Volume One: The Forest Knight, Chapter 109: Grinber the Horse Trader (8)

The names got mixed up again for the second time—what a nightmare. I’ve been traveling on business constantly lately and didn’t check carefully before posting. I’ll be more careful in the future. Thank you to the readers who pointed it out; I truly appreciate it!

At that moment, Broda led eight soldiers from the left wing and rear: four spearmen in front, followed closely on the sides by two sword-and-shield men and two halberdiers. They launched a fierce assault against the right wing led by Lochiel.

Lochiel and the six or seven men under his command were caught completely off guard by Broda’s charge. Except for Lochiel himself, nearly all his soldiers were knocked to the ground in an instant, as the troops on Lochiel’s right wing were not the elite in his unit.

Seeing this, Lochiel hurried toward the left wing, intending to warn Greenber and the others. However, Broda and his men pursued swiftly and soon broke through the front lines, attacking from behind and shattering the formation where Greenber and Oromi pressed the Nolandburg soldiers.

Meanwhile, the Nolandburg soldiers, with their front, right flank, and mobile forces, quickly launched a counterattack. Surrounded on two sides, Lochiel’s mercenaries fell into disarray.

In the chaos, Oromi was struck in the leg by a wooden hammer accidentally flung by an ally, causing him to fall to the ground. The other mercenaries, including Lochiel and Greenber, each fought alone and were systematically overwhelmed by groups of five organized Nolandburg soldiers. They were quickly subdued.

After securing victory, the remaining Nolandburg soldiers helped their fallen comrades to their feet. They then reformed into neat ranks and marched back to their original positions. Standing tall and straight like pine trees, they waited silently for their lord, Sir Berrion, to inspect them.

Sir Berrion strode up before them, his personal guards forming two lines. He warmly embraced each soldier from front to back.

When he saw a soldier with blood on his face, Berrion would take out his handkerchief to wipe it gently. This heartfelt gesture moved the soldiers to tears. From childhood, they had believed that nobles and commoners were as distant as gods and mortals—intimate contact was impossible. Yet this lord not only called them brothers but truly treated them as such.

Hearts are won through heartfelt kindness. Most of the time, when you treat others sincerely, they won’t repay you with malice. Though Berrion’s actions might seem performative, he genuinely felt proud of these soldiers, who had been trained under his command and had not disappointed him.

Looking into their pure eyes and bright smiles, Berrion grinned foolishly. Laughing, he said, “Look at you all, such fools. Your armor was clean this morning, and now you’ve trashed it like this. When we return, you’d better clean and tidy yourselves up properly. My personal guards must look so good that any young lady who sees them can’t help but admire them!”

“Ha ha ha!” Berrion’s personal guards burst into laughter. They knew that though their lord teased them about their current state, he truly recognized and was proud of them.

“All right! You’re all grown men, real men. I won’t nag you anymore. Broda, let the men rest right here. There’s some food and a few barrels of beer nearby. Eat, drink, and if you need to relieve yourselves, go on and do it.” Berrion continued to feign annoyance, but his actions showed genuine care for his brothers.

After arranging for his men, Berrion turned to Lochiel and the others. He opened his arms and helped both Lochiel and Greenber, who were still sitting on the sandy ground, to their feet, smiling as he asked, “Well? Are you convinced now?”

Lochiel gave a bitter smile and replied, “Sir Berrion, it’s no longer a matter of being convinced. After these two battles, I’m beginning to doubt whether all the experience I gained in past fights has been of any use.”

“Ha ha ha!” Berrion laughed heartily and looked at Greenber, fixing his gaze on his one eye as if demanding an answer.

Greenber nodded and said, “I’m convinced. As long as you help me avenge my men, I swear loyalty to you!” With that, Oromi was about to kneel on one knee and pledge allegiance to Berrion.

But Berrion caught him, preventing him from kneeling in public, and smiled, “I said you can swear loyalty to me after you’ve stayed in Amondin for a month or so. Since you haven’t gone yet, I’m not accepting your loyalty just yet.”

Lochiel quickly pulled Greenber aside, smirking as he scolded, “Oromi, you idiot! You yelled at me so harshly before, but now do you understand why I’m willing to follow Sir Berrion? You foolish groundhog.”

Before Lochiel’s words had even fallen, the men behind him burst into laughter. Although they lost the match, they had won a good opportunity for themselves and their families. Having traveled far and wide, they knew that truly turbulent times were coming. When chaos reigned, few lords could ensure their people’s safety and prosperity—and Berrion was certainly one of them. Despite his youth, he was skilled in military affairs, governance, and winning hearts. Moreover, he was a noble of great virtue.

Berrion didn’t know what others were thinking; he simply followed his own plans. Warmly, he said to Lochiel and Greenber, “After today’s fight, we’ve all gotten to know each other better. Tonight, we’ll hold a barbecue feast in your courtyard—a celebration of our victory and also a welcome toast for your invitation from Nolandburg.”

“Sounds great!”
“Absolutely wonderful!”

Lochiel and Greenber agreed immediately. Seeing how eagerly they accepted, Berrion turned and shouted, “Bran, Hack, you two lazy pigs, bring over the beer, the cured pork, and beef jerky so these men can eat and rest.”

The two poor fellows, Bran and Hack, quickly wheeled over the provisions on a handcart.

Berrion patted the beer barrel and smiled at Lochiel and Greenber. “To be honest, fighting you was a bit unfair on my part. Consider this a consolation. Eat, drink, and rest a bit.”

“Unfair?” Lochiel looked puzzled. “Sir Berrion, what does that mean?”

Berrion smiled awkwardly and hurried to explain, “It’s something my master told me. It means that although I won, it wasn’t an honorable victory.”

“But your personal guards defeated us openly and fairly. Everyone saw it. No one suspected any trickery,” Greenber said, equally confused.

“Infantry defeating an equal number of dismounted cavalry while suffering a third of our men wounded—I’d call that a loss,” Berrion explained.

Lochiel and Greenber exchanged smiles. Greenber adjusted his eye patch and chuckled, “Sir, if that counts as a loss, then we’ve truly lost face. We come from humble origins as horse traders. Our mounted combat skills can’t match knights, but we’re competent light cavalry. Still, we always considered ourselves better at fighting on foot. Take that big guy Oromi—he’s strong on horseback, but skilled knights can knock him off. If it comes to foot combat, I’ve seen few who can defeat him. So, sir, your men beating us on foot means they are truly among the best warriors on the Velin Continent.”

“Ha ha ha! Hearing you say that makes me feel much better,” Berrion laughed.

At that moment, Lochiel sighed and said softly, “It’s true—the more capable someone is, the higher their standards for themselves. We’ve defeated some stray knights, bandits, and robbers and thought ourselves great. But Sir Berrion’s men defeated our somewhat elite mercenaries and still said they relied on the fact we weren’t mounted. How can there be such a huge gap between people?”

Greenber punched Lochiel lightly on the shoulder and laughed, “You fool! How can we ragtag troops compare to Sir Berrion, from a noble knightly family, trained under the Sword God Dawnblade himself?”

“Alright, alright, stop it!” Berrion saw these two starting to flatter him in every possible way and quickly told them to be quiet.

With a mock scowl, he looked at them and said, “Go eat and drink now. I can’t stand you two with your endless flattery.”

“Ha ha ha!” Lochiel and Greenber laughed heartily.

As their laughter rang out, suddenly a long, plaintive sigh echoed, “Hey, what are you doing… ouch… hey…”

The three turned toward the voice and saw two men trying to carry the injured Oromi to a shaded spot. They accidentally touched his wounded leg, causing him to emit a strange, chicken-like cry of pain.

When Berrion and the others approached, the big man lay on the ground groaning, completely unlike the fierce warrior he had been moments before in the arena.

Lochiel stepped beside Oromi and lightly kicked him, annoyed. “Oromi, stop pretending you’re hurt. Get up now!”

“No, I really am hurt. I can’t get up. Someone please carry me back,” Oromi said, eyes closed, still lying down.

Lochiel and Greenber exchanged a glance, then grinned mischievously and asked, “You want us to carry you back, huh? Are you sure about that?”

“I’m sure! I’m sure! I want to be carried back,” Oromi insisted. “I didn’t even want to compete; you made me come. Now I’m hurt, so you have to carry me back.”

“Fine! We’ll carry you back right now. Come on, Greenber.” With that, Lochiel and Greenber hoisted Oromi—Lochiel lifting his upper body, Greenber his legs. The two strong men easily lifted the big fellow.

They counted down together, “Three, two, one,” and then began rocking Oromi side to side.

When they reached “one” again, they shouted, “Go!” and tossed Oromi onto a pile of soft straw mats used for training.

Oromi scrambled up angrily, shouting, “You two don’t know what you’re doing. Do you have any idea why I want you to carry me back?”

“I know, Oromi, my good brother,” Berrion said with a smile.

Oromi’s expression turned surprised at Berrion’s words, while Lochiel and Greenber continued laughing nearby.

“You feel guilty and embarrassed to face me, so you’re pretending to be injured, right?” Berrion asked.

The two-meter-tall giant lowered his head and replied in a buzzing whisper, “Yes, sir.”

“Heh, where’s that loudmouth you usually are?” Lochiel turned to Greenber.

Greenber laughed, “I bet it’s not his leg that’s injured—it’s something else down there that got smashed.”

Greenber’s comment made Lochiel clutch his stomach with laughter, and Berrion laughed heartily as well, while Oromi stood there, red-faced with indignation.