webnovel

A cripple in medieval world

This is the first time I write a novel in English. I’m just a historical nerd wanting to create a beautiful story. It’ll be great if you guys can tell me about my grammatical mistakes ******** This is the story of a modern man reincarnated into a medieval, fictional, and fantasy world. Although he is a cripple, he has some special power that can help him to develop his land and hammer his legend into history. I’m inspired by the legendary tale of Ivar the Boneless. =.= Enjoy! My discord server: https://discord.gg/wqVVfeDr

Pham_Minh_Khue · Militar
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52 Chs

Chapter 37: The dance of swords, spears, blood and grasses (5)

- I swear under the name of the gods and the witness of the sky, from today till the last day, me and my descendants will be always by his side, fight for him and his successors, always faithful to the true ruler of the Fortuna Kingdom. My lands and my people will be under his rule until my dynasty disappears.

The two Khals kneel and kiss Arondight, the symbol of King Ivar.

- Good, you may rise, Lord Gantulga and Lord Bolormaa.

- We are Khals.

- But now you are King Ivar's vassals, and you will be called as whatever he wants you to be called.

Although look angry, Gangulga and Bolormaa swallow their obligations and close their mouths. Impetus continues:

- I've just received a letter from the King, he wants you to go to the land that Khal Kjartan just gave him to help him build settlements there. And you heirs will go to Neverwinter as our honorable guests. Do your duties and serve faithfully and you'll be rewarded handsomely.

- Aside from 20000 men who are here, we have more than 5000 women, children, and old people in our home. It'll take months for us to go there, you are asking us to forsake our homeland.

- I'm not asking, the King orders it himself, if you refuse, my friend Kruger here will talk with you instead and maybe, some of your bodyguards want to replace you as a lord.

Kruger shows himself, puts a hand on his sword, the blue cloaks around do the same thing, too. The two khals start to be scared, look at the surrounding men anxiously. They bow to Impetus:

- As you command, Milord. Our heirs will be here before dawn.

- You had better not try to do anything clever, we know how your heirs look. Fool us and we'll have your heads on spikes. Now get out of my tent and deliver them to me.

-------------------

The Shadow Rangers, that is the official name of this secret organization, but the foes of the King of Fortuna Kingdom call them the Messengers of Death, only one man alive to tell stories about them is King Daveth Mathel of the Alleinstein Kingdom. Every unruly noble, knight, or commoner is reported missing or dead after being acknowledged for committing treason, one way or another.

And tonight, when the full moon takes control of the sky of the Heathen Kingdom, they act, thirty shadows roam over the campfires of the 20000 Grasslanders, finding their ways through the guards to do their duties. Hanzo, the leader of the group, hails his men and speak softly:

- Spread out and find that stupid prince, kill everyone who notices you, cause no noises.

The others nod and the shadows dive into the darkness.

Prince Ain is groaning in the wooden cage near the middle of the camp, clothes scattered, hasn't drunk or eat anything for two days. Now he is exhausted and nearly broken, he sees his most trusted men's heads cut off just because of his ignorance. He keeps wondering if he had listened to his advisors, would he end up here, useless and dishonored.

A grasslander pass by the cage, look at him mockingly:

-How are you feeling, your highness? I'm sure having your balls dragged around is not a pleasant feeling.

Too tired, Ain whispers:

- Water....water...

- What are you talking about?

The Grasslander kneel and put his ear close to Ain's mouth, and then he laughs:

- Haha, water is this. I will give you if you want it.

He pulls down his pants and prepares to do something, but he doesn't manage to finish that. A pair of hands appear from the darkness, grabs his mouth, and sloats his throat. The Grasslander falls to the ground, surprised by what has just happened, Ain newly screams out. Another hand covers his mouth and a voice whispers by his ears:

- We are Fortunian soldiers, we'll take you out of this place, Prince Ain. Nod your head if you understand.

Ain slightly nods his head, a ranger cuts his chains simply by a swing of his sword, which makes Ain amazed by the sharpness of the sword and the skill of the user. Several guards get out of a tent and notice them, several shots from bows in an instant knock them down to the ground. However, the fallen men still have time to scream, which alerts other guards, and soon, the whole camp is alerted and Grasslanders jump out of their tents, look for their enemies.

Seeing that they are being in danger, the Shadows who are accompanying Ain shoot fire arrows toward the sky, and not long after, in different parts of the camp, fire spreads out from significant places, such as the forager or weaponry. Not for long, the Grasslanders panic, find water trying to put down the fire. In the crisis, no one notices that their prisoner has vanished.

Hanzo hides in the darkness slowly approaches the main tent of the Grasslands Army with about 10 shadows to follow behind him. After observing and making sure that inside the tent there is only a handful of people, they cut the ropes and jump in, fire arrows, and wield their swords, Khal Solomon, who is asleep, wakes up by the noises and realize that many of his bodyguards have lied down on the ground.

Swiftly, he jumps aside, kicks a ranger, and picks a sword from the ground. In the darkness inside the tent, the sounds of men screaming, swords clashing swords, and bows being fired can be heard; however, the sounds are drought in the panicking of the camp. The Grasslanders can not fight to their maximum in the dark, sometimes they even kill their comrades accidentally. Hanzo wild two swords, cutting men like fleshes, after no more than 5 minutes, Khal Solomon is only left one inside the tent.

Tighten the hand holding his sword, Solomon roars and charges, cut the head of a ranger on his way to Hanzo, but he has underestimated his opponent. Two swords pierce Solomon's chest and throat before he notices them, he falls to the ground, dying. Hanzo whispers gently to his ears:

- King Ivar sends his regard.

And everything Solomon feels later is eternal darkness.