I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 494 Falling out
There were only about four or five streets in total, with taverns, houses, and warehouses mixed together, and almost every street was filled with similar noise.

Looking for a quiet, secluded corner bar?

This seems like a luxury, because there are no real "corners" here; every place that can be a shop is crowded with sailors seeking pleasure.

There aren't many buildings in the dock area, and the area isn't large either, only about four or five streets in total. Taverns, houses, and warehouses are mixed together, which makes the streets run in a completely irregular pattern.

After wandering around for half an hour, I was reluctant to play several times, but the tavern girls' invitations made me want to go in and see what it was like.

But he always restrained himself before he truly fell in love.

He hadn't forgotten why he'd been banished here, and if he lost control and caused trouble, things would get really bad... Most importantly, he didn't know how much the tavern girls charged.

If you're unhappy and don't play, all you'll have in your pocket is Bagnian silver coins. And this is Macon territory. If you touch or look at something but don't have the money to pay, it won't be something that can be solved with just embarrassment.

Just as he stopped again, feeling annoyed and unwilling to play, a woman with captivating eyes and a graceful figure at the entrance of a tavern called "Mermaid's Tears" stirred his heart. He was torn between the thought, "Just going in for a drink and seeing if it's okay?"...

Uh...

A deep, long, yet distinctly broken and hoarse horn sound suddenly came from the direction of the harbor entrance, instantly drowning out all the noise on the dock.

Immediately following were two weak, feeble cannon shots, as if the enemy were struggling to survive.

This is a special ceremony for warships returning to port; however, these two cannon shots now carry an indescribable sense of desolation and warning.

The dock fell silent for a moment as all the pleasure-seeking sailors, the girls soliciting customers, and the busy workers instinctively turned to look at the sea.

Suddenly jolted awake, his earlier romantic thoughts vanished instantly at this unexpected turn of events. He followed the gazes of the crowd.

On the distant horizon, several blurry black figures could be seen moving slowly and laboriously toward the port.

As they drew closer, the horrific sight caused everyone on the dock to gasp in shock, followed by incredulous gasps and uproar.

Judging from the paint scheme and flags on the ship, it is a warship of the Macon Union stationed on Casarina Island.

The sailors all remember that when they set off, the fleet consisted of a heavy frigate, four cruisers, ten escort ships, and several communications ships. The fleet was quite large, with bright flags, clean hulls, and an air of authority befitting a naval force.

However, at this moment, those who have returned...

Unhappy and unwilling to play, he quickly climbed onto the lighthouse on the pier, raised his binoculars, and looked out to sea.

Through the telescope, the once towering mainmast of the leading heavy warship was broken in half, with only a tattered sail hanging down like a shroud, covering the battered deck.

Its hull was riddled with huge holes, as if torn apart by some terrifying force. One of the gun ports was even completely ripped off, revealing the dark and chaotic gun turret inside.

Near the waterline, dark red, not yet fully congealed blood slowly flowed down the hull, leaving a strange pale red trail on the sea surface.

The two escort ships following behind it were in an even worse situation.

One of the ships had its foremast completely gone, its bow smashed to pieces, and its superstructure charred black, still emitting wisps of black smoke. It sailed erratically, barely holding on by sheer inertia.

The other ship fared even worse. Its entire starboard side appeared to have been corroded by some kind of strong acid. Large areas of the planks had turned black and brittle, and in some places, the twisted keel structure was even exposed. Seawater kept pouring in through the breach, causing the ship to list severely and almost capsize at any moment. It was only thanks to the two ships in front of it being towed by ropes that it barely managed to stay afloat.

There were no other warships in sight. The Allied Fleet that Almeida had mentioned was now reduced to these three barely functioning wrecks, like ghost ships that had crawled back from the brink of hell.

A deathly silence enveloped the dock.

The previous clamor and joy were crushed by this cruel reality. The sailors' drunkenness turned into fear and paleness, and the girls also stopped smiling and covered their mouths in terror.

"Hermes' mercy... That's the Sea Lion, it's almost broken!"

"What's going on?! What happened?!"

"Is it a storm? It doesn't seem like it..."

"Look at that wound, what made that?!"

People were talking about it in fear.

The lighthouse's disgruntled heart sank suddenly.

He examined the breaches more closely than the ordinary sailors. The wounds didn't look like they were caused by cannon fire; they looked more like the bites and scratches of some giant creature, mixed with strange signs of corrosion.

The serpent man's sea python?
They also have the ability to attack large warships, which is really infuriating!
The three battered warships finally approached the dock. Just then, the most severely damaged frigate could no longer hold on. Under the watchful eyes of countless people, it let out a sickening sound of wood breaking, and the hull suddenly capsized to the right, quickly being swallowed by the murky seawater.

A chorus of screams and cries erupted on the dock, and several small boats were hastily launched to rescue the crew members who had fallen into the water... if there were any survivors.

……

Given this major event, Governor Almeida convened an emergency operational meeting almost that very evening, summoning all the island's military commanders.

As the captain of the Bagnian mercenaries, he should theoretically be invited even if he was unhappy and didn't want to play, but in reality, no one notified him.

So, I don't know what they discussed in the meeting; I only know that they had a meeting but didn't notify me.

The meaning couldn't be clearer.

Whether out of distrust of mercenaries, inherent arrogance, or the belief that these "redeemers" were merely cannon fodder rather than true decision-makers, the leadership of the Macon Alliance clearly had no intention of involving them in core military deployments.

Perhaps in their view, these mercenaries only need to know when and where to charge into battle; they don't need to know anything about the strategic aspects.

Alright, if you're unhappy, you won't play. Now it's clear that everything that governor told me before was just empty promises.

Since that's the case, don't blame us for working with the attitude of laborers.

The governor's messenger arrived at the player camp outside the town on the morning of the second day, when the sky was just beginning to lighten.

The messenger's face was as grim as the sky, revealing his undisguised exhaustion and anxiety.

"Not happy, so I won't play as captain?"

The messenger peered out of the tent, his tone carrying a hint of uncertain respect.

"The Governor requests your immediate visit to the Governor's Mansion to discuss urgent military matters."

Stepping out of the military tent, the sullen and unsatisfied player, who had just logged in and was yawning, raised an eyebrow.

Oh? You've remembered us now?
He deliberately took his time to tidy up his equipment before following the messenger leisurely toward the governor's mansion.

Stepping into the Governor's Mansion hall again, the atmosphere was different from the first time I came; the servants inside were visibly more flustered.

Unhappy Doesn't Play encountered the NPC in a large hall. Governor Almeida seemed to have aged ten years overnight, with heavy bags under his eyes, bloodshot eyes, and an undisguised look of distress and fear on his face. Upon seeing Unhappy Doesn't Play enter, he rushed forward almost impatiently, neglecting any pleasantries or formalities.

"I'm not happy, so I won't play, Captain. You've finally arrived..."

Almeida's voice was dry and hoarse.

"You probably already know something about the fleet's situation. Our fleet... suffered an unprecedented and terrible attack, resulting in extremely heavy losses."

He waved his hand, seemingly unwilling to describe the nightmare in detail, and cut straight to the point.

"The sea routes are still open, but due to the war between the country and Retalia, we can't count on reinforcements from the Alliance in the short term, and the situation on the island..."

He swallowed hard and said with difficulty.

"Our original mobile clearing force was almost completely wiped out due to the loss of the fleet. Now, we have almost lost all the ability to launch proactive attacks."

He looked up at Buzabuwan with an almost pleading gaze; the composure he had displayed when making grand promises had vanished.

"Now, the only mobile force on the island that still maintains its complete structure and has sufficient combat experience is you Bagnians."

Finally, the true colors were revealed. He sneered inwardly, but feigned a serious expression.

"What does the Governor mean?"

"We need intelligence! We desperately need it!"

Governor Almeida emphasized this with great emotion.

"We don't know how many snake people there are in the forest, where their lair is, or what their next move is!"
Especially... especially after the fleet was attacked, will they take the opportunity to launch an even larger-scale attack?

We know nothing about this; passively defending will only lead to our demise!

He took a deep breath and stated his ultimate goal.

"Therefore, in the name of Governor Casarina, I implore Your Excellency to lead your troops deep into the island to investigate the movements and movements of the snake people. This is currently the only way to break the deadlock and buy us time to deploy our defenses!"

He spoke in a grand and dignified manner, but his core message was only one thing.

The most dangerous reconnaissance missions, which are almost suicidal, can now only be done by you mercenaries, because we've already wiped out our own men.

Unhappy and unwilling to play remained silent for a moment, not answering immediately. His gaze swept over the other silent officers in the hall; they were either looking down at the ground or their eyes darting around, none daring to meet his eyes.

Ha, just as expected, cannon fodder is used to fill the gaps.

He quickly made a decision in his mind.

This mission is extremely dangerous. The forest is the home ground of the snake people, and players who are unfamiliar with the terrain are easily ambushed or even wiped out.

It doesn't matter, players aren't afraid of risks, but...

"Your Excellency the Governor."

"I'm not happy, so I won't play," he said slowly, his tone calm.

“My brothers are here to fight, not to die. You should know very well what it means to go deep into the jungle to scout when the enemy situation is unclear.”

Almeida nodded.

“I know very well, so…”

"I reject!"

"kindness!?"

Almeida was completely stunned, her mouth slightly agape.

He had anticipated that the other party would haggle, impose harsh conditions, and perhaps even hesitate, but he never expected such a decisive and clean rejection. Weren't these mercenaries hired to fight?

How dare they refuse orders?
He had originally thought that he had completely controlled the young mercenary captain by virtue of the governor's authority and the promises he had made before, and that the man should be like his officers, obeying orders even if he was dissatisfied.

Ignoring the shock on his face, Bushuangbuwan remained calm, even with a hint of sarcasm.

"Idiot, you seem to have a few things wrong."

First, we are mercenaries sent by the Kingdom of Bagnia. Our mission is to help the Macon Alliance fight the snake people, and we successfully completed this mission in the recent battle at the docks.

Second, we are indeed fighting for money, but... where the hell is your money?
Third, you haven't said a word about the current situation... Never mind, that's it. We're not going to our deaths anyway!

After saying that, he didn't give Almeida a chance to react or defend herself. He turned around decisively and strode out of the hall without the slightest hesitation, leaving behind the astonished faces of everyone in the hall.

Unhappy and unwilling to play, he returned to the mercenary camp outside the town of Casarina as quickly as possible.

The camp is not large, and can accommodate a thousand people. So, for the players who now only have about two hundred left, it is still quite empty.

Add to that the players' laid-back nature, and when they're unhappy and want to leave, there are only a few scattered figures in the camp; at least half of them have disappeared to play somewhere else.

The first thing I did upon returning to camp after a bad day was to have others notify everyone else to come back quickly.

Whether it's calling back via communication software or striking an alarm bell, it's all acceptable.

After doing all that, Bushuangbuwan quickly walked through the somewhat deserted camp and headed straight for the simple warehouse at the back of the camp, which was built of logs and waterproof canvas.

He knew that his confidence in negotiating came not only from the players' immortality, but also from the tangible resources and equipment he possessed. He needed to figure out exactly how many cards he had up his sleeve.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the warehouse was filled with the mixed smells of dry wood, gunpowder, and leather.

Several oil lamps were lit one by one, their dim light illuminating the neatly stacked supplies.

Unhappy and unwilling to play, he stayed in the warehouse for more than an hour, roughly taking stock of his own supplies.

First, there was the food. Bags of grain, flour, dried beans, and dried salted meat filled almost half the warehouse, with several barrels of pickled vegetables and hard biscuits next to them. He roughly estimated... well, enough to last about a month.
enough.

Next up are weapons and equipment.

The armory next to it was well stocked with gunpowder, as well as three hundred flintlock muskets, a large number of matchlock muskets, more than ten small cannons, two hundred sets of leather and chainmail armor, and a number of cold weapons, enough for one for each person.

enough.

(End of this chapter)