SML Ch 2

Chapter 2

“Skreee—!”

A wyvern struck squarely in the right eye by Reynald’s arrow let out a shriek of agony and crashed to the ground.

He had fewer than ten arrows left. Once his quiver ran dry, he would have to draw his sword to fight, but if he let the wyverns get too close, his horse might be injured. He had packed lightly for the journey, and it wasn’t as if he had equipped the horse with heavy anti-monster armor.

The wide-open wasteland made things even more difficult. If there had at least been something to take cover behind, he could have fought the wyverns more effectively, but with not a single hiding place in sight, there was no room to flee or reposition. Reynald sighed in frustration as he nocked another of his dwindling arrows.

‘If only someone were here to help… Why in the hell is there not a single person in this damned fief?!’

It sounded like a fair complaint, but technically, it wasn’t entirely accurate. There were people—Reynald just hadn’t noticed them yet.

The moment he pulled his bowstring taut, aiming for the eye of a wyvern diving toward him, an arrow from somewhere else sliced through the creature’s wing joint.

“Screeeech!”

Its wing mangled, the wyvern tumbled down and rolled across the ground. Reynald was surprised by the sudden aid, but instead of looking to see who had helped him, he immediately turned and fired at another incoming wyvern. If he hesitated, there was a good chance he’d die screaming at the claws of another.

Of course, it wasn’t that he was entirely uninterested in his unexpected helper. He didn’t know who had shot that arrow, but if it was strong enough to pierce a wyvern’s tough hide, they were using some pretty serious firepower. At the very least, it had to be a heavy-duty anti-monster crossbow.

Reynald genuinely planned to thank whoever had fired that shot—until he heard the stream of vulgar curses raining down from afar.

“Fuckin’ hell, what kinda dumb bastard goes wandering around on a day like this?! You got pus for brains or somethin’? You out here to donate yourself as winter rations for the damn wyverns?! If you wanna die so bad, go slit your own throat at home! What the hell are you doing out here stirring up shit, huh?! Who the fuck even are you?!”

Caught off guard, Reynald turned toward the source of the voice—and his blood pressure surged at the irritating sight before him. It was already ridiculous how badly he’d been treated, but now he had to be cursed out by brats too? With a grimace, he drew the longsword at his waist and sliced down an approaching wyvern with all his might. His irritation and rage were so intense that his swing neatly severed the monster’s neck.

‘Who the fuck am I? I’m the next lord you’re supposed to be serving, you little punks!’

Reynald screamed the words in his head, directing them toward a ragtag group of young men in patchwork armor—each of them looking to be not even half his age.

The mood between them was far from friendly, but regardless, Reynald and the young men worked together to drive off the wyverns. While the youths fired crossbows at the flying beasts, Reynald took out the ones that fell wounded, cleanly slicing their throats as they crashed to the ground.

There was no need to kill all the wyverns. With many already blinded or injured in their wings, they had little reason to continue risking themselves attacking humans.

After nearly thirty minutes of battle, the remaining wyverns finally retreated beyond the sky. Reynald dismounted, breathing heavily, while the young men approached him with reluctant expressions.

They didn’t seem particularly pleased with him, but they no longer hurled insults. Apparently, they had realized he wasn’t just some clueless old man but someone with considerable skill.

“So, uh… who are you exactly, sir?”

The question came from the largest of the group, a young man with shaggy brown hair. He was the same one who had shouted all those colorful curses earlier.

Reynald had expected a sneering, delinquent expression, but up close, the young man actually looked rather honest and naive. His slightly droopy eyes and pitch-black pupils reminded Reynald of the kingdom’s standard-issue military hounds.

Reynald felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, too tired to be angry anymore. Yelling at hot-blooded youths would only make him look ridiculous. Besides, he had a pretty good guess as to why the young man had been so furious in the first place.

‘These guys must be the local security patrol.’

Winter was when wyverns were most active, and anyone roaming the wastelands without caution was basically monster chow. These young men must have been warning the locals not to stray outside.

And then, out of nowhere, some stranger comes waltzing through the wilderness. No wonder they were shocked. They probably feared it was one of their own people getting eaten and rushed out in a panic. If you assumed the rough words were the product of that panic, it wasn’t entirely unforgivable.

Reynald gave them credit for showing up right away to rescue someone. In these situations, most local patrols would make excuses, saying things like, “Well, he ignored the warnings, so it’s his own fault,” and shirk their duties.

And sure, such reasoning wasn’t always wrong. There were people reckless enough to ignore danger signs. Still, when someone’s getting mauled by a monster, the job of the patrol is to intervene regardless.

Reynald was rather satisfied to see that the patrolmen in his new fief were more responsible than he’d expected. Even in a territory overrun by monsters, if this was the caliber of young men remaining, maybe there was a chance things could work out.

“Are you with the local security patrol?”

“Yeah, uh, pretty much. Sorry about earlier—we thought you were one of the village folks.”

“It’s understandable. You were startled.”

“Thanks. So… what brings you to this backwater, old man?”

…Old man? A vein pulsed in Reynald’s temple. Sure, he had spent years saying he was too old and ready for retirement, but to actually hear it from some punk he’d never seen before—it was grating.

He’d taken care of himself pretty well for a man over forty. He barely had any wrinkles, and while there were a few stray grays in his red hair, it wasn’t that noticeable! He bristled instinctively. It made no sense to be upset, and yet—such is the contradiction of the human heart.

“…Ahem. I wouldn’t say I’m quite old enough to be called ‘old man.’”

“Oh? Yeah, I guess you did look pretty damn sharp swinging that sword. Anyway, what brings you out here? Our village has nothing but monsters.”

When the big guy said that, some of the youths behind him burst into laughter. And truth be told, he wasn’t wrong. Reynald had been riding for nearly an hour, and all he’d seen in this wasteland were monsters.

How do the people here even make a living? The question crossed Reynald’s mind. Sure, they could butcher monster carcasses for trade, but that alone wouldn’t sustain them. As a lord, he found that incredibly concerning. He decided he would investigate the fief’s finances as soon as he reached the castle.

For now, though, it was time to answer the young man’s question. Reynald cleared his throat and spoke.

“I am the new lord of this territory, granted this land by the grace of His Majesty the King. I’ll be governing this fief from now on, so I look forward to working with you all.”

As he said this, Reynald looked over the group of young men, expecting that the weight of the title “lord” would prompt a shift in their demeanor.

Instead, they responded in the exact opposite manner.

Their lips twitched oddly. Their broad shoulders trembled. And then—unable to hold it in—one of them let out a snort. That was all it took for the rest to explode with laughter.

“Pfft—Puhaha, AHAHAHA!”

“What? You—A lord?! Pfff! What kind of bullshit is that?!”

“A lord?! In this rotting dump? Is he kidding us?! What the hell is this guy on about—pff, hahaha…!”

Reynald wanted to say something, anything, but their laughter was too loud. It was so absurd that he wasn’t even angry anymore—his mind had gone cold with disbelief.

If it had been some random beggar on the street laughing at him, he could’ve brushed it off. But for patrolmen in armor to not even believe a lord could exist here? That was outside the bounds of reason.

Reynald seriously considered riding back to the capital and grabbing the king by the collar. If the king didn’t want him to retire, he could’ve just said so! Instead, he’d dumped him in this nightmare of a fief and then tossed him a farewell letter like that was the end of it?!

Still, as furious as he was at the king, he had more immediate problems—like explaining himself to these ridiculous brats. While the rest clutched their sides in laughter, one of the smaller youths finally managed to suppress his giggles and cleared his throat. He cautiously approached Reynald and opened his mouth.

For a brief moment, Reynald thought, Well, at least this one seems polite.

“Old man… are you feeling okay in the head?”

Reynald’s fist flew toward the youth without hesitation.

Years of serving as the commander of the Royal Knights had mellowed his temper somewhat, but Reynald had never been the type to tolerate disrespect. There was no rule saying every explanation had to be given with words.