Oh, Right, the Umbrella
The exhilaration of battle was beginning to fade, and fatigue came flooding in. But the ones fighting here were not just the militia.
"Do not be afraid!"
Gunther and the rest of the guards ran this way and that, driving their spears downward. Whenever the trolls tried to snatch up the farm tools, they jabbed at them to keep them at bay, and the ones who had already gotten their hands on the tools were struck in the head and forced back.
"We’ll help you, so gather your courage!"
Compared with the militia, who swung their farm tools in something close to wild abandon, the guards pressed the trolls with fast, disciplined spear work. Heavy, slow pitchforks were one thing, but spear points thrust down by trained soldiers were not so easy for the trolls to catch.
- Trooooargh! (You bastards!)
As the squad leader, Gunther did not forget to give tactical orders.
"If you just swing wildly, you’ll tire yourselves out! Keep your movements small and sharp! If one man jabs with a pitchfork, another should smash in with a flail!"
"Right, then we fight in pairs!"
The militia had numbers and momentum, but they were clumsy in battle. The guards were fewer, but they applied calm, measured tactics. Soldiers and civilians were covering one another’s weaknesses.
The sharp end of a pitchfork struck at a troll’s fingers. When it tried to swing its remaining arm, a spear point shot in and pierced its wrist. Then, while its head was left exposed, a flail came crashing down onto it.
- Troooorgh...
The trolls kept trying to climb up out of the pit, but the defenders’ attacks were far fiercer than before.
- Troo! Tro-tro! (Wait! Recover first! Don’t climb!)
The stone-axe troll #001, unable to hold himself back any longer, cried out in a strangled voice. The trolls who heard him gave up on a reckless breakout and focused instead on recovery.
- Troooo! (Come on down and try me!)
- Trool! (Face us properly!)
Among them were even some who tried to taunt the humans.
"Do not go down there! Hold your positions!"
Gunther shouted for them to hold the line. If they got tangled together in the pit and fought there, the humans would be at a disadvantage. They would lose the benefit of height, and their individual combat power was overwhelmingly inferior besides.
Pitchforks and flails were farm tools, after all. They were enough to stop trolls, but not powerful enough to land a killing blow, and in the pit there was barely any space to swing them properly.
- Hmhmhm.
Even the trolls, whose minds were sharp enough when it came to combat, understood this well. Right now, this was their chance to recover their strength and regenerate their wounds.
"Laugh while you can. It’ll be the last thing you do."
- Trooo?!
At the sound coming from above, the trolls nearly jumped out of their skins. A human was walking along the rafters.
It was Shrakhim, the target they had already forgotten about ever since they were ambushed.
"Haaah!"
Holding an axe and a sword side by side, Shrakhim ran along the rafters and swung his arms, tearing open the sacks tied beneath the beams.
- Trooo?!
Instead of grain, heaps of dirt poured down on the trolls. It was the earth dug out from the pit, packed into sacks and left there.
- Tro...!
The trolls were buried beneath the falling soil. They flailed their arms, but it was useless.
"Militia, you’ve done splendidly! The soldiers will handle the finish from here, so you should all get out of the building now! If anything goes wrong and the soldiers are forced to fall back, you must immediately block the exit with timber!"
"Yes, sir!"
"You there, the two of you with the strongest builds, bring the jars!"
"Yes, sir!"
The militia obeyed Shrakhim at once. At first, of course, he had been impossible to trust. But as the battle went on and his plan kept working, they had no choice but to believe him and follow his lead.
The trolls, buried alive, thrashed for a while and then soon fell quiet.
"...Did we get them?"
The question came from a new recruit who had been watching while swallowing hard.
At the magic words that broke the silence and the unspoken rule alike, Gunther screwed up his face.
"Hey, I told you not to say tha—"
- Trwuhk!
Before Gunther could finish, a troll suddenly pushed its head up through the dirt.
"Eek!"
"Wait!"
The recruit panicked and was about to thrust his spear, but Shrakhim stopped him.
"Hup!"
Shrakhim leaped straight down from the rafters. Even though he slammed his weight into the ground hard enough to crush the earth beneath him, he was completely unhurt. He had focused aura into his thick belly, letting it absorb the impact.
- Trukk...
The troll’s neck, however, could not withstand the tremendous force and snapped back. It died instantly.
When Ho-yeong later heard of this feat, he would shout, "That Frog Splash was insane! No, not just a frog splash - a bullfrog splash!" It had been that fierce a midair attack.
"What are you all standing around for? Soldiers, form a ring. Militia, bring the jars!"
"Yes, sir!"
Instead of basking in the glory of the kill, Shrakhim immediately ordered the follow-up.
"We brought the jars!"
The militia men, the strongest in the village, grunted as they carried in jars so large they could barely lift them. They were filled to the brim with water.
"Pour it!"
With the water gushing down, the floor of the warehouse turned into a mud pit.
"One more jar!"
After repeating that process, the place had nearly turned into a bog.
- Trwuh... trwuk!
The trolls, holding their breath beneath the buried sand heap, could not endure it any longer and stuck their heads out. But they had already reached their limit, and looked more like things floundering in a swamp than warriors.
"Guards, time to finish this! Gunther, special-grade soldier, hand me your spear and draw your sword. Hup!"
Taking the spear he received from Gunther, Shrakhim pierced a troll through the neck.
- T...
"Hyaaaah!"
Gunther cut down the neck that had been pinned in place and could no longer move.
"Well done. The rest of you, quickly!"
Every time a troll poked its head up, the guards cut it down without mercy. If Ho-yeong had been watching, he would have called it a game of whack-a-mole.
"U... aaaaah!"
The new recruit was so tense he missed with his spear. A pair of arms burst up through the mud and clamped onto the shaft.
"You bastard!"
At once, Shrakhim swung his axe and chopped off both of the troll’s wrists.
"Now, don’t worry and thrust properly! Aim for the forehead. If you smash the brain, it can’t regenerate!"
"Yes, sir!"
Gathering himself, the recruit drove his spear clean through the troll’s brow.
- Tr...ukk!
That was the dying scream of the last troll.
"Hah, hahaha! We got it! That was the first troll I’ve ever killed!"
"Yes. Very good."
While the recruit bounced up and down with joy, Shrakhim sank to the ground.
"Haaah. Hah..."
Sweat poured from his entire body as if he were standing in a downpour.
Count of the Border Region... you are truly a remarkable man.
He had never imagined that planning and command could be this exhausting.
I’m already this worn out just protecting one tiny village. How much must it drain him to keep track of all three places?
And on top of that, he had endured all the strain of luring the trolls. It was only natural that the fatigue was crashing over him now.
"Are you all right?"
Gunther came over and held out a hand.
"I’m more or less fine. Thank you."
Gunther nearly toppled backward, unable to withstand the weight of Shrakhim as he hauled him up, but he managed it in the end.
"A superb... operation. No, the command, the baiting, the close combat - all of it was superb."
Gunther motioned to his squadmates with his eyes and gathered them in.
"Salute to Knight Bachelor Shrakhim!"
At the crisp salute, every angle aligned like a blade, and Shrakhim blinked.
"No... how embarrassing. Please, lower your hands at once."
"So now you’re finally telling us to lower them."
"What is that supposed to mean... ah."
It had been early last year. Shrakhim had once gone full hard-ass on these soldiers.
"Good grief. That salute is atrocious. Do it again. With proper respect for a knight. Oh? You’re lowering your hand? You will not lower it until I tell you to."
Gunther, remembering that, grinned mischievously, and Shrakhim’s face turned bright red.
"I apologize again. Please lower your arms already."
"You have to accept the salute first, don’t you?"
"Ah."
Only then did Shrakhim return the salute, and the guards lowered their arms.
"Now, quickly, let’s get you out of here."
Supported by the guards, Shrakhim stepped out of the grain warehouse.
"Waaah! We won!"
"We saved our village!"
The militia, shouting in victory, rushed toward Shrakhim.
"Hey there, my lord knight. You said it yourself, didn’t you? 'But if we manage to stop the trolls, I’ll gladly take my beating.'"
One of the villagers mimicked Shrakhim’s voice and glared at him.
"Eh? W-well, of course I did."
Shrakhim shut his eyes tightly.
"What are you talking about? If it hadn’t been for Knight Shrakhim, would we have taken down those trolls so easily? And as for a beating... well, when you think about what happened before, it wouldn’t be strange, but your achievements more than make up for your mistakes, so let’s just let this pass..."
Gunther hurriedly stepped in front of him, flustered, but Shrakhim shook his head.
"No. A promise is a promise. If hitting me will let you vent your anger, then feel free to beat me as much as you like."
"Listen to this man. Honestly, what a stubborn fool."
The villagers lifted Shrakhim and set him atop a haystack.
"My lord knight, take off your armor."
"Everyone, let’s give him a proper beating!"
One of them even came over carrying a flail.
"No, no matter how you look at it, this is too much. Stop—huh?"
Gunther and the guards, ready to leap in and stop them if needed, stared in bewilderment.
"Why are you all so surprised? We’re giving him a beating in our own way."
Were the villagers not massaging every inch of Shrakhim’s body?
"...Hm? What is this...?"
Shrakhim slowly opened his closed eyes, drowsy with confusion.
"A beating is a beating, in its own way. This is our version of a love tap."
"You worked hard. Luring the trolls out all by yourself was truly magnificent."
The villagers used the wooden handles of their flails to press and knead him like massage tools.
"You wiped out all the trolls and nobody got hurt, so the credit belongs to you, my lord knight."
Unable to bear it, Shrakhim shed tears of emotion.
"Thank you, everyone. This is all your achievement. Thanks to the villagers cooperating, we were able to empty the grain warehouse, dig the pit, and suspend the dirt. And thanks to the guards’ efforts, we exterminated the trolls."
"Ho-ho, you’ve finally become humble enough for your age. Are you about forty this year?"
"I’m twenty."
"My, my, my lord knight, really now. I thought you’d come back having learned only military strategy, but you’ve picked up jokes as well. Hohoho. It seems you’re quite the wit."
Since he was crying already, he decided to keep crying.
"At any rate, isn’t the fact that we took down eight trolls all thanks to all of us working together?"
"Of course. When has this ever been easy?"
"Eight...?!"
Shrakhim shot to his feet in the middle of crying.
"Did you say eight trolls?!"
He turned urgently to the soldiers.
"Yes. We all counted the heads earlier. Why?"
"One is missing... there were definitely nine at the start!"
"What?!"
Gunther dashed back into the grain warehouse.
"Everyone, let’s dig the ground back up!"
They dug through the pit again in case one was still there, but there were only eight bodies.
"Ah! That bastard... we forgot about him."
The new recruit suddenly shouted as if he had just remembered something.
"What do you mean, that bastard?!"
"The one who had the hook. That one was unusually clever for a troll... he was the first to see through Knight Shrakhim’s bait."
It was the stone-hook troll #001, who had fallen from a troll strike before the battle had even properly begun.
"Oh, right. That one was still alive."
Only then did the soldiers realize it. No one had paid any attention to that troll. Not even Shrakhim.
But that did not mean they had been careless. In a life-or-death battle, it was hard enough just dealing with the enemies directly in front of you. They had no spare attention for a foe who had already been knocked down and taken out of the fight.
"Damn it!"
Shrakhim immediately started strapping on his armor.
"Damn it, how could I be so stupid? The Count of the Border Region warned me so clearly... and I go and make a mistake like this."
The soldiers tried to stop him in alarm.
"It was only one troll, wasn’t it? And by now he’s probably already run off."
"Exactly. How are you even going to chase after someone when you don’t know where he’s gone?"
"Even if you ride after him, there’s another problem. Knight Shrakhim, you’re completely exhausted right now. If you clash with a troll that’s still full of strength, it won’t be easy at all..."
Their words made sense. But Shrakhim had his own reason for not letting the troll get away.
"It is not allowed. I must kill him without fail."
It was because of the warning he had received from Ho-yeong.
"If possible, kill every last one of them. If you leave them alive, they’ll just build up their numbers and come back later. But don’t overdo the pursuit. Defense comes first. Got it?"
"I understand. I’ll slaughter them all!"
Ho-yeong had clearly added the condition of "if possible," but Shrakhim, trying too hard to repay his trust, had become obsessed with annihilation. A side effect of his conversion level being too high.
"If you truly insist, then we’ll go with you!"
"No, you all must stay here in case anything happens! That was the Count of the Border Region’s order. This was my mistake, so I’ll finish it myself!"
"That’s far too reckless!"
Before anyone could stop him, Shrakhim had already mounted his horse. He spurred it toward the place where the baiting had begun.
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