Ch.37Imperial Special Forces (2)

# Kingdom’s Border Wilderness

A long caravan of merchants moved in formation.

More than a dozen large wagons and several people on horseback.

The riders, with their exotic appearances and crescent-shaped swords, were slave traders from the central continent.

“I’ve been very lucky this time.”

“I’ve raided several villages. If I sell them at the right price, I can take a year-long vacation.”

The riders, speaking in an incomprehensible language, gradually slowed down and pointed ahead.

The kingdom’s border patrol was seen galloping toward them.

“They’re coming. Be ready.”

At the lead rider’s command, the other riders took out small pouches from the middle wagons.

“Halt!”

The patrol reached the caravan and shouted sternly.

“Hello, how are you?”

Someone who could speak the kingdom’s language stepped forward with a friendly smile.

“Where are you headed?”

“We’re going to the city. We are not bad people.”

“Hmm.”

The patrol looked at the long line of wagons with suspicious eyes.

“What’s inside those?”

“Ah, just some goods.”

He then offered the small pouch they had prepared earlier.

Inside the slightly opened pouch, gold coins could be seen.

“Let’s have a drink together sometime.”

“Ahem, well…”

While clearing his throat, the patrol member accepted the pouch with practiced movements and tucked it deep into his pocket.

“Make sure there’s no trouble.”

“Of course, my lord.”

As the patrol left, the slave traders resumed their journey.

“Corrupt bastards.”

“Because of them, we earn our living.”

After traveling for some time while mocking the corrupt patrol’s behavior, the slave traders slowed down again.

A rider could be seen galloping toward them from ahead.

Another patrol? Had word spread and more were coming for bribes?

“Damn it. Get more money ready!”

The slave traders prepared a smaller pouch and waited for the rider to get close enough.

But something seemed strange.

Not only was there just one rider, but what was that long thing protruding from the side of the horse?

“What is that?!”

Just as the rider reached the front of the caravan, the slave traders could see what it was.

It was a sword so long it was difficult to even call it a sword.

Longer than a two-handed sword, it nearly touched the ground, creating currents in the rough dust.

“It’s an enemy!”

Just as the slave traders drew their swords, the rider and the lead trader passed each other.

“Madman!? He’s a monster!!”

The horse’s neck and the slave trader’s waist were simultaneously severed and flung upward.

The rider, keeping the sword at an angle, rode like the wind along the left side of the caravan, sweeping through it completely.

Following in the rider’s wake, cut and torn slave traders fell to the ground one after another.

“Run away!”

Completely overwhelmed by the momentum, the slave traders began to flee.

Then, with the sound of a whistle, people began rushing out from behind the hills where the slave traders were fleeing.

Dozens of armored people thrust their spears, skewering the slave traders and leaving them hanging in the air.

* * * * *

“Whew, impressive.”

I whistled as I looked at the slave traders’ bodies scattered everywhere.

The plan to have Liberone launch a surprise attack while the knights blocked the retreat route had worked perfectly.

“Move the injured over here!”

The knights were unloading and sorting the slaves from the wagons.

Those who were injured or in poor health were sent to Liberone, while those in better condition were directed to the temporary kitchen where Mirella was.

Right now, Mirella was boiling a large pot of what appeared to be stew with the ingredients they had brought.

The knights were busy seating the former slaves and providing them with meals.

I always wondered why people in medieval fantasy always ate stew constantly, but after actually entering this world, I realized nothing beats stew.

You can stretch limited ingredients to make a large quantity, and it’s hard to make it taste bad.

Anyway, there are a lot of slaves.

Twelve wagons with nearly thirty people crammed into each one, totaling over three hundred people.

It’s truly an enormous number. They really rounded up a lot.

From talking to the captured people, I learned that these bastards had gone around several villages and captured everyone.

And they also mentioned that they met border guards along the way who took bribes and turned a blind eye.

What garbage people. Tsk tsk.

“Jack. We have a surviving slave trader. How should we handle him?”

Several knights dragged a blood-covered slave trader before me and forced him to kneel.

“P-please spare me! I have children at home!”

Apparently able to speak our language, the slave trader wrung his hands and begged.

“If you answer my questions honestly, I’ll spare your life.”

At my words, a glimmer of hope appeared on the slave trader’s face.

“Ask me anything!”

“There’s a waystation nearby, isn’t there? A place where you do final sorting before returning to your country?”

Faced with this difficult question, the slave trader fell silent.

At my signal, a knight kicked the slave trader hard in the stomach.

“Kuhak!”

“Where is the waystation?”

Silence.

“I’ll be back later.”

As I turned away, the knights knocked the slave trader down and began stomping on him.

I walked around the caravan giving various instructions.

Rounding up the surviving horses, looting valuables from the dead bodies.

Thanks to the central continent’s cultural characteristic of adorning themselves with ornaments, the farming is quite rewarding.

These were all bought with money earned from selling slaves anyway. No one would blame us for taking them.

Twelve wagons, twenty horses, bags full of metal ornaments, plus over three hundred people with nowhere to go.

With just one operation, we’ve secured the foundation to immediately expand the village’s size.

But not satisfied with that, I decided to raid their waystation as well.

Having led a large party of thirty people all the way here, I should do as much as possible before returning.

And above all, there’s a humanitarian need to attack the waystation.

That’s where they classify slaves captured from various places, and the process is truly appalling.

They kill slaves with no commercial value and only take those who will sell well.

It’s called a waystation, but it’s nothing short of a human slaughterhouse.

I can’t leave such a crazy place behind.

When I returned, the slave trader, beaten by the knights, immediately pleaded with foam at his mouth.

“I’ll tell you everything! Please spare me!”

“The waystation. Where is it?”

The slave trader explained with gestures and, not satisfied with that, asked for pen and paper to draw a detailed map.

Comparing it with my knowledge from the original work, the terrain matched and the information seemed accurate.

“Kill him.”

“Wait, you bastard! You said you would save me!!”

A knight brought a mace down on the head of the shouting slave trader.

* * * * *

After cleaning up the scene to some extent, I gathered with the knight officers and Liberone to discuss the next operation.

Everyone agreed on attacking the waystation.

“Let’s leave minimal personnel here and move immediately. We’ll launch a surprise attack at night.”

We left Mirella and ten knights at the hastily established refugee camp, which had wagons arranged in a circle with bonfires lit here and there.

The rest of us mounted horses and wagons and headed for the slave traders’ waystation.

Following the map, we continued riding until a low hill gradually came into view in the distance.

I had the main force stop and conducted reconnaissance with Liberone, hiding in the undergrowth.

“Hmm, this is problematic.”

The waystation wasn’t a building or outdoor facility but a bunker-like cave.

It used a natural fissure in a high cliff to minimize external intrusion and slave escapes.

This is really troublesome.

We don’t know the internal structure, and our knights don’t have the expertise to clear such confined spaces.

Even Liberone, the knights’ instructor, has never done anything like this.

The holy knights’ mission was never something as trivial as building clearance.

If we send the knights in as is, there would be significant casualties.

In a situation where every person matters, we can’t recklessly deploy trained forces.

What should I do…

While lying flat on the ground thinking, something caught my eye.

It was the grass I was lying on. Not ordinary grass, but Mangamcho, which is used as a material for item crafting.

Specifically, it’s not the grass but the small bean-sized fruits that are roasted.

A good idea came to mind, and I immediately returned to the main force.

I gathered Liberone and the officers and explained my plan.

“It’s a good plan, Jack.” “I agree as well.”

With everyone’s consent, I immediately took out a pot from the wagon, lit a fire, and began heating it.

Meanwhile, knights skilled with bows were selected and quietly hid in the forest near the cave.

As soon as the knights’ arrows took down the slave traders guarding the entrance, I ran toward the cave with the heated pot.

Knights with arrows nocked to their bows stood tensely against the walls on either side of the cave entrance.

“Hurry, Jack!”

“Just a moment.”

I poured the Mangamcho fruits into the hot pot.

With a sizzling sound, an enormous amount of smoke immediately began to rise.

Now, let’s do this!

I used an empty sack as a fan to push the smoke into the cave.

“What is that smell!?”

There was an immediate reaction from inside the cave.