Chapter 20
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Dealing with Uninvited Guests (2)
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It was already past dinnertime, edging into the night.
The seaside village, blanketed in darkness, should have been a silent haven broken only by the sound of waves. But thanks to Dominic, who had brought prosperity to the village, an unexpected festival was in full swing.
The laughter of the revelers carried far enough to reach the workers of the Rondo Merchant Group as they approached from a distance.
"What's this? Why's it so rowdy?"
"Looks like someone in the village had a wedding."
"Heh heh. Bet there's plenty of booze and food laid out! Worth skipping meals and pushing the horses this hard."
"You bet! Let's wrap this up quick and do some proper looting for old times' sake!"
The Rondo Merchant Group's workers were little more than bandits by now.
With the group leader's permission, they shed their robed uniforms emblazoned with the merchant emblem, donned masks, and from there, they were free to run wild.
Some of them even secretly looked forward to these opportunities, wondering when the next one might come.
They felt no guilt whatsoever about crippling innocent people or forcing unfair contracts.
Their only interest was in the scraps they'd pocket after the job was done.
The masked raiders spurred their horses onward once more.
Clop, clop!
Neigh-!
As the horses' cries reached the village outskirts, a few folks waiting eagerly for the well-roasted meat turned their heads.
"What's that?"
"Who's coming this late at night?"
"...Whoever it is, doesn't sound like they're bringing good news."
"Tch! Ruining our barbecue after so long? Whoever they are, they're dead meat."
As the unfamiliar hoofbeats grew closer, harsh words began spilling from the once-joyful villagers.
The women started helping the elderly and children inside, locking doors in small groups. The burly fishermen dusted off their hands, furrowing their brows deeply.
These Fishing Cooperative uncles, who never lost their smiles even during the toughest fishing hauls, now wore grim expressions. Watching them, Dominic unwittingly lowered his gaze.
"What's going on all of a sudden..."
He couldn't say exactly what was happening, but Dominic thought these muscle-bound men looked particularly fierce today.
'Were these uncles always built like that? Kinda intimidating.'
He had overlooked it before, since they were always like stuffed bears, patting their full bellies and chuckling after a good meal.
But in his previous life, faces like theirs would have meant routine ID checks by cops, or shady scout offers from sketchy spots as regular events.
"Hey, Dominic. You head inside. A guy who's only ever held a dinner knife would just get in the way."
Kallon, who had somehow produced a greatsword as big as a child and slung it over one shoulder, clicked his tongue.
But at that exact moment, Kallon's bald head gleamed under the moonlight, somehow shattering the tension.
"They've been quiet for a while, but word must've spread that our village is flush with cash these days. Heh heh."
"Not good, brother. Just when I've been feeling all cooped up—time to stretch our legs."
"Gonna teach 'em some manners! Who do they think they are, crawling in here?"
The fishermen emerging with iron maces, dual swords, and even a goblin-club-like bludgeon looked utterly unfamiliar today.
"I'll join you."
Ian drew the rapier he always carried at his waist.
Unlike the Fishing Cooperative uncles, he looked straight out of a shoujo manga as the pretty boy knight—a big reason why this all felt so unreal.
'Even now, that guy's ridiculously handsome, damn this unfair world!'
Dominic, lost in silly thoughts like Well, at least I'm tall too, missed his chance to slip back home.
Still, he wasn't scared.
Standing among these effortlessly imposing muscle mountains, anyone would feel more secure than fearful.
"Kee-hee-hee! Who's the village chief here?!"
"Everyone, on your knees! Eyes shut!"
"Do as we say, and you might live!"
But the intruders seemed slow on the uptake.
"What're they yapping about?"
"Too dark? Or bad eyesight?"
"Tsk tsk. Wet-behind-the-ears punks waving blades around. Keep it up, and you'll lose a hand or two."
The fishermen—no, the battle-hardened ex-mercenaries—tightened their grips on their well-worn weapons, ready to charge.
"You should step back from the open area and find cover..."
"Knight dude, you got this!"
As Ian turned to advise Dominic, he spotted the guy already hidden behind some bushes, peeking out with just his eyes, fist pumping encouragement. Ian felt a surge of annoyance for some reason.
Crash! Thud!
Neigh!
"Wahaha! How's the taste of the Invisible Hand's trap, Kurdal?!"
"Invisible Hand, my ass. How long you gonna milk that lame nickname?"
The bandits trying to charge into the clearing tumbled off their horses. Thin wires stretched taut under their feet glinted in the moonlight.
"Damn it, our plan's blown!"
"They're just fishermen! Armed or not, they're no better than a village watch!"
"No choice now—kill 'em all! No witnesses!"
Leaving their broken-boned comrades behind, the bandits rushed in wildly.
Seeing the villagers waiting with weapons, the intruders convinced themselves their plan must've leaked somehow.
'Well, who could've imagined a sleepy fishing village packed with retired mercenaries—battle vets at that?'
The Fishing Cooperative folks, who never advertised their pasts because it scared people off, were ex-war mercenaries.
Dominic himself hadn't learned about it until a full year after settling in the village—and he'd been shocked.
'But this is my first time seeing the uncles fight... They won't lose, right?'
They didn't look like they'd lose anywhere, but what if all that muscle was just for show? He worried a bit.
Thwack! Pow!
Clang! Crack!
"Argh!"
"Gaaah!"
"Hey, hey! Don't kill 'em! Just knock 'em out!"
"Sheesh, picky much, brother?"
Smack!
"Ugh, wh-what the...!"
"Hah, hah. Did they hire mercenaries?!"
"Sh-show yourselves! Cowards!"
But Dominic's worries proved unfounded as ridiculous scenes unfolded.
"Why do these guys all spout the same lines? Is there a bard teaching 'em that crap?"
Ten years retired, their skills and strength should've rusted over. Yet the fishermen moved sharper than the soldiers Dominic had seen at the lord's castle.
"Got another one!"
"Here too! Hey! You! Stay right there! Where you goin'?!"
"Eek!"
What should've been a bloody battlefield turned into a PG-rated kids' cartoon romp.
Masked figures dropping weapons and fleeing, only to get caught and tied to trees.
A hulking brute swinging a longsword and roaring, until a conk to the back of the head dropped him cold.
A scrawny little fisherman uncle approaching, only to get whipped by a living-snake lash and flop around like a fish, becoming the laughingstock.
At this rate, it was impossible to tell who the villains even were.
'Gotta cook even harder for meals from now on. Snacks too—gotta time 'em just right.'
Watching them, Dominic silently vowed to put even more effort into the Fishing Cooperative's mealtimes.
Rustle.
Then, as Dominic gawked at the fishermen's prowess, a leaf stirred behind him.
"Found you!"
Dominic whipped his head around at the sound, and unfamiliar eyes curved into crescents.
It was a Rondo Merchant Group executive who'd led the masked men.
'That's the village chief. I've seen his face!'
He'd spotted the shockingly young chief's face while spying on Anton's group.
Right after the fight broke out, he'd gone hunting for Dominic. Even though things were turning sour against expectations, grabbing the chief would flip the script. After all, he was at the center of all the deals and the lord's trust.
"Found you!"
Spotting Dominic hiding in the brush, watching the melee, the executive was certain they'd won.
"Everyone, freeze! Or I can't guarantee your village chief's life!"
He struck a menacing pose, dagger poised at Dominic's throat, and bellowed triumphantly.
"Oh no!"
"Dominic!"
"Hey, why're you over there...!"
And just like that.
The fishermen, who had been savaging the merchant workers like feral beasts, froze in panic, floundering uncertainly.
"Drop your weapons! Now!"
Ecstasy slowly filled the whites of the executive's eyes as he menaced Dominic.
'Yeah, this is the good stuff!'
These powerhouses with no recourse had fallen right into his hand. Feeling in control stirred vile urges from the depths of his soul.
'In this spot, they'll do anything I say, right? Heh heh.'
Booze? Cash? Or a woman?
As he fantasized what to claim first, Dominic—blade tight against his neck—could only take a shallow breath and scan his surroundings.
"...!"
Dominic's eyes, desperately seeking rescue, locked with Ian's.
'Shh!'
Ian raised a finger to his lips, signaling silence.
Using a bandit mask to cover his hair and mouth, he crept silently toward the executive holding Dominic hostage.
"D-damn it! Let our village chief go!"
"Yeah! We'll do whatever— just release Dominic!"
The fishermen, spotting Ian, shouted chaotically to distract the executive. Good timing, but their acting was godawful.
'Come on, uncles, sell it better!'
Dominic watched tensely, praying the ruse wouldn't fail.
It was a powder keg ready to blow.
"...Knight behind you...!"
"Damn it!"
Was Lady Luck not on Dominic's side?
One masked bandit, assumed knocked out, had woken and spotted Ian sneaking up, alerting the executive.
Thwack.
Whoosh-!
The executive whirled at the warning. Ian, busted, surged forward at blinding speed without hesitation.
'Please!'
As he charged, Ian prayed the executive wouldn't do something stupid.
If he released Dominic and kept distance, Ian might lose the fight but they'd end up jailed with minor wounds, paying for their crimes.
But if he tried clinging to the hostage and harmed Dominic, Ian's blade would carve him up badly here, then rot longer in a cell.
Any thinking man would release the hostage now.
"Grr, you think I'll die alone?!"
But the world doesn't always run on logic.
The executive swung his dagger at Dominic.
"No!"
"Dominic!"
"Shit!"
Screams, curses, and shouts erupted.
Some villagers crumpled to the ground; others turned away, unable to watch. Ian was among those who looked aside.
Thud!
But what reached their ears wasn't the rip of flesh or cloth under a blade.
It was the heavy smack of something thick slamming into the dirt.