Chapter Thirty-Six: Reward

Regardless of whether that was an adventurer or not, four bloodthirsty winter wolves were rampaging through the crowd.

Lucas had no time for unnecessary thoughts. He called the men to gather, picking up pitchforks and hunting bows. Women and children were shielded behind the men, as the young men, wielding pitchforks, surrounded the nearest winter wolf from four directions. Avery’s father, the old man with the bushy beard, directed the others to shoot arrows together.

Most people had poor aim; they had never received proper training. The bows and arrows they used had only been scavenged from Viking corpses more than ten days earlier. Fortunately, the winter wolf was surrounded, making it a stationary target. With seven or eight people shooting at once, even with their lack of skill, it was hard not to hit a creature slightly larger than a sheep with at least a few arrows.

After the initial chaos subsided, they quickly killed two winter wolves. One, sensing danger, abandoned its mouthful of mutton and fled. The last one, however, was driven into a frenzy; instead of being afraid, it growled and advanced on the people.

Its mouth was smeared with blood, its face twisted and savage, exuding a strong beastly aura. A young man holding a pitchfork began to tremble.

Lucas stood some distance away and saw the winter wolf unleash its freezing breath. Frost and cold spread, and the young man froze, unable to move—he even collapsed, falling into the snow.

The winter wolf suddenly broke through the encirclement. It seemed to know how to avoid armed opponents, targeting only the defenseless and weak. Everything happened in an instant; only Avery’s father reacted, loosing an arrow that missed the running wolf and lodged in the snow.

A mother holding an infant was targeted—the wolf opened its gaping maw, foul breath billowing forth. One could almost imagine the horror of the wolf dragging its victim across the ground, tearing her apart.

At that moment, another figure flashed by. It was the foreigner, poorly equipped, who had somehow made his way to the rear of the group—the “wandering knight” had silently entered the crowd.

He wielded an iron sword, slashing at the junction of the wolf’s upper and lower jaws. Blood sprayed, and with a diagonal cut, the wandering knight raised his leg, kicking the leaping wolf aside.

His swordplay was simple, but effective. The old iron blade, aimed at the off-balance wolf, stabbed three or four times, until the monstrous beast ceased to move.

He was a veteran.

Lucas judged silently: though this man’s gear was worn, his movements were swift and clean, and he faced the winter wolf without flinching.

...

Vaid looked down at the beast at his feet; its life had faded. The iron sword in his hand, though old and the blade somewhat worn, was enough to pierce the wolf’s hide.

After all, winter wolves were not high-level monsters. According to the Adventurer’s Handbook, a party of four professionals could wipe out a pack of twenty winter wolves. If a farmer could overcome his fear, wielding a suitable weapon and fighting a lone winter wolf, the odds of victory reached thirty or forty percent.

Never underestimate human strength; if humans were weak, they could never have founded a dozen nations and claimed most of the continent.

Now that the wolves were dead, it was time to consider how to negotiate with these Tanya villagers. Vaid sheathed his sword and extended a hand to the young man who had fallen nearby.

The young man hesitated, then grasped Vaid’s straw-stuffed glove and allowed himself to be pulled upright.

“Thank you, sir,” the young man greeted Vaid cautiously.

Vaid nodded.

The crowd parted, clearing a path. Someone, supported by another, approached. Vaid recognized him—he was the Tanya professional, with reddish-brown hair and an untrimmed stubble on his chin.

A young man propped him up, guiding him toward Vaid. He was not the eldest among the villagers, but everyone seemed to trust him; many cast hopeful glances his way.

“Lucas Porter,” he introduced himself. “Thank you, sir, for your timely assistance in saving my people.”

By custom, Vaid should now introduce himself.

But he could not speak, so he pointed to his throat, waved his hand, and shook his head.

The gesture was easy to interpret; body language is the most direct form of communication.

“Sir... Is it inconvenient for you to speak?” Lucas asked politely.

Vaid nodded.

Lucas had not expected this skilled fighter to be mute.

Had he been wounded before?

The man was armored from head to toe, not even his eyes exposed—perhaps he had suffered some trauma in the past.

There were always injured adventurers; it was not a stable profession, and though the pay was better than ordinary work, every mission carried risk.

Each year, people left the towns and never returned. Lucas had seen many adventurers come back from missions maimed or crippled, and those whose throats were damaged and could not speak were not uncommon.

Black mamba venom, for example, could rob one of their voice in the early stages.

Lucas was not surprised; some people were born deaf and mute.

Still, communication would be troublesome. Lucas did not know sign language, nor whether this man could write.

Lucas felt a headache coming on, yet he was eager to know whether the wandering knight was also bound for Alvado. If so, Lucas hoped to persuade him to join their party.

Having an experienced adventurer along would make the journey much safer.

As he wondered how to begin, Vaid gestured again.

Vaid pointed to the two winter wolves he had slain, then to Lucas, the young man, and the mother with the infant.

Though he pointed repeatedly, his meaning was clear.

“Do you mean, sir, that these are your spoils?” Lucas asked tentatively.

Vaid nodded, but he was not yet satisfied. He gestured to the pouch at Lucas’s waist.

As a seasoned adventurer, Lucas quickly understood.

He was saying: I saved your lives. You ought to pay me.

Seeing Vaid request compensation, Lucas was actually relieved.

A straightforward transaction was the most honest. If someone ingratiated themselves with excessive warmth, it was time to be wary—they might be plotting to drug, tie you up, and sell you into slavery behind that smiling face.

“Rest assured, sir—you saved our lives, and of course we’ll pay you,” Lucas replied with a smile. “But handling these winter wolves alone would be difficult. We happen to have skilled trappers here; let us process them for you, free of charge.”

Lucas found a pretext to keep Vaid around.

That suited Vaid well, since his intention was to gather more information.