Chapter 91

The Medieval-Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset 91

91. Pasture Tourism

Inside the tent, left alone.

As I write a letter by the dim candlelight, holding a quill, I suddenly recall what happened during my first playthrough. I guess it’s because the situations are similar. It’s less severe this time, though… Back then, the knights and I fought without rest.

[Your Majesty, how can you do such a cruel thing!]

The knights could not defeat the enemy, but they kept their faith. I remember their oath, which they kept repeating without rest. I could recall every word they said without making a single mistake.

The Knight’s Oath.

Believe in the reason I fight. The moment I lose faith, I will become nothing more than a murderer.

Perhaps this oath was the trap that ensnared them.

[You won’t send reinforcements and you won’t even allow them to retreat?!]

We, who had experienced different times, different worlds, and unfamiliar things, couldn’t help but clash.

I tried to persuade the knights with strategic advantages, and the knights tried to persuade me with purpose and ideals. When the conflict exploded, the passionate and righteous knight glared at me and responded.

[Furthermore, you deceived them!!!]

[Deceive?]

My voice in response was cold and ruthless.

[The reinforcements will arrive.]

[After they are all dead!]

[When the enemies are confident in their victory and have dispersed.]

[Your Majesty! You are the king. You must protect the people, inheriting the will of the ancestral gods!]

Looking back, I don’t think I moved a single facial muscle.

Those who said that they must keep their faith even in defeat did not agree with me at all.

[No, a king must win. I realized this by looking at your pathetic soldiers.]

[Your Majesty… To the end!]

[You showed me that no matter how noble your intentions are, they are useless if you cannot win. Are you not afraid of being hated and pointed at?]

Let me give you a cruel but reasonable example that often appears in [Fantasy Monarch].

Suppose a foreign child is born and is in danger of inheriting the throne of the country. Of course, the locals do not want a foreign king, and the foreign country plans to use this as an excuse to take the throne.

At this point, where their interests conflict, war is inevitable. The blacksmiths start forging weapons instead of farming tools, and the serfs tremble at the dark clouds of war.

At such a time, someone comes up with a cruel but reasonable proposal.

He suggests that they kill the newborn child to prevent him from inheriting the throne, and that they form an alliance with other foreign lords who fear the strength of the foreign country to prevent war. Now they are presented with two choices.

Should they stand by and watch as a foreign power invades, condemning the serfs to death, because they don’t want to kill the child? Or should they cruelly kill the innocent newborn child to prevent war?

From Noble mtl dot com

Here, the majority of [Fantasy Monarch] users would choose the latter.

After all, they are the kind of people who would even use their own cybernetic children as pawns to seize the throne and then abandon them.

I prefer a more humane and sophisticated method. After abduction, I save the child’s life through castration, eliminate the very inheritance that is the cause of the dispute, and prevent war.

However, even a great data human rights activist like me, who saves both the child and prevents war, had some controversy in the process.

Nevertheless, it was something that had to be done as it was the way to save the innocent child and to wish that there would be no serfs driven to war. Although there were some who criticized it as inhumane and said that they would rather kill than cut off their tails.

The important thing here was arrogance and determination.

[I will become one who does what needs to be done.]

There is nothing more precious than life in the world. It was because of this belief that I cut off the tail instead of the head of the innocent with tears in my eyes.

The same goes for war.

You have to know how to make necessary sacrifices while reducing sacrifices. Saving everyone is the realm of God, not something humans can do.

And I was human, and the king of such humans-.

“It’s all written.”

As I soaked in my thoughts and scribbled, quite a long letter was completed.

I put down the feather pen and shook the small bell on the table. As I waited for a moment, a soldier dressed in gambeson came into the tent with a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Strange. Looking at the ruins I’m facing now, I can’t help but smile…?

I thought this kid was crazy, so I decided to ask him gently.

“Is there anything good?”

“Yes?”

“I can see you trying to hold back your laughter.”

“…Didn’t Your Majesty call someone as a servant and tell them to come find you with a smile?”

“? Who said that?”

As expected, the medieval people who lived with death have very different emotions from me.

Common sense tells me who would make a laughing bell in front of the enemy. Even if you’re nervous, you’re trying to spread a big smile… I couldn’t help but click my tongue.

This won’t do. I needed a sharp rebuke.

“This is a serious time. Don’t try to laugh recklessly and have more weight.”

“…”

“And call a messenger who can walk or ride fast.”

“A horse at this hour…?”

Judging by the question, there was a lot of lung capacity, but I couldn’t expect too much from those who weren’t professional soldiers. Rather, it was a good response considering what I ultimately wanted.

I nodded slowly and answered the soldier’s question.

“We will soon head to Coveville. It is a letter that will give hope to the people of Coveville until then. If you endure bravely until we arrive, I will forgive you for your past crimes.”

Hope.

I knew how to use this cruel word.

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April 17, 1213, when the cold was gone and wildflowers were blooming everywhere.

A butterfly that was fluttering over the wildflowers swayed by the breeze suddenly fluttered its wings violently and disappeared. The brown rabbits that were sniffing around the butterfly also pricked up their ears and threw their bodies over the lush bushes.

After a while, a man with a clean-shaven chin and a thin shirt appeared in the place where they had disappeared.

The man was walking lightly on his feet, avoiding the trampled grass. With sharp blue eyes twinkling as if a strong wind was blowing. How long did he walk like that?

The clean-shaven man frowned and crouched down at the sight of the terribly trampled grass.

“These footprints are…”

It doesn’t belong to any living thing in the forest. No matter how much I searched my head, there were only similar footprints, not the same ones. The man was confused for a moment before facing the footprints he had encountered for the first time in his life, and then his eyes widened.

‘A hornless reindeer ridden by landers.’

The man hastily lifted his head and soon realized where the footprints were headed.

A fiercely meandering river, and a small village that was granted a brief respite by being nestled in its heart.

These arch-shaped footprints were clearly headed for the pasture.

The man soon recalled that there was an army marching south along this bountiful river. The circumstantial evidence combined with the evidence found on the scene allowed only one conclusion.

‘They’re moving!’

The man, having acquired important information, could no longer remain in the same place.

He hurriedly escaped into the forest, and soon found his colleagues staying at a small campsite. His colleagues happened to be spreading out the supplies they had just looted on a shield and chattering away.

“Oh. I was just about to call you.”

“We brought some liquor for Gor, our friend, from the groundlings. Come, come, sit here. Even if it’s muddy, it’s still liquor, so it shouldn’t be bad to drink, right?”

However, Gor spoke while putting on the armor and helmet he had set up under the tree.

“Wrap up the drinking party.”

“Hey, even if you drink during your work hours, it’s not like we’ll duel…”

“The groundlings have moved.”

Only then did the expressions of his colleagues change.

The colleagues who had been acting friendly until just now raised their shields while pushing away all the loot they had spread out.

“How many?”

“One. Riding a reindeer without antlers.”

“We must return to the main force.”

Even though they were somewhat relaxed, they were scouts who were nominally responsible for surveillance.

They believed Gor’s words without a doubt, and they also knew that a reindeer without antlers could not be easily chased on foot. Above all, it was highly likely that the surveillance would lose its meaning if the groundlings found out that their pasture had been watched .

In an instant, the traces of the campfire were covered with dirt and branches, and human traces were erased with the urine of a beast that had been stored in a leather container in advance. They even buried the loot they had managed to obtain in the ground without any regrets.

However, there was only one thing they could not easily hide: the eyes that gleamed with the desire for battle.

“Yes.”

“They’re finally moving.”

Warriors who served the old gods. The scouts they had prepared in advance returned to the main force without hesitation.

The place they returned to was a forest clearing about half a day’s walk southwest of Corbil, which was located in the middle of the river. There were already numerous tents set up in the clearing, and even ships were turned upside down, revealing their keels .

The warriors came and went without rest, exchanging insults and engaging in fistfights, or sitting in a shady corner sharpening their axes or swords with whetstones.

In the center of them was a man with his arms crossed, showing off his solid muscles and shouting orders.

Hart, the leader who had persuaded Chief Urphson and led the warriors.

He shook his braided sideburns to the left and admonished the warriors.

“Hey, don’t pull each other’s beards like groundlings. Fight only with your fists! Even women with swords fight more honorably than that!”

“Chief warrior.”

Gor approached him without hesitation and called out his title. Hart, who turned his head at the familiar voice, was soon started.

“Huh? Isn’t that Gor and his friends? Why are you back already?”

“It’s about the groundlings.”

“…Follow me to my tent.”

Hart instantly erased his playfulness and returned to the sharp expression of a warrior. And inside Hart’s tent, Gor conveyed everything he had seen and deduced.

After a while, Hart stroked his chin and frowned as he listened to all this.

“The starlight of the outer world. That great warrior intends to accept those who escaped and increase his numbers. The chief was worried about that.”

“So?”

“Hm. An opportunity for us to relieve the patriarch of his troubles.”

Just some serfs, after all.

Hart promptly puffed out his chest and bared his teeth.

“Instead of letting that great warrior rile up the ranch hands and have them talk back, we’ll cut him down first.”

“Captain, he is a great warrior, in name. Shouldn’t we be wary?”

“Hm.”

Gor’s worried tone only served to fuel Hart’s bravado and disdain.

Hart simply chuckled as he toyed with the ax haft hanging from his waist.

“Have you seen what they think of the gods?”

“Well…”

“A people who would discard even a god who dotes on them if it meant staying alive. Selfish creatures who resent the gods for their flimsy faith while only wishing to receive. That’s what serfs are.”

The serfs Hart had encountered were all the same.

They discarded the gods they had invited to sustain their lives like old shoes. Just as they had turned their backs on the old gods in the past. The warriors had never trusted that weak faith and shallow belief.

“No one would trust the promises or oaths of those who treat even the gods’ names as nothing. Even if he’s a great warrior, he’s nothing compared to our great warriors. Shouldn’t he be thanking us instead?”

Hart was one such warrior.

“We’re doing him a favor by relieving him of those apostate traitors who’ve turned their backs on the gods.”