How to Live as a Wandering Knight

The serfs near the Viazo forest looked tense as they watched in the distance. The new Count was approaching with his escorts and attendants.

“Is that the Count over there?”

“What’s different about him compared to the Baron?”

“How foolish. . . He’s like the Baron’s master.”

“So, does the Baron go to his castle to carry stones?”

“Stop talking nonsense and scatter! Lest we get whipped for just standing here.”

Thankfully, the village chief dispersed the crowd. There was no good in gathering like this unless called upon by the nobility.

‘𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?’

The village chief squinted at Johan’s army. The chief, a position only the relatively wealthy could hold, was quite prestigious.

It was a position to deal with the nobility’s administrator and, in some cases, represent the serfs to make certain demands.

Despite being respected and relied upon by the townspeople, to those in real power, the village chief was insignificant.

The chief had hardly seen the nobility or their armies, except for a brief glimpse at the Baron’s castle. The mercenaries roaming near the town were all he had seen.

Even so, the chief could tell that the escorts leading Johan were impressive.

With sturdy horses and bodies covered in gleaming armor, their intimidating presence was evident. Behind them fluttered a flag with a sacred emblem, a stark contrast to the ragged mercenaries.

‘𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴.’

The village chief moved on, clicking his tongue. Whenever such a procession of nobles passed, young men, deluded, would follow, dreaming of success.

🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸

“That’s enough, Baron. No need for a banquet.”

“But. . .”

Johan gestured for him to step back. The Baron, wiping his sweat with a handkerchief, retreated.

Johan had hurried to seize a noble of the Mulc family quietly and quickly, but for the nearby Baron, it was a different story.

With the marquis dead and the pirates scattered, Johan’s authority soared. Not rushing out to greet Johan could later be seen as an offense, a risk not worth taking.

“Is there a capable huntsman to guide us through the forest?”

“I apologize. I’m not fond of hunting. . .”

The Baron bowed his head in shame. Nobility didn’t necessarily have to be knights, but not being knightly was not a matter of pride. Hunting was a way to showcase a knight’s honor.

“You don’t enjoy hunting? Wise indeed. The order will praise your piety.”

“. . . . . .”

If anyone could turn a word into gold, it was Johan. The Baron was moved by his unexpectedly kind words.

The order might not fancy hunting or duels, but it was rare for a noble to turn that into a compliment.

“Just a moment, please! I’ll have my servants prepare a meal.”

“No, it’s. . .”

The Baron, without waiting for a response, began giving orders. Johan thought to himself.

‘𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴.’

It’s really okay. . .

🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸

𝔞𝚠𝙚𝘣sṫ̇ȯ̇ʀ𝐢𝘦ṡ.𝙘𝕠ṁ

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous if there’s no guide in the hunting ground?”

“That’s true.”

Do not enter a forest you are unfamiliar with.

It was a rule among the mercenaries.

Entering an unknown forest without a guide was considered reckless.

‘𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦.’

“But we have Galambos here.”

“I-I am honored.”

Mercenary Galambos, formerly a ranger from the east, was at a loss when the focus suddenly turned to him.

The young knight was known to value skills regardless of status, which was something even the mercenaries admired, but it always made Galambos’ heart skip a beat.

“And Karamaf has good ears and nose to guide us.”

━𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥.

Seemingly understanding Johan’s words, Karamaf grinned happily.

And not just Galambos, but Johan himself was trained as a hunter. He could detect most traps in advance.

“There are no traps.”

“Are you sure there are none? Check properly!”

“If the count gets hurt, you’re heading to the gallows!”

“. . . . . .”

Chided by the mercenaries, Galambos checked again, but no new traps had appeared.

‘𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰.’

Achladda and Euclyia were excited to follow Johan on his hunt, but he did not allow it.

The two were too good at training the slave soldiers.

“I assure you on my honor as a former eastern ranger, there really are no traps.”

“After all, those hiding from human eyes wouldn’t have set traps at the entrance.”

“Exactly.”

At the mercenaries’ words, Galambos gritted his teeth. These country bumpkins who’d never even seen this mountain just kept yapping. . .

━𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥.

“Karamaf. Did you catch a scent? Good. Let’s follow.”

Karamaf was a natural hunter. He traced scents from invisible footprints and found the way.

As faint smoke and signs of an encampment started appearing in the distance, the mercenaries tensed up.

“Max. Lead a team of ten to the left. Henneke. Go right and check for ambushes.”

The mercenaries quickly dispersed around the encampment. No ambushes were in sight.

━𝐍𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.

“Good. Attack!”

With a shout, the mercenaries stormed in. It was a war cry to confuse the enemy within the camp.

However, no enemies were visible inside the encampment. Johan clicked his tongue at the silent scene.

“Did they leave for another place?”

“It looks too intact for that. The embers are still warm. . . Maybe they went hunting.”

For the runaways, food was a significant issue. Unable to buy or plunder from towns, hunting was their only option.

“There’s someone here!”

“!”

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