How to Live as a Wandering Knight

Johan turned his head. A vampire in expensive clothes was staggering to his feet, accompanied by a flustered servant.

Johan smiled in satisfaction. It was undoubtedly a noble from the Mulc family.

“As a prisoner, what are you doing now?”

“I’d rather end my life than be caught miserably!”

The vampire, still wounded, heroically declared while pointing a sword at his own throat. Johan and the mercenaries looked on in disbelief.

Why would nobles who know better act like this?

Caught nobles should quietly receive treatment and send an envoy from their family to negotiate a ransom. This was unheard of.

“. . .What should we do?”

The mercenaries asked Johan. If they were alone, they might have just killed the noble, but they couldn’t act recklessly in front of Johan. Especially since the captive was quite valuable.

“Yes.”

“The Mulc family can surely pay a ransom. Is there a need to take your own life?”

“I swore before the temple’s idol to make a name for myself. I won’t beg my family for a shameful ransom.”

‘𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶?’

Even now, several people from the Nusard family and others were captured in Johan’s fiefdom.

The republic’s envoys were insulted, and Johan could have executed them, but he chose mercy, waiting a bit longer.

Of course, that was just a pretext; the real intention was to collect a ransom later. . .

“Master, please calm down! Your wounds haven’t healed. You need to rest!”

As the servant pleaded urgently, Johan inwardly cheered him on. Such a loyal servant.

“Let go. Let me. . . go.”

“I can’t! Better to strike me down!”

The mercenaries watched the two argue with annoyance. If they were going to surrender, then do it; if not, then stop fussing, they thought, annoyed at the audaciousness of these pagan pirates.

‘𝘊𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘥𝘪𝘦?’

‘𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺’𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘺?’

The dispute between Ahir and the servant ended in the servant’s victory. Ahir, bloodied, couldn’t hold the sword for long and dropped it.

“Grab that vampire!”

“Gently! We can’t let him die!”

Seeing this, the mercenaries rushed in. They pushed aside the servant and restrained Ahir, who was barely able to stand.

“Count, he seems to be passing out. . .”

“Step aside. He needs treatment.”

Johan took out blessed water he received from Suetlg and applied it to Ahir’s wounds, which healed rapidly. Ahir’s servant pointed and ranted in astonishment. The mercenaries boasted.

“This is a miracle. Pagans, behold the miracle only our blessed count can perform.”

“Have you ever seen a miracle that heals wounds at a touch? Your false gods are nothing compared to this.”

“. . . . . .”

Johan had much to say but held back. The loyalty of the mercenaries was, after all, a good thing.

🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸

ᴀ𝕨𝙚ḃ̇𝔰𝕥𝐨ṙ̇𝙞𝙚𝕤.𝙘ȯ̇𝙢

Ahir’s attendants, who arrived late, were horrified to realize that the camp had been attacked while they were wandering around.

“Master! These scoundrels, how dare they!”

“How dare they what? Where do these pirates get off speaking like that?”

The mercenaries aimed their crossbows, indifferent to the opposition. They were superior in number, equipment, and condition. Plus, Ahir was here as well.

Knowing this, the attendants chose not to engage easily.

“I treated your master. By custom, his life is now in my hands. Lay down your weapons.”

“■■■! ■■■ ■■■!”

An excited knight rambled on in Eastern language, clearly cursing. Ahir’s servant spoke up.

“Let’s settle this with a duel. . .”

“Tell them to stop talking nonsense.”

The servant relayed the message. Other attendants also restrained the knight, knowing their disadvantage. They laid down their weapons.

A regained Ahir stumbled out. The mercenaries watched him closely to prevent any foul play.

“. . .Young knight, I am in your debt.”

“Not a knight, but a count. Show respect in the presence of Count Yeats.”

Ahir was surprised at Johan’s words. The count was much younger than he had thought. He showed respect once again.

“Please forgive my child’s rudeness.”

“?”

It seemed that the excited knight was Ahir’s son. Despite his excitement, the knight appeared to be of the same age or older than Johan. . .

‘𝘈𝘮 𝘐 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺?’

Johan, who had assumed Ahir was his age, felt awkward.

“Are you alright, master?”

“Count Yeats performed a miracle and healed my wounds.”

“Is that true?!”

“Believing in a solitary god and still performing such miracles. . .?”

Ahir and his attendants had heard rumors from the pirates’ camp. Rumors that Johan had healed diseases among the mercenaries with his hands.

They were skeptical when they heard the rumors, but seeing him heal wounds made them believe. Count Johan truly had the power to perform miracles.

“Do you still refuse to pay the ransom?”

“. . .No. I have been saved, and I will not act dishonorably. I will send an envoy to arrange for the ransom.”

Being captured meant Ahir’s life was now Johan’s. Ignoring that and dying would be dishonorable.

“■■■ ■■■, ■■■■ ■■. . .”

“■■■ ■■■ ■ ■■■■.”

“What are they babbling about?”

“They say we must find master’s horse.”

“The horse?”

According to the servant, Ahir’s horse had been kidnapped in the forest. Ahir’s children and attendants were wandering around to find it.

‘𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. . .’

Johan, not wanting to waste more time, seemed to be understood by Ahir, who then spoke.

“If you find my horse, I will gratefully gift it to you in honor of Count. Even if you can’t find it alive, I will pay its value. I ask this of you.”

“. . .Alright. I accept.”

Ahir’s attendants were grateful for Johan’s generous behavior. Despite being a pagan, the count seemed to understand honor. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have offered such an opportunity.

‘𝘑𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦.’

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