Knight and Wand

Chapter 21 Village Tyrant
half an hour ago.
At the entrance of an alley with low houses in the village, several young people gathered at the corner. A young man with purple marks on his face was leaning at the leader and looking at something.

The last young man who was called finally arrived. He smiled innocently and saw the marks on the face of the leading young man. He seemed to be unable to figure out the situation and asked stutteringly: "Brother Bo. Boris? You, you, you have marks on your face again..."

Boris immediately slapped the silly Hawke on the head in anger.

"Stutter, shut your stinky mouth, I know what's wrong with my face!"

"Oh, I, I, I just want to ask about your concern."

After being slapped in the face, Hawke didn't dare to say anything more. He walked towards the people behind him with a look of grievance.

The young men who had arrived earlier and looked like hooligans came up to Hawke's ear and said jokingly, "Don't offend him. It's the lioness from the old cripple's family. Big brother got beaten up last time and has been holding his breath for the past two days."

"Do you guys think I'm deaf? I was only giving in to that bitch because she's a woman." Boris glared at him viciously.

Several followers quickly shut their mouths, but secretly muttered in their hearts: He has been giving in for so many years since he was a child, and he always gets beaten up and never wins once, right?
"Okay, stop talking nonsense. Do you see that guy?" Boris pointed at the strange boy outside the alley.

The little hooligans came over and looked around.

At the tailor's stall not far away, a disheveled teenager, shirtless and with tattered pants, seemed to be bargaining with the tailor lady.

"I don't know him. It's a new face."

"I've never seen this beggar before. Where did this beggar from in our village come from?"

Several people were talking at once.

"Where are your eyes? How can a beggar have so much money to buy so many clothes and shoes? Look at that thing on his waist!" Boris impatiently reminded his cowards.

Only then did they notice the sword on the beggar-looking boy.

There was nothing special about the sword, as all the wealthy families in the village had one. But that sword was different. A closer look revealed that the material of the scabbard was very beautiful and exquisite, and the paint surface was smooth and flat. Although the entire hilt and scabbard were wrapped in rags and the main decoration was not visible, complex and gorgeous carvings could still be seen on the only exposed hilt.

"Hey, that guy is like a wild man, where did he get such a beautiful sword?"

"It seems to be very valuable."

The followers spoke with shining eyes.

"What do you country bumpkins know? It's more than just money."

Boris licked his lips, his eyes turned cold, and he continued, "I have seen the sword of the Baron. Even the sword of the lord does not have such a gorgeous sheath! This kid is not a savage at all. He must be a runaway slave of a noble. The sword must have been stolen from his master."

"Ah? Is this true?" The little hooligans looked at each other.

"That's why I say you are stupid. Look carefully at that boy's face. He is covered in dust and a bit dirty, but he looks handsome. Look at his delicate skin. How can he be a beggar? He must be a male pet slave that some noble lord has kept since he was a child." Boris smacked his lips, thinking that his inference was very reasonable.

".Nobles, you have women but you don't play with men? How perverted is that?"

"Bullshit, what do you know? This is called upper class!"

"Yes, yes, yes, can the master's interests be the same as ours?"

Several followers chattered with joy out of curiosity, and they immediately felt that their eyes had been broadened.

"Brother is really smart. Let's report it to the village elders and hire people to capture him and send him back to the noble master. Wouldn't that be a great achievement?" A follower excitedly suggested to his brother.

"Idiot, why did you recruit the villagers? If we catch him, we will have nothing to do with him." Boris glanced at him with annoyance: "Besides, even if we take the boy back to his master, how much will the noble master give us?"

The followers suddenly understood their big brother's intention, but some of them couldn't help but secretly back off: "Well, big brother, did you ask us to come here to prepare?"

"He's just a fugitive slave, who cares about his life or death? Find a place to gather him and ask him to hand over his sword. If he dares to resist, stab him and throw him into a deserted ditch. Humph, I can take the sword to the city and sell it for at least fifty gold crowns! Then everyone will get a share of the money." Boris laughed viciously.

"How much more?!"

The few little hooligans who were originally just joining in the fun suddenly widened their eyes and gasped.

Several people were so frightened by the estimated huge amount of money that their legs went weak: "Fifty-fifty gold crowns!?"

You know, even if an ordinary farmer encountered a good year, it would be difficult for him to save seven or eight silver nabils and fifty gold crowns by saving money for a whole year. This is a huge sum of money that he would never see even if he worked hard in the fields until his death.

The followers couldn't help but breathe heavily.

After doing this, even if they only share a little bit of the profits, everyone will become rich!

"Look at what you have achieved." Boris was secretly proud of himself as he saw his younger brothers getting excited.

He was not speaking nonsense. In the past, out of curiosity, he had asked the old lame blacksmith in the village how much the lord's sword was worth. The answer given by the old lame blacksmith really left him dumbfounded.

The sword on the young man's waist is more beautiful than the baron's sword even if you only look at the scabbard. As long as the blade inside is in good condition, it is probably worth more than fifty gold crowns. He even specifically said it was too little.

"Have you brought all the stuff?" Boris glanced at everyone.

"Don't worry, big brother. We have them all." Several little hooligans patted the daggers and knives on their waists. They originally thought they were for fighting, but they didn't expect that they would actually use them.

"Remember, I'll lure him into the woods later. Don't talk and just follow my orders." Boris ordered fiercely. Suddenly, he saw that Hawke's waist and hands were empty, and he was immediately furious: "Stutter, why the hell are you here for an outing? Where's your dagger?"

"I, I, I thought it was just a fight." Hawke explained with a bitter face and trembling voice.

"Forget it. I can't count on a loser like you anyway." Boris spat on the ground.

"Brother! That kid is gone!"

"Huh? You idiots, why don't you pay attention?"

"He seems to have gone out of the village."

"Then why are you still standing there? Go find it!"

At the river bank at the end of the village, a group of ruffians surrounded the three young men from other places.

"What's the matter?" Leon put his left hand on the hilt of the sword, staring impatiently at this group of mountain hooligans who obviously had bad intentions.

Listening to Leon's foreign accent, Boris looked at the three people in front of him with a stern look, his eyes wandering around them. He originally thought there was only one person, but he didn't expect that the boy had companions by the river. No wonder he bought so many clothes.

It can be seen that the three men's hair was not yet dry. They changed into new clothes after washing. Even the boy he had targeted was no longer dusty. The boy who was suspected to be a runaway slave now had fair complexion and looked energetic. At first glance, he even looked like a son of a noble.

However, when Boris looked at the tattered clothes they had taken off and thrown aside, and then looked at the tall young man wearing tattered chain mail over his clothes, he became more certain of his previous guess.

They must be runaway slaves! Maybe they have committed crimes. A fair-skinned male favorite, a tall coolie, and a nondescript guy, maybe a handyman? How did the sword get to his waist? Never mind.

They were just three escaped slaves. Although they were tall and strong, they were outnumbered.

"You are the one asking this question?" Boris shouted fiercely, making up a random accusation in his mind and spitting at him: "I am the captain of the militia in this village. I suspect that you are spies of the Kantardar people. Now follow us honestly."

Leon laughed out of anger, the weapons in the hands of these thugs were either daggers or short knives, and one of them was holding a sickle. Except for the leader in front of him who was dressed neatly and had a dagger slung over his shoulder, the others were all wearing short shirts and linen pants, and looked ugly. They didn't even have a cheap spear, and they still had the nerve to call themselves militia?

"We are just passing by here and have no intention of causing any trouble. Just tell us what you want to do."

"Even a spy won't say he is a spy. I advise you to accept the interrogation and hand over all your weapons! Let's start with the sword on you! Otherwise, don't blame me for being rude." Boris drew out his dagger and threatened without disguising it.

The followers behind him also pulled out various weapons.

Leon was stunned. It turned out that he was just greedy for money. He shook his head, and his remaining patience gradually disappeared.

"Unfortunately, this sword is our only valuable asset." He drew out his sword and shook the blade: "If you really want it, you can just exchange your life for it."

Boris didn't care what the boy in front of him said, he was just happy.

Without the rag covering it, one could see the gorgeous gold plating and gemstone inlay on the hilt. The unsheathed blade was shining with dazzling silver light. The sword was straight and graceful, without any damage. The beautiful inscriptions showed the exquisite craftsmanship even to a layman.

More than fifty gold crowns, definitely more than!

The gang's eyes seemed to be blinded by the beauty of the sword.

"It's hard to persuade the damn ghost with kind words." Leon narrowed his eyes. Although he encountered many monsters and demons along the way, he had never killed a living person. Now it would be okay to let these village bandits with ulterior motives draw blood.

Lohak sneered, and took off the broken sword with gaps on his waist: "Don't waste your time talking to them, Leon. I can handle these scumbags by myself."

Azerien also drew out his dagger, but his mind was constantly thinking about the pros and cons.

He was not worried about these despicable hooligans, but he was a little worried that if he killed these country troublemakers, he would be wanted in a foreign country.

"Boris, what stupid thing are you doing again?"

Suddenly, a young girl's crisp scolding voice came from behind the gangsters.

When the gangsters heard this, they instinctively shrank their necks, their faces filled with fear, as if mice had encountered a cat.

Boris's expression also froze.

As if he could feel the bruises on his face still aching slightly, he felt that his good plan had been ruined again, and he squeezed out the name that he could not forget and hated so much from between his teeth.

"Olivia.!"

Boris gritted his teeth and looked behind him.

A petite blonde girl in a long dress walked towards the river.

The beautiful ponytail behind the girl's head swayed from side to side with her steps, foreshadowing the growing anger on her cold and pretty face.

The girl only had a wooden stick that she picked up from somewhere, but it looked like a terrifying sword in her hand.

"Brother, the Golden Lion is here. What should we do? Or let's just forget about it today." A local thug with a guilty look on his face suggested to Boris.

(End of this chapter)