Reincarnation of a Hunter

A few days later.

 

A wagon traveled the road from Marseille to Rhône-Alpes.

 

The wagon was occupied only by a beast and a tall human merchant, with several large bottles of alcohol strapped to the carriage.

 “Halt.” 

The men at the front were bandits.

 “Thieves! Run!” 

The coachman shouted, leaping from the wagon and running away at full speed.

 

Being a wolfman, the coachman was so fast that the bandits didn’t even think to give chase.

 “Wow, he’s really fast. But to abandon his comrades and run off, that’s disloyal.” 

The merchant, left alone in his wagon, approached with a crooked smile.

 “Oh, what can I do, I have no money for the toll, can’t I pay you later? I’ll sell that liquor and pay you.” 

The bandits begin to giggle at the merchant’s words.

 “Who do you think you are, big guy? You’ll give us ten bucks for every bottle you sell.” “I really don’t have any cash.” 

One of the bandits approached and searched the merchant’s body.

 “Man, this guy’s a real piece of crap.” “Tsk, this can’t be done. We’ll have to take the goods and sell them. Boys, bring the wagon.” 

The bandits brought back their wagon as if they were going to take a few kegs of liquor.

 “Oh, no! To sell this! We’ve spent months painstakingly crafting this liquor! It’s soothing as soon as you put it in your mouth, the savory, bitter taste of barley is the first thing you taste, and we’ve removed the acidity from the bubbles, so you don’t get that bitter aftertaste! It goes down smoothly, and you’ll be sobered by the heavy oak that lingers in your mouth! We can’t give it to you!” “…” Gulp— 

The bandits tasted, intrigued by the man’s words, and swallowed hard.

 

Seeing that, the merchant added,

“If you insist, I’ll give it to the boss! You can’t unravel such fine liquor just anywhere!” “What, you coward.” 

One bandit started to punch the merchant in the gut, but the other stopped him.

 “Arthur. He’s right. You shouldn’t be selling such good liquor, you should be drinking it.” “Yes, brother.” 

The bandit who called himself

‘Brother’

glared at the merchant and said,

“But it might be poisoned, so you should try it first.” “How dare one poison the sacred liquor! What kind of human would do that?” 

And with that, he lifted the lid of the jug.

 

At the same time, the aroma of savory barley spread out.

 Gulp— 

The merchant smirked, picked up a bottle, scooped it up, and began to drink.

 Gulp— “Mmm, yes, this is what it tastes like!” 

The merchant popped the lid off the bottle and drank it down, one gulp after another.

 

The bandits just stared at him.

 “I see there’s no poison. I’ll take the liquor to the boss.” “Be sure to write a review. I’ll be promoting it in Rhône-Alpes. My tongue is tied.” 

The merchant staggered slightly, as if drunk.

 “Come on, all right, I’ll ask the boss.” 

The bandit who had brought the wagon unloaded the big man and disappeared.

 

The merchant left behind smiled at the sight.

  

The next morning.

 “Hmm.” 

A hairy man woke up. He was the leader of a band of bandits.

 

Last night’s drinking binge had left him drunk. The morning sun shining through the window dazzled him. He grimaces and mutters to himself.

 “Ugh, my head, what did you bring me to drink?” 

Trying to sit up with a throbbing head, he couldn’t control himself and collapsed back down. It feels like being paralyzed from the waist down.

 Thud— “Ugh, the smell. What is this?” 

There was a thick layer of vomit and secretion on the ground, and his comrades were lying all around him.

 “Hey, get up, something’s wrong!” 

He got down on his stomach and shook them awake, then felt a strange sensation. Like corpses, his comrades were asleep.

 “Crazy! Why won’t they wake up!” 

Leaving them alone, he crawled across the floor and out into the open yard.

 

The sight that met his eyes was one of disbelief. All of his men were asleep, and there wasn’t a single person moving.

 “What the hell is this… and why won’t they wake up!” 

Again he made his move.

 

The one who created this situation would be here soon, and if he stayed, he would risk his life.

 “Ugh, hmph.” 

His body reeked of foul odors. It’s like some sort of sleeping pill or paralyzing poison. 

 

From the waist down, he couldn’t feel anything. The slightest movement made it difficult to breathe.

 

Struggling to breathe, he crawled diligently. The clothes left on his body are torn and stretched across the floor, and the small wounds are growing, but he can’t afford to worry about them. 

 

‘I’ll heal them or not once I’m out of here.’

 

After a few minutes of crawling, he finally reached the entrance to the camp.

 

If I open this door, I could escape through the moat and hide in the creek.

 

However, despite his best efforts to push the closed door, it won’t budge.

 

Even when he tried to raise his Auror, it wouldn’t activate. The mana core doesn’t seem to be working.

 “Damn it! Please open! Open!” 

The bandit leader pushes the door with all his might. 

 

Then he hears a voice from outside the door.

 “Open the door, please.” “What? Why do you want to open it?” “Open the door.” Swish— 

The door opened, and two people appeared in front of the bandit leader.

 ‘Whoa, someone’s moving?” “That hairy guy is the boss.” 

The people that showed up were a tall man and a wolfman. The tall man looked at the leader leaning against the door.

  

‘Leer Morale.’

    ➺ Son of the knight Jacin of Vzanson. “He’s also a knight.” 

The boss was surprised and then asked,

“Uh, how did you?” “You don’t need to know. You’re a slave now.” “A slave?” “Well, you deserve to pay for your thievery. You’ve worked hard, you earned it.” 

Raul tied up the bandit leader and dragged him back inside.

 

A few moments later. Martin, Axel, along with their men, arrived at the camp. 

 

They had brought dozens of wagons to transport the bandits and collect the loot.

 

Knight Commander Axel went around and told them what to do.

 “Never take off your gloves. If you injure your hands, your body will be numb, so be careful and work slow.” 

The slave captain came up to him and asked,

“My lord, what about them? How long will they sleep?” “They will wake up before the sun rises. Tie their hands and feet in advance.” 

The bandits of this place would all be branded as slaves. Depending on their crimes, they are to be sent to forced labor for a minimum of ten years and a maximum of a lifetime.

 

The loot here was enormous, and it even held certificates of deposit and bonds of high face value.

 

I flapped the certificates like a fan and whistled.

 “Whew, these guys are rich.” 

Martin clenched his fists angrily.

 “All this on the hard-earned blood of the people. I shiver.” 

They’ve probably robbed both sides, and they’ve probably stolen from the lords of Rhône-Alpes.

 

I comforted Martin and said,

“Relax, it will be used for the relocation of the people, and it will be given back to the estate.” 

Martin glared at the tied bandit leader. He was about to explode.

 “You’re an embarrassment to your order, you bandit!” “…I’m more ashamed of wetting my pants right now.” 

The poison paralyzes more than half his body, so his pants are open, and filth constantly oozes out. Martin looked so miserable that he couldn’t even punch the man.

 “Hmph, well, reflect on it anyway.” “But how did you know I was a knight?” 

To which I glanced around. I don’t want anyone to overhear.

 

It’s better that no one knows about Dijon’s involvement in our estate yet. I spat out what I had confirmed with

[Leer Morale]

. To show that I have the upper hand in information, to gain their cooperation.

 “Hugo Sennov. 36 years old. Son of Jacin, Knight of Vzanson.” “My God, you figured that out. You have someone planted in Dijon, and at what rank?” 

This knight, Hugo, doesn’t seem to have much to hide. Maybe I could pry some information out of him.

“It’s a high position. You don’t need to know the details. Just answer my questions.” “I think you already know everything. What are you asking?”

As I squatted down to be at eye level with Hugo…, he smelled like filth, and so I sat away.

 “Hmm. What is Dijon trying to do on our lands? I’m sure they didn’t plant knights just to do thievery.” “I don’t know the details, but are you going to spare my life?” “You will serve as a slave for ten years, and then I will set you free.” “That’s too long, don’t you think? I’ll tell you everything I know, but please make it shorter.” 

I thought,

‘What kind of knight is this?’

 

Loyalty was supposed to be the most important thought taught in a knight’s training, but here he is, ready to tell me before I even ask.

 

Martin was not pleased with his answer, and he shouted at Hugo.

 “You, knight, how can you be so light-mouthed!” “Ugh… should I just shut up?” 

I chuckled at the absurdity of the joke.

 “Martin, stand back, I’ll handle this myself.” “Do you mind if I stay a little farther away, you smell pretty bad.” “Whatever.” 

Left alone with Hugo. My nose nearly rots, but the Knight who was nearest to us was doing it.

 “There you go. Now answer me. Tell me how you got here, in detail.” “All right, well, it was about ten years ago, when I had just gotten married in Vjanson and—” “No, no, not that. From the time you were punished after the accident.” 

If left alone, he could talk all day. I have to cut him off quickly.

 “Hehe, that’s the most embarrassing part. When I came out of the Countess’s quarters.” 

Whoa. I have to hear this part.

 “Wait. Tell me about the time you entered the Countess’s estate. In as much detail as possible.” “This is embarrassing. Anyway, I was drunk, I opened the Countess’s door and walked in, and—” 

After a long ten minutes of narrating the X-rated scene, Hugo moved on to the disciplinary part.

 

Martin, who was now sitting next to me and listening, sighed sadly.

 “Anyway, my lord wanted my head, but the Count’s first child, Janis, now a minor lord of Dijon, spared my life and gave me a job.” “Do you know what that task is, and why?” “The task was to disturb the Marseilles, but I was not convinced. Why should I act against chivalry, I asked the lord?” 

Sir Hugo looked around, swallowed, and then continued,

“Then the lord said, ‘None of your business,’ and then he muttered in a low voice, ‘Westphalia will be mine now’...” “Perhaps he didn’t think he’d be heard, but there’s no escaping the sense of knightly honor.” 

That was unexpected. Dijon was not after Marseille, but Westphalia.

 

‘By messing with Marseille, they thought, they’re trying to put a burden on Westphalia. The poorer Marseille becomes, the more money they have to pay back.’

 

The idea was to drain the budget and prevent Westphalia from expanding, for example, by building up its army.

 

‘The same is true of the marriage of the Count of Dijon’s daughter to Noah, a minor lord. If you kill both Count Michael and Noah, the succession will go to Noah’s child. They’re going to have a puppet lord.’

 

Once Dijon had Westphalia, there was no question of where to turn next. Naturally, they’d reach for Marseille.

 

Oh, crap. Why is this happening? 

 

Was it because France had stifled turf wars and castrated the greed of the lords?

 

‘Madmen. They’re like bloodthirsty demons!’

 

Fortunately, there was plenty of time.

 

Contrary to Dijon’s expectations, the minor lord Noah of Westphalia still has no children, and by abandoning Marseille, his finances are set to be considerably increased next year.

 

But Dijon couldn’t afford to sit on the sidelines.

 

‘Let’s develop the estate first. Everything will follow.’

 

As soon as I return to the manor, the first step would be to relocate my subjects and increase the productivity of the manor. I need a surplus of goods to trade and develop other industries.

 

After organizing my thoughts, I summoned Knight Commander Axel.

 “Sir Axel, we’ll be back as soon as we’re done! Hurry!” 

Bandits and wagons loaded with loot soon followed.

 

As the last of them retreated, they lit the oiled firewood they had stacked everywhere.

 

Soon, one great fire swallowed the camp. As the group watched the flames, they scurried back to the manor.