Boundless Family Upgrades For The Deadbeat Lord

Raymond continued staring at the passing Ironhorn Elk with the focused intensity of a merchant evaluating an entire warehouse of valuable goods, and Captain Boris could practically see the direction his thoughts were taking.

The herd still flowed across the frozen plain in a broad curve, hundreds of thick-bodied animals moving steadily southeast while their heavy hooves churned the snow into broken trails.

Every mature male carried a wide crown of dark antlers, and the larger animals looked strong enough to overturn a wagon if provoked.

Boris slowly sheathed his sword, but his expression remained cautious as he turned toward Raymond. "My Lord, before you decide that the entire herd is free meat walking past your doorstep, there is something you should understand. Ironhorn Elk are peaceful only as long as nobody threatens the herd itself. If we attack the center, especially near the females and juveniles, the males will immediately react. Once one of these herds starts stampeding, even a Silver Rank Knight would rather move out of the way than stand directly in front of several hundred frightened beasts."

Raymond’s eyes remained on the animals as he processed the warning. "So charging into the middle and slaughtering whatever we can reach is out of the question. Fine. I wasn’t planning to turn my first hunting trip into a mass suicide anyway."

He paused briefly, watching a smaller elk lagging several dozen meters behind the main body before looking toward Boris again. "But you said the herd protects its center. What about stragglers? Injured animals? Anything separated far enough that the rest won’t immediately decide to murder us?"

Boris glanced toward the same animal and gave a slow nod. "Those are different. During migration, weaker beasts often fall behind, and some males deliberately travel around the outer edge. Hunters normally target those individuals because the herd won’t stop moving for every single animal that gets separated. The important thing is killing quickly and quietly enough that we don’t trigger panic. If the herd senses widespread danger, the entire mass could change direction, and if that happens while they’re facing Althoff, then we’ll have created our own Beast Tide."

Raymond’s expression immediately became serious. "Then we don’t get greedy. We take enough to make the trip worthwhile and leave the rest alone."

He turned toward the summoned Knights standing nearby and began looking over the small group with a calculating gaze. "Six Bronze Knights should be enough to isolate the weaker ones, but I want two Silver Knights brought from the town before we actually begin. If anything stronger than expected appears, I don’t want to discover halfway through that my brilliant hunting expedition has become a funeral procession."

Boris nodded in approval. "That’s sensible, my Lord. We can also use the hunters to identify which animals are safe targets. They’ve spent more winters around Blackridge than any of us."

One of the older hunters looked toward Raymond and raised his hand slightly. "Your Lordship, if you intend to hunt today, we should move farther southeast and follow the rear of the herd from a distance. There are usually exhausted animals trailing behind after a long descent. We can take those without disturbing the main group. The younger males also separate occasionally when they fight over position."

Raymond smiled. "Good. Then that’s exactly what we’ll do."

Less than an hour later, the hunting party had expanded. Two Silver Rank Knights arrived from Althoff on horseback, accompanied by another pair of local hunters carrying heavy bows and several crude sledges for transporting carcasses.

Raymond had considered bringing more men, but Boris strongly advised against turning the expedition into a military parade.

Too many armored figures moving around the herd would increase the chance of frightening the animals, and Raymond had no interest in ruining a potentially valuable seasonal resource before he even understood how to exploit it.

The party therefore kept its distance, following the migration route from behind while the hunters studied tracks, broken snow, and the behavior of the animals farther ahead.

The first target appeared shortly before midday. A mature Ironhorn Elk had fallen nearly two hundred meters behind the main herd, favoring its rear leg as it moved through the snow.

The creature was still enormous, its shoulders nearly level with Raymond’s head even from a distance, but one of the hunters immediately noticed the uneven gait and pointed toward a dark wound along its hindquarter.

"That one was probably bitten by something during the descent. It can still move, but it won’t catch the herd again before nightfall. If the wolves find it first, they’ll take it anyway."

Raymond studied the animal and nodded. "Then we take it. Boris, how do you normally do this?"

The captain looked toward the Bronze Knights. "Two men circle ahead and cut off its path toward the herd. Two more approach from the rear. The hunters stay back. Once it turns away from the others, the Silver Knight finishes it before it can make enough noise to alarm anything nearby."

Raymond glanced toward the wounded elk again, then rested one hand against the hilt of his sword. "And me?"

Boris immediately frowned. "You watch."

Raymond slowly turned his head. "I didn’t ride all the way out here to watch."

"My Lord, you have the physical strength of an 8-Star Bronze Knight, but strength and battlefield experience are not the same thing. That animal has antlers wider than your body and enough weight behind a charge to break every bone in an ordinary man’s chest. If you want to learn, then participate after the Knights have controlled its movement. There is no shame in understanding your limits."

Raymond stared at him for several seconds, then sighed. "Fine. I hate it when the reasonable answer is the boring one. Do it your way."

The Bronze Knights moved immediately. Two broke away to the left, circling through a shallow depression while the other two approached from behind at a controlled pace.

The Ironhorn Elk noticed them almost instantly and lifted its head, steam bursting from its nostrils as it turned toward the nearest threat.

For a few seconds it simply watched, muscles tightening beneath its heavy winter coat, before one of the Bronze Knights stepped farther into its path.

The animal reacted with sudden violence. It lowered its black antlers and charged, launching itself through the snow with enough force to send white powder exploding behind its hooves.

Raymond’s eyes widened despite himself.

The Bronze Knight didn’t retreat.

At the final moment, he shifted aside with a speed that looked completely unnatural compared to the elk’s bulk, grabbing one antler with both hands and using the creature’s own momentum to wrench its head sideways.

The impact dragged the knight several feet through the snow, but instead of being thrown away, he planted his boots and forced the elk off balance.

Another Bronze Knight struck from the opposite side, slamming the flat of his heavy sword into the animal’s shoulder with enough force to make its front legs buckle.

Raymond felt a thrill move through his chest.

So this is what these guys actually look like when they’re not pulling wagons.

For the past month, his summoned Knights had been hauling grain, lifting timber, dragging stone, and performing every humiliating piece of manual labor Raymond could find for them. Watching two Bronze Knights physically wrestle a Magic Beast larger than a horse finally reminded him that these men were soldiers first.

The elk recovered quickly and swung its antlers violently, forcing both Knights backward. It let out a deep bellow that rolled across the snow, and Boris immediately raised one hand. "Finish it."

The Silver Knight moved.

Raymond barely saw the first step.

One moment the man stood several meters away, sword still sheathed. The next, he was beside the elk. Steel flashed once.

The blade passed cleanly across the creature’s neck, and the massive body continued forward for another two steps before collapsing heavily into the snow.

Blood spread beneath it in a dark red pool while the severed head rolled several feet away, its antlers digging into the ground.

Silence followed.

Raymond stared at the carcass.

Then at the Silver Knight.

"Okay," he muttered. "That was disgusting."

Boris glanced at him. "Disgusting?"

"Efficiently disgusting."

The captain shook his head.