How a Second Life Knight Lives

17. The bandits are just a distraction.

If someone is shouting orders or giving directions with gestures during a battle, they should be dealt with first. They might be a senior soldier, a non-commissioned officer, or maybe even an officer.

If it’s not an army but bandits, it’s even clearer. There’s no way bandits have a systematic command line, so the guy shouting over there must be the leader or the deputy leader.

Judging by his much larger build and properly fitted leather clothes, he wasn’t just a random bandit.

Even the weapon he was holding was a large axe.

It looked perfect for chopping wood.

“Jukob! Do you recognize that guy?”

“He’s a notorious guy. He’s the leader of the bandit group settled at the end of the salt road. His name is Alan, he’s very strong and good with an axe. I’ve seen him a few times. During the last trip, he wasn’t satisfied with the toll and attacked us for plunder. The damage was quite severe then, but this time he’s met his match.”

“That raid that caused severe damage was his doing?”

“Yes. That’s right. There’s still a long way to go before the end of the salt road, but he came on an expedition thinking he could catch us off guard. He’s a foolish guy. What kind of power can a bandit from the mountains wield here? In the mountains, he could rampage because it was his territory, but here on this unfamiliar plain, he’s just an ordinary thief. That’s why you shouldn’t leave your territory.”

I couldn’t understand.

The guy yelling in front of me looked decent and seemed quite skilled, but that was all.

Compared to the people I had faced, like the bandit knight Kaal who set up a checkpoint by the river or the salt merchant Bram who established a base in Kalmar, he was definitely a notch or two below in every aspect.

But this guy inflicted massive damage on the Powell caravan on a long-distance trade journey?

A caravan guarded by mercenaries several times more than themselves?

I can’t believe it.

The quickest way to resolve a question is to ask directly.

So I took out the iron club that was tucked beside the saddle.

If you strike with a sword, something gets cut and bleeds. When blood flows profusely, it’s not a good state for a conversation. They might die from shock.

But if you beat them with a club, they probably won’t die suddenly. Something might break, but a well-built guy like him wouldn’t die from a few broken bones, so I could beat him without worry.

That’s why I took out the prepared iron club.

It was about 1.5 meters long, hollowed out for sturdiness, and wrapped several times with tightly stretched cowhide on the handle.

I could guarantee that most people would have a lot to say after just one hit with this.

Is it a bit dangerous because it’s made of iron, not wood?

Well, it’s not like I’m the one getting hit anyway.

“Let’s start with a few hits.”

I dropped from the horse and swung the iron club at Alan’s torso without a moment’s hesitation.

Alan, seeing a black club instead of a sword coming down at him, hurriedly held out the axe handle horizontally to block the club.

He planned to block the club with the axe handle and then strike with the axe.

But the plan ended as just a plan.

The elastic and sturdy ash wood axe handle broke in a single blow.

The black iron club passed through the broken axe handle and struck Alan’s left shoulder.

*

Alan thought.

If it had been a sword, it would have surely cut through.

He was certain that his arm would have been severed and fallen to the ground, leaving him one-armed.

But would this current state be any different from becoming one-armed?

The shoulder that was hit by the iron club broke with a strange sound.

The sound of stepping on thin ice, or maybe the sound of stepping on sand?

It wasn’t the clear snap of a bone breaking, but the sound of bones turning to powder.

Alan let out a scream involuntarily due to the immense pain. He couldn’t believe that he, who hadn’t even let out a groan when he was half-dead from being whipped, was now screaming like a child.

Moreover, the problem wasn’t just the pain. His arm wouldn’t move. He had only been hit once, but his left arm was turning black and dying, and he couldn’t even wiggle a finger.

“If you leave it like that, your arm will be useless.”

The mercenary in front of him stated the obvious.

I know that without you telling me!

Alan screamed internally while barely managing to stand with the broken axe handle in his right hand.

There were only a few, but there were still subordinates who hadn’t run away and stayed by his side. He didn’t want to lose face in front of them.

But that was all he could do.

There seemed to be no answer.

The guy standing in front of him with an iron club was not someone he could handle.

At that moment, a rope came down.

“I’ll call a doctor. If you answer my question.”

Alan’s gaze turned to the iron club embedded in the ground. After a moment of conflict, he eventually gave up.

He dropped the broken axe to the ground.

“…What?”

“I heard that the bandits who attacked the last caravan were you guys. This isn’t all of you, is it?”

“I won’t answer.”

“I see. So this isn’t all of you. There are others besides you.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything!”

“Are you an idiot? Refusing to answer is a clear answer. Anyway, since you refused to answer, I won’t call a doctor as promised. Take care of yourself. And you will go to Kalmar with Ethan and spill everything you know. Including who is behind you.”

“Can you handle it if you know?”

“That’s for the high-ups in Kalmar to deal with. My job is done once I hand you over to Kalmar.”

“I won’t go.”

“What?”

“I won’t go to Kalmar.”

“What nonsense is this guy talking about?”

*

Traditionally, a beating was the cure for those who didn’t listen.

I grabbed the iron club that was embedded in the ground.

And then I knew.

Why did that bandit leader speak like that?

Support was coming for him.

Riders were approaching.

The vibrations felt through the iron club indicated that the scale was not small.

*

William wasn’t the only one who noticed the approaching group of riders.

“Huh? Boss, this is…”

“Damn it. They’re not the patrol guys. They look similar, but they’re different. Everyone, leave those bandits alone and get back to the wagons immediately! And is Mihau still dozing off in his wagon?”

Bartek, the mercenary captain in charge of this escort mission, shouted as he felt the vibrations caught by his keen senses.

As soon as his shout fell, the bugler of the mercenary unit began to blow the retreat signal. The assistant next to him struck the gong.

Beep~ Beep~ Gong~ Gong~ Beep~ Beep~ Gong~ Gong~

The mercenaries who were beating the bandits hurriedly gathered at the sudden assembly signal.

“I told you! I’m not dozing off, I’m meditating. To be precise, I’m replaying the battles I’ve experienced and imagining fighting against a virtual opponent. How many times do I have to explain this? I said it, but you still say I’m sleeping. If you say that, what will everyone think of me?”

A tall, slender mercenary appeared so stealthily that no one noticed when he arrived.

He started grumbling behind Bartek, the mercenary captain.

“Whether it’s imagination or whatever, you’re sitting with your eyes closed. So, you’re sleeping. Anyway, you get it, right?”

“The riders are coming. There are at least 30 of them.”

“Even you don’t think they’re the patrol guys, right?”

“It’s strange. I can’t be sure if they are or aren’t. But it seems certain that some of the patrol guys are mixed in. Captain Bartek.”

“Damn it. Could this be, that thing?”

“What thing? How would I know if you say it like that?”

“You know what I mean. Do I have to say it out loud that the patrol cavalry of the Salt Road is holding their swords upside down? It’s bad luck.”

“Well, I thought it might happen someday. That guy Patterson has a lot of sneaky sides. But they’re acting faster than the mercenary unit expected. Did they come out because of the news that the Count is getting engaged? Anyway, it seems like I’ll have a share this time.”

Mihau, the dual swordsman, had long and short swords hanging on his back and waist.

They were swords that had drunk the blood of many people.

Among them were several knights’ blood. Not just any self-proclaimed knights, but properly trained and knighted knights from noble families.

It was a situation where responsibility couldn’t be questioned as it happened during the execution of the mercenary unit’s commission, but they were important knights enough to earn the deep grudges of noble families. More than ten fingers’ worth of people came for revenge regardless of the justification.

But Mihau had overcome all those difficulties with these two swords.

He would have to do the same this time.

“But that guy is quite something.”

“He already has a track record. He’s caught several people who could easily look down on a half-baked knight. As someone who came down the line of Merchant Martin, his skills are trustworthy.”

“That’s not what I mean. That guy seems to have a knack for group combat too. Look at how he handles the bandits with the cavalry. Although the mercenaries under Zhukov are decent cavalry, they wouldn’t go out of their way to accommodate a novice. That guy shows signs of having been through some battles despite his age.”

“That’s fortunate. We need a lot of capable hands right now.”

At Mihau’s words, Bartek responded with relief and turned his gaze to the dust cloud that began to appear in the distance.

The Salt Road refers to the main road connecting the major cities of each territory.

It was originally expanded and maintained to transport salt, hence the name Salt Road, but now, contrary to its original purpose, all sorts of goods move along the Salt Road.

From the perspective of the territories the Salt Road passes through, it has become more important than before.

Therefore, the road is sometimes paved to allow carts to move quickly along it, and when a flood damages the road, it is quickly repaired.

In addition, each territory mobilizes about 10 to 30 mounted soldiers to patrol regularly and eliminate bandits.

Until the section where the continuous mountain range blocks the Salt Road, the Salt Road was a meticulously cared-for road.

It was rare for nearly 40 armed cavalry to gather on such a Salt Road.

As the dust approached, the figures of those riding horses began to become clear.

Some wore helmets that covered their entire faces, but most only partially covered their faces, making it easy to recognize those who could be recognized.

Among those riding horses, a few were definitely in Bartek’s memory.

“That’s right. They are soldiers under Baron Patterson.”

“They’re showing their faces openly? Is Baron Patterson crazy? It’s obvious he can’t silence everyone here, and he’s trying to plunder with his face exposed? Can he handle the aftermath?”