Chapter 5: The Tin Knight's Camping Cuisine
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 5: The Tin Knight's Camping Cuisine
For Dorothea, camping was a perfectly familiar, everyday activity.
She had once infiltrated a troll’s nest on the orders of her eccentric teacher, so for her, sleeping in an ordinary forest hardly counted as a hardship.
Dorothea was aware that other travelers came better prepared, but she didn't much care.
She had the power of magic.
Using the ash of burnt root vegetables as a catalyst, she could ward off the cold and damp, and a powder made from dried white petals could repel most insects. Bugs infused with mana were an exception, but they were rare.
The blanket she used was made of a cloth that expanded when infused with mana; normally the size of a handkerchief, it was no trouble to carry.
Which was why Dorothea could only stare, dumbfounded, as the Tin Knight suddenly declared something about cooking and charged off into the darkness.
“Besides, magic dolls can’t even eat. What’s the point of cooking if you can’t even taste it…”
Her words trailed off as she froze.
She suddenly remembered a magic doll catalog she had secretly looked at long ago. In it, there had definitely been a ‘magic doll capable of cooking.’
She doubted such an advanced feature would be installed in an old-fashioned doll that couldn't even be supplied with mana remotely. But then she recalled its absurd combat prowess and thought it wouldn't be strange for it to possess some other unexpected abilities.
“…Maybe I’ll wait a little.”
Dorothea put the dried fruit and jerky she had taken out back into her bag.
Just as being used to sleeping on a hard floor didn't make it more comfortable than a bed, being accustomed to subsisting on simple rations didn't mean it tasted better than a proper meal.
Dorothea had no intention of preparing one herself, but there was no need to refuse if someone else was offering.
With a flicker of anticipation and excitement, Dorothea waited for the Tin Knight to return.
*
The blade you swung split the deer’s head in two.
It was a truly brutish strike, devoid of the clean technique of a master swordsman.
Looking down at the deer as it collapsed, its limbs twitching, you paused in thought.
It wasn't some belated repentance for the life you had taken.
You were simply contemplating how to process the corpse before you into delicious ‘meat.’
You had no refined skills, yet you were overflowing with motivation.
When those two elements combined, a terrible result was only natural.
You hacked off one of the deer’s legs with your sword.
It was such a crude butchering that any professional would have clicked their tongue and called you an ignorant fool.
With a sword in one hand and a large chunk of meat in the other, you wandered off in search of a place to build a fire.
Your culinary plan brazenly ignored various steps, such as skinning the hide, trimming the fat, or pre-seasoning with salt to let the flavor sink in.
It was then that you saw the flickering light of a flame in the distance.
It is always easier to use an existing fire than to start a new one.
Thankful for the unexpected luck, you began walking toward the flames.
*
One person’s good fortune is often another’s misfortune.
This process is usually indirect, but some people in the world dislike the existence of middlemen who take a cut.
Therefore, they seized the good fortune of others more ‘directly.’
The world called them bandits.
“So there she was, clinging to me, begging, ‘Please, please, just spare my child!’ you know? And I, with a very solemn face—”
“Solemn, my ass. A monkey would’ve looked more dignified.”
“Ah, shut up and listen. Anyway, I said to her, ‘Tsk, it can’t be helped. Follow me. I’ll get you out before the others see.’ And then the bitch starts crying and bowing, saying thank you, thank you!”
“You bastard. No wonder you disappeared for a while. So that’s what you were up to?”
“So, what happened next?”
“What do you think? I had my fun and then threw her in the cage with the kid. Hey, I was even considerate enough not to separate her from her child. Aren’t I a nice guy?”
“Nice, my ass. You’ve always been a piece of shit, I’ll give you that.”
“Hey, you fucker! Describe the ‘fun’ part in detail! You’re skipping the most important part!”
The men laughing and talking here were among the worst of their kind.
They raided villages, plundered wealth, and, worst of all, kidnapped people to sell elsewhere, making them particularly vicious.
The lighter your burdens, the easier it is to acquire new things.
These men, who had cast aside conscience, morality, and ethics on the roadside, were wealthy for that very reason.
The liquor and food scattered around them were proof of it.
After some time spent swapping lewd jokes, one of the bandits casually made a suggestion.
“…Hey, just hearing about it is making me antsy. How about we pull a few out of the cage?”
At his words, another bandit frowned.
Naturally, his concern was not for the victims shivering from cold and hunger inside the cage.
“Did you already forget the second-in-command told us not to touch the merchandise?”
“That was just because that idiot Eric got ballsy and touched the high-quality goods, so he was trying to discipline the whole group. No one’s gonna notice if it’s just some slash-and-burn peasant women.”
“It hasn’t been that long. I feel like we’ll be fucked if we get caught.”
“Fucking coward. Then you can just stand watch. Hey, what about you guys?”
The other members of the gang looked tempted by the bandit’s proposal.
The bandit who had been trying to stop them sensed the shift in mood and clicked his tongue.
“Watch, my ass. You think I’m gonna let you guys have all the fun?”
“Should’ve just said so from the start.”
Once they reached an agreement, they acted quickly.
A few of the bandits leaped into the cargo wagon and reemerged with victims clutched at their sides.
The victims, their faces gaunt and stained with tears, were so weakened that they couldn't even put up a proper fight and were dragged along wherever the bandits led them.
Against the backdrop of the blazing campfire and torches, a cruel banquet began to unfold in every corner.
“Agh, this fucking bitch won’t stop struggling!”
“Mmph! Mmph!”
One of the bandits cursed, his expression impatient.
The woman he had chosen for her looks was thrashing about, resisting him fiercely.
“Just! Stay! Still!”
Annoyed by her resistance, the bandit resorted to violence without hesitation.
The woman, her hands and feet bound and a gag in her mouth, couldn't fight back properly, and soon her body went limp.
Her bright blonde hair was sullied with dirt, and her tear-filled green eyes reflected many things.
The dark night sky.
The bandit’s face, twisted with vile desire.
The Tin Knight, swinging a sword at the back of the bandit’s head.
Huh?
The question mark that popped into the woman’s mind and the bandit’s head splitting in two happened at almost the same instant.
The sword, having achieved its second headshot after the deer, gleamed red in the torchlight.
And then, the knight charged.
Slice!
“Gack!”
“Hey, wait, you bastard—”
It didn’t take long for the festival grounds to turn into a slaughterhouse.
The knight’s sword showed no mercy, treating the armed and unarmed with equal finality.
Only after losing a third of their number did the bandits belatedly manage to prepare for battle.
“Shit, where the hell was the night watch, letting a guy like this sneak in?!”
“Who gives a damn about that now! Just kill that bastard!”
Killing intent poured from the bandits’ eyes.
They were confident.
Their enemy was a single knight, whereas they, despite their numbers being somewhat reduced by the surprise attack, still had more than ten men left.
“You son of a bitch. Don’t think you’ll die an easy death!” one of the bandits spat, trying to intimidate the knight.
It was a basic psychological tactic, meant to make the enemy flinch and embolden his allies.
The Tin Knight answered.
Not with words, but with action.
The sword in the Tin Knight’s right hand danced through the air.
If his attacks until now had been about plowing through with brute force, what the knight’s hand now unleashed was a textbook-perfect, yet efficient, killing technique.
Clang!
When a bandit’s sword met the knight’s, there were only two outcomes.
Either the bandit’s sword was sent flying, or he lost his balance while still holding it.
And that was the end.
Slice!
Throats were cut, hearts were pierced, and guts spilled onto the ground.
The bandits were terrified as they watched their comrades being dismantled with the calm efficiency of a butcher.
“Keuk!”
Those who charged the knight’s left side met an even more miserable fate.
If the right hand wielding the sword displayed exquisite arts of slaughter, the left hand clutching the deer leg unleashed savage violence itself.
SPLAT!
The mass of bone and muscle, weighing dozens of kilograms, was a giant mace in its own right.
A few bandits bravely swung their swords, trying to cut through the chunk of meat, but their efforts only managed to score it slightly.
Some were foolish enough to attempt a thrust, only to have their blades get stuck in the meat, losing their weapons in the process.
“What… what is this monster…!”
Only then did the bandits realize their mistake.
That they hadn't been vigilant. That they were caught by surprise. That they weren't properly armed.
All of it was just an excuse.
Even if the bandits had been perfectly prepared and had attacked him as a group from the start, the knight before them was a monster capable of slaughtering them all without a second thought.
It was a realization that came far too late.
The bandits scrambled to abandon their comrades and flee, but the Tin Knight did not permit even that.
“W-wait a minute! Do you have any idea who we are—”
“I was wrong! I was wrong! Please, just spare me this once!”
“Hic, hieeek!”
Threats, pleas, and desperate escapes were all useless.
Slash and bash, slash and bash.
The dispassionate, work-like slaughter did not stop until every last bandit had been annihilated.
“……”
The surviving women watched the knight, barely daring to breathe.
While they were grateful that he had defeated the demonic bandits, the knight’s ferocity in the recent battle was too terrifying to praise him outright.
Clank. Clank.
Ignoring all the stares, the knight walked to the center of the bandits’ campsite and plopped down.
Then, over the roaring torchlight, he began to roast the deer leg in his hand.
?
A giant question mark appeared in the minds of all the survivors.
Regardless, the knight paid them no mind, diligently roasting the meat as he turned the deer leg round and round.