Mount & Blade: Rebuilding Rome from Mercenaries

The walls of Aversa were faintly visible in the morning mist, and the caravan, after several days of arduous journey, finally returned here.

"We're finally back!" Bashir wiped the dust off his face and shouted excitedly, "Sir, this time we're back with a full load of spoils! I know a few Lombard blacksmiths in town who can definitely get us a good price! We're finally not worried about money anymore!"

"Stop being so glib," Old John glanced at him speechlessly. "Let's hurry up and deal with that VIP in the carriage. That bastard screamed like a pig being slaughtered the whole way; I wanted to shove a rag up his mouth."

Tankred smiled but didn't reply; his gaze was already drawn to the scene at the city gate.

A group of fully armed knights had gathered at the city gate, their banners fluttering in the wind. As the procession approached the city gate, a middle-aged knight in ornate chainmail rode up to meet them.

He was in his early forties, with a neatly trimmed beard and gray hair peeking out from under his helmet, but his eyes were sharp as an eagle's. Behind the knight were more than ten guards, carrying swords and kite-shaped shields. Their shields were sky blue with three horizontally arranged eight-pointed stars and a silver crescent moon painted on them.

The Drego family crest!

The count actually sent so many knights to greet us at the city gate.

Tankred's heart tightened, and he subconsciously began to observe carefully. The buff from [initiating a conversation] allowed him to see something different.

"Commander Tancred de Contver? I am the chief squire of Count Richard Drogon, here to welcome your triumphant return on His Excellency's orders. His Excellency is aware of everything and will be waiting for you at the castle gate. Please follow me."

Tankred nodded slightly, signaling the group to follow. The mercenaries exchanged glances, while the recruits stared wide-eyed. These country bumpkins had never witnessed such a grand welcome from the Earl.

The procession passed through the city gate and proceeded along the main street. The streets were packed with onlookers. Tancred noticed several dried corpses hanging by the roadside, covered in disco, swaying gently in the breeze.

"They are all traitors who betrayed the Earl this time!" the captain of the guard explained to Tancredi.

The Earl's castle sits atop a hill in the city, with thick stone walls and towers.

At that moment, the castle gates opened, and Count Richard Drogon himself stood on the steps.

He looked to be under thirty, with a robust build, wearing a sky-blue cloak embroidered with the Drogon family crest, and the scabbard of the sword at his waist was inlaid with gemstones.

The count's eyes swept over the group, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Welcome back, Commander Tankred!" The Count's voice boomed like thunder as he strode down the steps, patting Tankred warmly on the shoulder. "I've heard of your heroic deeds. Those Saracen pirates dared to attack my caravan, and you not only protected the goods but also annihilated them! The glory of the Normans should be carried on by young men like you!"

"Your Excellency is too kind," Tancred said humbly, kneeling on one knee. "We were merely fulfilling our duty as mercenaries. Those pirates may be fierce, but we Normans are not those Lombard sissies. Why would we be afraid of them? Besides, it is thanks to you, your father, and your uncles that we Normans have a home in Southern Italy. Your Excellency, you should be the pride of us Normans!"

Richard's uncle, Reinuel, was one of the first Normans to conquer southern Italy and their initial leader. However, with the deaths of Reinuel and his brothers, leadership gradually fell into the hands of the Autel family.

Tancred, using his "Initiating Conversation" skill, keenly sensed the young count's pride in his family's glorious traditions and promptly went along with it.

"Good lad! Your words have struck a chord with me! The Normans came from Normandy, and southern Italy is the homeland my ancestors carved out with swords. Those foxes of the Autel family are thinking of taking it all away! Hmph, dream on! Come, follow me into the castle, and we'll have a good talk!"

Tancred followed the Earl up the steps, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a human head hanging from a tall pole beside the castle gate. The head was rotten beyond recognition, with many white maggots wriggling around it.

"See that?" The count noticed his gaze and whispered, "That's Marcus. I trusted him like a brother, but I never expected him to be bribed by Giscard."

It really does look a bit like a candied apple! Tancred thought to himself.

However, through the information obtained by his [Initiate Conversation] feat, Tancred suddenly felt a chill; he caught the complex emotions in the Count when he mentioned "Giscal".

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a subtle way. Although the count disliked Giscard, he seemed to have a sense of mutual respect and agreement.

"Your Excellency is wise," Tancred said, suppressing his doubts. "Giscal is ambitious, but you, my lord, are the backbone of the Normans. History will remember who truly protects the glory of the Normans. Just as Duke Rollo led the Vikings into France, we Normans should also recreate our glory in Italy."

"Hahaha, kid, your mouth is sharper than your axe!"

The castle hall was spacious, the fireplace crackling, and the walls adorned with prey heads and Norman shields. The Earl ordered his servants to serve wine and meat, Tancred sat down, and the Earl went straight to the point:

"Tankred, well done. These crossbows, which I bought from the Milanese craftsmen, are crucial for expanding my army. From now on, your Conteville mercenary group will no longer be a disorganized rabble; I'll employ you as my standing mercenaries! I'll pay you a fixed monthly salary of 15 silver coins each, with additional bonuses during wartime. You'll be stationed at my camp outside the city, and I'll take care of your weapons and provisions. How does that sound?"

Tankred was overjoyed; a standing mercenary force meant a stable income and a safety net! He immediately stood up to express his gratitude: "Thank you, Your Excellency! We will certainly live up to your expectations."

The count waved his hand, gesturing for him to sit down, and added, "That's not all. As a reward, I'll give you five crossbows. You can choose any from that shipment to equip your new recruits!"

Tancred was naturally very grateful, and seeing that the Earl was not in a good mood, he prepared to take his leave.

"Oh, by the way," the count suddenly smiled, "there's a banquet for the Norman lords in three days. It's at the castle in Mefino. The twelve lords will gather again to discuss matters in Southern Italy. Take your mercenaries with you, and come with me. According to Norman tradition, there will definitely be a jousting competition at the banquet, and your physique will surely shine."

"And, you must know 'Blood Axe' Ralf, right? He's now under Giscard's command and will be playing soon, so you'd better do your best!"

Tancred carefully searched through the original owner's memories and finally remembered who Ralph was—

That traitor who usurped the old Tank Red Mercenary Group!