In a small manor called Wincheston Manor, fifteen miles south of Tinietz, Sheriff Bob waited with a large group of people for the team arriving from the north.

Standing beside Bob was the manor lord, Eiot, looking anxious. The manor lord glanced north and asked uneasily, “Lord Bob, if Lord Pierre finds out about this, will we be punished?”

Bob picked at the meat stuck in his teeth with his right middle finger, then tilted his head and glanced at the manor lord, saying disdainfully, “I say, Eiot, you’re only capable of this much. No wonder you haven’t been knighted after all these years. If it weren’t for Lord Deputy of the Court, who remembered your deceased father serving him as a slave for many years, this manor of yours would have been taken back long ago. Can’t you show some ambition and get a lifelong knight title like your father?”

Seeing Eiot still frowning and looking worried, Bob comforted him, “I’ve found out everything. This fellow has no backing in the Court at all. Even this religious guard identity is fake. The city gate guard told me that half a year ago, this fellow was still a hunter fighting for food with beasts! He has no power or influence, so what are you afraid of?”

“Ah? A hunter impersonating a religious guard! Then go tell Lord Pierre! This is a serious crime.”

“Hmph, I already told him, but Lord Pierre not only didn’t accuse him of any crime, he even transferred the weapons and provisions he promised to allocate to me to that Bastard! I tolerated it in the city, but now that Bastard is out, I have to make him spit out everything he swallowed,” Bob said through gritted teeth.

“If you help me accomplish this, I will go to the Vice Minister and plead for you, asking him to confer a lifelong knight title upon you.”

The manor lord looked at the three manor guards behind him and the five or six serfs holding farm tools and wooden pitchforks. Then he looked at the dozen or so armed Soldiers of the Patrol Team wielding swords and axes, and a group of city ruffians and thugs who came to assist. He steadied himself and said, “Alright, but if Lord Pierre blames us in the future, you must bear the responsibility.”

Sheriff Bob looked down on this coward from the bottom of his heart. He ignored the manor lord, turned his head, and said to the large group of people behind him, “Guys, later, beat those Bastards hard. Except for that damn Patrol Officer, it doesn’t matter if you kill one or two of the other lackeys. When we get the money, food, and supplies back, everyone will get a share.”

The crowd behind him cheered.

Just then, a Soldier from the Patrol Team ran from outside the manor to Bob’s side and said, “L-Lord, they’re almost here, but… but they’ve already spotted us.”

“How could that be? How could they spot us from so far away?”

“Th-They have a scout!”

“What? Those dozen or so scoundrels can have a scout?”

“Alright, then we don’t need to ambush. Guys, follow me.”

Art didn't expect that as soon as the outline of Tinietz disappeared behind him, he would encounter the first “enemy” since the team was formed. He had heard from Steward Guku that Lord Pierre had transferred the Patrol Team’s provisions to the Patrol Team, and he thought the Sheriff would come to trouble him. However, he waited in Tinietz for half a month and didn’t see Bob. Now it seemed this fellow had been holding a belly full of bad intentions and planned to unleash them outside the city.

“Ron, continue scouting, find out their numbers, and don’t get too close to prevent them from having bows and arrows.”

Ron took the order, turned his reins, and rode his mule towards Wincheston Manor.

“Everyone halt, form ranks.”

“Odo, hide the carriage by that haystack over there.” Art drew the knight’s sword from his waist.

Ron returned and informed them of the enemy's numbers and weapon status. The entire Patrol Team assembled and formed ranks on a fallow piece of land beside the road. After waiting for a long time, two horsemen leading a dozen or so fellows with long swords and short spears charged out from the distant manor, followed by a group of farmers and thugs with various weapons like farm tools and wooden clubs.

Seeing Sheriff Bob riding a black horse leisurely approach to within seventy paces, Art sat upright on his horse, gripping his riding bow. He drew a light arrow from the quiver on the front saddle, nocked it, stuck out his tongue to taste the wind, then drew the bowstring fully and aimed at Bob.

Thwack! Whoosh!

The light arrow made of birch wood twisted its shaft and flew upwards towards the black horse opposite.

Sheriff Bob, riding his steed and leading a large group of “warriors,” felt incredibly majestic at this moment, until a light arrow falling from the sky grazed his horse’s head and plunged into the hard ground. Only then did Bob, startled, rein in his horse and stop.

Bob looked at Art, who was eighty paces away on a sorrel horse, and the neatly arrayed Patrol Team Soldiers behind him. For no reason, his heart began to pound.

“Eiot, you damn well get the guys to form ranks, form ranks!”

The large, disorderly group of lackeys following Bob struggled to form a crooked line under the shouts and clubbing of a few thug leaders.

Art held his bow and arrow in his right hand, and with his left, he pulled the reins, urging his horse forward, coming within twenty paces of Bob.

He reined in his horse and stopped. Art sternly shouted, “Sheriff, what is the meaning of this? Are you colluding with bandits and marauders to attack my Patrol Team?”

Bob’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, forcing himself to reply, “Art, you Bastard, not only did you take the weapons I wanted, but you also seized the provisions and supplies that rightfully belonged to my Patrol Team. If you obediently leave the provisions and supplies and scram today, I won’t pursue it. But if you dare to resist, I’ll send you and your mongrels to hell with your heads in your hands.”

Art scanned the crooked formation behind Bob, then glanced at the fine steed beneath Bob, and said disdainfully to Bob, “Do you even deserve to ride such a good horse? What a waste of a fine steed.”

Then he turned his horse and galloped back to his own formation.

Bob felt his dignity had been greatly insulted. He turned his head and roared at the few thug leaders who were closely following him on horseback, “Tell the brothers to charge and hack those Bastards to death! Thirty fenny reward for each one you cut down!”

As soon as Art returned to his formation, the enemy began to charge with howls and wails.

Art and Ron led their mules to the back and tied them up, then each went to one side of the line formation to cover the flanks.

“Patrol Team, spear and shield line formation, form ranks!”

“Roar!”

In the spear and shield line formation, Odo held his shield in a bow stance and his spear in the center, his eyes fixed on the charging enemy. Bass’s first squad was on the left, Kazak’s second squad was on the right; Ron stood on the far left with his shield and sword, and Art was on the far right.

In an instant, the enemy’s lackeys had charged to within twenty paces, while their two horsemen lagged far behind, “supervising the battle.”

“Advance!”

“Roar! Roar! Roar! Roar!…”

The spear and shield line formation advanced with steady, powerful steps.

Jason, the assistant in the first group of the first squad on the left flank of the line formation, was stepping forward with each roar from his mouth. He felt his throat dry and his nasal passages bitter, and his hands, gripping the spear and shield, were already sweating. If he hadn’t caught a glimpse of Commander Bass’s tall and mighty figure beside him, he would have almost turned and fled.

Seeing a large group of men armed with swords, axes, short spears, clubs, and wooden pitchforks already within about five paces, suddenly a command came from the right: “Attack!!”

Roar! Roar! Roar!~

Jason closed his eyes and thrust the iron spear resting on his round shield outwards with all his might!

Thud! He felt the short spear in his hand momentarily resist as if it had pierced through sheepskin, followed by a heavy object hitting the wooden shield. Jason pushed hard against the ground with his right leg to resist the impact, then continuously thrust out the short spear in his right hand~

“Three-man battle formation!”

Hearing this voice, Jason’s mouth watered, and he swallowed, feeling a comfort in his throat. He opened his eyes and instinctively leaned against Commander Bass, raising his shield to cover Bass’s right flank, and then charged into the crowd with Commander Bass…

Bob remained stunned on his horse.

He had sensed something was wrong when the enemy advanced in unison, shields raised and spears held. But his Soldiers and lackeys had already charged out, and he couldn’t make them stop.

It wasn’t until a shout of “Attack” from the opposite side that a dozen or so iron spears thrust out almost simultaneously. Although some iron spears missed, two or three of his subordinates didn’t have time to stop and were pierced by the iron spears~

The two sides were at a stalemate in front of the wooden shields for a moment. Just as it seemed his numerically superior men were about to break through the enemy’s shield formation, the enemy’s shield formation suddenly split, forming four or five groups of three men each.

From the overall numbers, Bob had a clear advantage, but for each lackey engaged in hacking and slashing, it became one against three enemies. Moreover, the three men formed a triangular formation, mutually covering each other, making it impossible to get close.

Despite their numerical superiority, the Patrol Team and those thugs, who usually excelled at bullying the weak, lacked true courage. After five or six of their men were cut down or impaled by the enemy, they finally reverted to being like rats scurrying across the street.

Art had stopped. Blood was dripping from his steel knight’s sword. He glanced at Odo, who had rushed forward, and saw him throw the short spear in his hand. The iron spear pierced a fellow’s back, pinning him to the ground; Bass was leading a Combat Squad in pursuit of the fleeing enemy, and Ron was also chasing behind Bass’s Combat Squad.

Art ignored the scattering lackeys and stood on his tiptoes, looking for the fat fellow.

“Bastard, damn it, charge back, get back!” Bob, on horseback, waved his sword, trying to stop the rout of his lackeys, but the lackeys were already terrified, running desperately in all directions as if they had four legs.

A tall tree catches the wind. Bob, on horseback, became the target of Odo, Bass, and Ron, who were pursuing the fleeing enemy. Seeing Bob surrounded and trying to gallop away, Art quickly ran back to the haystack, mounted his horse, and gave chase.

Bob furiously kicked his horse’s belly with his spurs. The warhorse leaped up, broke out of the encirclement, and galloped towards the manor. Bob was celebrating his escape and the saving of his life when he instinctively turned his head on horseback to glance behind him. That glance made him shiver—Patrol Officer Art, riding a sorrel horse with arms outstretched and sword in hand, was galloping towards him…

Art, holding the reins in his left hand and sword in his right, chased after Bob. The two horses got closer and closer. Art squeezed his horse’s flanks, and the warhorse beneath him, sensing its master’s command, quickened its pace. Art’s long sword, as it touched Bob, twisted its blade, and the flat of the sword struck Bob hard on the back.

Bob was knocked off his horse and tumbled to the ground.

Art galloped a few more steps, then flipped and dismounted. He came before Bob, who was on the ground almost breathless from the fall, and pointed his sword directly at the fat fellow. “Sheriff, are you still planning to pursue me? Or perhaps, please cut off my dog head so I can go to hell.”

Bob was in so much pain that tears and snot streamed down his face. The fear of death and the pain of falling from the horse made him tremble uncontrollably. He pleaded with a choked voice, “Please, Lord Art, it’s all my fault. Please forgive me, I am a man of the Lord Deputy of the Court…”

Art’s eyes blazed with ferocity, and he said harshly, “Forgiving you is God’s business, and I am only responsible for sending you to meet God.” With that, he raised the dripping long sword in both hands and plunged it down forcefully.

“Ah!!!!” Bob’s scream echoed~~

………

“Master, why did you spare that vicious dog’s life? If you ask me, you should have just stabbed him to death with one sword.” Ron followed behind Art, carrying his dripping armed sword.

Art did not kill fat Bob, but to teach that annoying Bastard a lesson, Art chopped off half of his ear.

In this battle with the Patrol Team, Simon, the Combat Squad Leader of the fourth Combat Squad of the Patrol Team, was severely wounded, his left arm half-severed by a battle-axe, and he fainted from the pain. In addition, three Soldiers were injured to varying degrees, Odo, who led the charge in the center, also had a cut on his face from a short spear, and Bass’s leg had a hole poked in it by a wooden pitchfork…

The casualties were not small, but the results were also quite significant. Facing an enemy two or three times their number, the Patrol Team Soldiers were not broken.

In this battle, Art killed two Patrol Team Soldiers and knocked down one; Odo killed one and knocked down one; Bass’s first squad impaled four; Kazak’s second squad killed one and knocked down two; Ron chased five or six city thugs and farmers for nearly half a mile.

“Odo, are you alright?” Art walked up to Odo, who was bandaging Simon’s wound, and asked.

With Art’s help, Odo lifted the bandaged Simon onto the carriage, then said to Art with regret, “Lord, I’m fine, but one of our hard-trained Soldiers was crippled like this, and several others are injured. If they can’t get timely treatment, they might not live. Those Bastards are really damn ruthless!!” He said, punching the carriage.

Art’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He patted Odo’s shoulder and comforted him, “I will definitely heal them. As for those Bastards, I will make them pay a heavy price.”