WeTried Translations

Translator: Dawn

Editor: Dawn

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Genius Knight of a Fallen Race

Chapter 10

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Knight of the Black Spear

Since ancient times, there had been an enormous gap between infantry who walked on two legs and cavalry who rode on four. If one had to compare them, it was like a person walking on their thighs without lower legs fighting someone who walked normally on their feet. The latter not only moved faster but also held a higher vantage point, with a broader field of view, allowing them to force favorable battlefield conditions at all times.

Add bows into the mix, and it became a literal nightmare. Archers were originally a class that could slaughter infantry armed with swords and spears from a distance. If such fighters also gained mobility, they could inflict damage unilaterally while remaining out of reach.

The reason skilled mounted archers were so rare, despite this overwhelming advantage, was simple: it was extremely difficult. Both archery and horsemanship, two completely unrelated skills, had to be mastered to a high level; however, in a typical agrarian society, this was possible only for a privileged few who could learn to ride horses from a young age and devote time to archery. 

Unless one was from the western Horais, where people rode horses from birth, in Libert, there were probably no more than a hundred people capable of shooting a bow proficiently while riding. Even among them, most could only hit targets within twenty meters. So when Shan demonstrated elegant mounted archery and sniped enemies from fifty meters away, the mercenaries who had rushed out felt not just confusion, but something close to fear.

“Mounted archer…!”

“Call the riders! Have the archers suppress him in the meantime!”

The mercenary captain’s quick decision—taking cover behind a large shield—was impressively accurate for someone with no real experience against proper mounted archers. Normally, the natural counters to mounted archers were infantry archers and cavalry. Archers on foot were faster and more precise, while cavalry could chase down and kill fleeing mounted archers.

Unfortunately for them, Shan was on an entirely different level. Drawing arrows from his saddlebag and firing in rapid succession, he killed three archers hidden among the mercenaries almost instantly. Unlike his first shot, every arrow hit perfectly. 

One of them managed to fire back before dying, but Shan casually swatted the incoming arrow aside with his bow. To him, deflecting arrows at ten meters was trivia. So,  arrows from forty or fifty meters might as well have been toys.

“…What the—”

“Is that guy insane?!”

The mercenaries faltered, their will to fight shaken. Shan circled them on horseback, continuing his barrage. Some arrows were blocked by raised shields, but not everyone carried one. Those wielding two-handed weapons huddled behind shield-bearers while trembling, only to be struck by arrows and die screaming.

“Hold your ground! Reinforcements are coming!”

Sure enough, two cavalrymen soon rode in from the main force. They weren’t skilled enough to fight like true knights, but simply being able to ride a horse earned them several times the pay of ordinary soldiers.

“Captain!”

“You alright?”

“Do I look alright?! Forget me and kill that bastard! Leave him, and he’ll be a huge problem!” The captain shouted, wiping blood from his cheek where an arrow had grazed him.

Already short-tempered, being targeted so heavily had pushed him to the brink.

“Don’t worry! We’ll catch that scrawny horse in no time! Let’s go!”

With that, the two cavalrymen charged. As expected, they were faster than Shan. Their mounts were warhorses, while Shan’s was just an ordinary riding horse. But speed alone did not decide the outcome.

“Gah!”

With a shrill cry, one cavalryman was thrown from his horse. Shan, who had been fleeing, twisted his body mid-ride and shot backward, striking the horse’s head with perfect accuracy. Unlike knights, these men couldn’t afford expensive barding for their mounts.

“Wh-what kind of lunatic is that…?” The mercenary captain muttered in disbelief.

Shooting backward at full gallop? Was he some kind of Horais horse archer? Of course, Shan didn’t hesitate, and he brought down the second horse as well. Reaching for another arrow, his hand found nothing.

“Ah.”

He had already used up the dozen or so arrows he had taken earlier. He realized again that archery didn’t quite suit him. It lacked the feel, struggled against heavily armored enemies, and required careful arrow management.

Still, if he lacked weapons, he could simply take them from his enemies. Turning his horse around, Shan charged back toward the fallen cavalrymen. One was dead, his neck broken in the fall. The other struggled to stand, his leg likely broken. Shan’s target was the spear the man was using as a crutch.

“D-Don’t come closer!”

The cavalryman thrust his spear in panic, but Shan tilted his horse aside to protect it and knocked the spearhead away with his sword. Then, grabbing the shaft with his free hand, he sliced downward to sever the man’s wrist. After shaking off the severed hand, Shan seized the spear. In an instant, he had become a lancer. He finished the screaming cavalryman by punching a hole through his throat.

“Yeah… A spear works much better on horseback.”

A short sword was simply too limited in reach. Now armed, Shan charged again. The mercenaries tried to form a formation in response. At least against cavalry lancers, they had some experience. They believed they could handle this. 

However, they were wrong. Shan gave them no distance, overwhelming them completely. Controlling his horse with his legs, he used both hands freely, striking from outside their reach.

“Ghk—!”

“Use your spears!”

“Not the man, stab the horse, you idiots!”

“He blocks everything!”

The mercenaries tried to stab at the horse, but Shan evaded every attack and countered immediately. His spear, though made of solid wood, twisted like a serpent—piercing shields, weapons, and exposed flesh alike. 

The only inconvenience was that his horse reacted nervously whenever metal clashed nearby. Considering it wasn’t a trained warhorse, it was already doing remarkably well. 

After impaling his fifth enemy in the face, Shan pulled back slightly. A strange chill crept over him, like the time he had awakened to a goblin ambush.

That’s…

All the soldiers from the camp were now advancing toward him. Most were mercenaries, but among them were two better-equipped cavalry, likely squires. And at the front, there stood a knight clad in full plate armor. Unlike the others, who advanced at a measured pace, he charged straight at Shan at full speed.

He’s fast!

Even burdened with armor, both rider and horse, the knight moved far faster than the earlier cavalry. At that speed, evasion was impossible.

“Hyah!”

In that instant, Shan made his decision. He charged forward instead. He instinctively learned that it was better to accelerate and meet the attack head-on if he couldn’t escape. In mounted combat, the second-worst option was being chased by a faster enemy. The worst was standing still and receiving the charge.

His spear is longer and heavier… I can’t win head-on. I’ll deflect inward and counter.

It would require absurd reflexes, but Shan had never lacked in that regard. As he focused on the opponent’s weapon, something struck him.

The black spear…

He had seen it before. In yesterday’s battle, among the four red-plumed knights, two had escaped, one had been captured, and the last had been killed instantly, his chest pierced by a black spear. Which meant that this knight was the one who could kill in a single exchange.

At that realization, Shan saw the knight draw back his spear. Shan could clearly see the muscles of the back and shoulders, the joints, the elbows, the wrists, and so on. Every part of the body worked in perfect harmony, channeling force into the spear tip. This was no crude motion. It was a perfect, ideal thrust. 

Shan barely managed to deflect it, but something was wrong. Despite catching the spear from below, it didn’t budge. Instead, it snapped through his grip and drove straight toward his chest. 

It was impossible. Force weakened the farther it traveled from the grip, and thrusts were vulnerable to lateral deflection. Yet this was will made manifest. The overwhelming intent to pierce had become “Spirit,” distorting reality itself.

“Ugh!”

At that moment of crisis, Shan relaxed the strength in the legs that had been tightly gripping the horse’s sides. As the shaft of the spear snapped and the recoil flung his body backward, the spear barely grazed past him—scraping from his chest up to his shoulder.

Just before falling, he managed to cling to the horse’s flank with one arm and one leg, then pulled himself back up into the saddle. Fortunately, his opponent had already passed by at full speed in the opposite direction, so there was no immediate follow-up attack.

I almost died…!

Had he underestimated his opponent after seeing him fall foolishly when surrounded the day before? For the first time since taking up a weapon, Shan felt true mortal danger. His mind seemed to melt under a mix of fear and exhilaration. Still, he didn’t think the opponent was unbeatable.

At the moment of impact, the knight hadn’t reacted at all to Shan’s defense or evasion. That clash had simply been a result of the enemy having overwhelming force, superior equipment, and unexpected power. Now that he understood how immense the force behind the spear was, he could factor it into his calculations.

Yet strangely, the knight raised his hand, halting his troops, and approached alone at a slow pace instead of charging again. When the distance closed to about thirty meters, the knight rested his spear on the saddle and removed his helmet, revealing a sharp-featured man in his mid-thirties. His narrow, piercing eyes scanned Shan.

“…You’re young. I thought you were just small.” 

His voice was low and gloomy, as if speaking to himself. Without waiting for a reply, he introduced himself.

“I am Fional of House Aldan, a knight appointed by Count Barlic. And you?”

“Shan.”

That was still the only word Shan could give. Unlike the bandit leader who had once been offended by such a short answer, Fional merely let out a faint scoff.

“Is it that you won’t state your family name, or that you cannot? Either way, it matters little. Have you pledged your spear to Duke Moraen?”

Shan understood the question roughly as ‘Are you one of the duke’s men?’ and shook his head.

“No.”

“Then were you hired by the city of Vito?”

“That’s not it, either.”

“Then why did you attack my forces while we were carrying out a blockade under the count’s orders?”

“Because your men tried to hurt my friend.”

At Shan’s blunt answer, the knight glanced back briefly and clicked his tongue.

“…Those crude mercenaries are useless after all, huh... So that’s it. I understand.”

Rather than showing anger at being attacked for such a reason, Fional’s response was unexpectedly calm. What he said next was even more surprising.

“Then how about we end this here? Though the cause was on our side, enough blood has already been spilled. I would say this is sufficient compensation.”

Is this a trick to lower his guard? Shan thought.

Objectively, the knight’s side had the advantage, and there was no reason for him to stop. Yet the look in Fional’s eyes was completely sincere. Seeing Shan’s wary expression as he glanced between the knight and the army behind him, Fional added,

“I have one condition. You must not be hired by Vito to oppose Count Barlic’s forces. Agree to that, and we will consider this matter closed.”

“I was heading to Pendia anyway.”

“Good. Then we have an agreement. In the name of the Goddess, I swear not to hinder your departure.”

Putting his helmet back on, Fional turned his horse and ordered a retreat. The soldiers, who had surged forward earlier, began returning to camp. Shan could read confusion and dissatisfaction on their faces, but none dared oppose a knight’s command. Before leaving, Fional spoke one last time in words that were difficult to understand.

“I hope we meet again under better circumstances. Better yet, perhaps we might one day ride side by side.”

For a moment, Shan stood there blankly, unable to process how abruptly the battle had ended. Then he quickly rode back toward the city walls. To his surprise, Roden was there, gripping his flail tightly, facing off against a group of people. Behind him, the Alto troupe huddled anxiously.

“What happened?”

At Shan’s voice, those confronting Roden flinched and quickly backed away. Only then did Roden turn, and his face went pale.

“You’re badly hurt! Get down, now!”

Looking down, Shan saw that his chest was soaked in blood. The wound from the earlier spear graze had been bleeding heavily.

“Ah… no wonder I felt tired.”

As Roden pulled him down from the horse, Shan let his body go limp. Perhaps because the tension had finally broken, dizziness washed over him, and his vision blurred.

“I’ll apply medicine, so bear with it. I didn’t see the whole fight, but who did you fight to end up like this?”

“…Fional…”

Roden choked on his breath.

“Don’t tell me... Fional the Black Spear? Damn it… If I’d known someone like that was here, I’d never have let you go!”

“You know him?”

“He’s the record holder for most wins in Libert’s jousting tournaments. If his name’s known even in Pendia, that says everything. He’s probably one of the top three lancers in this country. I didn’t know he served Count Barlic.”

Even as pain flared from the treated wound, Shan smiled. If someone that strong had been nothing special, that would have been far more terrifying. At that level, he was a worthy obstacle to overcome.

***

“Sir Fional.”

Inside a tent, Fional Aldan, the chief knight of Count Barlic, was quietly drinking wine when a squire approached. From the look on the squire’s face, Fional already knew what he was about to say.

“You’re dissatisfied that I let the boy live?”

“I would not dare call it dissatisfaction, but… the mercenaries are grumbling about taking revenge.”

“Desertion during an operation is punishable by death. No exceptions. They were given freedom once and caused this much trouble. They must bear the consequences.”

To the squire, it seemed more like misfortune than fault, but he could not challenge his lord. 

Watching him, Fional murmured quietly,

“If we had fought to the end, all we would have gained was the corpse of a child.”

“If we let him go, we gain even less.”

Because Fional spared him, the mercenaries have been dissatisfied, though they could never plot a revolt. The squire believed killing the boy and displaying his corpse would have been better for morale, considering how important it is in the army. After a brief silence, Fional gave an uncharacteristically weak justification.

“My honor was preserved. I spared a boy in worn leather armor, riding a poor horse with a stolen spear.”

Then why attack him in the first place?

The squire thought this but said nothing, bowing in obedience. After dismissing him, Fional touched the side of his armor. There was a deep dent there. 

So it wasn’t just my imagination.

At the moment of impact, even as he felt certain he had pierced his opponent, he had also felt a heavy shock at his side. Astonishingly, the boy had thrust a broken spear at him while being thrown back from the collision. Had the spear been longer or carried more force and Spirit, it might have pierced his armor.

In fifteen years as a knight, Fional had never seen such terrifying reflexes, speed, and combat intelligence. Judging that another clash could result in injury, he had confirmed the boy’s affiliation and ended the battle cleanly.

If the boy had belonged to Duke Moraen, he would have killed him at all costs. But otherwise, there was no reason to risk dishonor or danger, especially with war raging across the kingdom.

Still… what a shame.

Opportunities to face an equal opponent in single combat were rare, especially for someone at his level. As both a loyal knight and a warrior, Fional couldn’t help but look forward to the day he might cross spears again with that boy once he had grown stronger.