Laine recognized him; he was an ordinary tier Ranger in the Mercenary Corps named Simon, a very common name.
"Everyone gets a share? You greedy Mercenaries! You barged in at the last minute, how many monsters did you actually kill? And yet you have the nerve to demand a share of the spoils! Get lost! Or I’ll call the soldiers!" An elderly militiaman said impatiently. This text is hosted at novel⸺fire.net
"I personally killed a Water Ghost!"
"I killed three myself!"
"In any case, it’s mine, hand it over!" The young mercenary hurriedly rushed forward to snatch the Water Ghost Fang. A small pouch of these teeth could fetch dozens of Silver Coins, a considerable income.
"No way!" The old militiaman suddenly clutched the burlap sack to his chest, while Simon anxiously reached out to grab it. The two of them ended up wrestling with each other.
This behavior drew the attention of many, and the scene quieted down.
The elderly militiaman was pushed to the ground, and the sack in his hand tore open, scattering the Water Ghost Fangs everywhere.
Even Laine and Teresa, who were discussing what to do next, were drawn to the commotion.
All because, when the militiaman fell to the ground, everyone noticed for the first time a wooden prosthetic limb protruding from beneath his robe. The prosthetic had become detached from his right leg and lay lonesomely on the ground.
The elderly militiaman was a disabled person!
Fallen to the ground, the old militiaman glanced at the scattered Water Ghost Fangs and tried to stand up. But how could he easily rise without one leg? He struggled a few times, painful sensations coursing through his aging body, forcing him to temporarily stop his efforts.
"Enough already, a cripple on the battlefield? Are you hoping to use that injured leg to earn a combat injury?" a mercenary mocked derisively.
"Yeah, old useless fool, here’s something for you; you might find it useful, hahaha~" Simon, somehow producing a wooden stick, tossed it onto the elderly militiaman: "Watch out you don’t fall down again, hahaha!"
"...I told you, Old Terry is too old to persist on the battlefield; it’s pushing it too far!" some soldiers murmured: "Maybe he was an excellent Warrior twenty years ago, but now he’s just a cripple."
"Disabled old man, you should go home and raise pigs; that’s where you belong, hahaha~" Someone in the Mercenary Corps heard the soldiers’ whispers and laughed even louder: "After all, feeding pigs doesn’t require two legs, am I right?"
"Yeah, but the battlefield might be a different matter~"
"Enough, enough, stop talking. Old Terry is a retired veteran, after all. Let’s show him some respect. Do you want others to mock you the same way when you’re crippled, disabled, and old?" A soldier stepped out, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh.
"Alright, alright!" Simon gathered the Water Ghost Fangs and put them back in the sack, then threw it all at the elderly veteran Terry’s face: "Forget it, old thing, I’m too lazy to fight you for it; consider it my gift to your retirement. I’d advise you, a cripple like you should stay home and retire instead of embarrassing yourself out here."
The elderly veteran silently lowered his head, his hand clenched tightly into the sandy dirt on the ground, fists clenched like iron. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he felt humiliated, deeply humiliated.
When did he become so fragile? He was once an excellent soldier, too.
"In the future, how will the Minstrels speak of this?" Old Terry cried with humiliation and sorrow: "An old soldier who lost a leg defending the country, is his role just to be ridiculed by these damn mercenary scum? Without us, what would people like you be?"
"Ha! You think too highly of yourself, old man! Minstrels wouldn’t even bother writing your story; if you ask me, you might as well... Ugh!!!" Simon was about to continue when a strong arm caught his throat, lifting him as easily as a chick.
It was Laine, suppressing his anger, he softly said, "Apologize to this gentleman, right now!"
"Lan-Lord Laine?!" Simon was stunned, unable to comprehend why this Kingdom Knight would intervene in this matter.
"Apologize to him immediately or I’ll crush your neck!"
"Yes... Yes!!! I’m sorry!!!"