I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 497 The Strange Snake Man
The snake people were fighting fiercely with the makon people in the town of Casarina, and the scene was very lively.

However, neither the players nor the others knew exactly how intense or lively the event was; they could only discern and guess from the gunfire carried by the wind.

The amount of gunpowder consumed tonight is almost equivalent to the amount of fireworks set off in a small 21st-century Chinese town during Chinese New Year.

During this process, many players in the camp couldn't resist heading towards the town to see what was going on, but every time they tried to leave the camp, the crawling sounds of the snake people would make them give up the idea.

The snake-men were still outside the camp; they didn't attack, but they didn't leave either.

The players found this very strange, but despite racking their brains, they couldn't figure out why the snake people were afraid of their two hundred men.

As dawn approached, and the gunfire in the direction of Casarina town thinned out, Buzabuwan finally couldn't take it anymore.

"A few people, go check out Casarina and see if the snake people have escaped..."

He stopped talking, turned his head and listened for a moment, then suddenly turned around and looked into the distance.

At the end of the road, a horse's hooves pounded the muddy surface, making a heavy, rapid "clattering" sound that broke the oppressive silence of dawn.

The knight on horseback crouched low, looking disheveled. His Macon Union uniform was tattered and stained with mud and dark red blood.

He had clearly overcome many obstacles, and his horse was panting heavily, foaming at its mouth and nose.

The players who weren't sleeping on the wooden walls of the camp immediately became alert. They stood up and aimed their muskets and crossbows at the newcomers.

"Stop! Who are you?!"

If you're unhappy, don't play; shout and ask loudly.

The knight struggled to raise his head, revealing a young face etched with weariness and terror.

He saw the camp, and a last glimmer of hope shone in his eyes as he shouted hoarsely with all his might.

"I am the governor's messenger! Open the door immediately! Urgent military news! Governor Almeida's orders!"

"I'm not happy, I'm not playing anymore." He looked around and saw that the nearby players all had indifferent expressions. After thinking for a moment, he said.

"Let him in, let us hear what he has to say!"

The camp gate opened a crack, and the messenger practically tumbled in with his horse, collapsing as soon as he landed.

His horse also let out a mournful cry, its front legs buckled and it collapsed to its knees, clearly exhausted.

The players ignored the messenger, but they cherished the horse immensely. Soon, someone went forward to lead the horse to rest and bandage its wounds, while the messenger was ignored by everyone.

After his horse was led away, the messenger struggled to his feet, panting heavily, his chest heaving, and several wounds on his body still bleeding.

He didn't care about anything else, he grabbed the arm of the person who was the most upset and didn't want to play around with the nearest one, his fingers were cold and hard, and his eyes were full of desperate pleading.

"An order... an order from the Governor!"

His voice was hoarse, and he could barely speak a complete sentence.

"Abandon the camp! All Bagnian mercenaries, immediately, right now, all of them... rush to the aid of Casarina town... the town is about to fall! Hurry!"

As soon as the command was given, the surrounding players immediately showed expressions of "just as expected".

After spending this time together, the player has come to understand what kind of person Governor Almeida is, and is naturally expecting the orders he is now sending through the messenger.

He was annoyed and stopped joking.

Abandon the camp that had been painstakingly fortified, and rush towards the town that was clearly about to become a slaughterhouse?

This is practically sending them to commit suicide!

Seeing the players' reactions, the messenger became even more anxious. Ignoring his injuries, he struggled to stand up, almost howling in pain.

"Please, go... There are not only soldiers in the town, but also thousands of civilians... women, children, and the elderly, they are all inside. If the snake people attack, everyone will die and be eaten!"

His voice was choked with sobs, and his eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears of fear.

"I charged all the way here... there were dead bodies everywhere... there were so many snake people, they weren't afraid of dying at all... we really can't hold on any longer!"

He clung tightly to the object of his frustration, his voice trembling yet unusually forceful.

“I know…I know that the Governor has mistreated you before, and I apologize on his behalf!”
But this is not the time to dwell on that. Those are nearly ten thousand lives! Warriors of Bagnia, I beg you, have mercy and save them!

After the messenger finished speaking, he seemed to have exhausted his last bit of strength. His body went limp and he was about to collapse again, but he still stared intently at BuShuangBuWan and the players around him with expectant and even pleading eyes.

The players continued to watch indifferently. A few were somewhat moved, but as soon as they spoke, someone pulled them aside and said a few words, after which they fell silent.

First of all, players haven't forgotten Governor Almeida's previous attitude. Do they really think they can be forgiven now that he's all talk and no action?
That player's face is far too cheap.

Secondly, since there are nearly 10,000 civilians in Casarina, including a large number of women, children and the elderly, the player has a question... With so many civilians, plus at least a thousand regular soldiers in the town, is it really impossible for them to defend a town?
If the Maconians can't hold the town, then how can the player's current group of about two hundred people possibly hold it?
The players were well aware of their limitations; they were not veteran players, lacked the stamina to run long distances while wearing heavy armor, and did not possess the combat skills to take on ten opponents at once.

The players in the camp were all newbies. The result of the battle at the docks had already shown them that without firearms and flamethrowers, they were no match for the snakemen in one-on-one close combat.

Regarding this matter, the player does not believe that Governor Almeida was unaware of it.

Since he knew that two hundred players couldn't play a decisive role, yet he still sent people to get the players to send troops, there was clearly only one purpose... He hoped that the two hundred mercenaries outside the city could launch an attack, attract the snake people's attention, and buy time for the town's defense.

In other words, the orders brought by the messenger are to send players to fill in the gaps and launch a suicidal charge.

Well, players have done this many times. They are newbies in this game, but in other games, they are veteran adventurers, great lords, and great heroes.

The fact that the players here are weaker in combat does not mean that they lack experience.

Therefore, they are not actually opposed to filling the pit with their own bodies and making voluntary sacrifices.

However... there is a premise here: is Governor Almeida worth the player's willingness to sacrifice for him?

The answer is no.

As for the so-called nearly ten thousand civilians in the town, the elderly, weak, women and children of the Makon people waiting for their lives... what does that have to do with me?
Who created this dangerous situation?
Anyway, I'm not a player.

Therefore, when Xin used the aforementioned things to try to morally blackmail the players, he did not gain much sympathy except for a cold laugh.

If we had known today, why bother in the beginning?
Unhappy and unwilling to play, she gently pulled away from the messenger's cold and forceful hand.

His face was devoid of its previous mockery and sarcasm, replaced by a cold calm.

"Someone, take the messenger away and give him some medical treatment... don't let him bleed to death."

The player stepped forward, but the messenger forcefully waved his arm, refusing to leave. He turned his head once again to look at the unhappy player, his face resolute.

"Captain, what is your decision?"

"Should we stay here and get involved with the snake people?"

"what?"

The messenger's eyes widened. "When I arrived near your camp, I saw no signs of fighting, no corpses, and no blood. What are you involved in here?"

“Our presence here has entangled many snake people.”

"I'm not happy, I'm not playing anymore," he said coldly.

"The direction from which the snake people came is right in front of the camp. If they want to get to the town of Casarina, they have to pass through here. As long as the camp is still there and we are still alive, the snake people will have to take a detour."

Conversely, if we all die, or abandon the camp, the snake people will have no trouble advancing on the town of Casarina.

"But……"

"No buts, that's it."

"I'm not happy, I don't want to play, I don't want to listen anymore," he waved his hand.

"Guards, take the messenger away and treat him!"

No matter how much the messenger struggled, he was still forcibly dragged away by the player.

After the messenger's visit, Bushangbuwan had given up the idea of ​​sending someone to Casarina town to take a look.

The reason is simple: despite the messenger's serious tone, judging from the gradually subsiding gunfire on Casarina's side, it seems the snake people are slowing down their offensive.

Without the messenger's arrival, he would have been unhappy and doubted the fighting strength of the Maconians, but the former statement made him realize that the fall of Casarina was still a long way off.

So the players aren't in a hurry; they continue to wait and start preparing for the day.

The sky is big and the earth is big, and eating is the biggest thing.

After dinner, the players, who had nothing to do, continued to reinforce the camp under the leadership of the player who was unhappy and refused to play.

Because there were snake people nearby, the players couldn't stray too far. So, they carried hoes and dug trenches outside the camp. The excavated soil could be used to reinforce and raise the wooden walls.

During this civil engineering project, players on the watchtower could occasionally see unusual movements behind the distant trees and bushes.

At this moment, the sentry would raise his flintlock pistol and fire a shot at the suspicious spot.

When firing a smoothbore musket at a target within 100 meters, the impact point can be barely controlled. However, once it exceeds 200 meters, even a flintlock musket made by Bagnia is basically inaccurate. After firing, where the lead bullet will fly is entirely up to luck.

Therefore, although the gunfire from the watchtower never stopped, the players digging the pit below never saw them hit anything.

If the shooting is repeated too many times, people will protest loudly.

"Get down here. You've fired enough shots. It's my turn to go up and fire a few shots!"

He ignored the fact that he was unhappy and was busy repairing the land with other players, his backside sticking out.

The afternoon sun slanted across the campsite, casting long shadows of the players as they busied themselves.

The digging of trenches, the reinforcement of wooden walls, the aimless firing of guns from the watchtowers—everything seemed... a tense and somewhat eerie daily routine.

Just then, the player on the watchtower suddenly stopped firing aimlessly and abruptly raised his binoculars to look at the dirt road leading to the dock.

"Holy crap, someone's coming... a lot of people!"

The sentry shouted.

All the players outside the camp immediately stopped what they were doing, grabbed their weapons warily, and looked in that direction.

At the end of the dirt road, a group of stumbling, disheveled figures appeared.

Most of them were dressed in rags, covered in blood and grime. There were men, women, and children, their faces filled with fear and exhaustion. They were supporting each other and running desperately toward the camp.

They were civilians, numbering nearly a hundred!

"Did they escape from the docks?"

Unhappy, he threw down the shovel, turned around, and climbed up a wooden ladder to the wooden wall.

The refugees saw the camp and, as if seeing their saviors, ran even faster; some even cried out in excitement.

The camp gate opened a crack, and the players cautiously let them in.

As soon as the refugees entered the camp, most of them collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, and gulped down the water from the water bags handed to them by the players.

"What happened? How's the dock?"

"I'm not happy, I won't play," he asked, grabbing a middle-aged man who seemed a little calmer.

The man had a bloody mark on his face, his eyes were still filled with shock, and he spoke haltingly, panting heavily.

"It's gone... the dock area... almost gone, the snake people... the snake people are crawling up from the sea, there are too many... we can't hold them off..."

"Where are the governor's soldiers? And the sailors who were conscripted?"

"They're still fighting... in the last two streets..."

Another, slightly younger refugee chimed in, still clutching a longsword with a chipped blade.

"It was all thanks to the Pomeranian ships and cannons. If it weren't for their artillery support that held back the monsters coming from the other side of the sea, the dock would have been completely destroyed long ago!"

"Then how did you escape?"

"We can't hold on... we really can't hold on..."

The middle-aged man shook his head, his face full of despair.

"The snake-men crawl everywhere, killing anyone they see. We fought our way out of a narrow alley; many others couldn't get out and got trapped..."

He paused, a hint of lingering fear and confusion on his face.

“We originally wanted to run to the town of Casarina, thinking it would be safer there, but when we got close, we found that there were also many snake people surrounding the town. They didn’t attack, they just wandered around and caught anyone who tried to escape.”

"And then we saw this..."

Another woman pointed in the direction of the camp and said with lingering fear.

"There seem to be very few snake people outside this forest, only a handful here and there. When they saw that there were many of us, they actually avoided us... so we... so we quickly ran over..."

Are snake people extremely rare?
This news simultaneously stirred the hearts of BuShuangBuWan and the players around him!
When the messenger arrived earlier, there were signs of many snake people appearing outside, but now these fleeing civilians say there are very few snake people around the camp.

Did some of them escape?

Many players instinctively turned their attention to "If you're not happy, don't play," who scratched his head, understanding what the others meant.

"Let's draw lots. Draw twenty... no, draw fifty people. Take a flamethrower and go to the dock to check out the situation. Remember to come back at night."

(End of this chapter)