The village of Norn is a small and peaceful village.

Leaning on the towering mountains, in the midst of greenery, this small village quietly blooms with its own vitality.

Like all villages, the mountains eat the mountains and the water depends on the water. The mountains are a good thing, and the gifts of nature are enough to support the life of a village of three or four hundred people. A variety of edible mushrooms can be found, and fat beasts can be caught. Of course, the winter is a bit tougher every year, but of course intelligent humans will store food for the winter in advance.

In a village where hunting is the main thing, the daily life is probably to go up the mountain at dawn, spend about three or four hours, and spend all the morning time hunting. Then go down the mountain with an abundance of food, and then spend the afternoon processing the furs and making the bacon.

Hart, as a member of Norn Village, naturally has this routine.

As a male from Norn Village, Hart's profession is, of course, "Hunter". Although he is only seventeen years old, Hart is already an adult in size. The faint blonde and flaxen hair has only recently been cut, and because it was handled by himself with a dagger against the river, it is really impossible to expect the beauty of this hairstyle, but for the boy in the mountain village, flexibility is the key.

The skin, like everyone else's, has become firm and rough from the green mountains all year round, and the sharp blades of grass cannot hurt it in the slightest. The clothes on the body are thin leather clothes treated with animal fur, which not only protects against the cold, but also has a certain defensive power, of course, for the beasts in the mountains, this defensive power is useless at all.

Like the other hunters, he carried a bow and arrows and a dagger.

Still, he's a little different from the others.

"Hmm...... Today's harvest is a bit small......"

He looked at the prey in the pit—there were only three rabbits, two of them were already weak, and one was motionless, and he must have fallen to his death.

Ever since he stumbled upon a tiny, withered weed-covered dark spring, Hart has set a trap here. Animals can't be short of water, so they're bound to congregate in places where water is abundant. However, lake springs also tend to attract predators, so clever critters tend to choose these hidden dark springs.

Following the rope tied to the trunk of the tree, he easily descended to the bottom of the trap, picked them up, and placed them in the hunting basket.

That's the "difference" just mentioned. Usually the prey is equipped with bows and arrows and javelins, and they sneak carefully in the mountains and forests to hunt their prey, but Hart thinks this is too time-consuming, and he prefers traps to hunting.

Climbing up the rope, the weight of the boy who was close to the size of an adult was finally revealed, and the biceps on his arm was hard and bulging, and he climbed the rope and climbed up step by step.

"But let's make a difference."

Hart's family is only himself and his sister, and with two people, three rabbits can barely boil the pot. However, a deer was caught yesterday, and there was still a lot of bacon left, and Hart was not worried about storing food. After all, it's already March, spring is approaching, and everything is recovering. Stock up on food or something, at least don't worry about it for the next few months.

The thought of bringing back only this bit of prey will make my sister smile bitterly, right? But the boy has his own reasons, as long as he thinks of this, even his sister's wry smile can withstand it!

Looking at the sun, it should be seven or eight o'clock, thinking about a reason why it was just spring and the prey was not easy to find, Hart decisively gave up the plan to continue hunting, and quickly ran towards his secret base.

It's not so much a secret base as it is an open space.

The land is sturdy and the surrounding trees are sparse, and the hunters hate this environment, because the small animals don't come, and the big animals are the ones who are the hunters.

But Hart liked it because it was open enough.

Put aside the basket with the rabbit, as well as the bow and arrow that gets in the way. With everything done, Hart pulled out a one-handed sword made of wood from a nearby branch. This is Hart found a broken tree and cut it out with a knife himself.

"Drink!"

With such an impassioned voice coming out of his mouth, the expression on his face instantly became solemn, and his eyes stared at him intently, as if there was an enemy standing here. The sturdy arm swung loudly with the sound, raised the wooden sword high, and then slashed with a heavy sword.

Swordplay.

"Ha-drink! - Hah!! ”

Hart imitated the knight in the middle, swinging his arms sharply, his body turning with his arms, and unleashing heavy attacks.

If anyone else, especially a master of swordsmanship, witnessed Hart's actions, probably ......

I guess I'm going to sigh bitterly.

Because this teenager's swordsmanship is a mess.

It's better to say it's called swordsmanship, but in fact it's just swinging. If this can also be called swordsmanship, then as long as you can pick up a weapon, all of them are swordsmanship masters.

Not only is the pace scattered, the breathing is also unskilled, and the arm is simply swinging the sword, not to mention borrowing strength from all over the body, this momentum, just don't become an obstacle to the body.

In addition to the momentum, there is no bright spot in swordsmanship training.

That's what Hart has been doing every day for the past three years.

Catch enough prey to make a living, then practice swordsmanship desperately.

Even if there is no one to supervise and no one to guide him, the teenager does not slack off and insists on practicing every day, and only this perseverance is commendable.

"Whew...... Whew......"

Because there was no correct training method, Hart only swung seventy or eighty knives and began to pant, and his body could continue to swing, but his lungs couldn't stand it first. The burden that wrong breathing places on it is terrifying.

"Not enough...... Today, wield at least a hundred swords! …… Otherwise...... That's it...... I'm not qualified to be a knight! ”

Knight, the noblest warrior in the eyes of the commoners.

Dressed in gorgeous armor, armed with precious weapons, riding horses, and worshiped by thousands of people. That's the image of knights - of course, knights don't look like this, but what does it matter? Anyway, the general public can't see the knight master.

When you can see the knights, you can either be in the town and watch them ride through on horseback. Either on the battlefield, at this time, there is no room to care whether the knight looks good or not.

However, as a longed-for goal, it is perfectly fine.

Hart's father was a soldier and was fortunate enough to be discharged from the army after several years of service with a leg injury. Although it sounds tragic, it's better to hurt your leg than to lose your life, isn't it? My father brought back a small amount of copper coins, some military equipment, and some military life to pass the time.

It was a long time later - after knowing that his father had passed away - Hart learned that these equipment were forcibly issued in order to reduce the military salary for retirement, and it was nominally sold to soldiers, and since it was sold, it naturally cost money, and then the retired military salary was deducted nearly seventy percent.

Among these relics, Hart favorites those the most. It repeatedly describes how the noble knights made achievements, how they fought huge monsters, how they defeated the evil dragon and married the princess, although they are all the same, but in this small mountain village with a low literacy rate, paper books themselves are a rarity.

It's better to be the same, isn't it?