How a Second Life Knight Lives

3. Proof of Ability

“Sir Burrows is a taciturn man, as you know, William. He hardly ever spoke to me, the village chief, unless it was about the manor.”

“You’re talking too much.”

“Aagh~”

My sword pierced the back of the chief’s hand. It was the only hand he had left.

“Please! Please! It’s Baron Ash! He killed Sir Burrows!”

“Why?”

“Because Sir Burrows found out about the rock salt mine. Baron Ash hadn’t even started mining it secretly for long.”

“I thought my late father was a knight who knew honor?”

“Of course. But isn’t Sir Burrows an outsider? He’s Count Gehard’s man! Baron Ash said that Burrows can’t be trusted.”

Salt mine.

A bonanza.

It may not be as valuable as a gold mine, but it’s worth so much that an average barony would find it hard to handle.

If a new salt mine is revealed, anyone could guarantee that all sorts of hyenas would flock to it.

The existing salt mines, whether suppressed by power, fought over with swords, or bought with money, have long since had their ownership decided.

But a new salt mine?

In times like these?

It’s not something a mere baron can handle.

So, Baron Ash is not only greedy but also greatly terrified.

To the extent that he would make the knight who saved his life disappear.

But even so, throwing the knight’s child into the salt mine was a bit too much.

No matter how much he feared future troubles and lacked manpower.

I sheathed my sword.

“For a village chief of a small manor, you know a lot.”

“I, I was a territorial soldier, and I regularly sent news to the baron, and I was also told to keep a close watch so the butler couldn’t escape, yes, that’s right. I also have connections with the high-ranking people in the castle, so, is there anything else you want to know?”

The village chief’s eyes were filled with desperation as he mumbled his words. But his face was dying.

He had lost too much blood.

“Baron Ash will die by my hand this time too.”

“What? What did you say?”

“Yes. Chief. Baron Ash will die by my hand. This time, the reason will be more than certain. So much so that no one would dare to criticize.”

I left him and went around the campsite where the chief and his party had camped, gathering anything of value.

A few coins and silver, a few weapons with a lot of iron, and some food.

And a packhorse.

I suddenly felt like my wealth had increased significantly.

Before leaving the campsite, I looked around.

The campfire was dying out, and blood had pooled under the fallen corpses.

The village chief had already lost consciousness and was barely breathing.

I left the cleaning to the forest and departed from the campsite.

* * *

Kalmar is a port city.

It is not a small dock that lives off inland water transport, but a port located where the river and the sea meet.

There are only a few cities in the entire empire with such a good location. Naturally, many people in this city make a living through commerce and are committed to logistics and distribution.

No matter how chaotic the empire becomes, the flow of wealth and goods centered around Kalmar cannot be stopped. Too many people’s interests are at stake.

If the flow there were to be blocked, it would be no different from saying that the empire is doomed. Naturally, the Count of Kalmar would have to worry about bankruptcy.

That’s why I came to Kalmar.

Three years early.

“The spearhead, the dagger, and the logging axe were all made by the blacksmith in Seongha Village, who just hammered some scrap iron. The logging axe is of decent quality. Still, it would be better to melt them all down and remake them. Melting iron and making ingots also costs money. But considering you brought them all the way here, I’ll cover that cost and give you a generous price for the iron.”

In other words, he was gently saying that he couldn’t give a proper price for the sword or the axe, so if I wanted to sell them, I should do so at a bargain price.

I gave a wry smile at the axe head on the scale.

This was indeed a port city.

A place where locals swindle drifters.

If it were an inland city, such outrageous bargaining wouldn’t happen. It was possible because it was a port city with a constant supply of drifters.

“Anyway, it was burdensome to carry them around all the time. Let’s make a deal.”

“How would you like to be paid?”

“What do you have?”

“If it’s currency guaranteed by the Count of Kalmar, I can give it to you right away. You can also receive iron ingots or silver coins. If you want another currency, you can go to the money changers north of the square and exchange it there. For your information, the imperial currency is calculated at 30% off face value. Other currencies are considered to have half their value regardless of type.”

“You sound more like a money changer than a blacksmith. But a 30% difference in value? It seems the Count of Kalmar is doing better than the high-ranking person up there.”

“It’s been 10 years since that person has been gone. There’s no one to scold us for being rude, so there’s nothing we can do. According to the money changers, the imperial currency is getting worse because each city with a mint keeps printing it.”

“10 years? Has it been that long already?”

“Well, there’s a rumor that a new emperor will be elected soon.”

Coming from a place where the line of succession is clearly defined in case of a president’s vacancy, I could understand it intellectually, but it was hard to accept emotionally.

An emperor’s seat vacant for 10 years?

Does that make sense?

But even 5 years from now, it will still be vacant.

That’s why the empire has become a mess in many ways.

I don’t know what happens after that.

But if it remains vacant even after that, it will become something beyond a mess.

It was a problem.

Having returned only 5 years, not several decades, I couldn’t help but worry.

As far as I know, most of the empire falls into chaos.

There are few places that can guarantee even minimal safety.

One of the few regions that manages to function somehow is this city of Kalmar.

Despite the mess we made, they somehow managed to clean it up and eventually succeeded in pacifying the surroundings.

That’s why I came to Kalmar.

I thought I would see fewer unpleasant sights here.

But right now, there’s nothing I can do.

I don’t really want to do anything either.

The situation is so tight that it’s hard enough to take care of myself.

In the end, I pushed my uneasy feelings aside, took the Kalmar silver coin from the blacksmith, and set out to find a place to stay.

I avoided the tavern-cum-inn near the harbor.

The service standards were too low for a place catering to sailors who drank bland liquor instead of water and ate bread harder than bricks. It might be fine for someone born and raised here, but for someone from a developed country like Korea, it was too difficult to adapt.

Even considering the unclean bedding, the food was terrible, the liquor was too strong, and the resident prostitutes were overly clingy.

And the fights! How often they broke out!

It was definitely not a place for someone like me to rest.

So I looked for an inn closer to the inner city.

A place where more respectable and wealthier people stayed.

For example, senior sailors, traveling professionals, or merchants who drove carriages?

Such places had clean bedding. The food was delicious, and the liquor was drinkable.

Of course, the price was different from places where prostitutes aggressively solicited customers even during meals.

But I thought it was worth paying that much.

Moreover, such high-class inns offered various services.

They stored goods, purchased necessary items on behalf of guests, and even introduced servants if needed.

Especially inns frequented by merchants provided brokerage services for finance, warehousing, and transactions of goods and people. They were merchants for merchants.

“You can call me Martin.”

The owner of the inn I chose was a middle-aged man. He had the air of a scholar, but his sharp eyes were those of a merchant.

“My name is William. I heard you also broker deals and such. I have a request and need some advice.”

“We try our best to fulfill the requests of our guests.”

The inn I visited had a very good reputation. It was well-known enough to reach my ears, even though I was preoccupied with urgent matters.

The owner of this place, Martin, is a well-connected person. His network includes members of the Kalmar City Council and even elders of the Count’s advisory committee.

One of the reasons I chose Martin’s inn was because of his connections.

“First, please sell the two pack horses I left in the stable.”

“Yes. That is not a difficult task. There are always people looking for decent pack horses.”

“And I need some advice.”

“What kind of advice?”

“I can read and write. I am also proficient in calculations. But what I do best is fighting. I have been trained as a knight so far, but I have not yet been knighted. However, I am confident that my skills are good enough to be recognized anywhere. In battle, I can fight directly or command a small group. How can someone like me establish myself in Kalmar?”

“…Why is Sir William, an aspiring knight, seeking advice from a mere innkeeper like me? Surely, you have senior knights or noble acquaintances around you.”

Martin’s question was filled with suspicion.

It was natural.

It was strange for a stranger to make such a request.

What I asked for was advice that one might seek from a well-known younger relative.

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“I heard that people like you, who work as merchants for merchants, have a different perspective on people and the world compared to ordinary people. I was told to seek wisdom from people like you, not from books, but from those who live in the world.”

“That’s an interesting statement.”

“And I am not an aspiring knight. My late father was a knight, so I was trained as one, but I do not necessarily intend to become a knight. Of course, my father was a knight who honorably devoted himself to his duty. Unfortunately, he was not rewarded for his loyalty. So, I have no senior knights or noble acquaintances to seek advice from. I have no intention of returning to my hometown.”

“Is that so? Then you have no qualms about working as a mercenary.”

“Yes. I am just a commoner who is good at fighting.”

Martin did not hide his intrigued expression.

*

A commoner who is good at fighting.

And with no significant background!

Isn’t this the kind of self-introduction that makes you want to try using him at least once, even if you discard him later?

I happen to have a use for someone like that.

But is this young man a gold nugget that rolled in?

Or is he a common braggart?

Or perhaps a rotten apple planted by someone?

Martin had lived half his life as an innkeeper.

For him, managing people, whether commanding or being commanded, was as natural as breathing or eating.

There were always plenty of people.

Right now, if you open the door and go outside, there is a young beggar asking for a coin, and if you go to the labor office, there are plenty of men sitting around waiting to earn a day’s wage.

If you go into any tavern and shout that you’re looking for someone to wield a sword, there will be more than a few people who will volunteer without even asking for details. If you need to recruit sailors at the port, you can easily gather enough people to crew a ship.

However, there were always not enough people.

The maid would steal the mansion’s items, and the cook would pilfer food supplies. The mercenary hired for protection would turn into a robber, and the sailor dreaming of a big score would join hands with pirates.

The merchant who requested a deal would miss the deadline, and sometimes even flee to another city, change their name, and continue their trade. Of course, the advance payment for the goods would never be returned.

People were unreliable, and despite their unreliability, they had to be used.

If you couldn’t yet judge whether someone was trustworthy, you had to create grounds for judgment. If that wasn’t possible, you had to find someone with exceptional abilities. They would do what needed to be done, if only for their reputation.

“Alright. Competent people are always needed. Skilled in combat. You don’t look the age, but since you claim so, I’ll believe you. But I am a merchant whom William has asked for advice. Merchants don’t move without profit. So, let me ask. Why should I advise William? What benefit can William offer me?”

*

I drew my sword at Martin’s words.

And before Martin could say anything, I swung my sword.

I split the large bronze cup used for black beer vertically. However, the table on which the bronze cup was placed did not have a single scratch. The sword moved just enough to cut the bronze cup and stopped right above the table.

*

Martin had seen such skill before.

Master Johan, who was the bodyguard of the former Count of Kalmar, had done something similar. He had demonstrated his power by cutting only the necklace with his sword. Of course, there was no blood flowing from the neck of the city councilor who was the target of the demonstration.

They had fainted, though.

It was the moment when the city councilors, who had arrogantly raised their heads, became like turtles retracting their necks.

To see such a thing again.

“I am very skilled with the sword. Much more than you think, Mr. Martin. There will be something you need me for.”

“Yes. There is. Even if there isn’t, there will be.”

Martin said with conviction.