Chapter 36: Reward

Whether that was an adventurer or not, four bloodthirsty winter wolves were still wreaking havoc among the crowd. Lucas had no time to think about anything else. He gathered the men together, arming them with pitchforks and hunting bows.

The women and children were protected behind them. The young men surrounded the nearest winter wolf from four directions with their pitchforks. Avery’s father, the old man with a thick beard, directed the others to shoot arrows together.

Most of them had poor aim, having never received professional training. The bows they used had been scavenged from Viking corpses just over ten days ago. Fortunately, the winter wolf was completely surrounded. They were shooting at a stationary target. With seven or eight people firing simultaneously, even with poor accuracy, it was hard not to hit a target slightly larger than a sheep a few times.

After overcoming the initial panic, they quickly killed two winter wolves. One winter wolf, sensing the situation turning unfavorable, abandoned the mutton it had in its mouth and fled. The last one became even more ferocious. Instead of being afraid, it growled and moved closer to the people.

Its mouth was covered in blood, its face ferocious, exuding a strong beastly aura. A young man holding a pitchfork began trembling. Lucas was some distance away when he saw the winter wolf unleash its frost breath.

Frost and cold air spread out. The young man stood frozen in place, then collapsed weakly into the snow. The winter wolf suddenly broke through the encirclement. Surprisingly, it knew to avoid those with weapons, targeting only the unarmed weaklings.

Everything happened in an instant. Only Avery’s father reacted in time to shoot an arrow, but it missed the running winter wolf, embedding itself in the snow instead. A mother holding an infant was targeted next. The winter wolf opened its bloody maw, exhaling a strong stench of blood.

One could almost imagine the gruesome scene of the winter wolf dragging and tearing into its victim. Then, another figure flashed by. It was that shabbily equipped outsider. He had somehow made his way to the rear of the group—the “wandering knight” had quietly joined the crowd.

Holding an iron sword, he slashed at the joint between the winter wolf’s upper and lower jaws. Blood sprayed as the wandering knight delivered a diagonal slash, then lifted his leg to kick the leaping winter wolf away. His sword techniques were simple but effective.

That old iron sword stabbed the off-balance winter wolf three or four times until the ferocious magical beast moved no more. A veteran. Lucas judged inwardly. Though this man’s equipment was worn, his movements were clean and decisive, remaining calm even when facing a winter wolf.

…

Wade looked at the magical beast at his feet. Its life had faded. The iron sword in his hand, though old and slightly worn, was still sharp enough to pierce a winter wolf’s hide. After all, winter wolves weren’t high-level monsters. According to the “Adventurer’s Handbook,” a small team of four professional warriors could eliminate a winter wolf pack numbering around twenty.

If a farmer could overcome fear and had a suitable weapon, facing a lone winter wolf in a fight to the death actually gave them a thirty to forty percent chance of winning. Never underestimate human strength. If humans were truly weak, they wouldn’t have been able to establish over a dozen nations across the continent, occupying most of the land.

With the winter wolves dead, he could think about how to negotiate with these Tanians. Wade sheathed his sword and extended a hand to the fallen young man nearby. The young man hesitated for a moment before grasping the gloved hand stuffed with hay, letting himself be pulled up.

“Thank you, sir,” the young man cautiously greeted Wade. Wade nodded in acknowledgment. The crowd parted, clearing a path. Someone was being supported as they approached. Wade recognized this person—the Tania professional warrior, with reddish-brown hair and an unshaven chin.

A young man supported him by the shoulder as he made his way toward Wade. He wasn’t the oldest among the villagers, but those around him seemed to place great trust in him, many casting expectant glances his way.

“Lucas Porter,” he introduced himself. “Thank you for your assistance in saving my people.” Following etiquette, Wade should now introduce himself. But he couldn’t speak, so he pointed at his throat, then waved and shook his head.

This wasn’t hard to understand—body language was the most direct form of communication. “Sir… are you unable to speak?” Lucas asked tactfully. Wade nodded. Lucas hadn’t expected this agile fighter to be mute. Had he suffered some injury in the past?

Seeing how he kept himself fully covered, not even exposing his eyes, perhaps he had endured some kind of trauma. Among adventurers, those with injuries were never in short supply. After all, it wasn’t a stable profession. Though the pay was better than ordinary labor, every mission carried risks.

Every year, people left towns and never returned. Lucas had seen many adventurers who lost limbs or became crippled after a single mission. Those who lost their voices due to throat injuries weren’t uncommon either. For example, black mamba venom could rob a person of their voice in the early stages.

Lucas was used to this. Some people were born deaf and mute, after all. The only issue was that communication would be troublesome if the other party couldn’t speak. Lucas didn’t know sign language and wasn’t sure if the man could write.

Lucas felt a headache coming on but really wanted to know if this wandering knight was also heading to Alvado. If they were going the same way, Lucas very much hoped he could join their group. Having an experienced adventurer traveling with them would make the journey much safer.

Just as he was worrying about how to bring it up, Wade made another gesture. Wade pointed at the two winter wolves he had killed, then at Lucas, the young man, and the mother holding the infant. Though he kept pointing around, his meaning was clear enough.

“Are you saying these are your spoils of war?” Lucas ventured. Wade nodded, but he wasn’t done yet. He also pointed at the pouch tied to Lucas’s waist. As a seasoned adventurer, Lucas quickly understood Wade’s meaning. He was saying, “I saved your lives, so you should pay me.”

Seeing Wade demand payment actually eased Lucas’s mind. Straightforward transactions based on mutual benefit were the most honest. If someone fawned over you with excessive enthusiasm, that was when you had to be careful—behind that smiling face might be plans to drug you and sell you into slavery.

“Don’t worry, sir. You saved our lives, so it’s only right we pay you,” Lucas said with a smile. “But handling these winter wolves alone might be difficult for you. We happen to have hunters skilled in skinning. Why not let us handle it for you? No service fee.”

Lucas found an excuse to keep Wade around. This suited Wade just fine—his original intention had been to gather more information.