Bollards are eternal vagabonds. Even among the restless population of the Wasteland, they have a passion for long journeys. They are guided by the image of the alluring Flanders and the iron will of their leader, Martin. The wandering knights never linger in one place for a long time - having told the latest news to those they consider worthy, having sold the parts and valuables obtained during the campaigns, they move on. Will the search for them ever come to an end? It is hard to say.
There are all sorts of people in Martin's army who get there in a variety of ways. The bollards are far from righteous, but if you prove to them that you are a good fighter, you will always find a place by the campfire and in the column on the march. Martin remembers each of his colleagues in person. Remembers how and why they ended up shoulder to shoulder.
The latest raid brought more than just new weapons and parts. The Knechte army was replenished with an unusual fighter - a real warrior, a girl who fights better than many. Occasionally Martin came across books of the old world about knights and dragons, and the story was pretty darn similar to one of those.
The bollards moved along their route and reached the destroyed settlement. It all happened quite recently. Burns from the fires were still flying in the air. The leader of the Knights Riders ordered the main part of the column to stop and shut off the engines, and he himself went on reconnaissance with a small forward patrol. Silence, wind in the ruins of houses, corpses in the streets. Not a single living soul. Whoever did it has already managed to leave. Martin was not worried about this, because the new world is cruel, and this is its essence. The Knechte leader had already decided to order to move on when he heard a quiet cry. Interested, the knight moved forward, guided by the sound.
She was kneeling by two small mounds. She had to dig rocky ground with a crumbling shovel and her own hands. And now she was sobbing, her head on her chest, her face hidden by long, jet-black hair. Hearing the steps of the leader of the bollards, the girl shuddered, turned sharply and burned him with a look full of hatred. Her hands were clumsily gripping a homemade sword, the point of which she pointed directly at Martin's chest. Determination to go all the way was read in my eyes. The Knight Rider always appreciated such people, because he himself was one of them.
- Do you know who did it? - Martin asked without looking away.
In response, the girl just nodded. As it turned out later, she was very laconic. Briefly, the girl told the whole banal story about the village, her parents, raiders and death. Her expression did not change when Martin asked if she wanted to take revenge on her offenders. The same expression remained on her face when the bollards broke into the raider base a few weeks later and staged a massacre there.
Local bandits turned out to be much smarter than their fellow raiders from the Valley and the surrounding area. They came across one of the abandoned military bunkers, where they were rewarded with a whole bunch of weapons, equipment and ammunition. The bandits were lucky to find unique machines that could work miracles by today's standards. For the surrounding villages, a black stripe began: they were imposed a tribute, and later they were completely declared their property. The bandits called themselves no less than new feudal lords - and for this Martin dealt with them with special pleasure. In his ears were the stories of the Avenger about the right of the first wedding night, the crucified and tortured rebels, about everything that the self-proclaimed feudal lords did in their "domain".
Martin saw the smile on the girl's face for the first time when they were returning to the Valley to trade and tell about the sad fate of the bandits. The avenger herself volunteered to be the standard-bearer. But only the red signal flag that she unfurled above her head was made of white linen soaked in the blood of her family's killers.
The Knight Rider was pleased: with the fact that he helped to carry out justice; the fact that his squad was replenished with an excellent fighter; and the fact that the raid promised a good gain from trade with the locals.
After all, where else can the bollards find machine guns, plasma emitters, shotguns and invisible enemy detection modules? Grinning, Martin ordered in honor of such an event to apply new symbols to the machines of the bollards - golden lilies on a blue background, flowers symbolizing the first sprouts of justice in the Wasteland.