Chapter 174
Chapter 174
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 174
Chapter Title: Bath
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After surfacing above ground, Arsen declared that his first order of business would be to punish Bazkal.
The punishment was simple.
A "sparring match" with Arsen.
Imagining the thorough beating in his future, Bazkal turned pale and huddled in a corner.
A short distance away from the dejected Bazkal, Maroon had flopped down onto the ground. Apparently, he had received some form of discipline from Latis as well.
Arsen hadn't heard the details, but judging by his expression, it wasn't a light penalty. The sight of the two fools slumping with dark looks on their faces was enough to draw a laugh.
Leaving them behind, Arsen instructed the knights to set up camp and scout the surrounding area.
They needed to determine if there were any human settlements, domains, or fortresses nearby, and understand the ecology of the magic beasts and raiders in the region.
The scouting was conducted with extreme caution.
The ideal was to avoid detection by the Giant King's gaze until they reached their destination, so the knights heading out wrapped themselves in the hides of the magic beasts captured underground. From a distance, they looked like strangely shaped magic beasts.
Ten selected knights paired up in twos and began scouting around the camp.
They circled the immediate area lightly, returned to draw maps, then ventured a bit farther, gradually expanding the range.
It was tediously boring, but a safe method.
They completed the map of the surroundings two days later.
"Two areas that seem like fortresses—one to the northwest, one to the northeast."
"The one closer to the beacon is probably the northwest."
Arsen and Latis compared three maps to estimate their current position and the direction they needed to head.
They were at the southernmost tip of the southern kingdom, and their destination lay northwest from there.
They hadn't approached too closely due to the risk of detection, but there were two places that appeared to be fortresses.
Arsen pointed to the one in the northwest.
"For now, it would be best to make contact with this fortress. We should check how things are going in the south these days."
"Is that wise?"
"It's based on old information, but a few knights on pilgrimage shouldn't cause much issue. I plan to bring just two."
At this point, Arsen could conquer a single fortress single-handedly without breaking a sweat. There was no reason to assume they'd placed one of the rare eight transfer gates in a fortress, so reinforcements weren't a concern either.
After explaining this, Arsen added quietly,
"Just in case, stand by near the fortress. If problems arise, we need to handle them decisively."
* * *
Fortress guard Malka yawned widely, boredom overtaking him without realizing it.
Guard duty was truly the most useless and dull job in the world—standing atop cold, hard stone walls, staring out at empty fields that showed nothing, enough to wear down the spirit.
At least yesterday had been amusing with some weird magic beast-like thing poking around before leaving, but today offered not even that.
He chased off the petty magic beasts that frequented the area with arrows to keep them from sniffing about, then leaned on his spear and dozed off half-asleep.
Suddenly, Malka's eyes flew wide open.
"Hey, hey!"
"Yes?"
The rookie deputy startled and responded. His voice was a bit hoarse, suggesting he'd been dozing on his feet too.
Malka shouted urgently at the rookie.
"Quick, fetch the castle lord! Knights are coming!"
In the plain ahead, Malka's eyes caught three burly figures approaching.
They were knights clad in armor far too exquisite to be man-made, riding exotic mounts rare in these parts.
The rookie dashed off, and soon after, the knights reached the base of the walls.
One of them called out.
"We are wandering knights traveling the kingdom! We request lodging in this fortress for a short while!"
It was the first such occurrence in Malka's thirty-five years of life. This was the southern end of the kingdom, a backwater of backwaters bordering the endless sea.
A place with no reason for habitation save the rare minerals from the nearby sea—if not for those, no one would live here. Visitors were limited to administrators and soldiers from nearby domains delivering rations and collecting ore.
"Knights have come?"
At that moment, a heavy voice from behind calmed Malka's agitation. It was Valken, the castle lord and knight of this fortress.
"Yes, castle lord. They say they're wandering knights on travel and want to stay over."
The castle lord's face, peering down at them, was rigidly tense.
Malka couldn't tell. He couldn't sense how the knights' mana overwhelmed the lord, or that the lord was inwardly terrified.
Like a frightened dog barking loudly, the lord bellowed with all his might.
"I am Valken, castle lord of this fortress! Travelers, from which direction do you hail?"
As Valken shouted resonantly, the knights below the outer walls looked up at him.
The one who answered was the knight in the center, clad in dark blue armor.
He was the one with the most overwhelming mana, the one who had terrified Valken—and unexpectedly, his voice was clear, proving he wasn't that old.
Mid-twenties at most, perhaps.
Feeling a surge of courage knowing the opponent was his age or younger, Valken pressed on.
"From Lukatra!"
Lukatra. Valken vaguely recalled the name.
A domain a bit removed from here, supposedly with a transfer gate allowing travel to other domains.
It seemed reasonable enough, so after a moment's groan, Valken ordered the gates opened.
"Is that safe?"
"If they're villains, trouble would come whether we open or not. I've already ordered a few on mounts to stand ready—if there's a commotion, they'll flee to the domain."
Moments later, the gates opened.
* * *
"Oh ho, this place is something else."
After entering the fortress, Bazkal muttered with fascination, looking around.
The southern fortresses had a distinctly exotic vibe.
Buildings that used little stone, instead relying heavily on wood, earth, and thatch.
Roofs were uniformly rounded without sharp peaks, and the people's appearances were heterogeneous.
"Bazkal."
"Yes, bro."
"Don't act like a country bumpkin."
"Got it."
Perhaps due to his recent scolding for fooling around, Bazkal responded politely and tried to compose his expression.
But staring straight ahead while his eyes darted left and right was pathetically obvious, making Arsen sigh involuntarily.
Bacran, dangling from the backpack and watching, burst into laughter.
[Ah, that's hilarious! What's that? He looks like such an idiot.]
[Can't be helped. Anyone would act like that in a novel, fascinating place. You're not much different peering at this era's sights without a body.]
Whether from the mentality that only he could insult his own house's fool, Arsen found himself defending Bazkal.
Bacran readily agreed.
[Maybe so. But these folks' looks are a bit unique.]
[Hm?]
The locals' appearances were indeed somewhat distinctive.
Compared to Arsen and others from north of the river, their heads were vertically elongated like horse faces, with heavy double eyelids and thin lips.
Not just regional variation—it felt like a clear racial difference.
[I heard the minority tribes on the southern sea islands look like that, but if everyone here does, they must dominate this area. Guess I should thank them for making time's passage feel real.]
Bacran remarked incredulously.
As his voice faded, murmurs from the surrounding fortress residents encircled them.
"What are those guys?"
"Wandering knights, I heard."
"Lucky bastards."
"Is that a magic beast they're riding? Looks weird."
Just as Arsen inwardly grumbled about the noise, a knight pushed through the chattering crowd and approached directly.
Arsen recognized him as the one who had asked from the ramparts where they were from.
The castle lord, Valken, extended his hand.
"Valken of Haimt."
"Arsen of Belluan."
Arsen didn't clasp Valken's hand. He merely tapped the back of his hand with his own knuckles.
Anun and Bazkal beside him startled, but the lord seemed pleased instead.
"You know your etiquette! And you look so young."
"Learned a bit before traveling. Have a relative who journeyed south."
Arsen calmly lied without batting an eye, turning Clen into a relative.
Having heard about southern customs from meals with him, Arsen could pass as a seasoned traveler despite stepping into the southern kingdom just two days prior.
"One who knows etiquette can't be ignored. We must prepare a bath and meal—welcome, guests from afar."
No certainty, but judging by the lord's face, they'd succeeded in passing as ordinary visitors.
Arsen inwardly sighed in relief.
* * *
"So, from a place called Belluan?"
The south had a public bathing culture—meaning communal bathhouses where multiple people soaked together.
Bazkal and Anun seemed deeply embarrassed, craning their necks this way and that without rest, but for Arsen, it was quite familiar, so he calmly immersed himself in the tub.
One difference from Earth's bathhouses, however, was the scantily clad women attending them.
Even this embarrassed Arsen, but he kept a straight face with ironclad composure, acting unfazed. At least one of them had to pretend familiarity with southern customs.
"That far-off eastern domain. A fine place."
"Seems so. Producing knights this strong and all."
The lord remarked admiringly, glancing at Arsen, Bazkal, and Anun. He couldn't ignore the immense mana radiating from them.
Anun hadn't awakened as a high knight, but he'd been strong among knights originally, enough to impress Lord Valken.
After the praise, Valken reached out to the female servant beside him.
She handed him a long wooden tube familiarly; Valken sucked on one end and exhaled smoke.
Seeing this, Bazkal made a fuss.
"What, fire in his guts or something?"
"Hm? First time seeing a cigarette?"
"Bazkal."
At Arsen's rebuke, Bazkal shut his mouth. Anun stayed quiet despite ignorance too—Bazkal alone flapping his gums was pathetic.
Fortunately, the lord didn't suspect ignorance or take offense. He seemed amused, his expression even more relaxed than before.
"Impressive young fellow. That one's a fine knight too, yet utterly intimidated. Am I being rude to highborn folk?"
At the question hinting at nobility, Arsen nodded readily. Strictly speaking, as Eloise's unofficial fiancé, it wasn't even a lie.
"Something like that, but rank isn't determined by blood. Strength matters."
"Oh, indeed."
Valken chuckled heartily, amused.
Initially stiff, after starting a bathhouse chat, he treated them like decade-old friends.
It felt almost too quick to close the distance, but Arsen recalled hearing this was typical of southerners and let it pass.
According to Clen, they made friends easily—and enemies too.
"But what brings you here? As castle lord, hate to say it, but there's nothing to see."
"The sea. Never seen it."
Valken nodded in agreement at Arsen's words.
"The sea, great! Though massive waves that curse us crash up to the fortress every few years."
He added that decades ago—unseen by him—waves had swept the fortress.
Considering the coastline was over 20km away, an enormous inundation.
"Probably wouldn't maintain a fortress here if not for mining sea crystals. Last time, a kingdom envoy sought something odd too."
"Odd, like what?"
To Arsen's question, Valken shook his head incredulously.
"Mages—you know them?"
"Of course."
"Loathsome lot, right? Creepy, ugly, revolting."
"Mm."
Arsen nodded calmly without a word.
Taking it as agreement, Valken let out a deflated sound.
Then dropped a bombshell.
"Get this—they want someone who can treat mages like normal folk! Makes any sense?"