Chapter 25
Chapter 25
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Massacre of the Holy Knights 2
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Azadin, struck by the thought, asked Ismail.
“You have the food we got from Derek, right?”
“Ah, you mean that?”
Ismail pulled out the food he’d packed away from Derek’s dinner invitation.
“Let’s all eat this, and once the farm folk wake up, we’ll ask if we can rest there.”
Azadin tore into the grilled fish while keeping his gaze fixed on the sky.
*********
After eating during the time of sunrise, Azadin swapped his hawk mask for a helmet.
“If they’re from the King’s Church, they might recognize this mask on sight. The eye scar is the problem.”
Azadin covered his face with the helmet and headed to the nearby farm with his companions. As the dogs started barking furiously, the farmers who had been doing their morning chores spotted Azadin’s group and recoiled in surprise.
It was obvious at a glance that Tarky was a knight, and the farmers froze in terror.
How frightening must knights be for them to panic like that at the mere sight?
“Wh-what do you want?”
“We’re travelers and would like to borrow your farm for a bit.”
The people couldn’t grasp Tarky’s true intentions. Did “borrowing the farm” mean they were going to set up camp here and pillage, or just crash for the night?
“We need a place to rest.”
Azadin rephrased Tarky’s words in a way that was easier to understand.
“Ah, if that’s it, please use our hut. We have to tend the fields anyway.”
“It’s just a humble couple’s bedroom...”
“Hmm. Quite the humble bedroom indeed. Though a bit better than a pigsty...”
Azadin jabbed Tarky in the side to shut him up.
“The barn or a shed will do just fine.”
“Come on, why? They won’t be using the house while they’re out in the fields. We can rest inside during that time.”
“What if we end up staying longer?”
“Then the farmers can use the barn. They raise pigs there anyway. How could anyone sleep in a place like that?”
Tarky spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, seemingly oblivious to any issue.
“Never mind. What am I going to do with you.”
Azadin gave up talking to Tarky and handed a silver coin to the farmer.
“Wh-what’s this?”
“We’ll be imposing on you. Could you prepare dinner for us as well, by any chance?”
“Ah, y-yes, of course.”
“Alright then.”
Azadin apologized to the farmers and headed for the barn.
The barn had pigs and livestock on the ground floor, with a ladder leading up to the loft where hay was stored. Azadin climbed to the second floor, spread out a blanket next to the hay piles, and draped his cloak over it.
Even with the thick layer, he could feel things crawling inside the hay stacks—full of all sorts of bugs.
“Ah, what if it’s crawling with fleas...”
“Most of it’s just maggots and the like.”
Azadin lay down on the makeshift bed he’d prepared and fell into a deathlike sleep.
*********
The farms in this area were designated as the fief of Knight Sir Jeran. He held the tax rights over these farms and collected taxes twice a year, in spring and fall. When necessary, he would levy corvée labor and put the people to work.
In return, Sir Jeran was contracted to maintain order here, hunting down beasts when they appeared to protect the populace.
But...
“Hmm, this is trouble.”
The farmers frowned upon discovering the outer fence had been smashed. The drought that had begun in the eastern inland regions was spreading like a plague to this remote corner of Sarasma.
Refugees had already become a widespread problem. And now, with the drought persisting here too, beasts that had never before encroached on human territory were invading the farms.
“Should we send word to Sir Jeran?”
“Nah. Knights won’t lift a finger unless it’s a monster they can hunt right away. If it can’t be taken down in a single day, they won’t bother. You think they enjoy wandering mountains and fields looking for beasts? The longer they stick around the village, the more it costs us. Get it?”
The farmers feared the knights’ and nobles’ abuses. The laws of the Eight Kingdoms, established by the Yaegras divine clan, forbade unjust exploitation, abuse, or rape of peasants—but that safety net only really applied in the cities.
Farmers in the outskirts, frontiers, or fiefs were practically the private property of the nobles.
Sir Jeran was better than most noble knights, but even so, he was someone the locals preferred not to see.
“Still, people could die.”
The farmer’s son lifted the fence. Massive claw marks scarred it, and judging by the spacing, it was clear how enormous the beast must be.
“You want to go tell Sir Jeran yourself? You’d have to guide him there too.”
“...We’ll just repair the fence.”
Better to fix the fence and pray the beast passed by safely than bother a knight with it.
That’s when they were all united in that sentiment.
“Hey!”
The man who had gone to the relay village that morning with a cart of vegetables to sell had returned.
“Big trouble! Monsters attacked the relay village last night!”
“What? Monsters at the relay village? Is that true?”
“I’m telling you! Sir Jeran got killed, or so they say!”
“Huh?”
“Really?”
“You think I’d joke about something like this?”
“What happens if Sir Jeran’s dead?”
“More importantly, if monsters overran the relay village, shouldn’t we flee too?”
“Oh, about that—the Holy Knights showed up and wiped out the monsters.”
“That’s a relief, but... are the Holy Knights heading this way?”
Holy Knights were even worse than regular knights. Wanderers without fiefs, they were greedier and had little sense of responsibility.
“Nah, they’re still hanging around there, far as I know. But...”
Just then, the farmer who was speaking froze, his eyes widening in shock. An arrow had lodged in his head.
“Huh?”
“Eek!”
“Argh!”
Screams echoed from the farmers in the woods.
*********
When noble scions join the King’s Church, they start as Squire Knights. Even if they already held squire or knight titles, entering the King’s Church resets them to squire in the Holy Knight Order.
At this stage, they go without names, clad mainly in chainmail, accompanying bishops or clerics, or shadowing other Holy Knights on missions.
Gazrek, a veteran Holy Knight of the King’s Church, trained such squires.
Traditionally, the Church’s Holy Knights paired one veteran with one squire as a mentor, forging tight bonds while passing down swordsmanship, magic, monster lore, and knightly mindset.
But now, one veteran oversaw multiple squires, just enough to rack up results and promote them to regular knights.
The nobles weren’t exactly churning out bastards left and right, so the Church was always desperate for initiates.
Gazrek’s current mission was to lead five squires on a beast cull.
“Ugh, I hate this. Such a hassle.”
“Beast cull” didn’t mean facing real monsters. Probably just hunting wolves or bears.
A noble running a logging camp in the woods had donated to the Church and requested they clear out the dangerous beasts appearing in his territory.
The problem wasn’t killing them—it was finding them. Even ferocious predators fled from humans reeking of metal.
They’d have to prowl the woods with spears and bows until the beasts tired and moved on—a tedious chore.
“Come on, Sir Gazrek. I was excited for a real beast cull... How long do we have to wander around here?”
Squire Tasig voiced the group’s complaints.
“Quiet down. The beasts will hear and bolt.”
“But Sir Gazrek, our weapons and gear are already clanking. They know we’re here. We haven’t even seen a rabbit!”
“Oh, there.”
Another squire loosed an arrow. It struck a rabbit passing through the underbrush.
“...No rabbits, huh?”
“N-no, sir. Hey, Ben. Nice shot.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
Squire Ben retrieved his arrow from the rabbit, shrugged, and stuffed it in his pack.
“Let’s roast this for snacks later.”
“By the way, Sir Gazrek.”
“What?”
“Your daughter’s a real beauty.”
“Cut it out, you lot.”
“But she’s our superior, isn’t she? How’s that possible?”
Nobles entering the Church become Holy Knights if childless, clerics if they have kids or were married.
Yet Gazrek’s daughter was a Holy Knight like them—and higher-ranked than Gazrek himself.
“Why do you think? She was born while I was still a Holy Knight.”
“Whoa, impressive.”
“Enough. You planning to eye the bishop’s chief of staff? Right in front of her father?”
“But she might like one of us.”
“Yeah, yeah. Free love’s unavoidable.”
“Quit the nonsense and train properly. Got it?”
Gazrek looked at the squires with pity.
In his day, King’s Church Holy Knights endured squire training mastering sword and spear, re-studying Church doctrine, and honing powerful holy magic.
Only after that rigor did they become knights. But recently, with a new bishop in Sarasma, policies shifted. Flood the ranks with squires and squeeze donations from their families.
Training cost money, so they were pushed to the outskirts to “collect funds.”
Procure your own horses. Earn your own coin. It amounted to sanctioning plunder.
‘Not that I’m one to talk.’
Gazrek took bribes from his squires, fudged their evaluations, and fabricated mission reports.
This job? Patrol lightly, claim “defeated beasts X, Y, Z,” and done.
But then—
-Wooong?!
A stupid droning sound started overhead.
“Ah, damn... shit!”
Gazrek cursed at the noise.
“Huh?”
“What?”
“Quiet! It’s a wyvern.”
“What?!”
“Eek!?”
The squires fell silent in unison.
-Wooong? Wooong?!
The idiotic sound grew closer, unmistakably loud. Everyone tensed and drew weapons.
-Crash!
Branches snapped as a wyvern covered in black scales raced along the treetops. It was calf-sized—not huge.
But even a young wyvern had a tail stinger delivering agony like thousands of wasp stings, and fangs sharp as daggers.
Even expert fighters often died writhing from the venom. No room for complacency.
The real issue: a juvenile wyvern here meant a full-grown one lurked deeper in the woods...
“Hey! Shoot it!”
“Yes, sir!”
The panicked squires unleashed a volley of arrows.