The son of the God-Emperor in Warhammer Fantasy

"Is this a dog hole? No, it's bigger than a dog hole," Estel said, leading Ryan to a corner of the village wall. Several mercenaries were already there, including Wilt, the deputy leader of the Blood Axe Mercenary Group, and Banda, still with his arm in a sling. Both nodded to Ryan, Wilt acknowledging his strength, and Banda grateful for saving his life.

Mercenaries often leaned towards chaos, valuing loyalty over rules.

In the corner of the wall, a large hole had been dug under the foundation, with bricks and soil scattered, creating a tunnel big enough for two people to crawl through.

"We can't find enough material to fill it, and if something can chew through the foundation, anything we use won't hold," Wilt said worriedly.

"Also, we found this," Estel led them outside the wall to a pile of foul-smelling feces.

"A large creature?" Ryan asked curiously.

"Probably. From the size and shape, it seems to be from a large animal," Wilt, an experienced mercenary, assessed.

"Assign two people to keep watch here tonight," Ryan suggested, looking at the vast forest extending to the mountain slope. Sending people into the forest to find this beast was like feeding it fresh meat.

"Also, I saw a flash of light about 500 meters into the forest. I suspect there are mountain bandits," Estel whispered to Ryan.

"Are you sure?" Ryan asked, recalling Captain Lauritz's mention of bandits near Hothalain Mountain.

Estel's dark vision was reliable, so if he saw light, it was likely true.

"I'll go check it out myself," Ryan decided. The best way to deal with bandits was to eliminate them.

In winter, Nord's days were short. They had arrived at the village around 4:30 PM, and it wasn't even 6 PM yet. Ryan returned to the central building, seeing Rost directing his men to reinforce it. "Block that gap with those planks, nail them down, then cover with canvas!" he ordered.

Seeing Ryan, Rost laughed. "You're early, Mr. Ryan. We're still setting up the stove and boiling water. It'll be a while before dinner. Feel free to look around or chat with Oliver and the others. The heavy lifting is for the lads. Also, Mr. Bilger is back; you might want to hear his findings."

"I'm going out to scout. I'll be back soon," Ryan said casually, turning to find the sorceress right behind him. "What's up, Teresa? It's cold outside, stay inside."

"I'm not some pampered princess. Ryan, are you going to scout alone? Have you forgotten we're teammates? Or are you saying we're not even friends?" Teresa's silver eyes flashed dangerously. Ryan believed one wrong answer would earn him her wrath.

"Let's check our assigned spot first," Ryan suggested, seeing many people eager to watch the drama unfold. He spread his hands, showing he meant no harm.

As the strongest and most prestigious members of the group, Ryan and Teresa were given a small house close to the central building. The house had a one-room layout, with Teresa choosing the inner room, leaving the living room for Ryan.

"Well, this hole isn't too big, and it shouldn't be too drafty at night. Not bad, right?" Ryan joked, noting the haphazardly nailed boards and wrapped canvas covering a hole in the wall. For the night, it was a decent shelter.

"What's going on? Why are you going out to scout? Leave that to the mercenaries. Why you?" Teresa asked, opening her room door, where she had already laid out carpets and camel hair blankets.

"I offered to go. Thought I'd see if there's any game to hunt. It's cold, and I want to stretch my legs and maybe get some meat," Ryan explained.

"Men are always restless. My father…" Teresa started, then realized she was saying too much. "Fine, go ahead. I'll wait here. I won't join the group dinner."

About ten minutes later, Ryan was walking alone in the dark forest. The snow had just stopped, but the sky was still overcast. The tree trunks were mostly wider than a person's embrace, with heavy snow bending branches and covering the ground, masking Ryan's footsteps.

Ryan pondered Teresa's words.

Teresa had a father, of course. There were no all-female nations or magical rivers to ensure pregnancy here. Teresa's mother, Aurora, was once an imperial noble who eloped with a man, giving up her title. She joined the Garon Council and settled in Skyhold due to her power.

But it was odd. Ryan had met Aurora, a wise and talented woman. The man who won her heart wouldn't be a smooth-talking wastrel or thug. Reality wasn't a web novel where useless protagonists easily charmed aristocratic ladies. So Teresa's father had to be someone capable.

Teresa, 27, didn't mention her father often, yet her expression didn't show hatred or shame.

Ryan couldn't figure it out. Aurora didn't seem abandoned or anything.

"Forget it. Why am I even curious?" Unable to piece it together with so little information, Ryan decided to drop it. He carefully moved through the forest, aware he wasn't a wood elf and couldn't move stealthily here, so he had to be cautious.

There was a joke: "Knights don't fear dying gloriously but dread dying dishonorably."

What weapon kills the most knights?

Not swords, arrows, or magic.

Pitchforks.

This common farmer's tool was deadly. Many knights, after a life of battles, died ignominiously by pitchforks, especially since they often carried dung, leading to fatal infections. Countless knights met their end this way.

Ryan had extraordinary physique, immune to ordinary weapons. However, as noted, even legendary beings aren't invincible against regular foes. Caution was still paramount.

Ryan moved towards the direction Estel indicated. Normally, this should be Estel's job, but Ryan wanted to try his luck.

He soon found the bandits.

About eighty paces away, under a large tree, a group of people with torches stood. Their clothes were tattered and patched, armor ill-fitting, and weapons varied. Their messy hair and beards were the only consistent feature.

"Boss! This caravan has too many people. We're only twenty-something; we can't take them," a braided bandit said.

"Yeah, boss, I saw several fully armored knights!" another added.

"Damn, but we haven't had any decent loot lately. Soon it'll be snowed in. If we don't score big, how will we celebrate Winterveil?" The bandit leader, holding a scimitar, thought for a moment. "Noah, you and a few men stay here. At midnight, find a chance when they're lax and signal with smoke. We'll rush in through the secret path and catch them off guard, grab the loot, and run."

"Got it, boss!" a sub-leader nodded. The bandit leader looked longingly at the camp below. If the caravan were smaller, he would have already attacked.

Winterveil was approaching. A big score was needed to enjoy the festival, right?

"Damn, these bloodsuckers, those imperial and Marienburg scum. They steal our wealth, our goods. Everything in Nord belongs to Nord! Remember, guys, this isn't robbery; it's justice! We can't let these bastards take what's ours!" the bandit leader ranted. "To hell with those merchant scum, making easy money while we starve. Kill them all, Nord forever!"

"Boss is right!"

"We've had enough of them!"

"There will be bread, there will be milk."

"Score big, and have a good Winterveil!"

The bandits shouted, and most left with the leader. They seemed to know secret paths, moving silently.

Noah and four bandits remained by the tree, where a makeshift watchtower monitored the village below.

Ryan deduced the abandoned village had secret tunnels dug by the bandits, making it a trap for travelers. If the prey was strong, the bandits pretended nothing happened. If weak, they ambushed and killed, stealing their goods in the name of "protecting Nord's wealth."

Such hypocrisy.

What to do?

Ryan thought quickly and came up with a plan.

Noah and his men were warming by a small fire. "Who messed up the fire? Get it right!" Noah scolded.

"Not me!" the bandits denied.

"Dammit, be careful! What if we're discovered? There are knights below…"

"Talking about knights?" A ghostly voice startled them. Holding a large warhammer, clad in chainmail, a handsome man stepped from the shadows. "I am Ryan, the White Wolf Knight, 'Big Hammer' of Nord! Son of Lord Norman of Autner. What are you doing here?"

The man's imposing figure and the knight's emblem on his chest shone in the firelight, a white wolf head exuding pressure.

"Who are you!" Noah instinctively raised his sword, blustering, "Drop… drop your weapon and hand over your valuables!"

"Hmph!" Ryan grabbed the sword and crushed it into a ball of metal, tossing it aside. "Here's your valuable. Come take it!"

The bandits were terrified. Their bravado vanished. Noah led them in kneeling. "No offense, Sir Knight. We're just hunters from a village!"

"Lies!" Ryan punched a tree, shattering its trunk. Splinters and snow flew, scaring the bandits into kowtowing

. "We were wrong! Sir, we're desperate villagers, forced to rob! It's the boss's idea, not ours!"

Just as I thought, Ryan realized. These bandits were desperate villagers, cruel to travelers but terrified of knights.

This fear was ingrained, not dispelled by tough talk or weapons. A show of force shattered their will.

"Take me to your leader, now!"

"Yes, sir!"