Chapter 17: Dragon Slayer Bard

In the early morning, following a night of revelry, the Dwarf King Thorin Oakenshield set out with his expedition team from Lake Town amidst the cheers of the townsfolk. 

However, Kili had been left behind due to injuries, and Fili stayed behind to care for him. As for Bofur… poor lad, he had missed the boat because of drunkenness…

 The Dwarves' expedition to the Lonely Mountain was about to reach its destination.

...

"Up ahead is Lake Town, my lord. What shall we do?" Reynard was unsure.

"Let's play it by ear!" Rynar replied, equally uncertain.

"If they resist… then we'll annihilate the opposing forces!" Rynar pondered for a moment before speaking up with difficulty.

"...As you wish, my king…" Reynard paused for a moment and then spoke with relief. 

At that moment, they had finally acknowledged Rynar as their king, their sovereign, for Rynar had finally become decisive, earning the support of his people.

The morning mist sent off the Dwarves and welcomed Rynar. Taking advantage of the fog for cover, everyone quietly paddled their boats to the outskirts of the town.

"Go!" Caslow's eyes gleamed with cold light.

As the gangplank dropped, the agile Battanian archers leaped down. 

They abandoned their longbows, instead drawing their longswords and resting them on their shields as they quickly occupied the nearby wooden buildings. 

At that moment, the local residents remained oblivious, some even confused when confronted with the edge of a sword against their throats.

"Who… who are you?" an old man trembled, asking.

"Us? We are warriors from hell!" Reynard, leading his warhorse, smiled as he replied to the old man.

"We will fight for the king!" Reynard murmured to himself.

"Quick! Get off the boat!" Reynard commanded everyone to disembark swiftly.

...

Finally, before the town guards could respond, Rynar waved to stow the boats away; after all, they would still be needed later, and tossing them to Smaug for firewood would be a waste.

"Find someone to lead the way; we're going to the town hall!" Rynar spoke clearly.

Familiar with the narrative, he knew that the mayor and his sycophant, Alfrid, were no good, and if he wanted to take Lake Town, he had to deal with the obstacles posed by the mayor and his associates.

"Ha!" 

Several Rapid infantrymen formed a shield wall, surrounding the arriving guards. 

Behind them, more Rapid infantrymen pointed their pikes at the guards, the spearheads threatening those bewildered soldiers.

Would they be "touched" by this? They dared not move. 

The guards, holding their long spears, didn't know where to point them and could only nervously swing them around, continually forced back by the pikes.

"Clang!" 

Rynar drew his Dragon-slaying sword, the golden light shimmering along the blade. He flicked the blade lightly, producing a pleasant, crisp sound.

"Well then, gentlemen? Where is your mayor?" Rynar revealed a devilish grin.

...

"Boom!" The shield wall crashed heavily onto the square in front of the mayor's hall, the wooden boards beneath creaking under the strain.

The guards, having heard the commotion, crowded in front of the mayor's door. 

Unprepared for battle, they panic-strickenly pointed their weapons at Rynar's group, their trembling hands and shaking legs betraying their fear.

After all, no one could remain calm under the aim of 200 bows and arrows.

Although the knights' aim might not be precise, they could still draw strong bows; if they couldn't hit a target aimed at them, Rynar would have to go back and break all their bows.

"So, do you want war or peace?" Rynar raised his sword casually.

"What do you want?" The mayor, leading Alfrid, shakily stepped out and sternly demanded.

"How's your rule? Don't you have any self-awareness?" Rynar inquired curiously, genuinely at a loss for words at someone so thick-skinned.

"I am the legitimate ruler of Lake Town; I am the mayor. You outsiders have no right to interfere!" The mayor insisted, forcing himself to stand tall.

"Um? Is it the warriors and recruits in front of you that give you courage?" Rynar glanced at the few men tightly guarding the mayor.

"Are you willing to accompany him to the grave?" Rynar pointed his sword at the panicking guards beyond the human wall. 

These were merely ordinary men in armor; making things difficult for them would be quite disgraceful for a noble.

"I give you a chance. Drop your weapons, and you can return home safely; otherwise…" 

Rynar smiled, and behind him, the knights and archers radiated a dazzling battle aura, with Rynar and Caslow's auras reaching three feet high, while Reynard's soared to an even more terrifying four feet…

"Clang clang clang!" A chorus of weapons clattering to the ground echoed.

"Knight… Commander…" Someone's hands and feet grew cold with fear.

"Boom!" The crowd instantly scattered like birds startled from their nests, all wishing they had been born with more legs, running as fast as they could.

"Alright, now that the troublesome civilians are gone, my esteemed mayor, I've heard that under your rule, the people suffer from oppression, and they wish for change. 

Do you still intend to suppress them?" Rynar feigned surprise.

"N-no…" The mayor stuttered helplessly.

"Look who it is! Alfrid, what's happened to you? Stop shaking." Rynar said, amusement in his eyes.

"Forget it, let's just kill them all. This is boring…" Looking at the trembling mayor and his entourage, Rynar waved his hand dismissively. He had expected them to resist a bit more.

"Boom!" 

A signature skill from the paladin, Holy Blade Judgement, fell from the sky, creating several piles of charred remains that crashed through the wooden planks, and the remains of a few people sank into the water, disappearing from view…

"My goodness, even their ashes are scattered?" Rynar gazed at Reynard in astonishment; this was truly impressive.

...

"Are you Bard?" Rynar looked at the rugged man before him.

"Yes, may I ask what brings you here from afar?" Bard eyed Reynard behind Rynar warily.

"My name is Rynar." Rynar introduced himself.

"The sharpshooter Bard! Last king of the Dale, Girion's descendant? 

I'm curious how you've fallen to being a fisherman and hunter." Rynar joked while glancing at the frightened girls, Tilda and Siglit, huddled behind a pillar.

"The legacy of our ancestors is but a fleeting memory; we live happily now," Bard turned to look at his family behind him.

"I just executed the mayor and his minions here. Do you have any suggestions?" Rynar probed.

"What about those ordinary guards?" Bard was clearly more concerned about the common folk.

"You're certainly worthy of being a noble descendant, a qualified lord," Rynar praised.

"No, no, no, I'm just an ordinary commoner now…" Bard waved his hand to stop him.

"But you shall ultimately be crowned king," Rynar said, looking at him meaningfully.

The reason Rynar said this was that he had just observed the situation here. Honestly, it was far from what he had imagined. 

The common people looked pale, and the population was sparse. This didn't even account for the destruction from Smaug's fire and the oppression of the half-orcs during the Battle of the Five Armies… 

Thus, Rynar decisively decided to shift the burden to Bard, allowing him to become the King of the Dale like in history. 

Bard was essentially a man of deep loyalty and righteousness, and having him as a neighbor would provide mutual support. 

As for Rynar himself, he thought, with a system in place, why not build a city and become a lord? 

Why focus on Lake Town, especially since Smaug would come to sweep through that night? 

Rynar didn't believe he could hold Smaug back outside Lake Town, and even Caslow and his dragon wouldn't be enough. 

After all, Smaug, though merely a dragon that could breathe fire, was still monstrous in size and strength.

It would be unwise for him to engage directly. Better to leave that to Bard, the dragon slayer. He wouldn't get involved.

...

"Half-orc!" the vigilant Battanian archer shouted, then shot an arrow that sent the discovered half-orc flying.

"Stand ready!" The alarm rang out across the small town.

"An elf?" Caslow exclaimed in surprise, seeing Legolas battling the half-orc.

...

"Oh! Fili! Kili!" Upon hearing the commotion, Rynar quickly recalled the half-orc night raid and rushed to Bard's home. 

However, since Bard hadn't been imprisoned… oh, how tragic it was to think of the half-orc warriors facing Bard the king and Tauriel… 

"Uh, are you alright? Hi there, dwarf buddies, it's great to see you again!" Rynar greeted everyone with a smile.

"By the way, Bard, you need to clean up; we can't stay here…" Rynar suddenly remembered that Smaug would be coming to sweep through that night.

"The dwarves have entered the Lonely Mountain! You know the consequences…" Rynar pulled Bard out of the house and pondered aloud.

"I need you to lead the civilians to evacuate Lake Town, heading to the Valley below the Lonely Mountain… or Smaug will turn them into candles! You know very well that the evil dragon is about to awaken!" Rynar spoke seriously.

"And you?"

 Bard narrowed his eyes, questioning Rynar.

"I'll arrange my troops. My archers will stay behind to ambush Smaug!" Rynar paused.

"Remember to come back... I believe your ancestors struck Smaug! Your family's feud still needs you to resolve it!"

Rynar suddenly turned back and smiled as he spoke these words to Bard while they walked.

...

"Reynard, take the knights and infantry away! The archers will stay behind to snipe; Caslow, stick with me!" Rynar called out as he organized his forces.

"Lord, let me stay!" Reynard urged anxiously.

"Don't worry; I trust you to lead the team. Besides, Caslow and I are wearing mithril armor, which, along with the magical runes inscribed on it, will help us withstand the dragon's fire. 

The Battanian archers are particularly skilled; Smaug won't be able to harm us. Just relax!" Rynar reassured Reynard with a pat on the shoulder.

"The war has begun…" Rynar sighed as he watched the residents being persuaded by Bard or driven away by the soldiers. 

Would Long Lake Town ultimately be destroyed by the flames of war?

...

"Hey! Rynar, I'm back!" Bard returned to the town after ensuring the safety of his family and the dwarves.

"Oh, right! You can bring out the Black Arrow now; this might be one of the few weapons we have capable of slaying a dragon," Rynar remarked, curious about what the Black Arrow actually looked like.

In truth, the star silver steel armor-piercing arrows carried by the Battanian archers could also penetrate dragon skin, but they were too short; once they entered the dragon's body, their remaining force wasn't enough to reach the vital organs.

"Wow! It's so long? I'd believe you if you said it was a spear!" Rynar exclaimed in admiration as he took the Black Arrow from Bard.

"Look, the Lonely Mountain!" Suddenly, Bard pointed into the distance while chatting with Rynar.

In the dark night, the Lonely Mountain was surrounded by a fiery cloud spectacle, but it was no beautiful dawn; it was the breath of Smaug…

"The evil dragon is coming," Rynar narrowed his eyes.