SML Ch 5

Chapter 5

Reynald had only been dozing. His mind felt hazy, but it wasn’t as though he had fallen into a deep sleep either.

He wasn’t particularly picky about sleeping arrangements, yet that night, Reynald found himself repeatedly waking for no apparent reason. With his muscles feeling unnaturally stiff and uncomfortable, he began to ponder the cause.

‘Why can’t I fall asleep?’

The answer came quickly. It was because of old memories. This territory bore a striking resemblance to his hometown, and perhaps because of that, Reynald had been drifting through disturbingly realistic dreams, only to awaken each time with a lingering sense of unease.

In the end, Reynald forced himself to sit up. In such a situation, lying down any longer would only make him feel more exhausted. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow with his sleeve and turned his gaze toward the window. But there wasn’t much to see. If the weather had been pleasant, he might have at least enjoyed the night sky, but tonight the heavens were filled with nothing but gloomy clouds.

When his attempt to clear his head by looking outside failed, Reynald resolved to devote himself to an activity befitting someone of his age in moments of idle rest—namely, reminiscing about the past. He figured that if he did so long enough, sleep would eventually follow. Surely, he wouldn’t stay awake for the entire night. Especially when winter nights were this long.

‘Back when I was young, I never would’ve imagined I’d be grumbling while staying in a castle bedroom like this…’

Reynald had been born a commoner, into the family of a hunter in a small rural village. Though the village he’d grown up in wasn’t quite as perilous as this territory, it was still teeming with monsters both day and night. Reynald’s father would take him out every day to hunt monsters.

He had taught Reynald many things—not just how to shoot a bow and set traps, but even swordsmanship, which was something that few families of their station could ever dream of affording.

Granted, the skills he’d acquired were not as refined as those taught to noble children, but they were more than sufficient to fend off the monsters that roamed the forests. From a young age, Reynald had shown a natural talent for wielding a sword and shooting a bow, and his father rejoiced, believing his son would grow into an exceptional hunter.

But those days did not last long. It had happened one winter. If memory served, Reynald had been fourteen at the time. In villages where monsters were rampant, winters were the most feared time of year. This was because many monsters became especially active during the cold season.

So, most people refrained from going outside in winter, choosing instead to stay hidden indoors. They would ration out the food they had stored from spring through fall, hoping to remain out of sight from any monsters.

But that particular year was worse than usual. The monsters had bred excessively and even invaded the village. Members of the militia, able-bodied young men from the village, and Reynald’s father, a hunter, all did their best to fight off the horde—but they were hopelessly outnumbered.

Many people were devoured by the monsters. Reynald’s father and the rest of his family were torn apart and killed, and Reynald himself was nearly killed alongside them.

The person who saved Reynald was the then-Third Prince, now the current king. At the time, he had only been seventeen. It was only later that Reynald learned that year had seen a nationwide explosion in the monster population, not just in his village.

Thus, the central government had formed large-scale subjugation squads to reduce their numbers. The Third Prince, eager to distinguish himself as the youngest of three brothers, had actively taken part in the monster extermination efforts and had eventually made his way to Reynald’s village.

The prince recognized Reynald’s talent at first glance. He took the now-orphaned boy to the capital and entrusted his swordsmanship training to a proper master, eventually raising him to the rank of his personal knight. The prince’s insight had proven exceptional. Reynald never lost a single match against knights his age, and by the time he was twenty, he was already hailed as the greatest knight in the kingdom.

Reynald had served the prince loyally and helped him ascend the throne. The feats he had achieved during those early days while serving the king remained a topic of admiration among knights even now, with some of his deeds even turned into songs by bards and spread across the land. By the time Reynald was not even thirty, he had achieved military glory that most knights could not hope to attain in a lifetime.

Of course, the king had generously rewarded him for this. He bestowed upon Reynald a noble title and appointed him Commander of the Kingdom’s Knights—an office so prestigious that even the most elite nobles struggled to attain it. It was a rank far too grand for a mere commoner, but few dared question the king’s decision.

Regardless, Reynald had become the kingdom’s greatest knight. Even now, as he approached the age of fifty, there was no knight who could defeat him in a duel. In his youth, there had not been a single person who could even come close.

‘I was lucky. If I hadn’t met His Majesty, no amount of talent would’ve mattered.’

Though he harbored some bitterness now, Reynald still felt grateful to the king deep down. The man had given wings to someone who had nowhere else to turn—how could he not be thankful?

Though he was a bit sly and foul-tempered, the king was someone who took care of his own. Many noble-born knights had resented Reynald, but thanks to the king’s unwavering support, he had managed to survive life at the royal court.

But Reynald knew the truth. That he had risen far higher than any mountain-bred hunter had the right to dream.

His exceptional swordsmanship and combat prowess had earned him countless accolades, but that alone was not enough to continue leading the kingdom’s knights. Reynald lacked political savvy, which was a serious weakness for someone in his position.

For over ten years, Reynald had taken on duties that far exceeded his capabilities. Thanks to the king’s support, he had managed without major issues, but the stress of enduring a role unsuited to him had been overwhelming. Until now, he had borne it out of loyalty and gratitude, but he no longer wanted to continue. The king might think Reynald was joking, but he was serious.

He planned to appeal to the king as soon as he returned—tell him that he had worked tirelessly for the kingdom into old age without even marrying or starting a family. That he genuinely wanted to rest, not as a jest, but with all sincerity. That a knight who had served loyally all his life surely deserved at least that much.

Honestly, even the knights from old legends hadn’t been pushed as hard as Reynald. In his youth, he had taken down countless famous monsters, and just a few weeks ago, he had even slain a dragon. If that didn’t entitle him to a peaceful life in his twilight years, even if not surrounded by gold and treasure, then what would?

‘If His Majesty has even a shred of conscience, he won’t try to keep me any longer. And even if he doesn’t, I don’t care. I’ve had enough.’

Just as he let out a deep sigh at the thought, Reynald flinched and raised his head at a faint sound from outside. Moments earlier, everything had been silent, but now he could hear the murmur of voices in the distance. Though it was too faint to make out clearly, he could also hear something that resembled the clash of weapons…

‘Has something happened?!’

Startled, Reynald dashed out of his bedroom. His long sword, a weapon he always kept close, was already strapped to his waist.

As soon as he burst out of the lord’s manor, Reynald immediately grasped the gravity of the situation.

He didn’t even need to rush toward the source of the noise. Simply looking up at the ramparts of the fortress was enough to understand. Countless wyverns were swarming like clouds above the brightly lit battlements. There had to be at least fifty of them. It was clear they hadn’t just dropped by for a nighttime stroll.

‘Could they be out for revenge after what happened during the day?’

Perhaps the wyverns, having failed to ambush Reynald earlier and losing an eye in the process, had returned with reinforcements to avenge themselves. Whatever the reason, chaos was erupting all around. Reynald clicked his tongue lightly and stared up at the walls.

The rest of the castle was engulfed in darkness, with only the upper ramparts conspicuously illuminated. It didn’t take long for Reynald to realize why. The intent was clearly to draw the wyverns’ attention there and concentrate their attacks on that one spot.

It was a risky tactic, but not a bad one. Without such a strategy, the wyverns might break through the windows and attack the townspeople.

‘Where are the other residents? Are they evacuating?’

While scanning the area for a better grasp of the situation, Reynald spotted a group of people running toward the lord’s manor from afar. It seemed they were trying to evacuate to the safety of the manor while the wyverns were preoccupied with attacking the walls. Heide, who was leading the group, spotted Reynald and shouted breathlessly at the top of his lungs.

“My lord, the wyverns are attacking! Please, let these people into the manor!”

“Heide, how many people are on the ramparts right now?!”

“About ten from the town watch, and maybe twenty villagers… W-wait, my lord! Where are you going?!”

“How can we stop those wyverns with only that many?! You get these people to safety! I’ll go up and help hold them off!”

Shouting his command, Reynald sprinted toward the castle walls. There was no way a mere thirty people could successfully fend off an ambush from over fifty wyverns. Even if they were inside a fortress, the sheer numerical disadvantage in facing flying monsters made the situation perilous. Someone had to help.

“My lord, you mustn’t go! It’s too dangerous!”

Ignoring Heide’s cries as he ran after him, Reynald dashed up the stairs to the ramparts. The familiar surge of anticipation that always came just before battle coursed up his spine.