SML Ch 12

Chapter 12

Even the monsters beyond the horizon began to charge excitedly once they noticed something entertaining happening. They had no idea what was going on, yet their eyes sparkled as they ran—just like snot-nosed brats chasing after a traveling peddler in a countryside village.

The problem was, if those brats so much as swiped their claws once, even the strongest young men would be killed instantly.

Most of the monsters weren’t running particularly fast, but a few with exceptional mobility charged forward as if they intended to devour the humans on the spot. In the end, Reynald took out his crossbow. If he didn’t shoot those types from a distance, their escape speed might slow down.

“Damn it, my eyesight’s already bad enough from this farsightedness…!”

Grumbling in a way no one would take seriously, Reynald loaded his crossbow with bolts. Every time he fired, the skeletal wolves rushing in from afar dropped like flies.

It was baffling—what benefit could those wolves possibly gain by chasing after humans, considering they were just skeletons? Undead monsters did harbor intense hostility toward humans, but still…

Volant also fired his crossbow while running, but his accuracy left something to be desired. Out of five bolts, only two would land. It wasn’t that Volant was bad with a crossbow (hitting a fast-approaching monster while also running yourself required immense focus), but he was still struggling to hold them back effectively.

“Draw your swords! Quickly!”

Two wolf-type monsters that Volant failed to take down lunged at the young men with all their weight. Lyndon narrowly dodged one by throwing himself aside, and the others slashed at the approaching wolves’ necks with their swords.

They managed to avoid serious casualties for the moment, but that didn’t mean the situation was under control. More monsters were still charging at them, and in the time it took to deal with the wolf-types, the ones behind had closed the distance.

On top of that, as actual clashes with monsters began, the rest of the horde started growing more aggressive. Unlike earlier when they’d chased half-seriously, half-playfully, now their howls were becoming more and more frenzied. It wasn’t because they were furious over the deaths of their companions—these creatures weren’t exactly known for loyalty. They were simply excited that a fight had broken out.

‘This is bad. Things might get seriously dangerous…!’

How had these young men been collecting herbs all this time? Reynald gasped for breath as he thought this. Had they really been making this kind of ruckus every time they went out to gather mandragoras?!

With disbelief in his heart, Reynald glanced at the side profiles of the young men, only to confirm once again that every single one of them was treating the current chaos as if it were entirely normal. At this point, he couldn’t tell if they were fearless or just plain stupid.

“Don’t worry, Lord! Just a little farther to go!”

“What do you mean, ‘a little farther’? The castle is still a long way off!”

“Well, it’s not like we have to get there tonight…! Ah! Lyndon, watch out!”

Volant, who had been casually explaining things to Reynald, suddenly cried out in alarm. A lycansloth that had been trailing behind the group suddenly broke into a powerful sprint and hurled itself at Lyndon with its full weight.

Compared to the other patrolmen, the smaller-framed Lyndon was already exhausted just from all the running, and his movements were sluggish. At this rate, he might not dodge in time and could end up seriously hurt.

“Damn it!”

Reynald’s body reacted faster than his mind. He couldn’t swing his sword right away since he was still holding his crossbow, but he at least managed to intercept the lycansloth’s claws before they could strike the young man’s head.

Thanks to Reynald’s timely intervention, Lyndon merely tumbled across the ground a bit. Reynald, on the other hand, took the creature’s attack head-on. He managed to minimize the impact, but it wasn’t enough to avoid injury altogether.

“Ugh…!”

“Are you all right, my lord?!”

Blood spurted from Reynald’s left arm. The lycansloth was quickly slain by the other young men who rushed in belatedly, but Reynald’s arm had a nasty gash running along it.

Instead of focusing on the pain, Reynald first recalled the tetanus and rabies vaccines he had received months ago before heading out with the Red Dragon Subjugation Squad. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about infections—what a relief.

There was no way these ignorant youths, who didn’t even know how mandragoras were used, had gotten vaccinated. So it was better that he had taken the hit. Besides, wounds could always be healed with mandragoras anyway.

“This way, everyone!”

Volant, who had been leading the group ahead, hastily guided them somewhere. From the outside, it looked like a small cave, but once they went inside, the path stretched on much deeper than expected. It seemed these young men intended to use the cave to shake off the monsters.

“My lord, sit here! We’ll heal you right away!”

If they weren’t planning to return to the castle, they should’ve said so—Reynald grumbled internally. His head was spinning from the heat radiating from his wound.

“A-Are you all right? Please bear with it for a bit! I need to grind the mandragora first…!”

“I get it, I get it, just stop yelling! My head’s pounding.”

Grumbling, Reynald leaned his head against the cave wall. The injury itself wasn’t all that serious. It had bled a lot because the claw had raked along the surface, but neither muscle nor bone had been damaged.

The rising heat from the wound was a bit irritating, but he’d endured countless injuries of this sort during subjugation campaigns, so it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

What was bothersome was the fuss these young men were making. They were acting like he was on the verge of death, especially Volant, who was pacing nervously and whining despite his massive size. The only one who seemed even slightly calm was Lyndon, who was diligently grinding the mandragora to apply to Reynald’s wound.

“I’m sorry, my lord. I should have dodged better….”

“It’s fine. It’s not even that serious of an injury.”

Lyndon, having completely crushed the mandragora’s upper half (it was a little silly to talk about “upper” and “lower” halves when dealing with a root), gently pried open the wound on Reynald’s arm. It hurt quite a bit, but Reynald let him do it. If he didn’t, only the surface would heal, and the inner part of the wound wouldn’t close properly.

Volant carefully packed the mashed remains of the mandragora deep into the wound. Despite using only a small amount, the injury began to heal almost instantly. The burning heat disappeared, replaced by a tingling coolness. Less than a minute after applying the mandragora, Reynald’s wound looked as if it had never been there.

“What a waste.”

Reynald clicked his tongue. Sure, the wound had healed quickly because they used raw mandragora, but if they had diluted it into potion form, they could have treated the injury with only half the amount.

Of course, applying potion was less effective than using mashed root directly. It took at least 10 to 20 minutes to heal a wound with potion alone. Still, for a mere scratch, potion should have sufficed.

Reynald was about to lecture them not to waste such precious medicinal herbs in the future—but when he saw the young men gazing at him with bright, eager eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to speak. No, it’s not like he needed to meet their expectations or anything, but it felt wrong to scold them when they were staring at him so sincerely.

“Ahem, much better.”

“Thank goodness!”

“That’s such a relief, my lord!”

“Still, let’s stick to potions from now on. This kind of wound isn’t really that serious…”

The young men didn’t seem to be listening. They just kept repeating how relieved they were that their lord had recovered. Should he scold them anyway? Reynald considered it, but decided there was no point—they clearly wouldn’t take it to heart.

“So, what now? Are you planning to stay here for the night and return at sunrise?”

“We don’t necessarily have to. This cave connects to the castle’s basement. If we walk straight for twenty or thirty minutes, we’ll be back.”

“But if you’re tired, my lord, there’s no need to return right away. We can just light a fire and spend the night here.”

“That’s right, my lord! Spending the night here and returning in the morning sounds fun—like a little picnic!”

Were these young men even serious about collecting herbs? Reynald stared at them suspiciously, wondering if the whole thing was just an excuse to go on a field trip. They returned his stare with innocent eyes, and in the end, Reynald gave in to them.

“All right, do as you please. You brought sleeping bags or blankets, I hope…?”

“Yep! Exactly six sets!”

“And what about dinner? Don’t tell me you plan to make do with the herbs you picked earlier…”

“We brought food too! We’ll boil some wyvern meat with salt and other seasonings to make stew.”

“You never had any intention of going back from the beginning, did you?”

The young men giggled and began preparing for camp. While they busied themselves, Reynald peeked outside the cave. Fortunately, the monsters had failed to find them and had scattered in all directions. The cave was so well-hidden that it was almost impossible to spot the entrance from the outside, so there was no real need to worry about surprise attacks.

Still… I never thought I’d be sleeping outdoors even after coming down to the domain.

Reynald watched the young men bustle about, lost in thought. As a commander of the Royal Knights, he had often been forced to camp outdoors. In monster-infested territories that required a subjugation squad, there was no hope of finding a cozy bed or a warm inn.

Of course, as commander, he could have arranged for better accommodations if he wanted. But Reynald had never cared for that. Perhaps because he’d been born a commoner, he found luxurious places too uncomfortable to sleep in. He preferred staying in the same conditions as the other soldiers.

A familiar sight, indeed.

The flickering orange campfire, the bubbling stew, the laughter of the young men—it all felt just like the days when he was still part of the Royal Knights. Reynald gave a wry smile at the realization.

But the truth was, Reynald had always liked this kind of atmosphere. The reason he’d been reluctant about his position wasn’t because he disliked the subjugation missions or the time spent with his men. It was the political games at the royal court and the endless verbal sparring with other nobles that he couldn’t stand.

Come to think of it, this rural domain seemed to be filled with everything Reynald was familiar with. A place nearly abandoned by the central government meant no annoying paperwork (and even if there were, he could just leave it to Heide—she had probably been doing all of it before he arrived anyway). If he wanted to help the people, he just had to head outside the castle now and then to hunt monsters. It was something Reynald was perfectly used to.

This domain… might be more livable than I thought.

Reynald gazed at the young men who were laughing and chatting among themselves. It was like a peaceful evening scene straight out of an old fairytale.