From a hired knight to a master of Game of Thrones

The moment the iron chain lashed out with a whooshing sound.

Don Quixote flicked his wrist, and his longsword blocked the attack.

when!

The longsword precisely knocked the chain head away.

Almost at the same instant, the skinner's knife on the right had already struck.

A foul stench filled the air!

Don Quixote's body suddenly tilted to the side.

Half of his body was almost hanging outside the horse.

The blood-stained iron knife grazed his shoulder, narrowly missing its mark.

boom!

The force of that slash was so great that it made the air crackle with a muffled sound.

Don Quixote swung his left hand with a flick and a swing.

A dagger strapped to the side of the horse's back was instantly drawn from its sheath.

next second!

The dagger pierced the throat of the skinner on the left.

"...Uh..."

The skinner on the left had wide-open eyes, and his throat was emitting broken, breathy sounds.

He gripped his neck tightly with both hands.

But he couldn't stop the gushing blood from between his fingers.

The iron chain in his hand drooped limply.

Immediately afterwards!

His body twitched twice more on the horse's back before collapsing to the ground like a broken sack, splattering blood and mud.

The skinner on the right, seeing his companion die instantly, had his pupils shrink.

He roared in shock and rage, and swung his iron knife out again.

The blade flashed fiercely, aiming straight for Don Quixote's head.

this time!

Don Quixote neither flinched nor dodged.

The longsword was used to parry from mid-air.

"when!"

With a crisp crack, a tremendous force rebounded.

The skinner felt a sharp pain in his hand, and the iron knife almost slipped from his grasp.

This caused the skinner to lose his composure for a moment.

then!

A long sword pierced his heart!

The skinner froze on his horse, the knife slipped from his hand, and he collapsed to the ground with a thud.

The dragged girl lay paralyzed in the cold mud, covered in blood and wounds.

She cried until she almost fainted and was so desperate that she almost collapsed.

Don Quixote sheathed his sword, his gaze sweeping over the gruesome bloodstains covering her body.

At this moment, his two soldiers from Seven City, Nathan and Vincent, arrived.

Don Quixote immediately gave the order:

"Leave one person to take care of her, and the other to rescue the others when the opportunity arises."

"Be careful, these raiders are unusually strong. You don't want to die!"

"Don't worry, sir!" Nathan nodded heavily, then turned to Vincent and said:

"Vincent, you stay here, I'll go rescue the others!"

Vincent hesitated for a moment, his mind filled with rage and a strong urge to kill the raiders.

But he also knew that now was not the time to argue about these things.

He composed himself and quickly said:

"Nathan, watch out!"

Then Vincent stared intently at Don Quixote and said coldly:

"Sir, be careful! And kill these beastly scum!"

After saying this, Vincent dismounted and draped his animal-skin cloak over the girl's thin body.

He then carefully half-supported, half-carried the girl to a sheltered spot and said gently:

"Don't be afraid, we are soldiers of the Seven family, and reinforcements will be here soon."

The girl trembled all over, tears mixed with blood streaming down her face.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Deep within the marketplace, the cries and sounds of fighting grew even louder.

Don Quixote looked up.

On the left, a looter was standing on a corpse, searching through it.

Don Quixote spurred his horse and charged straight ahead.

The raider noticed and looked up.

Don Quixote sat upright on his horse and passed by the raider.

The longsword slashed down, carrying a foul stench.

"what!"

The looter screamed as his head fell to the ground.

Don Quixote stopped his horse and lowered his sword.

Blood droplets dripped from the tip of the sword onto the blood-red ground.

In the firelight within sight.

The looters are still ransacking the place!

The grotesque laughter of the skinners and the desperate screams of the common people were intertwined and indistinguishable!

"They can still kill!"

He glanced at the numerous nicks in his sword, then spurred his horse and charged into the area where the screams were most intense.

Behind Don Quixote.

From the direction of Seven City, the sound of horses' hooves shook the earth like thunder.

The reinforcements arrived late.

Some astute and cautious raiders quickly realized this.

They kept quiet.

These people immediately stopped their ongoing rampage and fled.

Their companions, who were still looting and killing, provided them with the best cover.

Once they escape, they will be safe.

The North, whose area is almost equal to the combined area of ​​the other six territories of Westeros.

It is a vast area with a sparse population, and most of it consists of wasteland, forests, and mountains.

The vast, desolate, and sparsely populated North is a natural hiding place.

Not long after.

The Seven family's silver-background, black tomahawk banner fluttered in the firelight.

The cavalry surged into the chaotic marketplace like an iron torrent.

Sir Keller, the leader, gripped his sword and roared with a grim face:

"Seal off all exits! Don't let a single scum escape!"

"kill!"

The looters, whether slow-witted or bloodthirsty, panicked instantly.

Seeing that things were going badly, the looters didn't care about anything else and desperately ran towards the edge of the market.

Some people threw away the stolen goods and tried to escape, but were quickly pinned to the ground by the cavalry's spears.

Some resisted with their swords, but were surrounded and killed by several cavalrymen.

The flashing of blades was accompanied by screams of agony.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Don Quixote remained expressionless as he slowly raised his longsword, aiming it at a knelt robber begging for mercy before him.

A flash of sword light, and a head fell to the ground.

"We've finally arrived."

Covered in blood, Don Quixote wearily sheathed his sword, took a deep breath, and glanced around.

At this moment, the soldiers of Seven City had completely taken control of the situation.

The raiders and skinners were either killed or captured.

The wailing was gradually replaced by the soldiers' angry shouts and the sobs of the survivors.

"You've run quite a bit!"

Standing at the edge of the market, he gazed at the gloomy wolf forest not far away.

A considerable number of raiders had already taken refuge inside.

Soon, many of the Seven family's cavalry left the market and chased after the fleeing raiders.

Don Quixote didn't join in; he simply remained where he was, calming himself and pondering:

"I need to buy a set of plate armor!"

"This chainmail's defensive capabilities are weak; I was almost seriously injured just now!"

In narrow markets like this, individual courage can still be effective.

But on an open battlefield, no matter how strong a person is, that's all there is to it.

Even if he could take on ten people at once, he would be surrounded and killed very quickly.

Unless he can break through the limits of human beings and become an extraordinary being, a powerful being capable of tearing apart dragons with his bare hands.

At that time, his personal strength will be undeniable!

But such power is too far from Don Quixote's reach; it's best to just fantasize about it in your dreams.

In reality, we still need to consider some feasible methods to improve our survival ability.

For example, wearing a full set of plate armor.

That would greatly improve his survivability on the battlefield.

Although it is still possible to be surrounded and killed, it is definitely not that easy.

Especially given Don Quixote's current physique, he could easily wear the full set of plate armor without appearing clumsy.

At that moment, a Seventh-class cavalryman rode up and stopped beside Don Quixote.

He was covered in blood, clearly having just been through a fierce battle, and his eyes were still filled with rage.

He looked Don Quixote up and down, his gaze lingering on his sword riddled with fresh nicks, his blood-stained chainmail, and his face.

He quickly said in a deep voice:

"Don Quixote! The Earl requests your presence!"

……

PS: (Please recommend and read this!)