The Bandit Village and the Frost Troll
Ion thought to himself that the words of Josip, the commander of Bolda Fortress, sounded a bit off. It was true that the incidents with the Krval Mercenary Band could have spread as rumors, but not to the point of being widely known. It was strange to hear them repeated so directly.
“You say I’m famous?”
Josip continued while glancing at the documents he had been reading. “Indeed. In Naksen, you rescued the missing; in Lainen, you fought orcs; and in Gert, you dismantled the Krval Mercenary Band. Were those all your own deeds?”
“They are. But to think those stories have reached here… it’s astonishing.”
Josip smiled bitterly. “Patrol officers don’t just bring food supplies from the central or southern regions. Rumors travel with them too. In the central lands, this place spreads our name faster than any ordinary fiefdom.”
“I had no idea.”
Now that he mentioned it, when I had been in the south far from here even before my regression, northern stories reached me in surprising detail. People had been passing them along on their travels. I simply hadn’t paid attention, and that was the reason.
“Anyway, there’s one difficult matter I need to entrust to you. It’s fortunate you happened to arrive.”
“Do you have a request for me?”
“Did you see the other patrol officers on your way? What are their levels like?”
The levels of the patrol officers were, in my brief observation, _Regular Knights_ — a bit weaker than a formally dubbed knight but a step above ordinary mercenaries.
“Correct. Exactly so. They are useful against hordes of monsters but lack the strength to face a single powerful foe.”
“I see.”
Josip showed me one sheet of paper. “There’s a small village in the western mountains. The bandits have taken it over and raided our supplies bound for the fortress. The others are ordinary, but the bandit leader is said to be formidable. You must eliminate him.”
The document bore the name of the bandit leader and a rough sketch of the village.
“Who is this Igor mentioned here?”
“A patrol officer who once served here at Bolda Fortress. A commander-level officer, but corruption was discovered and he fled to become a bandit.”
“Then he must know the situation here well.”
“That’s right. That’s why it’s troublesome.”
Someone from the same organization would know their methods well, and dealing with them would be painful.
“Bring me his head, or if that’s impossible, his sword will do.”
“Understood. I’ll be back shortly.”
Ion tucked the document under his arm and left the commander’s quarters. As he stepped outside, the patrol officers who had been waiting in the external lodging house suddenly avoided him. They had realized their own weakness and now feared a proper reckoning if they continued to be insolent.
It was already too late to depart, so he headed to the lodging house for outsiders. It wasn’t truly a lodging but more of a storage shed, with no beds or blankets, only a roof and walls that blocked the cold wind—enough for that night.
The next morning, as we prepared to leave the fortress, the patrol officers still gave me a wide berth. The ones who had confronted me in the dining hall must have been frightened quite badly. It was better to be feared than to be pitied.
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As we climbed the mountain, snow began to fall. The heavily furred Lotte and I were unaffected, but Jan, with his comparatively short fur, was growing more uncomfortable. ‘The closer we get to the Ice Wall, the colder it will be and the heavier the snow.’
It had been five days since we began the ascent. According to the map, the bandit village lay just ahead. We descended from the ridge and began walking. The ground was thick with snow, and the only sound was the crunch under our boots. Lotte suddenly pricked up his ears, then sniffed the air.
I stopped for a moment to wait for him. Something had been there and then vanished. Even with snow falling, he could still smell the faint scent of passage.
Lotte found nothing, so I went to move on. Then I noticed a thin line crossing the path—thin thread stretched across the snow. Fresh snow had landed on it, making the trap visible. The scent Lotte had caught was also that of the trap’s maker.
I drew my sword and lightly tapped the thread.
Whoosh! Immediately, a small wooden spike flew from between the trees. Then two or three more shot after it, embedding themselves in the snow.
I waited a moment to see if more would come, then followed the thread. The line was tied to a flexible branch, so pulling it triggered the spikes. When one launched, it released the others, setting up a triple ambush—one would be avoided, but all three would hit.
The spikes were sharpened wooden stakes, not arrows. I picked one up and examined it. ‘The bandit village has not only former patrol officers but also hunters.’
Knowing there was a hunter who could craft simple yet deadly traps, I moved with greater caution. There were traps not only of wire but also holes dug deep enough to swallow an ankle, with sharp stakes driven into the bottom. They had smeared the ground with animal excrement to cause severe damage from frostbite or infection, and that was why Lotte had found them so quickly.
Snow still fell, but it wasn’t completely dark, so I expected to reach the village before long. Yet it was already late at night when we arrived near it. The extra time had been spent finding a sheltered spot where Jan could wait without freezing.
‘With the cold, one must consider even such precautions.’
Lotte and I climbed the hill overlooking the village. It was a tiny settlement of only about ten houses, and only five were still lit. Since no dot marked it on the map, we had to approach closely.
“I’ll go down first. If you hear noise below, pull my attention.”
Lotte acknowledged with a quick tap of his nose against my hand. I petted him once, lowered myself, and descended.
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I descended quietly. The cold wind and falling snow hid any sound I might make. As I passed the village houses, I checked the map. Houses with lights had people inside; those without were empty. At most fifteen residents—most of the village must have fled.
I approached the largest house, which looked like the chieftain’s, and listened to the conversation.
“As soon as the weather clears a little, we’ll leave right away.”
“Yes. Will the priest go with us?”
“Of course. What about Igor, brother?” Three yellow marks appeared on the map, and three voices were speaking. One of them was a priest.
“I still have unfinished business.”
“What remains? An attack is coming soon.”
“They are looking for me, so I must stay.”
The voices sounded like those in their thirties—likely Igor and the priest. A deeper voice spoke next. “Igor, don’t do that. Come with us. We can set traps along the way to slow them down enough.”
“I’m grateful for your advice, but it’s dangerous.”
“Listen to me. Even without us being patrol officers, the fortress is no ordinary place. Monsters are descending again. This area is already dangerous.”
“So, chieftain, take the rest of the villagers and leave quickly. I’ll stay. They… were once my comrades. I’ll finish cleaning up here.”
“…”
Details were unclear, but from what I had heard from the fortress commander, the conversation did not match the image of a corrupt patrol officer turned bandit.
The reason wanderers and knights like me receive quests from fiefs or people at relatively low cost is twofold: first, to grow stronger, and second, for fame.
Hearing the three speak revealed that the request did not match. It was not simply for profit, and this situation was troublesome.
“Auuu!”
Lotte, having stayed in the village too long, let out a howl to draw attention. Voices answered from inside.
“Did you hear that wolf howl just now?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Wolves haven’t been seen around here for a while—did they return? Then other monsters must have come!”
“Let’s go check!”
The hunter and Igor headed outside. I had to verify this directly.
I walked to the front of the door. With a bang, it opened and three figures emerged. They froze at the sight of me standing there.
“…!”
A burly man in his thirties, wearing the same armor as the patrol officers I had seen at the fortress, stepped forward. He was taller and larger than me—clearly the bandit leader, Igor.
Behind him stood a tall, lean man in his fifties carrying a bow on his back—the hunter. And a priest in his late twenties completed the group. Igor stepped forward and spoke.
“…Who are you, knight?”
“I am Ion Rise, a free knight. I accepted a request to bring the bandit leader’s head from Bolda Fortress.”
The hunter bristled. “Bandit? Why Igor…”
Igor raised a hand to silence him and continued speaking to me. “I am not a bandit. I was a patrol officer who deserted, but I am not a bandit.”
“If that is the end of your words, I cannot believe you.”
When I cut his head, I wanted to be certain. “Allow me.”
The priest stepped forward. “I am Silvio, a priest of the Three Gods Church. I have been staying in this village. The patrol officers planned to use the villagers as bait for monsters. Igor and the others rebelled, fought them off, and drove the patrol out. Igor is not a bandit.”
“Did you experience this personally?”
“Yes. As a priest of the Three Gods, I swear it.”
Combining the details I had heard earlier with what they said right in front of me, I realized, ‘I was deceived by the fortress commander.’
I decided to abandon this request and return to investigate.
Suddenly—
“Kong! Kong! Kong!”
Lotte barked.
“Kong kong kong!”
He ran toward me, barking. The three froze at the sight of Lotte. On the map, a red dot appeared behind him. A large, man-shaped monster charging from behind Lotte swung a massive wooden club.
The hunter shouted, “Frost troll!”
One of the rare giant monsters on the continent, the troll, lived in the cold north. About three meters tall, its entire body was covered in hard, plate-like scales. Its blue skin blended into the snow. The scales were thick and tough, like bark, so swords cut poorly. Even if cut, the wound closed almost immediately. People had misunderstood this as rapid regeneration.
For that reason, some had hunted trolls for their blood, thinking it had healing properties. But the blood contained parasites or caused stomach pain—it never healed wounds. The sticky substance in the blood caused the wounds to seal, but it was not true regeneration. If the wounds sealed too fast, foreign matter could get trapped inside.
“Troll blood is not the ingredient of any miracle elixir.”
Igor stepped forward. “I’ll hold it off! Chieftain, priest—take the villagers and evacuate! Knight, go with them!”
“I can’t.”
I drew my black sword, Pain. “Knight! This troll is too tough for a sword! We’re too few…”
“You don’t need to worry. I can cut it.”
“Eh?”
Igor looked dumbfounded as I passed him. Lotte was being pursued, so there was no time to explain. Lotte ran fast, but the snow was deep and the troll’s size made it stride forward, closing in quickly.
I ran forward and shouted, “Dodge!”
“Kong kong kong!”
Lotte answered as he leaped aside. I crossed with him, Lotte veering wide, and I vaulted forward, swinging the sword.
“Kwaaaoong!”
The troll, seeing my sword, swung its reinforced wooden club in response. The moment the sword and club met, an unexpected sound rang out.
Crack! The club split cleanly in two.
While the stunned troll froze, I immediately slashed at its leg. The troll recoiled in surprise, but the blade sliced through its skin.
“Kuuuooong!”
Blood sprayed, and the torn skin sealed almost at once. The enraged troll swung both fists. My sword met them.
Whoosh! The wind pressure alone blew my hair back—the fists never reached me.
Thud! The severed fists fell to the ground.
“Kuuuooong!”
The troll howled, blood gushing from both wrists. Cutting a troll before the wound sealed would leave the blade trapped in flesh—disastrous. The solution was to cut fast and hard before that could happen.
I recalled the tactics I had learned for trolls before my regression and fought the creature in textbook fashion.
“Kooorooong!”
While screaming in Pain, I severed the troll’s ankle, brought it down, and cut off its glowing head.
Squelch! The severed stump stopped bleeding almost immediately because the wound had sealed so fast. Even though I had cut off the head, there was surprisingly little blood on the snow.
I wiped the blood from the sword with snow and sheathed it. Then I stroked Lotte, who wagged his tail. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Lotte licked my face with his tongue. He seemed fine.
As I stood up, Igor and the others stared at me in astonishment. Behind them, villagers who had heard the fighting came running.
Igor asked, puzzled, “H-how did you cut the troll so easily?”
“The sword is good.”
“Eh? Even if the sword is good…”
“I have some strength too.”
“…”
I told them the truth, as I always did. I carried a sword that could cut almost anything and had the strength to wield it. There was no falsehood.