I Picked up a Saintess in the Ruins

The title of a knight seems noble and honorable at first glance.

It was no different in the medieval fantasy world. The word “knight” clearly held a sense of romance.

Respecting and helping the weak.

Preserving honesty and loyalty and upholding honor.

Not turning one’s back on enemies and fighting for just causes.

In my childhood, storytellers who occasionally appeared on the streets would spin tales for a few coins.

Books bound in parchment were precious, and those who could read them were even more precious.

To the children eagerly gathered for new stories, knights and literature served as excellent moral textbooks.

One could say that knights were the idols of this era. It was not strange that children’s aspirations were to become knights.

And as a knight who had endured hardships and earned respect, I could finally face the truth behind the curtain.

“Welcome! Do you need anything?”

“Are you alive?”

“Stolen.”

Watching two knights boldly plundering goods from a stall in broad daylight, I was convinced.

Without more or less, knights were the ruffians of this era.