheel Handgun on his hip, brimming with faith in his innovative firearm.

"Fine then, old timer, count me in for the journey!" Roger mulled it over briefly before declaring, "When do we depart?"

"Toward tonight," Tang Mo fingered the Left-Wheel Handgun at his side, telling Roger, "We must make haste, or the workers will starve."

"Off we go!" Without delay, Old Roger rummaged for his garb. Realizing the carriage needed readying, Tang Mo headed to the stables for Wes.

The trio's lineup stayed simple: Wes served as driver, handling the carriage reins. Tang Mo and Roger rode within, preserving their strength.

Owing to the press of time, Tang Mo couldn't craft a fancy case and instead whipped up a plain wooden one for the meticulously made K1 Quick Gun prototype.

As he boarded, Tang Mo spotted the flintlock pistol on Wes's belt and a longsword opposite it—prime gear for a lone wandering ranger, suggesting Wes possessed solid prowess.

"Night travel? Unexpected. Frankly, from here to Northern Ridge, past that Vicious Forest stretch, nocturnal roads prove tough going."

Wes ignited the gas lanterns on either side of the carriage, cautioning the older man and the youth as they readied to climb aboard, "Those bandits scorn honor, gripped by dire poverty—they'll plunder whatever they spot."

"Better hope we arrive at Northern Ridge unharmed," Tang Mo glanced up at Wes perched on the driver's seat, "Or your twenty percent vanishes."

With those words, he hoisted himself aboard, Roger trailing behind to shut the door. A grin crossed Wes's features as he shrugged off the warning nonchalantly. Then, with a hearty yell and a crack of the reins, he urged the pair of swift horses into a dash down the endless road ahead.

The carriage departed the town during supper hour, hurtling northward beneath the dying rays of the sun. The uneven road made it bounce gently over the ruts and hollows.

Tang Mo entered the carriage and immediately drifted off to sleep; he'd been traveling nonstop for days and needed rest to regain his strength.

Spanning the central and northern regions of the Leite Kingdom up to Northern Ridge, the Vicious Forest teemed with life thanks to its intricate terrain and immense woodlands. The minerals in Northern Ridge drew the Suthers Kingdom's ambition to seize it via warfare, shifting their border with the Leite Kingdom to the edge of the Vicious Forest.

Few paths cut through this forest, and misfortune often struck travelers upon them. Bandits hiding in the vicinity regularly preyed on those passing by, so merchant groups usually banded together for the crossing.

Tang Mo's group couldn't afford to linger for other caravans to gather before entering the forest, with over a hundred souls at the workshop awaiting his triumphant return.

Soon, as the sun sank completely from view, the Vicious Forest appeared like a colossal beast with jaws wide open at the road's end.

Merchant trains lined the roadside, pitching camps there. Unwilling to brave the forest in darkness, they halted at its border, kindled fires for the night, and planned to set off as one at dawn.

A carriage aglow with twin gas lamps sped by these camps along the path, and as it eased its speed, Wes cracked the whip once more, the sharp snap echoing loudly.

His gaze, not especially keen, locked straight ahead. The gas lamps lit up just ten meters of the road before them. In these times, nighttime journeys carried great peril from all sorts of threats.

The path narrowed further, forcing even Wes to reduce the carriage's speed. He rapped twice on the carriage side, and only after the little window under his seat slid open did he call out, "The road ahead is rough; we've slowed down! There might be danger, stay alert."

"What a nice moon tonight," came Tang Mo's voice from within, fresh from his nap. The jolting of the prior three or four hours had refreshed him somewhat.

Onward pressed the carriage, its dual gas lamps standing out boldly in the shadowy woods. Meanwhile, from a elevated vantage, a pair of eyes tracked the darting lights weaving through the trees, flickering in and out of sight.

As the proverb notes, mountains look near but take time to reach; what appeared close demanded a full half-hour to draw near.

Upon the jagged hillside path, a stout figure leaped up, drew back his bow with an arrow notched, and took aim at the carriage driver.

At the reins, Wes suddenly sensed a chilling shiver grip him. His battle-hardened instincts, forged from years of peril, spurred him to yank back on the horses instinctively.

"Clang!" A sturdy arrow slammed into the carriage's flank, its fletching quivering wildly.

Firing at a speeding carriage was a gamble hinging on fortune, for few archers these days trained enough to strike a mark at a hundred paces like some legendary Robin Hood.

Bandits favored bows and arrows since guns were scarce, and even if obtained, deep in the remote woods, they'd lack ammo production or spare parts for upkeep—thus, the reliable bow prevailed.

Yet, dampness and shoddy care dulled these weapons' precision. Striking something as big as a carriage marked their utmost skill.

A massive downed tree barred the road ahead, halting the carriage despite Wes's efforts. Blocking paths in the woods was simple—just fell a tree by the wayside.

Dropping from the driver's seat, he warned Tang Mo and old Roger inside, "Bandits! Don't come out; it's too dark to see how many there are."

"Swoosh!" A second arrow sliced the air, burying into the carriage door. Peering through the grimy window at a good vantage, Tang Mo scanned outside, "Can't see the target, but there are at least two people."

The initial shot angled from the front, the next straight from the left—spots too distant for one lone attacker to cover.

The gas lamps revealed merely ten meters into the gloom, while foes lurked unseen in the enveloping black.

Yet Tang Mo realized that switching off the lights would only worsen their position. The foes, familiar with the landscape and seasoned in nighttime battles, would gain the edge; he and old Roger lacked that familiarity.

Thus, he instructed old Roger behind him, "Take out the gun for the Earl too, load it with ammunition... keep an eye on Wes..."

His distrust of Wes lingered, so his initial reaction was to arm Roger for combat while monitoring this nearby newcomer.

Having grabbed the Quick Gun K1 from old Roger and set it in a convenient position, Tang Mo meticulously unlatched the carriage door and slowly nudged it open.

Maneuvering the Quick Gun K1, which stretched over one meter, inside the cramped carriage was no simple task. Tang Mo avoided flinging the door fully wide, lest Roger forfeit the shelter of the door, and he couldn't handle it all alone within.

Hence, he thrust just the rifle barrel out through the door's narrow opening, set to hoist it to his shoulder and sight down it. Truthfully, whipping out his handgun might appear wiser in this pinch, yet as his concealed trump card, he had no plans to expose it to Wes barring utter desperation.