How to Live as a Wandering Knight

𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫 (𝟏𝟏)

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One of the servants spoke in a dazed voice. The paladins did not immediately understand what he meant.

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“Taken care of? What do you mean?”

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As they looked ahead, an unbelievable sight caught their eyes. Johan, covered in blood, was holding the troll’s head in one hand, looking towards them.

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“. . . . . .”

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“. . . . . .”

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“God has trained my hands for battle and my fingers for war. . .”

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As one of the clerics absentmindedly recited a scripture, Valien raised her hand to stop her. Now was not the time for prayers, but for confirmation.

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It was hard to believe, but if what she saw was correct. . .

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The knight had indeed beheaded the troll after severing its arm. Or rather, upon closer inspection, the arm wasn’t cut off. It was oddly contoured for a severed limb.

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‘𝘛𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘧𝘧. . .?’

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Was it possible without fixing the troll and tearing it with a pulley?

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While the clerics exchanged bewildered looks, a servant spoke up.

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“We must collect its blood! Milord!”

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“Uh. . . Oh. Yes, do that.”

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The knights were not of a status to do such work directly, and the monks were not in a hurry for such tasks. It was the servants who actively engaged in such profit-making.

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Troll blood was popular among nobles as an alchemical ingredient with magical properties. Given the difficulty of capturing one, the price was justified.

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Moreover, Johan’s concern was the troll’s skin. Normally, fire was used when hunting trolls, often burning most of the skin. But this time, a good amount of unburnt skin remained.

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“Hurry up! Move it! Run! We need to collect that blood, it’s worth more than your life!”

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A senior servant scolded the slaves and set out to collect the blood. He poured out the water in his leather pouch onto the ground and hurriedly pressed it against the troll’s body.

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“It won’t come out well that way. You need to lift it and place it somewhere else to easily collect the blood.”

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The paladins with experience in troll hunting spoke up. The servant, perplexed, asked.

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“How do we prop it up?”

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“Usually, we prop it against a support, but in this case. . .”

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Johan, having roughly washed off the blood with water, stood up. He then grabbed the troll’s ankles and hoisted it onto his back.

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“S-Sir, this is not your job to do!”

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“It’s fine. This is better than several people struggling. Where should I place it?”

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“O-Over there, on that suitable rock. . .”

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The clerics looked at Johan in awe for taking the lead in what was usually a servant’s job. His humble demeanor, even after hunting a troll, was the epitome of an ideal cleric.

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Glory only to God!

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‘𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦.’

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The troll’s blood was repulsive and sticky. No matter its value, Johan did not wish to face it directly. He looked curiously at the torches the clerics were holding.

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“Is this the fire of St. Iena?”

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“Yes. Be careful not to touch it. It’s a fire that doesn’t extinguish easily.”

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Johan looked at the fire with curiosity. It certainly felt different from ordinary fire. Such a fire would undoubtedly be useful in hunting trolls.

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‘. . .𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘵.’

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“Sir Johan. Sir Johan.”

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“?”

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While trying to figure out how to make a torch, the elf knights called out from behind. Johan walked over with an unkind expression.

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The elf knight, Leon Dioré, who was hit hard by a troll, was dying with a pale face.

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“Sir, I don’t think I’ll live long.”

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“Hmm. I see.”

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Johan mixed a little of the blessed water he received from Suetlg into a glass of wine next to him. If it doesn’t work, he thought to add more, so he needed to save it.

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‘𝘈𝘩. 𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵. 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘺, 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺?’

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. . .Johan decided not to think about it. Leon Dioré, unaware of what Johan was doing, coughed and continued speaking.

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“I haven’t married or had children yet, so I want to pass on my sword, soul, and joy to. . .”

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“Just drink.”

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Johan, tired of dealing with these knight dastards, chugged the glass. Leon coughed and drank the wine.

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“The wine is good, but I have something to say right now. . .”

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“Take a breath. Do you feel better?”

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Without saying it, it was obvious. Leon’s complexion had visibly improved. Leon, who couldn’t breathe before, looked bewildered.

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“Thank Suetlg-nim. Without his help, you wouldn’t have survived.”

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“. . .!”

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Leon and the other knights around him looked moved. They were saddened to see a fellow knight dying, but now, a miracle!

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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐦!

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Two other elf knights hugged Johan tightly, expressing their gratitude.

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“Sir! I knew you were an honorable knight, but I didn’t know you were so compassionate and noble. Thank you again!”

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“I will definitely inform the Count and spread word of your noble actions!”

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‘𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘚𝘶𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘨-𝘯𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵.’

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After being generously treated by the knights and considering the benefits of having used the water. . .

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Seeing the effect of the life water right in front of his eyes, it was hard not to be greedy.

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“What are you waiting for? Praise Sir Johan! How can you stand still after seeing this? Are you blind?!”

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As the knight shouted, the subordinates quickly caught on and started praising. While Johan liked the praise, the problem was that they had deserted the battle. Johan spoke indifferently.

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“We should return to the main force soon. Can you walk?”

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“Of course. Just need to find my horse again. . .”

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With a hee-hawing sound, horses began to return to the encampment. Behind them was a giant wolf. Karamaf had rounded up the runaway horses. Johan smiled slyly.