From a hired knight to a master of Game of Thrones

The entire caravan was engulfed in chaos and bloodshed.

But the situation was much better than Don Quixote had feared and imagined.

Tom single-handedly held off two raiders on the left.

Shane and Warren stopped three raiders who were attacking from behind.

Tom and his two teammates held on more steadily than he had expected, and had even gained a local advantage.

The caravan's five guards reacted at varying speeds and together fought off the four raiders coming from the front.

However, the four raiders ahead are likely the leaders of this group of raiders.

They were far less vulnerable than the raiders attacking from the left, right, and rear.

Four raiders against five caravan guards.

One of the caravan guards had already been pierced through the stomach by a spear.

The remaining four caravan guards were also in grave danger.

It felt as if another guard, or even more, might die at any moment.

Don Quixote looked around and quickly realized what was happening.

He spurred his horse and hurried to the front of the caravan.

The warhorse beneath him trod through the blood and foam.

Don Quixote charged straight at the most aggressive of the raiders.

The raider was enormous, with a disheveled beard and hair.

He roared and brandished a blood-stained spear, intending to strike the caravan's guard captain's weak point.

The sudden attack made the raider's expression change, and he dared not continue his original attack.

He quickly twisted his body and raised his thick iron spear to stab Don Quixote.

The iron spearhead, carrying bits of flesh and blood, thrust straight at the galloping horse.

Don Quixote was equally cautious, and with his longsword gripped tightly, he cleaved the oncoming iron spear in two.

"Damn it, go help other people!"

Don Quixote roared at the caravan captain who was still slightly stunned, and at the same time swung his sword again to parry the iron spear that was coming at him.

The brute strength of the raider in front of him far exceeded that of ordinary people, and each thrust was accompanied by a ferocious force that could tear bones and flesh apart.

But Don Quixote's strength was beyond the imagination of ordinary people.

The steel sword blade struck the rough iron spear shaft.

The raider felt a violent force surge up the spear shaft and into his hand, making it difficult for him to grip the handle.

The caravan's captain of guard was startled by Don Quixote's roar, and his face instantly filled with shame.

No longer daring to be distracted, he hurriedly spurred his horse to help his companions fend off the vicious raiders.

Clang!

Ding!

clank!

Clang! Clang! Ring!

Clang!

Don Quixote's eighth fierce counterattack was too much for the raider to bear, and his entire upper body was shaken and he fell backward.

The raider lost his balance completely, and his hands, which were gripping the spear, also failed to lock onto the handle.

The thick, hard iron spear slid down onto the wrecked ground.

The robber was so startled that he hurriedly reached for a gleaming heavy hand axe at his waist.

But Don Quixote didn't give him the chance.

The blade emerged from behind the neck.

The intense pain caused the looter to let out a scream that was not human, and then he crashed heavily onto the wrecked ground like a broken sack.

The hand axe that he had just firmly grasped flew out of his hand.

Don Quixote reined in his horse and looked around again.

Unbeknownst to them, the entire battlefield situation had been completely reversed.

Tom dealt with the two raiders and rushed to the front of the caravan to help the guards attack the last two raiders.

Shane and Warren also took down one of the raiders.

The remaining two raiders were forced into a retreat.

A few more moments passed.

The fighting then completely subsided.

A dozen or so corpses lay scattered around the caravan, including looters and a caravan guard.

The caravan crew finally dared to peek out and frantically began to treat the wounded guards.

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.

Rodney did not abandon the body of the fallen guard.

After the group found the horse that the dead guard had run away in a panic.

Then a caravan worker rode a horse while leading a horse carrying the remains of the fallen guard.

Rodney stared at the corpse bobbing up and down on horseback and said gravely:

"When we arrive at White Harbor, I will personally build a tomb for him and bury him according to the rites of the Old Gods."

"I will send his wife and children grain and silver deer every year until the child can pick up a hoe and support the family."

After a pause, Rodney continued:

"May the old gods take his soul and let him return to the earth and the forest."

"Let him no longer suffer from the cold, no longer bleed, no longer fear."

"May he rest in peace."

Upon hearing this, Don Quixote, his plate armor stained with blood, slowly replied:

May the Old Gods accept his soul and grant him rest.

Rodney turned to Don Quixote and said gratefully:

"Sir Don Quixote, if it weren't for your Bloodhand Mercenary Group, our entire caravan would have suffered an unimaginable calamity this time."

"I, Rodney, will remember this kindness and will thank you when I reach White Harbor."

Don Quixote shook his head and laughed:

"Lord Rodney, we have a contract."

"Therefore, protecting the safety of your caravan is the duty of our Bloodhand Mercenary Group!"

"If we talk about gratitude again, that would be disrespecting the contract!"

Rodney thought for a moment, then said seriously:

"When we get to White Harbor, I'll treat you Bloodhand Mercenary Group knights to a drink, that should be alright!"

"In the name of friendship!"

"That's no problem at all," Don Quixote smiled.

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.

Before long, the entire caravan had been reorganized.

The injured guard was placed in a truck and cared for by two men.

The horses carrying the dead walked in the middle of the procession.

The others gripped their weapons tightly, looking warily at the gray, misty fields around them.

The team no longer engaged in the relaxed conversations they had before.

All that remained were the wheels grinding through the mud, the horses' hooves trampling the grass, and the wounded man's heavy breathing.

The road ahead was not peaceful either.

The caravan was robbed three more times.

The second group consisted of five bandit knights.

Before they even got close to the caravan, they were stopped by the Bloodhand Mercenary Group and quickly dealt with by Don Quixote.

The remaining two times were by ordinary raiders.

There weren't many people.

One time, five people were ranked; another time, seven people were ranked.

They were also blocked from entering the caravan, and were quickly dealt with by Don Quixote.

After these events, the caravan members no longer looked down on or spoke ill of the Bloodhand Mercenary Group.

The caravan members became especially reserved and respectful towards Don Quixote.

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.

The caravan arrived at White Harbor as dusk settled.

The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, swept by.

The port, filled with oared warships and bustling merchant ships, was ablaze with lights.

The waves crashed against the embankment with a thunderous roar.

Tall, greyish-white stone walls meander along the coast, and giant mermaid flags of the Mandalay family hang from the city walls and towers.

In the distance, the giant statues of the seven gods overlook the entire harbor.

Seal Gate is frequented by carriages, sailors, mercenaries, and merchants.

The clamor mingled with the sound of the waves, a stark contrast to the desolate, lifeless tombs of the ancestors.

The guards of White Harbor inspected the caravan's goods.

He then glanced at the blood-stained armor and weapons of Don Quixote and his companions.

They questioned him for a while before waving him off.

The truck rolled over the cobblestone road and through the streets and alleys.

Finally, it stopped in front of a stone warehouse.

When the doorman in front of the warehouse saw Rodney, he immediately bowed and greeted him, and then quickly instructed the workers to move goods, lead horses, and take care of the wounded.

……

PS:

Encouragement from our readers:

Author つ♡⊂ Did you know? The Analects is practically begging you to update it properly. (˵¯͒¯͒˵)

Thirty and established:

It takes updating thirty chapters to gain a foothold in the online literature world.

At forty, one is no longer perplexed.

I update forty chapters every day. Only then can I continuously receive readers' gratitude and praise, and no longer be confused about the meaning of writing.

At fifty, one knows the will of Heaven.

Updating fifty chapters every day is considered a sign of destiny, and it means the entire website is supporting you immensely.

At sixty, one's ears are attuned to the truth.

When you can update sixty chapters a day, everyone, including the readers, will find what they say agreeable.

At seventy, one can follow one's heart's desires without transgressing the rules.

If you can update seventy chapters a day, you can do whatever you want! So update quickly! ദ്ദിᵔ.˛.ᵔ₎✧

New Year's energy is kicking in, time to keep writing!

Happy Lunar New Year's Eve, dear readers!

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