Chapter Thirty-One: Night Raid

Guan Jinpan was briefly shocked, but he did not take this so-called member of the Austrian royal family to heart. After all, Austria was a name he had never even heard of, and he assumed they could not be stronger than the Dutch; in the past, Chenla had defeated the Dutch. Although that was merely a small detachment of Dutch troops, through long-term propaganda, it had been transformed into a glorious victory where the Chenla army slaughtered tens of thousands of red-haired devils, the remainder trampled each other to death, countless fell into the sea, and the Western barbarians subsequently submitted a memorial pleading for surrender, offering tribute as vassals. In the eyes of the people of Chenla, the Great Qing, Vietnam, and Siam were the strongest nations in the world, followed by the English and the French; apart from these five, Chenla believed it had no rivals in the world.

However, out of respect for the gold bars provided, Guan Jinpan still spoke the truth. "Our sovereign, His Majesty Ang Chan, is not in the country. As for trade between our two nations, as long as you abide by our laws and pay the required taxes, there will be no issues. Your Excellency Ambrosius, if you wish to inspect the military might of Chenla, I can arrange it for you."

Guan Jinpan then glanced at the foreign monks nearby and said, "The Vietnamese sovereign loathes Western missionaries, so you had best look after yourselves. Do not run about the streets unnecessarily; my men will arrange an inn for you."

Ambrosius had wanted to push further to see if he could meet the so-called princess, but he recalled Franz’s warning not to be too hasty, so he decided to exercise patience. After all, he was nominally here as a military observer, not to woo women. He was only concerned about the priests, but these brothers-in-arms were not as manic as one might expect; instead, they purchased a batch of local clothing to disguise themselves as locals as much as possible. A missionary named Pacini told Ambrosius, "We men are not even afraid of death, so how could we fear waiting? It is you, Archduke, who can risk your life to come here with us—you are truly a noble soul." Ambrosius felt a twinge of shame, wondering what Father Pacini would think if he knew he had only come here to chase women.

They hired over twenty coolies at the pier to help move their luggage. Upon arriving at the inn, they found it barely habitable; although spacious, it had only four watchmen and a dozen laborers, and the official in charge of the inn had long since vanished. Yet, when their heavy luggage hit the floor, the eyes of the watchmen seemed to brighten for a moment before they lapsed back into a half-dreaming, half-waking state.

At night, exhausted from the long journey, everyone fell into a deep sleep. Outside the courtyard wall, a grappling hook was thrown up and caught the edge. A figure climbed over the wall and headed straight for the rear door bolt. The bolt was pulled, and over a dozen black-clad, masked men with gleaming sabers filed in. Under the direction of a leader, they split up, seemingly intending to wipe out everyone in the inn.

The first black-clad man kicked open a side door, but before he could shout his opening line, he was blown away by a high-powered rifle shot. In truth, not everyone was asleep. Two officers, one for the first half of the night and one for the second, were on duty with four men each. This was partly out of professional habit—they had not let their guard down even on the ship—partly because the strange looks from the locals were unsettling, and primarily because their main duty was to protect Archduke Ambrosius. The shadow climbing the wall had been spotted immediately, and the entire team had entered a state of combat readiness. With the first gunshot, the room lights went on, and dozens of rifles fired in succession, leaving the black-clad men in disarray under the glare of the lights and the hail of bullets.

The battle ended in a very short time; the gunfire ceased, and the wailing followed suit. Of the fifteen black-clad men, all but one who had flattened himself on the ground to escape death were killed by bullets. The rune-covered Friar Satter dragged the lucky survivor up and threw him into the room. The man had not yet recovered from the battle; his body trembled incessantly, and the smell of urine emanated from his lower half. The officer on night duty slapped him, instantly knocking out two of his teeth.

"Who are you people? Why did you do this?" The black-clad man remained silent, and the officer raised his hand again.

"Officer Le An sent us."

"Who is Le An?" the officer continued to ask.

"..." The man stammered. Another slap followed.

"He is the Vietnamese commander in charge of the pier. He took a liking to your cargo and sent us to seize it, and while at it, to cut off your heads to take to Hue to claim credit." The man was named Yun Sheng, merely a low-ranking official of Chenla who had helped the commander out of fear of the Vietnamese. Had he known it would cost his brothers their lives, he would never have taken the job. The two slaps had already cost him half his life, so he spilled everything he knew.

Father Pacini asked, "So, child, who are you?" Yun Sheng realized the man was a foreign monk, and compared to the ferocious-looking men around him, this monk seemed much easier to talk to. He immediately grasped at the straw, saying, "Master Priest, this humble one is named Yun Sheng, just a ninth-rank military official of Chenla. Please have mercy and let me go."

Father Pacini shook his head. "Child, only you can save yourself." Yun Sheng did not understand the monk's words, but the others around them understood the priest's intent, watching Yun Sheng with either helplessness or cold sneers. Thus, Yun Sheng was half-coerced into joining the church, and Father Pacini was so pleased he decided to open a bottle of red wine to celebrate. Soon, however, the Chenla soldiers arrived, and seeing the corpses everywhere, they could not help but feel embarrassed.

The leading officer looked at his dozens of men and gathered the courage to say, "How could you be so cruel and kill people at will?" Ambrosius, having killed for the first time, was just beginning to recover. Although his Chenla was not very good, he understood that the man was shifting the blame. "Did you not see that those men were armed? They broke into our residence at night; what did they intend to do?"

"You foreigner, you are cunning, thinking that with no witnesses left, this official dare not arrest you? Men, seize them!" However, the Chenla soldiers behind the officer, dressed in their uniforms, dared not move forward to make an arrest; instead, they were ready to flee. After all, these soldiers only had sabers and spears, while the men opposite them held firearms.

At this time, Chenla was very backward; if a battalion of soldiers had a few matchlocks, that was considered quite good. Even among the Vietnamese, the equipment rate for matchlocks was very low, and their primary weapons remained cold steel. Moreover, most of these matchlocks were crudely made, with the chance of injuring the enemy being almost the same as the chance of injuring oneself.

Father Pacini, well-versed in the Southeast Asian officialdom, spoke up again. "You must be the official troops of Chenla. We are guests of your Lord Guan Jinpan."

The Chenla officer immediately let out a long sigh of relief and put on a smiling face. "So you are guests of Lord Guan Jinpan. We will certainly investigate this matter thoroughly and see justice done for you all." He then ordered his men, "Clear away the bodies, and the rest of you, stand guard properly. If any more scoundrels disturb our honored guests' rest, I will hold you accountable."

...Inside the inn.

"They call themselves soldiers?" Ambrosius roared.

"Archduke Ambrosius, is this not good? As military observers, we are here first to learn advanced tactics and second to understand the strength of the opposition. Did the high command not send us here to prepare for the future establishment of a colony?" Another officer agreed, not considering the situation from economic or political perspectives, but simply believing that all major European powers had colonies, so the Austrian Empire should have its own. The surrounding Catholic priests felt the same, as preaching in a colony would be much easier than hiding and dodging as they were doing now.

Ambrosius sighed, marveling at how he had encountered this group of madmen; they wanted to establish a colony with only a few dozen people. He thought again of that brat in Vienna and cursed inwardly, "What happened to the princess I was promised!"