Outlaws from the Southeastward
Outlaws from the Southeastward
An uneventful day slipped by and the next morning dawned.
I'd half-hoped a few more knights who hadn't come to their senses would cough up money, but unfortunately that didn't happen. The ones clearly more skilled than the knights I'd stripped might have come for honor's sake, but as the Margrave of Kelbast had said, maybe because it was tied to the groundwork of weaving a story using me, there was absolutely no word.
Honestly, by that point I was more excited about the possibility of meeting a real skilled fighter than the money, but it couldn't be helped. So while I was wallowing in regret, I opened my eyes, and not long after, the Margrave of Kelbast, who had proposed a breakfast absurdly early for a noble, finished eating and handed me not a document but something like a dog tag made to look like an adventurer rank tag.
"In any case, this would be better than a document. They say you can use it anywhere within the western region."
He really was a man of immense influence. When I asked if he wasn't afraid it might be misused, he said it was closer to a one-way ticket.
"It's an item that lets you pass without any restrictions only when you're leaving Kelbast. So on your way back, make sure you check carefully that you haven't left anything behind. There's no penalty when you return, but you'll only be let through after an inspection, and it'll be quite a hassle for you."
They really do make all sorts of things. Actually, isn't this the kind of thing they only use for exiles?
Well, even if it was, it was a perfect fit for someone like me who was desperate to leave, so I didn't care. As I quietly expressed my thanks and took the item, the Margrave of Kelbast nodded with satisfaction.
"In many ways it's a regrettable encounter, but I suppose this much is enough and it's been wrapped up smoothly. As for the gate-related issue... I'll try to proceed with discussions with Itisel in an amicable direction. I'll drop a word to the servants so they can assist with the remaining minor details."
It sounded as though I was welcome to stay as a guest as long as I needed until my preparations were complete, but at the same time it could also be interpreted as meaning I should leave as soon as possible. Making a nuisance of myself and squatting there might be amusing in its own way, but since the price would be my time, I decided to hold back this time.
"Thank you for your consideration, but I happened to finish my preparations yesterday, so I'd like to depart right away."
"Right, you did say you suddenly crossed over through a gate. Your acquaintances must be terribly worried."
"That's... right."
They're so worried that when I go back, my backside will probably be on fire.
It felt like a cold sweat broke because the reality I'd been ignoring suddenly shoved itself right up to my nose, but anyway, my final talk with the Margrave of Kelbast ended smoothly. After we parted, I packed all my things and came out, and just seeing my horse—already a mood-lifter—and the bulging, sturdy equipment securely loaded on top of it, I started to feel like I could understand a little why campers catch gear addiction.
Of course, the good mood stopped exactly there.
The moment I exited the inner fortress, passed entirely beyond the city's orderly streets and gate, and left Kelbast, what spread before my eyes was a vast wilderness. Just letting out a long breath and looking around at the sight made me sigh involuntarily and feel completely daunted.
No matter how diligently I'd planned and prepared for the future, suddenly landing alone in a strange land I knew nothing about...
"Ha, this feels fucking terrible."
A hollow laugh and curses were all that came out. Whether I spurred my horse forward or stayed put, the daunted feeling was the same, so I decided to move forward while being daunted.
Maybe because it was early morning, even though I was still following what could be called a road, there were few processions or travelers heading toward the city. If it had been a familiar road I would have writhed in boredom, but for me, who had to rely entirely on the map from start to finish, such feelings were a luxury, and I advanced under the spell of time and distance rushing past every time I came to my senses.
Maybe because of that, I had clearly set out looking at the rising morning sun, but before I knew it the sun was beginning to set behind me.
"Really, your previous owner was a lucky charm. A real lucky charm."
Patting the neck of the horse, which was both obedient and sturdy, I felt deep satisfaction, and I found a spot at the edge of the woods a little distance from the river and prepared to camp. After a quick look around, there was plenty of usable firewood, so I decided to just rely on a campfire until I fell asleep.
I hurriedly unwound the thread, hung it around the nearby trees and attached the bells, set up the tent, and finally installed the magic stone heater and the security magic device inside. Just barely in time, the sun completely set. If I'd skimped on the tent, I would definitely have missed the timing, struggling with poles and frames that kept collapsing.
"Hmm, not bad."
Maybe because I was on my own, even though it was something I'd always done, a strange sense of fulfillment washed over me. Since I had more time than expected, I decided to completely overhaul my dinner plan, which had been to eat something simple and be done with it, and make stew instead.
Though at the end of the day, it was just boiling the meat I'd planned to roughly roast within the next day or two, along with potatoes and various seasonings.
If I'd had my bag, I would've taken out Ravil's seasoning, whose recipe I'd learned as payment for sparring with Yekaterina a while back, but I made do by tossing in various things and tasting it, and it was still very unsatisfying. This is more like soup than stew.
"Still, the aroma is nice."
In my past life I couldn't even cook a single proper dish, so as my skills improved day by day I was grinning to myself in admiration, blankly waiting for it to finish, when from some point an artificial noise started carrying over from a distance.
It was a sound I'd been hearing so much lately I was sick of it. The clashing of weapons.
"Damn it, maybe I should've used the magic stone heater."
I'd lit a campfire to save money, but hearing that kind of noise already put me in a very bad mood. Listening closely, I caught occasional shouts; it seemed like people fighting each other, not monsters.
It wasn't really any of my business, so I let it be with the feeling that I didn't care as long as they didn't approach. But somehow the sounds of fighting disappeared, and the torchlight began to flicker and approach me.
"Ha... they say you don't even bother a dog when it's eating, but they're trying to bother a person."
If I left them alone any longer, they'd trip the traps I'd gone to the trouble of setting and ruin my meal, so I grabbed the axe lying beside me and got to my feet.
◈
When traveling, you run into bandits.
It was an extremely common occurrence in the western kingdom belt. Even in places where cities and villages were dense, highway robbery wasn't rare, and as soon as the distance grew a little, there were bandits who'd squatted on a nice piece of turf and were eyeing prey.
It was possible because it was a region where not only wars between kingdoms but also fights between nobles were frequent. Mercenary bands formed so often you barely had time to blink, and it was so common for them to get ground up in a single battle and fall into banditry that no one found it strange.
Because of that, it wasn't unheard of for people to approach disguised as run-of-the-mill bandits and attempt assassinations, or try to settle old grudges.
Exactly like right now.
"Boss, we've finished tying up the key figures."
After the long battle ended, the captives were gasping for breath, and the masked man who'd finished clubbing them from behind and binding them one by one reported in a flat voice. The one called boss quietly nodded.
This job, too, was just one of the common and filthy back-alley fights between nobles, but it was by no means a light matter. The ones they'd captured today would become a massive shackle for the rival house. Given how shaky the plan had been and the enemy's not-insignificant skill, it was a great relief that things had wrapped up neatly with few wounded.
"What should we do about that light over there? They definitely heard the noise."
"...If they notice something strange even tomorrow morning and poke around this area, it could cause a snag in the plan."
They couldn't afford to leave even the tiniest loose end, so they had to kill them. It was a pity to drag in an unrelated third party, but they'd just have to chalk it up to bad luck.
Hearing his answer, the ten masked men had already finished regrouping even before listening to the long-winded explanation. Leaving five of the wounded behind to guard the bound prisoners, they moved toward the flickering firelight in the distance. Their objective was to hurry without needing to maintain stealth, so they approached without even extinguishing their torches, and the movement was quick.
But the encounter came faster than they expected. Because the other party was also approaching them.
Standing at a distance where the torchlight didn't properly reach yet and the face was hard to make out, the other party spoke.
"I'll keep it short. Fuck off if you don't want to die."
Seeing how he spat curses the moment he saw them, he looked like an adventurer or mercenary who'd lived a rough life. Judging by the large two-handed axe he was carrying over one shoulder, he was likely an adventurer. The axe alone looked hard enough to just swing, but the fact that he'd deliberately given up the advantage of his own campsite and walked into the thick woods suggested he was a little short upstairs.
But that was probably why he was acting so cocky in the face of ten opponents. He must fancy himself some kind of barbarian warrior.
"Consider yourself unlucky."
For men who'd synchronized their teamwork through dozens or hundreds of coordinated attacks, there was no need for signals or battle cries. The instant the boss finished speaking, the masked men matched their speed precisely and dashed forward.
They had no intention of letting their guard down just because it was one man. Taking that kind of stance already meant he had confidence in his own skill, so if they weren't careful, someone could get hurt.
"Cut the crap."
Just as they'd suspected, their opponent didn't flinch even when ten men drew their swords and charged at him.
He simply shifted his grip on the axe.
The masked men gauged the axe's reach and braced themselves for the swing.
Just as the axe swung at the range they'd anticipated and they were about to pull their bodies back—the opponent whistled.
-FWEEEET!
A signal. A coordinated attack. A trap.
The reasonable suspicion pieced together from the whistle and the opponent's brazen attitude seized the masked men's ankles and raised their alertness. But by then, something unidentifiable had already pierced the heads of more than five of them. The boss, who'd confirmed the sight from a little behind, shouted in a voice filled with horror.
"Archer! It was a trap—!"
But his shout couldn't reach its end.
Because the axe they'd thought was about to be swung had abruptly flown and slammed into his chest with a dull shock.
As his body was lifted off the ground, unable to withstand the weight, the boss couldn't erase his bewilderment. He threw a weapon this heavy like a hand axe? Even after he collapsed on the ground, the weight of the axe made it impossible to even roll over. At first he'd thought there was enough presence of mind to think, so the armor he was wearing must have done its job, but when he lifted his head and checked, the axe had one of its blades buried more than halfway in.
'Damn it, I was just numb because death was closing in.'
Still, since he'd thrown his weapon, he held onto hope that maybe they could manage somehow and looked ahead, but all he saw were his subordinates, who'd all died in that brief moment, and the axe's owner approaching him. In his hand was a sword that looked like it had belonged to one of his men.
Worse, seeing blood dripping from it, he'd apparently already taken the weapon and cut his men down.
"Fuck, where the hell did a monster like this come from..."
Was this even what you could call a coincidence? In his final moment, when everything in the world felt unjust, the man looking down at him murmured softly and raised the sword vertically.
"Consider yourself unlucky."
'Fucking savage son of a bitch. Way to talk like an asshole... Ah, that was my line.'
As blood spurted and he couldn't even speak, the sword pierced the boss's heart just as the belated realization struck him.