Surviving as a Knight in a Trash Game

Chapter 8

"I heard... this was a domain war started because Bolido’s Seymour had been blinded by greed."

Karl lay on his cot inside the tent, staring up at the canvas ceiling, deep in thought. But the expression he had seen on Baron Seymour’s face earlier was not one of a man thrilled by the prospect of stealing what belonged to another.

Rather—

‘Didn’t he look more like someone being invaded?’

The face of a man being pushed forward against his will.

Having wandered countless battlefields across the East Continent for years, reading a commander’s thoughts from their expression was as natural to Karl as breathing.

As those thoughts kept unraveling in his mind, one led to another until eventually he found himself questioning why he was even here.

Was it really because of the mission? That didn’t quite make sense—he had already been heading this way even before the mission window appeared.

[I don’t know what I can do now, but if I don’t want to die, I’ve got to do something.]

Selena’s words resurfaced in his mind. It wasn’t because he liked her. In fact, it was true he didn’t care for overweight women.

‘Was it pity?’

Living inside a game world was already absurd enough. Without emotions like these, perhaps he would have gone mad or killed himself long ago.

Shaking off those unnecessary thoughts, Karl suddenly sat up and stepped out of the tent.

***

"So what I’m saying is, why are we even attacking the Tennesse family?"

"Shh! You do know Count Calido’s soldiers are nearby, don’t raise your voice!"

"What, did I say something wrong? Isn’t it because of them that our lord is waging this war?"

"Still, that’s not something we should be saying out loud."

"Even kids passing by know the truth! We’ve been good neighbors with Tennesse for nearly a hundred years. I myself have more than ten acquaintances from there. Isn’t it the same for you?"

"...Yeah, that’s true."

The soldiers gathered near the campfire were eating their rations as they carried on their conversation.

"By the way, wasn’t that knight who showed up earlier kind of scary?"

"Hey, as long as he can fight, it’s all good for us."

"Where did he say he was from again?"

"Pretty sure he came from the East Continent."

"He must’ve killed a lot of people… I bet slaughtering farmers and woodcutters from Tennesse won’t even make him blink."

One of the soldiers, frustrated, chugged down water straight from the canteen.

"Let’s be real—can someone who served under Count Calido really be called a knight? He’s no better than a mercenary or a hired blade. Honor? Those people do anything for coin. That’s no knight."

"Can’t argue with that. Mind if I get a drink too?"

"...?"

The soldiers suddenly turned their heads in unison at the unfamiliar voice.

...

A hush fell over the group. The source of the unfamiliar voice didn’t seem to care at all about their reaction. He simply got comfortable, scooped up some stew simmering over the fire, and took a sip.

"Go ahead and keep talking. I’m curious."

"I—I—I’ve committed a grave offense!"

Suddenly dropping to the ground, the soldiers began bowing and begging in front of the man they now recognized as Basko.

"I’m not planning to kill you. I’m genuinely curious. What kind of man is Baron Seymour, usually? If you speak honestly, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear anything tonight. But if I sense even a hint of a lie… I’ll take your heads for insulting a knight’s honor."

At Karl’s indifferent, almost casual tone, the soldiers’ faces went pale.

"Well then, why don’t you sit back down? I just want to hear the story before I sleep."

The moment Karl finished speaking, the soldiers who had been groveling on the ground scrambled back to their seats like lightning.

"Let’s begin then."

***

"You're saying he's been mingling with the soldiers?"

"Yes. He’s been eating with them every evening since a few days ago. The men seem to like him quite a lot."

"...What a strange man."

From what Seymour had heard, the so-called Northwind Knights were little more than butchers on horseback in armor.

"And what of Vito?"

"…He’s evacuated the civilians from the domain and left only the soldiers behind. It appears he’s preparing for a last stand. The soldiers are of the same mind."

"I see."

Baron Vito of Tennesse was the kind of lord that anyone could look up to. His actions made perfect sense. Even if the odds were hopeless, he was not the type to run away.

Seymour silently respected Vito in his heart.

"How did it come to this…"

He regretted the day he had approached Count Calido, hoping to make his small domain just a little more prosperous.

What he had received in support had become a debt, and every grain of that aid returned to him as a weakness, a leash.

What had once been financial support was suddenly redefined as a loan—and interest began to accrue. Count Calido was more ruthless and persistent than any loan shark Seymour had ever known.

In the end, he even had to send his family as hostages to Calido.

"I want to meet him."

"Shall I escort you now?"

Seymour left his tent and walked toward the area where the soldiers were resting.

"I'm telling you, this woman, Sena—she just slapped me across the face, right? So I grabbed her and said, ‘Let’s live together! What reason do we have not to!’"

"From what I heard, you cried and begged so much that she took pity on you and comforted you."

"Who’s spreading that nonsense?!"

Hahahahaha.

At the center of the laughter and banter was the knight named Basko. The soldiers spoke and laughed freely in his presence.

"My lord?"

A soldier noticed Seymour approaching and immediately stood to attention, prompting the others to rise as well.

"At ease. I’m not here to make anyone uncomfortable."

"Yes, sir!"

"May I sit here?"

"Of course."

Seymour walked past the soldiers and sat beside Karl. There was no alcohol—battle was three days away—and instead, the baron held up a canteen of water.

"You seem to have gotten quite close to the men these past four days."

"They're the ones I’ll be fighting alongside."

His answer made Seymour’s eyes light up again.

"Sir Basko, why did you join this fight?"

"I made a choice. To help."

It was a vague answer, much like the man himself.

"Then let me ask—why is it that you're attacking Tennesse? I heard your relations were good."

"I made the wrong choice. A pitiful mistake."

"And you mortgaged your family?"

"…"

Seymour fell silent. He couldn’t meet Karl’s gaze.

"I’ll take my leave."

The baron stood and walked away. His back looked pitiful. Karl silently watched him go for a while, then slowly rose as well.

From that day forward, Baron Seymour often visited Karl to speak. Even on the day before the assault on Tennesse Castle, Seymour came to find him.

From Seymour’s point of view, “Sir Basko” was a subordinate of the detestable Count Calido. But despite his aloof manner, there was an inexplicable sense of trust that drew Seymour to him.

"I know it’s improper to drink the night before a battle, but I can’t help myself. Will you share a drink with me?"

"Sure."

That short reply made Seymour smile as he stepped into Karl’s tent.

"This was hard to get in a place like this."

He poured high-quality whiskey into a carved wooden cup. After taking a light sip, Karl’s expression softened for the first time in a while.

The warm satisfaction of a drinker who had finally tasted proper alcohol after being let down by lukewarm beer.

"Sir."

"...?"

"If tomorrow’s assault on Tennesse Castle fails, I want you to kill me."

"What are you saying?"

"If I die, it’ll solve most of the problems. If it’s said I died in battle, Count Calido won’t have a reason to torment my family anymore. He’ll probably install my son as the new lord and use him as a puppet, but that’ll be the extent of it."

"Then wouldn’t it be better for you to stay alive and serve Calido?"

"He doesn’t trust me. He’ll keep my family as hostages for the rest of my life."

"..."

There was no hesitation in Seymour’s eyes.

"We haven’t known each other long, but I believe you're the only one who can grant this request."

"You have overwhelming force. Why do you think you’ll fail?"

"Just a feeling. Will you do it?"

Seymour raised his cup.

"...I will."

And so, their final toast was made.

***

"My lord… they’ve arrived."

"What of the townspeople?"

—

“All those who wished to leave have been evacuated.”

“Well done.”

Baron Vito stood atop the castle walls, staring straight ahead. A total of 150 soldiers and five knights were mounted and arrayed before them. This force included two Free Knights that had been recruited externally for this domain war.

“Why don’t I see the Free Knights on their side?”

He had heard that a group calling themselves the Northwind Knights had joined, including ten knights. But the ones before him now looked to be just Baron Seymour’s forces, with maybe fifty more regular soldiers added in.

“Hmm… that one’s an unfamiliar face.”

Among them, one knight stood out—someone Vito hadn’t seen before in Bolido’s domain. Broad shoulders, nearly wild black hair—it was a figure that evoked the image of a beast. Even from a distance, he gave off a dangerous aura.

“So the rest must be nearby.”

Clutching his sword in anticipation of real combat for the first time in ages, Baron Vito took a deep breath.

“If it’s a fight that can’t be avoided, let’s fight with honor.”

As he made that vow to himself and looked forward, Baron Seymour began the advance.

It seemed they had received solid support from Calido; for a rural army, they were surprisingly well-equipped.

He even spotted about twenty longbowmen among them, though most didn’t look well-trained just yet.

“Archers, aim!”

Baron Vito was a noble who had seen real combat in his younger days. His family had trained in swordsmanship and prepared for war over generations, and their castle housed a number of experienced archers.

Even if the enemy had the range advantage with their longbows, the accuracy of untrained soldiers would be negligible.

Vito calmly waited until the enemy entered range, then raised his hand high. And when the enemy stepped onto the white mark drawn on the ground, his hand dropped.

Thwip!

An arrow released from a tightly drawn bow embedded itself in a Bolido soldier’s chest. The soldier dropped instantly.

Dozens of follow-up arrows whizzed through the air—only a few struck, and only the first shot was instantly fatal, but it was enough to slow the enemy’s momentum. Still, the Bolido army advanced close to the castle walls.

With shields raised to cover their heads and shoulders, the effectiveness of arrows fired downward from the walls was limited.

“They’re climbing!”

The walls, as one might expect of a poor rural domain, weren’t that tall.

Ladders were hoisted onto the walls, and the enemy began climbing up.

Tennesse’s soldiers hurled rocks and rained arrows down on them.

“Hold them off!”

A Bolido soldier who had almost reached the top took a sword to the chest from one of Tennesse’s defenders.

“Aaargh!”

Was he even fourteen yet? A boy soldier with a youthful face screamed and lunged forward, driving a spear toward the enemy.

The armored soldier only received a shallow wound from the boy’s weak strike. He climbed onto the wall and swung the mace in his hand.

Clang!

A wooden shield intercepted the mace. The veteran standing in front of the boy kicked the enemy soldier hard in the stomach.

“Keep your head on straight!”

“Uncle Pan!”

“No one’s coming to save us! Keep your head clear, got it!?”

“Yes, sir!”

The boy, Andre, recalled the talk he’d heard from those around him.

Tennesse had been abandoned. Count Calido, the Border Marquis, would not intervene no matter what happened here. That was the rumor.

Clench.

No one would come to their rescue.

No matter how justly and honorably Baron Vito had lived, no matter how vile and unjust this invasion was—no one cared about such things.

“Uaaaaaaaah!”

Andre screamed as he charged at the enemy soldiers scaling the wall.