The Medieval Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset

The Medieval-Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset 96

96. Sacrificial Lambs, Let’s Play

The current of the Heze River is gentle.

It was a world away from the great ocean, where the crashing waves scattered like a hailstorm. The warriors who looked at the Heze River, reminded of the great ocean, had only peace in their eyes.

This gentleness brought about a small change. The warriors would sometimes stop rowing, reach out and splash the water, giggling.

“It would be nice to just float here.”

“The water is just the right temperature.”

The locals call the Heze River the mother’s breast milk.

That warmth made even the savage warriors forget about the massacre for a while. They enjoyed their leisure time, either soundly asleep or humming a tune.

There were only 11 boats rowing upstream. Each of them enjoyed their leisure time in their own way, but none of them feared the upcoming battle.

Most of them didn’t even recognize it as a battle.

This was because all the warriors knew that there were no proper enemies in their destination, Cobbleville. They were just excited with anticipation and were pondering what to ask the great gods.

Among them, the topic that garnered the most interest from the warriors was what tribute to offer and to whom.

“Have you all decided what to receive as protection? I’m thinking of offering my heart to the God of Thunder this time.”

“Ah… yes. This is the season when the God of Thunder will value it the most.”

“Don’t offer them one by one. Offer them in bundles of 20. The God of Thunder is generous and doesn’t discriminate against adults or children, so it’s best to offer them in numbers.”

The grey-haired warrior nodded his head, and the one-eyed warrior rowing the boat and humming a tune caught the attention of the warrior who was contemplating what to offer.

He stroked his neatly braided beard and showed curiosity toward the one-eyed warrior.

“Is there a specific reason for bundling them in 20s?”

“When offered in bundles, he considers the sincerity as a bonus. You shouldn’t pickle them or put too much salt on them, and you must offer them intact within two days for him to respond.”

“Ooh. One-eye, then what part are you after?”

“Nose. I’m going to offer it to the God of Hunting.”

“They don’t overlap. Good. How about forming a squad together?”

“Hmm.”

He snorted, but it didn’t mean he was declining. Warriors who talked too much were looked down upon by their peers. The one-eyed warrior realized that he had already talked too much and deliberately kept his mouth shut.

The grey-haired warrior looked at them in turn and carefully opened his mouth.

“I’ll take the lungs.”

“Lungs… They’re fragile, so it’ll be hard to collect them.”

“It’s the same whether it’s the heart or the lungs. You have to handle them carefully.”

“Hmm. Okay. We have three people in the squad now.”

The warrior with the braided beard nodded his head and smiled in satisfaction.

Warriors who didn’t overlap in their desired tributes formed their own small unit called a squad. There was no absolute superior-subordinate relationship here. The warriors simply chose to cooperate with each other as equals out of necessity.

On the one hand, they ended up competing with other squads over the tributes, which was one of the reasons why the warriors became more ferocious and aggressive on the battlefield. Every time they went on an expedition, the warriors who got along well formed a squad and competed with other squads for their achievements, building up their military exploits.

The chieftain and the warlord gave the warriors who had achieved the most remarkable exploits among these squads the opportunity to choose their tributes first.

However, this opportunity usually went to warriors who were assigned difficult tasks.

This time, it was supposed to go to the scout Gorr and his group, who were assigned the role of drawing Cobbleville’s attention and preventing them from escaping. Gorr may have been dull, but he was a comrade they could trust and rely on, so it was only natural.

Warlord Hart also thought the same.

While everyone was rowing lazily and cheerfully, Warlord Hart silently gazed at the lush forest beyond the riverbank.

After staring at it for a long time, he spoke to the warriors rowing the boat in a clear voice.

“Gorr’s signal is much later than expected.”

“Huh?”

What happened? Was this the backlash for always being so diligent?

Amidst the numerous speculations, one warrior who was usually quiet carefully opened his lips.

“Then, should we wait a little longer?”

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“Hmmm.”

Warlord Hart had no choice but to worry about the unexpected situation.

There was no way that Gorr, who was always so diligent, would not send a signal even after arriving at the prepared location. However, there was no sign of any movement from Cobbleville either.

If there was a possibility, it lay with the livestock kept by the landlubbers.

Even warriors who would normally look down on foot soldiers acknowledged the warriors who rode the hornless reindeer, for they often cut down mounted warriors while displaying amazing balance on their beasts.

‘But I have not heard of foot soldiers riding hornless reindeer.’

The quality of the ordinary soldiers was overwhelmingly inferior to the warriors. They could easily slaughter the rabble if there were no knights. They had even captured and executed dozens of knights with ease.

Hart glanced at the end of his war horn.

To the executioners who were eagerly eyeing the offerings and were ready to place their hands on the ax handles at any moment, to the warriors who wished to fight with a thirst to offer themselves to the gods.

Then the conclusion came.

“Let’s move.”

What was the reason for persuading the chieftain to come this far in the first place?

“I will hold Gore responsible later.”

Hart, the war chief, was also one of those who yearned for blood.

He felt with joy and anticipation beneath his quivering shoulders.

“For the blessing of the gods!!!”

At that cry, the eyes of the warriors, who had been leisurely rowing, flashed in unison.

Like a pack of wolves crouching to sink their teeth into their prey and waiting for an opportunity.

***

The Principality of Powys had been far from the pagans until now, and recently, thanks to Terbear, there had been no pirates coming up the river.

And the long peace had made most of the settlements near the River Heze forget the need to be properly defended.

Cobhville was one such town.

The people of Cobhville, who had been moved by the letter sent by Bishop Narva, had hurriedly gathered materials and built a wall, but it was meaningless by the time the enemy arrived.

People were carrying wooden planks and stones in makeshift sacks made by tearing up their skirts.

A man who had been idly watching the river from a nearby watchtower screamed like a cry.

“Oh, here they come!”

The pagans are coming.

In an instant, Cobhville was filled with sobbing cries and anxious screams.

All the men were drafted into the militia and were holding crude spears or long sticks, and the women were holding their crying children in their arms. Regardless of age, s*x, or origin, everyone in Cobhville had the same wish.

I hope that the wall built along the river will hold up a little bit.

It was a vain hope.

Thud!

As soon as the bow of the ship carrying the pagans rammed hard, the stone wall, which was only about as high as a man’s thigh, was instantly shattered.

And a burly warrior appeared on the bow that had smashed the stone wall, grinning fiercely. War Chief Hart. He raised a large, gleaming ax and inspired.

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“hahahahaha! Puppies, puppies!”

Hart looked down at the Cobhville militiamen clutching their spears with trembling hands and added a word.

“You look so plump and juicy to the gods.”

But the people of Cobhville did not back down easily this time.

The stigmatized Bishop Narva is leading an army south to save Cobhville. All the militiamen, who were about to collapse with trembling legs, gritted their teeth, desperately remembering that fact.

“Oh, Star of Humanity. Please protect us…!”

“Back off, pagans! We… We will no longer offer you people!”

That was when Hart began to click his tongue.

“Do not be mistaken. We have taken it.”

Thud!

Another ship rammed into the stone wall. On the deck, warriors already dressed in full gear were looking at the militia with their shoulders shaking. Behind them, ships glided down the river at lightning speed.

“This isn’t what you offered.”

The tendons on his hands, which were gripping the ax handle, stood out. Hart jumped off the bow, exhaling his boiling breath.

The target was the militia before him.

“Uh, uhh…”

Kwa-dadadadak-

A person was crushed beyond being split in two. All that remained of the person were limbs. From the face to the crotch, the bones were all shattered and split apart.

The huge ax stopped only after it had sunk deep into the ground beneath the crushed militiaman’s flesh. The militiamen didn’t even have the courage to turn their heads. Instead, they guessed their fate from the terrible bursting sound that reached their ears.

That’s how Hart knelt on the ground, trembling, without anyone’s interference.

“This is it, this is it.”

When Hart finally got up, muttering a monologue full of ecstasy, all that was left under the blood-soaked blade of his ax was sticky blood and limbs.

“A warrior doesn’t just accept what’s given.”

However, the militia couldn’t face the gruesome corpse.

This time, it wasn’t because they were afraid, but because the reality that had come before them was too heavy.

“Brion warriors, let’s go!”

“Hearts are precious! Don’t stab them!”

Warrior leader Hart jumped off first.

Following him, countless warriors jumped off the bow, aiming for the spoils.

The landing was swift and the slaughter was thorough.

The warriors approached in a flash, striking the bristling spears with axes and swords, and once they were allowed to approach, the advantage of the spears disappeared in an instant. Of course, not everyone was a coward.

One of the militiamen with a shield bravely confronted Hart.

Warrior leader Hart grinned as he looked at the militiaman who had raised his shield with a trembling posture.

“A shield…”

Booo-woong-

The blade of the ax cut through the air. Hart swung the ax up with all his might and then brought it down.

Whizz!

“Ack, aack! aaagh!!”

The militiaman’s desperate scream as his shield was split and his arm was blown off.

At that moment, as the other militiamen panicked, the victory and defeat were decided. The warriors, encouraged by Hart’s bravery, rushed toward the militia at once.

“Even our wives wouldn’t hold a shield like that!”

“hahahahaha! This is a complete mess!”

Warriors and militiamen.

The panic spread uncontrollability as the blades of the axes struck the shields all at once. Before the shields were split, it was the will of the militia that collapsed first.

“Ugh, ugh. Uaagh…”

“Heh heh, heh heh.”

It took only a few tens of seconds for the militia to completely collapse.

The fate of Cobbleville was thus decided.

***

The warriors, who had taken complete control of Cobbleville, did not massacre indiscriminately but acted calmly under a thorough plan. Sometimes, they would even stop their colleagues who indulged in meaningless slaughter during the looting.

“Hey! I told you not to kill those who aren’t resisting.”

“No, it’s nothing. I just wanted to see if my sword is sharp.”

“You’re going to kill all those peasants? Are you going to live off the land after? Will you farm instead of fighting?”

“We, well… that’s…”

Not all prisoners are sacrificed. Most become slaves, working the land for the warriors or sold elsewhere. Though not free, they avoid a gruesome end.

That’s how he could live.

The moment the man found hope beneath the bruises.

“But now that I look at you, you’ll do just as well dead. You’re so skinny, you’d die just trying to cross the river.”

“Is that so? Why didn’t you say so earlier!”

-Thud.

He was deemed too worthless, not even good enough to be sacrificed.

But not even these objectors could quell the chaos of the sack. The faint whimpers of women and the stifled cries of children could be heard throughout.

Some of the warriors reveled in their plunder in even more malicious ways.

“Come on, run faster! You’re going to get caught!”

A forked-beard warrior taunted as he skipped along.

In front of him, the ragged refugee elder ran, panting. He showed no resentment towards the chieftain nor did he lament the militia that had crumbled.

He simply plodded on, driven by the will to survive, towards the forest beyond the palisades outside Cobbville.

But then.

“…A man?”

In the dim light, the faint outline of a figure appeared.

Not a heathen, not a warrior’s garb, but the vestments of the Church, followers of the distant starlight.

‘Could it be, salvation?’

The refugee elder blinked, then his senses returned.

He summoned the last of his strength, perhaps for the last time in his life, and began to run properly.

“What the?!”

The heathen warrior was taken aback by the sudden appearance of a savior, but that no longer mattered.

A miracle.

“P-Please, save me.”

In that moment, the refugee elder swore that he would become a devout follower.

And the miracle came.

“Lord.”

In the form of a blade.

Thud.

A body collapsed, its head severed in an instant.

The forked-beard warrior who had been chasing after him blinked for a moment, looking at the corpse, then looked up.

“…Is that your new friend, Gorga?”

“Gorga?”

The voice that answered was still that of a young boy.

His appearance was the same.

The boy, escorted by soldiers in chainmail or thick gambesons and knights on hippogriffs, flicked the blood from the tip of his sword.

“He’s the one in the forest, with the leather cloak.”

“Ah. That guy.”

Black hair and eyes as shiny as a smooth piece of obsidian.

Add to that a black cloak made of expensive fabric, and he looks like a raven.

The moment the raven-haired boy gestured towards the disheveled, red-haired soldier, another head rolled next to the head of the refugee representative that had fallen first.

The warrior with the forked beard widened his eyes as he recognized whose head it was.

“He was the best fighter.”

“…”

“He. I saw you playing around just now. I’m sorry.”

The raven-haired boy, Narba, lifted his sword and covered half of his face.

It was the salute that knights exchanged before a duel.

Even as he performed the salute, Narba’s voice was full of playfulness.

But his face, which was not hidden by the blade,

“I’m here to work.”

There was no smile.