Ever since Dracula led his men up the mountain and disappeared from Augustus's sight, Augustus longed to witness what transpired, but considering the danger hadn't passed, he stayed put to avoid burdening the Swiss Guard with additional defense.
Around Augustus, besides the Swiss Guard soldiers who had stayed by him from the beginning to protect him, there were also those who had been wounded in battle and withdrawn. Their numbers were few, their injuries not particularly severe, and most could even continue fighting; they had been forcibly withdrawn.
Looking at them, Augustus felt a pang of pity and said, "Alright, they've gone quite far. Wounded soldiers, get on the carriage and rest for a while. As soon as the battle there is over, we'll immediately send you to have your wounds treated."
"How can we? This is your carriage; how can we get on it?" a Swiss Guard soldier whose calf had been pierced exclaimed in astonishment.
"What carriage? It's just an ordinary carriage. Each and every one of you, I wouldn't trade you for ten better carriages from anyone else," Augustus said. Seeing them still standing there, looking at each other, he had to add, "If I tell you to get on, you get on. This is an order, hurry up."
Hearing this, the wounded soldiers helped each other and successively boarded the carriage.
After settling the wounded, Augustus first observed the bullet holes left by the crossbow bolts on the carriage and the marks left on the Swiss Guard soldiers' plate armor. Then, he collected the crossbow bolts scattered on the ground.
The Swiss Guard soldiers remaining around him also moved along, front, back, left, and right. Before long, Augustus had a handful of crossbow bolts.
Some of these crossbow bolts were covered in mud, some were deformed, and some were broken, yet they still exuded a terrifying aura. Launched by a heavy crossbow, if one were to hit an unarmored, unprepared person, it would truly be chilling to the bone.
More importantly, these crossbow bolts were too uniform. Neither their quantity nor their quality seemed like something ordinary mountain bandits could easily acquire; they looked more like standard issue equipment. But if the ambushers were regular soldiers or professional mercenaries in disguise, their combat effectiveness was simply too low.
Playing with the dozen or so crossbow bolts in his hand, Augustus already had a plan in mind…
"The captain and his men are back!"
A shout pulled Augustus's thoughts back to reality. Following the direction of the soldier's finger pointing at the hillside, he saw the Swiss Guard soldiers triumphantly returning across the mountains and plains. Compared to their initial unstoppable momentum, they now appeared visibly fatigued; after all, no one is made of iron.
Dracula could predict he wouldn't catch them, and Augustus also predicted it. With one side running with heavy loads and the other doing cross-country, a complete sweep was impossible.
Actually, it wasn't a big problem. Those who were wounded and couldn't run might still yield useful information, and those who ran might not be useful anyway. Besides, even if nothing could be extracted, with all the scattered equipment and so many clues, it wouldn't be impossible to trace.
Augustus spent a few minutes preparing a set of comforting words for the Swiss Guard soldiers, telling them they had done very well, that a few escapees didn't matter, and that he had ways to find out the mastermind.
Dracula was almost in front of him. Augustus straightened his back and chest, stepping forward to greet Dracula's triumphant return. Looking beside Dracula, he wondered, "Huh? Where did the Swiss Guard get cavalry?" Looking at their weapon loadout, these mounted men weren't the Swiss Guard either. Could they encounter friendly forces in this wilderness? Augustus found it quite absurd.
After Dracula saluted Augustus, he reported in full detail: "Your Holiness, all the attackers, except for those killed, have been captured and await your disposition. They are still behind, being escorted this way. There are nineteen in total, and the enemy leader is among them."
"Excellent! A clean sweep, impressive! I will reward you all when we return." The situation had changed, so Augustus's prepared speech was for naught, but Augustus was, of course, very happy. Capturing more people meant more clues. And they even captured the enemy leader; that clue was too important.
"This isn't entirely my credit. I had thought we definitely wouldn't catch them, but thanks to the help of our Tuscany friends."
Saying this, Dracula turned sideways, extended his right hand, and introduced them to Augustus: "They are the Tuscany patrol, who rushed here upon hearing the gunshots. After meeting us, they used the cavalry's mobility to help us encircle them, which allowed us to successfully capture all the enemies.
You were right, the Swiss Guard really needs to be equipped with horses. Otherwise, if we encountered such a situation again, we might very well return empty-handed. You truly have great foresight! I now fully support your decision!"
Listening to such praise, Augustus felt an indescribable sense of unease and could only chuckle a few times to cover his awkwardness.
The patrol captain dismounted, took off his hat, and saluted Augustus in the same manner as Dracula, then said, "My apologies, Your Holiness, for startling you. For such a thing to happen within Tuscany's territory is truly our dereliction of duty. Here, I once again express my sincere apologies to you."
What was there to apologize for? Augustus was a bit puzzled. In this era, it was perfectly normal for dozens or even hundreds of bandits to appear somewhere; no country could completely eradicate them.
Within his own Papal States, those fools had failed to suppress bandits and were instead suppressed by them; he still hadn't figured out what to do next. Honestly, if his own patrol had their efficiency, it wouldn't be so tricky.
Let's just consider it polite talk. When you don't understand the other party's situation, saying "I'm sorry" is definitely more appropriate than saying "You're welcome." Neither humble nor arrogant, it lowers one's stance while also asserting sovereignty.
"No need to apologize; it is I who should thank you for your help. The existence of such people is always unavoidable somewhere; this is not something you can solve, and you need not blame yourselves for it. Moreover, the other party clearly planned this for a long time; if they hadn't acted here, they certainly would have acted somewhere else.
They acted here, and not only am I unharmed, but I also successfully captured all of them; if they had acted somewhere else, I might already be with God now.
So, no matter what, I should thank you."
"No need for thanks. We just hope that if accountability comes from above, you would please put in a good word for us so that we can be spared punishment," the patrol captain said with a bitter smile.
"Are you so strict here? This is not your fault at all! You haven't done anything wrong. Dracula, bring me paper and a pen. I'll write a letter of thanks right now." Augustus feigned surprise and spoke up for them, while thinking to himself: I can learn from this!
The patrol captain initially thought the Pope was just being polite, and that Dracula would surely say something to provide an out and then drop the matter. Who knew that Dracula actually pulled out paper and a pen and handed them to the Pope, and then the Pope really started writing seriously? He was dumbfounded, and his favorable impression of the Pope soared.
Augustus wrote briefly, quickly finished, and then signed it. He read it once and felt so humble, as if someone had held a knife to his throat and forced him to write it. Never mind, this will do, as long as it's usable. So he handed the paper to the patrol captain.
"Alright. If anyone gives you trouble, just show them this."
"Thank you, Your Holiness!" The patrol captain took the paper with trembling hands and carefully put it away.