Academy’s Barbarian

It was late dawn when the knights stationed at the checkpoint spotted a suspicious man and woman approaching the border.

“What’s that? Illegal immigrants?”

“Who would cross the border so boldly like that?”

A blonde man clad in chainmail armor and a female knight supporting him as they walked. It was an odd combination.

The guards didn’t sound the alarm because there were only two of them, and the man looked severely injured, barely able to move, let alone fight.

They probably thought they could handle a female knight dragging a burden like him on their own.

“Halt! Don’t come any closer!”

“What business do you Danes have at this hour?”

So, instead of ringing the alarm and waking everyone up, they approached the two Danes to verify their identities.

The two Danes showed no intention of resisting or attacking, standing still as the Empire knights approached.

“…We wish to request entry.”

The voice was calm but carried a hint of urgency as they stated their purpose for approaching the border.

Up close, the female knight had no makeup, her cheeks splattered with blood mixed with ash, yet she was strikingly beautiful, enough to surprise the knights.

Her exhausted, lifeless expression somewhat diminished her charm, though.

‘If that pig of a man had seen her, he’d have drooled all over.’

The knights recalled the former supervisor, who would falsely accuse beautiful women of being spies and enslave them, thinking this woman was incredibly lucky.

Had she arrived a few days earlier—before the pig baron’s head was put on display—she wouldn’t be standing here, looking at them with such indifference.

She would’ve been subdued, harassed under the guise of inspection, and dragged to the baron’s mansion to warm his bed as a human heater.

Of course, since the Lord of the Borderlands and the Empire’s Greatest Sword had stationed here, such practices had long been eradicated.

Not metaphorically, but literally.

—

The ‘lifelong spies’ imprisoned in the baron’s mansion had been rescued and reported every soldier and knight who had touched them.

With consistent and clear testimonies and some physical evidence, it took less than five minutes for the summary trial to turn into an execution ground.

Originally, it was to be a beheading, but Marquis Median, visibly annoyed by his lack of progress in training, proposed a new execution method and demonstrated it, which was eventually adopted.

Not a beheading, but a ‘harvesting,’ so to speak.

Marquis Median walked up to the criminal, who was vehemently denying the spies’ accusations.

“Th-this is all a conspiracy! I can explain—”

“Not interested.”

He grabbed the criminal’s arms and tore them off like bread.

“Gyaaaah?!”

Then, he stomped on the groin.

“Guwaaaah-!!”

Like a demon crawling out of hell, he grabbed the screaming criminal’s head.

– Sssssk!

And pulled it out like a cork.

The sight of the spine, covered in unidentifiable flesh, sliding out caused some criminals to faint, and screams echoed everywhere.

Marquis Median casually placed the dangling head on the limp body, laughed, and called for volunteers to join the execution.

Of course, no one stepped forward, either thinking it was too cruel or lacking the confidence to pull off a head with bare hands.

“I’ll give it a try.”

Except for one—Paladin Ja-han, the second Ka’har to defect to the Empire after Marquis Median, and the first pure-blooded Ka’har.

“Huuup!”

“Gyaaaah! Gurgle-!”

Ja-han executed the writhing criminal in the same manner as Marquis Median.

Though his arms were twice as thick, he was slightly slower, making the execution even more gruesome.

Ja-han lifted the head, nodded slightly at Marquis Median, and smirked at a knight watching nearby.

The one who met his gaze was Sir Nigel, the tenth sword of Landenburg.

“Punishing criminals is also a knight’s duty.”

Nigel grabbed the criminal, who started cursing, and drew a dagger from his waist.

Not to slash, but to make it easier to pull out the head.

After a few cuts, the head popped out easily, and Sir Nigel smiled brightly, holding it up.

The sight of a pretty female knight cheerfully shaking a criminal’s spine was chilling to the border guards.

“Sir Nigel, as expected!”

“People should use their heads, not just have them!”

The Landenburg knights cheered enthusiastically.

“Ahem. A knight’s duty…”

“…It’s unavoidable.”

Some knights coughed awkwardly and headed toward the prisoners, cracking wrists or drawing daggers.

True to Landenburg knights, who fought barbarians daily, they seemed to relieve the boredom of marching and construction with executions.

“…Is it okay if I’m not a knight?”

Even the hesitant victims joined in, turning the execution ground into an impromptu head-pulling competition.

The knights competed over who could pull faster or elicit louder screams, their excitement revealing the stress they’d been under.

“Haha, I was faster!”

“No, we pulled at the same time!”

The executioner, now unemployed, watched the bizarre scene with a look of disbelief.

“Knights are all madmen…”

His muttered words were drowned out by the knights’ cheers.

—

‘Ah, I got distracted. Anyway, what’s with this guy, escorting such a woman?’

The Empire knight, recalling the nightmare-inducing head-pulling festival, turned his gaze to the Dane man being supported by the female knight.

He looked like a wreck.

His left arm was charred black like a failed dish, his chainmail armor torn and twisted into rags, and three arrows were lodged in his back.

Not only that. The man limped on his right leg, either from injury or a pre-existing disability, and wore an eyepatch over his left eye.

His face was smeared with blood and mud, his hair and beard unkempt. He looked more like a deserter or a slave than a warrior.

‘Surely, it’s not some ‘love elopement,’ right?’

The knights chuckled, imagining a ‘slave soldier who charmed the female knight’ in their heads.

“…Empire soldiers? No, Empire knights.”

Before they met the man’s piercing blue eye.

The moment they locked eyes, the knights instinctively stepped back, hands on their sword hilts. It was a primal wariness.

The man’s eyes weren’t as fierce as the ‘Sword of the Starry Sky,’ but they were intense enough to make the knights feel like they were facing a monster.

The knights, slightly crouched, debated whether to draw their swords as they stared at the Dane man.

His face, hidden behind hair, an eyepatch, and a beard, was quite masculine.

His tired eyes seemed melancholic, and his somber face, combined with his aura, hinted at a tumultuous life.

‘Hmm. He’s got the right to escort such a woman.’

One Empire knight nodded slightly.

The prostitutes he often visited said women were easily charmed by ‘men with a story’ or ‘beastly men.’ Here was a beastly man with a story.

For a knight who only heard beastly sounds, it was enviable.

“What’s with those injuries? Doesn’t look like bandits did it. A Dane deserter requesting asylum at this hour… Suspicious, way too suspicious.”

Of course, the Dane man’s appearance, charming enough to captivate the female knight, didn’t affect the Empire knights’ interrogation.

They kept their hands on their sword hilts and pressed for details.

“You said you’re requesting asylum in the Empire? State your identity and purpose.”

“…Knut, son of Sven. Former vice-captain of the Engraved Holy Warriors, ‘Einherjar.’ Not that you’ve heard of it.”

Knut, the large man, coughed up blood and continued.

“In your terms, I’d be a vice-captain of the Imperial Knight Order. The purpose of my asylum is to warn you—specifically, Ai-shan Gi-or Ha-shal-leur, who should be here. Does that explain it?”

The knights’ faces stiffened at the name.

The name of the supreme commander of the garrison, a noble on par with the Lord of the Borderlands, heir to his family, and the Empire’s strongest knight, spoken so casually by a Dane.

“…By any chance, are you acquainted with Marquis Median?”

“Hmm… We’ve shared sweat and crossed swords.”

To the knights, Knut’s answer sounded like he was one of the Empire’s Greatest Sword’s close friends.

After all, it was rumored that Marquis Median’s hobby was beating his friends with swords to train them.

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