Mount & Blade: Rebuilding Rome from Mercenaries

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Tankred stood beside the magnificent carriage, suppressing the murderous intent surging in his chest, and slammed his hand heavily on the carved wooden door.

His chainmail was splattered with dried blood, and there were even some bits of flesh left on his helmet. The bonus from [Hercules] and the stacked +11 Constitution, combined with his height of nearly six and a half Roman feet (1.9 meters), made him look exactly like a demon returned from hell.

The carriage was deathly silent, as if the people inside had long since vanished into thin air.

"Mr. Isaac, come out! I know you're in the car!"

The mercenaries stopped what they were doing and all turned to look at him. Bashir chuckled as he straightened up from the pile of corpses, and Henry and his guards gathered around, their eyes filled with anger and anticipation.

Finally, the car door creaked open. Isaac's round face with a thick beard peeked out, his forehead beaded with cold sweat, his silk robe soaked through.

"Oh, Commander Tancred! It's truly... truly God's blessing! Those damned heretical pirates dared to attack the Earl's caravan! Fortunately, your valiant mercenary group was there... I, I'll go and inventory the goods right away, and I'll definitely put in a good word for you with the Earl afterwards, so you can get a generous reward!"

Isaac forced a smile, trying to once again raise the banner of Count Richard.

Tankred sneered, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him out of the carriage like a chicken.

Isaac was thrown into the air by his immense force, then stumbled and fell to the ground. His knees scraped against the gravel, and he groaned in pain.

The mercenaries whistled and burst into low, mocking laughter. Perhaps it was the mutual repulsion among kindred spirits, but Bashir particularly loathed this Jewish merchant, even applauding him in a sarcastic tone at his pitiful state.

"Ouch, our 'righteous' Mr. Isaac, how did he fall like a fat chicken that fell out of its nest? Sir, you'd better hold him down well, this guy is very slippery, last time in the cave he almost ran away!"

"Let me go! Tancred, what do you mean by this?! I am the Earl's honored guest, and a friend of the cardinals! If you dare to lay a finger on me, they will never forgive you!" Isaac's round face turned red as he tried to brush the dust off with his sleeve to maintain the last bit of dignity.

Tancred looked down at him, his gray-blue eyes devoid of any warmth.

He crouched down, his right hand gripping Isaac's chin like an iron clamp, forcing him to lift his head:

"Distinguished guest? Ha, Mr. Isaac, you still have such a silver tongue! What did you say in the bandit's cave last time? 'Forgive the debt'? I felt something was off then. How could a Jewish moneylender suddenly be so merciful? Now it seems you're not only a lender, but also a spy and traitor on the side!"

"What nonsense are you spouting? I am Isaac ben Kesef, a righteous man of the bishops of Rome! What do I have to do with those pirates? They are Saracen heretics, and the Lord will punish them!"

"Stop pretending!" Old John finally couldn't hold back any longer and stepped forward, kicking Isaac in the waist. "That pirate captain had a map on him that recorded the caravan's route in such detail. Who else could have such a detailed record? Also, that night, we heard you and that pirate captain sneaking around in the woods. How do you plan to deny it now?"

Isaac finally broke down. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his head, his voice trembling with sobs: "Spare me! Spare me, Commander Tancred! It was Robert Giscard, he forced me to do this! He said he wanted those crossbows, I was just a messenger! He hired those pirates too, I swear, I didn't harm you! Didn't I let you go in the cave last time?"

"Traitor!" "Judas!" The onlookers were furious. If it weren't for the mercenaries maintaining order, Isaac might have been torn apart by the crowd.

"Don't worry, Mr. Isaac, I won't kill you today." Tancred's smile was somewhat amused.

Isaac was taken aback, then a glimmer of hope flashed in his eyes: "Oh God! Merciful Commander Tancred, I knew you weren't the impulsive type! You want to keep me here so I can work for you, right?"

"I have some influence with the Papacy, the Lombards, and many Norman lords. Release me; I still have a use for you!"

"Release you?" Tancred laughed heartily. "No, no, no, Mr. Isaac, how could a mere mercenary captain like me dare employ someone as capable as you? I will offer you to Count Richard of Aversa, after all, he is the true owner of this shipment. Trust me, the Count will surely provide you with a good home. Speaking of which, how do we Normans deal with traitors again? The gallows? Burned at the stake?"

"No, none of those!"

Tancred answered his own question as he lowered his head and calmly looked into Isaac's eyes:

"Mr. Isaac, have you heard of the 'Bloodhawk'?"

"I've heard that during the Blood Eagle ritual, the ribs on both sides of the condemned person's back are broken and separated, then spread out on their back like a bleeding eagle. Most importantly, the condemned person must survive the entire process. How about it, Mr. Isaac, would you like to try?"

"No! No! Sir, please!"

Isaac's face turned completely pale. He knelt down with a thud, grabbed Tancred's leg, and pleaded with snot and tears streaming down his face:

"Five hundred gold coins! No, one thousand! Two thousand! All of it! Let me go, I swear I'll never bother you again! I was wrong, I was wrong, please!!"

"A thousand gold coins? Our Mr. Isaac really knows he was wrong?" Tancred kicked him away and sneered, "No, Mr. Isaac, you don't just know you were wrong, you know you're going to die!"

"Old John, tie him up and stuff him in the carriage. Make sure he doesn't die. Once we get back to Aversa, take him directly to the Earl's castle!"

Old John grinned maliciously as he stepped forward, and together with two mercenaries, bound him tightly with ropes and stuffed him into the carriage.

Mercenaries surrounded him and spat at him, while some civilians even threw mud at his face, vividly demonstrating the "simple" folk customs of the Middle Ages.

"Ding! You have captured and exposed the traitor in public, increasing the team's cohesion and sense of identity. Leadership +3 (10→13), Personal Experience +3, Current Level Lv6 (50/500), Available Attribute Points 2"

The system notification put Tankred in a great mood. He clapped his hands and shouted:

"Alright, that's enough of the excitement, everyone can go home!"

"Bashir, how's the inventory of the spoils coming along? Hurry up, we still have a long way to go!"

Bashir familiarly handed over a piece of parchment, excitedly reporting to his superior:

"I've already tallied it up, sir. There's too much stuff; I'll only mention the valuable items!"

"First are five sets of chainmail. Although they are patched up like beggar's robes, the iron rings are still sturdy and can be repaired and reused. Each set is worth at least 15 silver coins. There are twenty pieces of ordinary cloth armor and fifteen pieces of leather armor. Although they are also somewhat tattered, the rags that are taken off can be stuffed into the lining of the armor as padding, and the remaining leather from each piece of leather armor can be exchanged for 2 copper coins."

"Then there are four iron helmets and one leather cover, all with nose guards, which are good for protection against arrows. We can keep them for ourselves, or they'll be worth 8 silver coins a set if we sell them. As for the rest of the hoods and headscarves that we've taken off, they're not worth much. We might as well take the fabric off and use it for something else."

"Oh, and the weapons! Twenty-seven scimitars, with perfect curves, clearly of Eastern origin. Most of the blades are quite sharp; with a good sharpening, each one could fetch three silver coins. As for the thirty-five round shields, they all have willow frames and leather surfaces, lightweight, durable, and well-made; each one is worth two silver coins! As for the remaining broken spears, they were all modified from stolen farm tools; if there's not enough room, you can throw them away."

"We also found over two hundred copper coins, thirty-seven silver coins, and five tari gold coins in their belts. These pirates were quite powerful!"

As Bashir reported, he had the recruits pack the money into sacks. It was the first time the recruits had ever handled so much real gold and silver. Although they were sweating profusely, they were extremely excited.

"Sir, these spoils are worth about 280 silver coins in total. After deducting the cost of repairing and maintaining the weapons during the battle, we've netted 220 silver coins! If we add the Earl's 50 gold coin commission fee, we've really struck it rich this time!"

Sure enough, in the Middle Ages, you still had to make money from war!

Tancred took the list and nodded in satisfaction.

"Well done, Bashir! Distribute the usable armor among the new recruits. When we return to Avelsa, each member of the mercenary group will receive a bonus of 10 silver coins, and you and Old John will receive an additional 5 silver coins. As for the caravan guards, as long as they choose to join our mercenary group again, each will receive 15 silver coins as a subsidy for participation and new joining!"

"Long live!"

"God bless!"

"loyalty!"

The mercenaries cheered excitedly upon hearing this.

While passion and a sense of belonging can certainly enhance team cohesion, Tankred knows that the most important thing is to be willing to spend money.

There is no love without a reason, no hate without a reason, and no loyalty without a reason.

For most ordinary mercenaries, the root cause of betrayal is simply that they weren't paid enough.

Of course, they still have to make empty promises!

Let them keep their spirits up and get back to Aversa safely!