Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: The Western Route
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After moving the fainted knights, Arsen was invited into Huran's tent. Bazkal and Carrick followed him inside, while Reno, who wasn't a knight, had to wait outside.
Inside the tent were Huran, Ote, and a few more senior knights who were a bit older.
Once Arsen and the other knights had taken their seats, Huran bowed his head once more.
"I apologize formally. The young ones got carried away with their hot blood and were rude. It's a good thing you won—if you'd lost, I wouldn't have been able to show my face. What an outrageous act."
With that, Huran turned to Ote with a look of disdain and began mocking him.
"How does it feel to drag Bazra's reputation through the mud? You even brought friends from other estates, and seven of you ganged up on one only to get crushed? Truly impressive!"
"I have no excuses."
"You'll be the laughingstock of the world for the next twenty years. Though I suppose that's the burden you all have to bear."
Ote's face twisted in shame.
No wonder—even if they'd won, seeing them get brutally beaten until they finally rolled on the ground and surrendered wouldn't leave anyone feeling good.
Perhaps finding the sight pathetic, Huran pressed him again.
"Don't just stand there gawking—say something, Ote. Do I have to apologize on your behalf too?"
"I-I'm sorry. Sir Arsen. Please forgive me."
The harsh scolding, and Ote's submissive posture that bordered on groveling without pushing back, left Arsen feeling awkward.
They were both knights, yet Huran's attitude was like one chastising a child or a common soldier, and Ote's compliant response was oddly strange.
"Your apology lacks sincerity, Ote. Is that how your mother raised you?"
"......I'm truly sorry!"
Now he was even dragging Ote's mother into it—Arsen himself thought it might be going too far.
But the surrounding knights didn't seem uncomfortable; they just smirked as if it were endearing.
Was it a cultural difference in the East? But Huran's next words revealed the reason.
"That's my nephew for you—sigh. I don't know what Mirina was thinking with his upbringing."
Huran shook his head, looking down at him with disapproval.
"As for this matter, I'll make sure to compensate you fairly."
Arsen nodded with an awkward expression.
* * *
True to his word, Huran didn't go back on it.
Arsen received payment in gold—the universal currency of humanity—and his steps felt much lighter as he walked.
Bazkal and Reno divided the chest of gold coins between them.
On the way back, the people around stared at Arsen with awe and parted ways for him. No one dared approach carelessly.
"The mood's a bit weird."
"They're probably scared of you, bro."
"Quiet, Bazkal."
"Yes, sir."
Bazkal obediently shut his mouth at Arsen's rebuke.
It was good that he'd spoken softly—there was no need to loudly proclaim that people were frightened and upset the crowd.
Seeing this, Carrick chuckled softly and said,
"Still, it's a relief it resolved without major issues."
Arsen smiled back at Carrick's words.
"It's thanks to you being by my side, Sir Carrick. I had no idea that guy was Sir Huran's nephew, though."
"I didn't know either. Well, he's not the type to give special treatment even to his own kin, so it wouldn't have mattered."
"From earlier, it seems you're close."
Carrick nodded in agreement at Arsen's words.
"We've been good rivals and friends since we were young. We're from different estates, so we don't meet often, but whenever our lands exchanged or we dealt with Exekia, we'd test our skills."
Back at the camp, Eloise asked through the earring.
[No injuries?]
[None. Didn't get hit once. Anything happen while I was gone?]
[Nothing. Ahnun wanted to go out, but I stopped him as ordered.]
[Good job.]
It had been wise to keep the hot-tempered, aggressive Ahnun back at camp beforehand, lest he cause trouble.
After securely stowing the gold in their luggage, Arsen called a meeting.
Arsen, Eloise, Bazkal, Marun, Reno, and their temporary traveling companions Carrick and Ahnun all joined.
Confirming everyone was inside the tent, Arsen first questioned Reno, whom he'd sent to gather information.
"So, did you learn anything?"
At Arsen's question, Reno cleared his throat.
"The situation around here has been pretty chaotic lately. The path over the mountains got cut off this time, some estate's dealing with a plague, and two estates apparently had a big clash. Overall, things aren't looking good."
"A clash? Which estates?"
"Bern and Manaar, I think. Manaar's Sir Carrick's homeland."
Both estates were marked on the map.
They lay to the west and southwest of the plains where they were; Manaar was west of the plains and Carrick's home.
A barbaric land that killed mages—a place to absolutely avoid.
Arsen turned to Carrick, who frowned slightly and said,
"They've never gotten along well. There was a marriage alliance in the past that ended badly."
Their destination was west, with Manaar to the plains' west and Bern to the southwest.
Naturally, Arsen had no intention of passing through Manaar and fighting knights rampaging to kill mages, so he'd planned to go via Bern estate. That was before learning this.
"Were there any knights from Bern among those here?"
"No."
"Probably didn't send any due to the war."
"Seems like it."
Now it made sense why no reinforcements from Manaar had come despite Carrick's disappearance.
They couldn't spare troops to search for a missing knight while in the midst of war.
"The world never goes as planned... Sir Carrick, are the people of Bern generally kind to outsiders?"
"Not usually, and definitely not during war. They won't just let a threatening army pass by. Expecting polite treatment will only lead to disappointment."
"What if we ask Sir Huran to vouch for us?"
"Huran's not on good terms with them either."
Arsen sighed and crossed Bern off the list. No vouch, and too risky passing through a war-sensitive area.
"You're from Manaar, so you must know—any way to sneak through Manaar?"
"No such path. It's mostly plains, hard to evade sharp-eyed patrols. Get spotted once, and escaping the estate intact is tough... Though with them at war south, the north might be lightly guarded."
Not following the conversation, Marun—who'd been quietly listening—asked something off-topic.
"Can't we just say we're passing through peacefully?"
"No."
Marun looked crestfallen at the firm reply. But that was it; he didn't ask why. He seemed to accept there was a reason, even if he didn't know it. Better than Bazkal not understanding and staying silent, at least.
"To avoid those two estates..."
South of the plains flowed the Eldarin River—so vast the far bank was invisible, and no one could cross due to the powerful magic beasts within.
The ferocious currents could smash boats instantly, so estates along it had no concept of ferries.
Ruling out south, southwest, and west left only northwest. Eloise, looking at the map beside him, said,
"Nothing's marked here?"
"True."
Northwest of the plains was blank—just yellowed parchment.
The map had many such spots, as it only marked places Byulburmi had passed before.
"Do you know what's there, Sir Carrick?"
No reason not to ask Carrick, a local westerner who'd lived right there.
Carrick groaned shortly at the spot Arsen pointed to.
"Ah, that place..."
"You know it?"
"Of course. It's called the Darkwood."
Carrick's face unexpectedly darkened as he spoke.
"All sorts of rumors swirl. Two moons at night, trees that move and devour hearts, waterfalls flowing upward..."
Arsen and Eloise exchanged glances.
Both recalled a distant tale from Luden. One of the west's marvels: a waterfall surging toward the sky.
[That's the one, right?]
[Seems like it.]
Even Luden had only heard it secondhand, yet here it was again.
Carrick doused their curiosity.
"I say it like I know, but truth is, no one knows exactly what's inside. All just rumors."
"Why?"
"It's a place pulsing with magic. As you know, in Manaar, magic's a cursed taboo to avoid. No one sets foot there. Even for Bazra trade, they always skirt via the plains, never the forest."
He added,
"I hear even Bazra avoids entering casually. Many who go don't return."
After a moment's thought, Arsen asked again.
"Then, how long to go north around the forest via Bazra?"
"Not sure, but it's vast. You'd need to cross at least two estates extra."
Staring at the map a while, Arsen decided.
They'd skirt the subtle border between Manaar and Darkwood westward—based on Carrick's point that war might leave the north lightly guarded.
"If we're spotted, can you hold off Manaar's pursuers?"
"Difficult. I could cause minor delays, but hunting mages is one of Manaar's strictest laws. Even the estate lord can't defy it."
Arsen nodded and pointed at the map.
"Would pursuers follow into the forest?"
"Unlikely. No one wants to die inside and have their soul trapped forever."
A faint smile crossed Arsen's face at Carrick's answer.
"Thanks for the advice. Then you can head to Manaar when we reach the border."
"Suits me, but you sure?"
"I think so. We have plenty of mages. Better than charging into conflict zones or detouring far north."
* * *
The next day, Arsen's group prepared to march and left camp.
Huran and Bazra's knights saw them off.
"Shame we're parting so soon, Sir Arsen. Would've been nice to spend more time."
"I feel the same. I'd love more exchange, but time's short, regrettably."
Much time had passed since leaving Belluan.
To heal the estate lord's irrecoverable damage—even with healing spells—Arsen needed a library or equivalent recovery artifact.
Before the lord died, or the estate fell to his sons. A race against time.
Of course, with no news from Belluan, no one knew the deadline.
Byulburmi had promised to check soon.
"Hope we meet again. And Carrick."
"Hm?"
"With rumors flying, you've heard—but stay safe."
Clearly about the war, Carrick grinned and clapped Huran's shoulder.
"See you in good health."
Leaving camp behind, they headed west.
Treading coppery weeds that smelled of iron, backs to the freshly risen white sun.
Their long shadows led the way.