Though the adventurer’s profession is a dirty one, there were several reasons why he never considered quitting.
For one, he had dramatically declared his departure from home. Another was that he had stealthily taken a sword he had borrowed while serving in the local militia. And with his childhood friend from the manor, who held a respectable position but had come along out of concern, he couldn’t bring himself to complain.
In essence, while Dirk from the Ilphüte family understood that all this was merely cheap vanity, he had nonetheless decided to adopt a new name in emulation of his most respected hero, Siegfried, and clung to that decision day after day as he endured the dreary tasks of an adventurer.
Still, he was aware that, thanks to having a childhood friend who was a sorcerer, he was doing far better work than the truly lowly, tiresome jobs others endured. He was able to assist the sorcerer in gathering wild herbs and performing menial tasks because she was honing her skills as a medic, and there were various other benefits as well.
Though being courted by various clans and groups had its downsides, he couldn’t blame his childhood friend for it, so he put effort into declining their invitations. He truly believed that a real hero should stand on their own.
Perhaps because of that, the same-aged adventurer who had started around the same time confronted him.
And for that reason.
“AAAAHHH!? It grazed me!? It just grazed me!?”
“Would you stop shouting in my ear, Siegfried!”
Riding awkwardly on the rear of a horse, clinging pitifully to the man before him as he shouted, was a third son of a poor tenant farmer. Disliking his position—worthless like a toothpick or mere stick—he had left the estate, determined to become a man of repute. He dreamed of becoming an adventurer whose stories would be sung as heroic tales, returning to his homeland adorned with honor and riches.
In the plaza, poets would immortalize his name in verse, and at the manor, festivals celebrating his achievements would be held, ensuring his legend would live on until even the estate crumbled into dust. His tomb would even become a tourist attraction.
So how had he ended up as mere hired muscle on a guard detail, assaulted by bandits, shouting pitifully atop a horse’s rear?
It was the result of envying and confronting a contemporary who had become a red-jewel-ranked adventurer and earned an epithet before him. Strangely favored, he had accepted a job proposed by the other party, which turned out to be the end of his luck. Why, for a daily wage of fifty Ast, should he guard a trade caravan with such fanfare only to be riddled with arrows?
“Those guys have good equipment! Could they be private soldiers of some landlord? What do you think!?”
“Hey, don’t ask me, buddy! Whoa!? That was close!?”
It was supposed to be a mundane task. The caravan had five dedicated mercenary guards, and about ten adventurers were hired for the extra show. With this level of protection for a caravan of fifty people with five wagons and a few mules, they shouldn’t have been attacked unless something extraordinary happened.
Indeed, they weren’t supposed to be attacked. If these numbers resisted, even a large, well-trained militia with high-quality armaments would find themselves at a disadvantage. No matter how skilled, bandits usually avoid conflicts like this.
However, the question was what happens when the unusual opponent chooses to attack with full force.
At the beginning, Siegfried was positioned as a lookout further away, watching the caravan as it prepared for the night. His childhood friend, acting as a medic, was treating some members of the caravan who had fallen ill on the journey. Erich, who came by and used a horse for reconnaissance, asked him to join. The spiderman-like creature with a backpack was supposed to be on standby for nighttime watch inside the wagon.
It wasn’t entirely true to say that they had become complacent after a two-week journey that followed a fixed schedule. However, who could have ever imagined that the warning signal of an arrow shot would be suddenly launched, followed by bandits sneaking in for a nighttime assault?
Despite the failure of their ambush, the bandits, showing no sign of retreat, lunged towards the nearest target, Siegfried. In such situations, it is common practice to eliminate all witnesses.
Honest to say, he prepared himself for d*ath. With five spears charging at him like a wall, what could he do while armed only with a spear and a sword?
But the terror that prevented him from even lifting his weapon was easily dispersed by horse hooves, as easily as brushing aside a thin piece of silk blown by the wind.
Erich had returned wielding his sword.
“Hop on!” Siegfried was pulled up to the saddle, though he had a strange sensation of being touched somewhere besides the hand holding his. Despite this, he thought he was saved.
But here, another unexpected thing happened.
Why was this insufferable blonde so quick to stay behind as the rearguard when the caravan chose to flee rather than resist?
Ordinarily, such responsibilities would be left to professional mercenaries or more experienced adventurers.
But how on earth did it escalate to the point where a novice covered in soot and another just a little experienced red-jewel adventurer decided to face them?
“Relax, in the end, these guys also treasure their lives. They won’t stick around to d*e over this measly caravan. If we can take out five or six, they’ll scatter!”
Which is why Siegfried didn’t protest. Was it thanks to his mental strength, or was it because he didn’t open his mouth with the saddle shaking so violently? Regardless, given the poorly understood crossbow flung to him, he desperately resisted.
There was no room to focus on either Erich’s skill in deflecting arrows in direct trajectories with his sword or the clever handling of another crossbow with one hand. Instead, he was merely jostled around by the movement that intentionally avoided straightforward charges, weaving and swerving just as the attacks of the bandits hovered at the edge of reach.
“Siegfried, what’s wrong! Are you out of bolts!? It looks like your hands are frozen!”
“You, you, shut up! I-I’m not used to this thing!”
“Then get used to it right away! Gather your courage! The rearguard is the flower of the guards! If we survive, it might become a poem someday!”
At that moment, with various bodily fluids streaming down, Siegfried realized.
The man fighting with a broad grin on his face in front of him was definitely off.
However, even in this situation, having something small and petty to cling to, like cheap vanity, turned out to be useful.
“Hey, hey, don’t tell me what to do! I’ll do it without being told! I am a man who will become a hero! A greater hero than someone like you!”
A man does not need a deep reason to risk his life. He couldn’t go back because it would look bad; if he fled, it would be lame. The man ahead of him fought with dignity.
And no matter the internal struggle, the shallowness of pride was invisible to others.
On this day, in this place, there exists only the fact of two brave rookie adventurers giving their all to protect the caravan…
—
【Tips】The principle that an uncaught crime is not considered a crime applies even to those in power.
I had this strange feeling. I noticed that there were too many unchecked checkpoints in recent delivery requests, and even when I took on guard duties, warning the caravan owner of them on pre-mapped routes earned me some pocket money.
But still, would you ever think that the powerful would use illegal means to gather funds?
In this area, I realized I was still dragging around feelings from my past life. After all, however much budgets cry about deficits, they don’t engage in self-funding within their own country unless they’re engaged in scorched earth warfare.
The land of Marsheim, with its chaotic mix of international logistics, sees caravans traveling constantly, no matter the season. The vast Mauser River functions as a canal, with goods moving chaotically across the east and west, leading to an extraordinary number of merchants.
There’s even a rumor that there are more merchants traveling than agricultural workers.
Therefore, as long as things are handled properly, losing one or two caravans here and there would be processed as bad luck. And the culprits, unless it’s something major, would forever remain in the dark.
Therefore, it’s not entirely unthinkable that someone could ab*se their position to enrich themselves. After all, caravans passing through won’t bring profits to local landlords.
But just because of that, attacking those caravans who dodge the checkpoints isn’t right.
Truly unlucky myself, and it felt even worse that I got my fellow novices involved in this mess.
On the day I joined a cavalry role for the caravan as extra security, I happened to bump into Siegfried and invited him along. The red-jewel jobs pay better than dirt-black ones, and it’s a good chance to earn some guard experience. I didn’t have any malicious intent to drag him into trouble just to get closer, honestly.
He hesitated for a bit but agreed after checking the contents of his wallet and making a bitter face. Yeah, I get it, being invited to a job from the rival you’ve declared war against isn’t a good feeling.
But given the present circumstances and the advantages of the job, prioritizing real benefits is something worthy of commendation. After all, humans, with a few exceptions, need to eat to live.
Besides, this fellow at about the same level 1 fighter as myself seemed to have good potential. His spear and sword skills suggest he isn’t bad, and carrying his weapon always has a sense of discipline, showing the firm foundation in his stance.
His willingness to ask for detailed travel information even when joining last minute, and his consideration for the condition of his childhood friend before deciding to join, spoke well of him.
After all, women have their monthly periods, something men don’t face.
This security mission was supposed to be a pleasant event with a fellow rookie.
And yet, how did I end up spotting a bandit scout?
And to top that, I found out they weren’t bad fighters, which made me want to curse at the goddess of dice. When I launched a preemptive cavalry charge intending to eliminate them all in one blow, they blocked my first attack. Shocked, I drove my Eastern style crossbow, which is easy to handle one-handed, into an opponent’s belly and knocked him down, but it was the first time in a long while I’d seen someone block a sneak attack.
That’s some serious training you’ve had, you bastards on horseback wearing armor.
Realizing it was a mistake, I released the warning arrow. The caravan had just begun preparing camp and could still move, so I wanted to warn them to flee.
As expected, we ended up fighting the bandits sneaking near the campsite. They were well-equipped. They weren’t wearing the shabby rags with patches that normal bandits do; instead, their spear tips gleamed menacingly in the twilight, and their archers had strong recurve bows with iron arrowheads.
Seeing such well-equipped bandits made me want to yell.
In front of the bandits forming a line of attack were the greenhorns like Siegfried who, for the first time, couldn’t handle the assault properly.
Swords against spears are a swordsmen’s nightmare. Long weapons are manageable once you close the distance, making us specialists in melee combat, but when they form a wall like this, we are at a serious disadvantage.
So, I couldn’t abandon my comrade. I took a gamble, resolving to use magic if necessary.
Though cavalry has lost prominence on the battlefield as tactics have evolved towards dense formations, the sheer force of a horse weighing hundreds of kilos galloping at scooter speed remains unmatched. The horse’s hooves have a destructive force far greater than a tire, and being stepped on would most likely result in severe injuries for the average human.
I spurred Castor and charged into the enemy flank from behind, scattering them with one blow. The bandits flew off with comical exaggeration, but without paying them any more attention, I raced to rescue the besieged comrade.
This was a dramatic rescue, but the story wasn’t over yet. Since the enemy had already committed to the attack, they wouldn’t retreat even in the face of unforeseen circumstances.
Besides, they certainly wouldn’t attack from just one direction. At minimum, they would flank us from two sides and cut off our escape route. Such a well-disciplined group wouldn’t neglect such a basic tactic.
In that case, our friends needed to drive the enemies in front of them away while withdrawing, meaning I needed to reduce the pressure from behind.
The enemy was about twenty or so in number. For a single cavalry unit with two riders, it’s a bit much, but compared to the battles of source and Heike, this is easy. No one’s asking me to sh**t down unstable fans on a ship or sink warships with a single arrow.
There’s a fine crossbow capable of performing a Parthian shot—shooting while riding—and with an extra rider, that’s twice the firepower! All I need to do is keep dodging arrows while staying out of spear range, and hit targets like in a game of “Hey, how does it feel?” Meanwhile, it’s easier to get away compared to charging in on foot.
Siegfried in the back is screaming, but he’ll get used to it soon. I was scared and felt like I might d*e during my first deployment, but if you endure through it, you’ll adapt quicker.
Besides, these guys, no matter how well-trained, are bandits motivated by profit, not determined warriors fighting for their homeland who’ll fight to the d*ath. Once we take down four or five of them, they’ll probably flee.
Still, the attack frequency from the rear is a bit low. Is he not used to this type of crossbow?
I gave him a motivational shout and was greeted with a spirited, albeit trembling, response. Great job, that’s the spirit of an adventurer.
After enduring until we took down seven of them, the bandits retreated. The caravan, obstructed by temporary horse fences, had to turn back. We then launched another surprise attack, and with Siegfried’s help, eight more bandits fell.
As a result, our names became surprisingly famous. Strangely, the city folk nicknamed us “Lucky Siegfried” and “Unlucky Siegfried,” completely opposite sobriquets.
After all this, it’d have been nice to get a cooler nickname…
—
【Tips】Nicknames are given based on the impression of those who hear the story, and the narrative isn’t always what one individual observes as truth.
So, this was a typical job for novice adventurers.
Receiving caravan protection requests and fighting bandits in the first chapter—a plot many likely recognize.
As the third volume’s release progresses on schedule, it seems the page count will get pretty intense.
This time, it seems we won’t have completely new events due to the story’s progression but will instead be a significant upgrade of existing events. In other words, it’s the Magic Sword Labyrinth in EX difficulty. Great work, Erich! Your proficiency is increasing!
