Chapter 54
Chapter 54
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 54
Chapter Title: Nederman (3)
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I relayed to him exactly the words I had heard when receiving the cipher text.
“……So that's how it happened.”
Nederman let out a groan.
By sheer coincidence, Nederman had been moving to rescue that independence fighter.
He had been working as a mercenary for the Polchero Merchant Group as a way to naturally infiltrate the Antler Deer Unit.
Though it had failed because of me.
In any case, after learning that he had been rescued by the White Lion, Nederman had been on his way to wait for him in Iichern, a checkpoint city along the western highway.
“Reckless.”
I said.
He shrugged his shoulders and added,
“There was no other way. How do you expect me to find mountain bandits hiding deep in the mountains?”
“The man you were looking for is probably already dead.”
I hadn't seen his death with my own eyes, but given his condition at the time, he was surely no longer of this world.
“……A pity.”
After hearing my explanation, Nederman clasped his hands together, closed his eyes, and offered a short prayer. When he opened his eyes, having prayed for his comrade's fate, Allen glanced at him and cautiously spoke up.
“But if you're an executive of the Winding Strait, can you decipher codes too?”
Nederman flashed a broad smile before replying.
“Of course it's possible. In the Winding Strait, I'm mainly the one who eats, drinks, and rolls around.”
“……Impressive.”
At Iriel's words, he nodded readily.
“That's just how I am. Well, let's get along from here on out.”
* * *
By the riverside where golden scales shimmered.
A cool breeze occasionally blew through, tousling his hair. In this place where peace and beauty coexisted, Nederman sat on the bank with his mouth agape, rod extended a few feet out.
“To think I'd receive treatment like this in my lifetime.”
He channeled the dissatisfaction welling up inside him through his fingertips, scrubbing the dish vigorously. Iriel watched him and tilted her head.
“Then how do you usually get by?”
Living outdoors, he must have camped often, yet he claimed to have never done dishes before—it lacked all credibility.
“When camping, I'd make do with jerky or hunt some mountain beast to eat.”
“Ah—.”
Iriel nodded. Genes was a fussy and particular beggar, but truthfully, most were like that. She had grown so accustomed that she mistakenly thought everyone was the same.
“I've never seen anyone out here get fed so meticulously.”
There were many firsts since traveling with Genes.
Nederman kept grumbling.
“Of course, the food was excellent. It was a fine time. If only I hadn't been saddled with this annoying chore.”
He rinsed the dish clean by the water's edge and held it up to the sunlight.
“To polish the used dishes until they shine like Allen's bald head. As I said, I've never done dishes in my life.”
“Very well done for a first time.”
Allen, who was washing dishes beside him, said while looking at Nederman.
“But Sir Genes didn't say to polish them until they shine like my head.”
“Oh, did he not?”
“Yes. He said to polish them until they shine like new.”
As Allen narrowed his eyes triangularly, Nederman laughed heartily in embarrassment.
“Haha. I must have misremembered. Well, either way, as long as they shine, right?”
“Totally different.”
When Allen didn't play along, he naturally turned his gaze to Iriel and struck up a conversation.
“Well, anyway. Even so, I'm a dignified swordsman with the title of Dragon Hunter. Isn't it a great loss for these precious hands to be washing dishes? What do you all think?”
“Not a Dragon Hunter—if everyone doesn't wash their own dishes, who should?”
When Iriel glared fiercely, he pretended to inspect the dish he was washing, fiddling with it here and there.
“Quite the righteous fellow.”
“Isn't he?”
“Then why doesn't that guy wash his own dishes with his own hands? That's actually my biggest gripe.”
Nederman jerked his chin toward Genes, who sat comfortably alone in the shade behind them.
“My knees ache every time it rains, yet here I am squatting and doing dishes. Meanwhile, that fresh young punk lounges leisurely over there. Doesn't something seem off?”
Iriel paid no heed to Nederman's complaints and curtly replied.
“Then go tell him yourself.”
“He'd cut my head off.”
“Right? We all feel the same. No one wants to get their head chopped off just for hating dishes.”
“……True enough.”
“I had a lot of complaints at first too, but now I've accepted it. Everyone has their role. Just as I do the dishes, he does other things.”
Considering the influence Genes had on Francia's independence, what wouldn't she do for him—dishes included.
That was why she hand-washed clothes without complaint.
As long as he didn't nag, it was perfect.
Nederman nodded readily too.
“Fair enough. But don't I have a different role too? I can handle a sword, you know.”
This time, Allen stepped in with a simple solution.
“Go tell him yourself.”
“……Damn it.”
Threatening his own life like that.
What choice did he have?
That scumbag bastard.
Swallowing his frustration, Nederman scrubbed the dish with renewed vigor.
Watching him, Allen once again felt Genes's dignity.
Who could have imagined the world's Dragon Hunter washing dishes right beside him?
Freddy and Ches would be stunned if they knew.
Even he, right there, could hardly believe it.
In a way, Genes was truly fair in that regard.
He treated everyone except himself with equal disregard.
“But what the hell is that guy, anyway, to be so strong?”
At Nederman's question, Allen shook off the water from a fork and replied.
“Truthfully, we don't know much either. It hasn't been that long since we met Sir Genes.”
“Is that so? Then how did you end up meeting him?”
“Curious?”
“Of course.”
Nederman nodded vigorously.
He was already quite curious about that monstrous man's origins and actions.
Allen cleared his throat and puffed out his chest.
“Then I'm the expert on that. It'll be a bit of a long story.”
“Oh, intriguing. I'm already looking forward to it immensely.”
“You won't be disappointed.”
Allen smiled confidently and began recounting his first meeting with Genes.
Allen's story continued even after the dishes were done. In the midst of it, Nederman urgently interrupted the ongoing tale.
“W-Wait! So the national seal is with the Northern White Lion right now?”
Startled, he stared with eyes wide round.
“Yes, that's right.”
At Allen's words, Nederman let out a hollow sigh.
“……Hah, the national seal and a Sword Master in the White Lion's hands? This'll cause a massive shift in the independence forces' power balance.”
Nederman could clearly sense the balance of forces—divided into east, west, south, and north—tilting toward the north.
Viewed solely as boosting Francia's chances of independence, it was positive, but as a member of the Winding Strait, it wasn't a pleasant situation.
“That's not all.”
Iriel, who had been listening quietly, smiled and chimed in.
“The leader of the Northern White Lion is such an outstanding person. He has more than enough qualification and ability to lead Francia in place of the fallen royal family. That's why Sir Genes is with him too, right?”
When she looked at Genes and asked, the hitherto silent Genes nodded readily.
“That guy's going to be Francia's new king. I'll make sure of it.”
“Such confidence. But it won't be easy.”
Nederman said with a wry smile.
Independence from the Empire and enthroning Francia's new king.
Honestly, it seemed impossible right now.
Yet he spoke of it like electing a village chief.
“To you, maybe.”
“……Sharp observation.”
Nederman had no choice but to concede.
With overwhelming force that had annihilated the Prairie Wolves, no one in Francia could stand against him, at least.
It still wouldn't be easy, but the guy had grounds for such confidence.
“Well, with the national seal and major talents gathering at the White Lion, their leader becoming the new king might be the natural progression now.”
Moreover, the Northern White Lion didn't just have that monster.
The figure who had represented the north until now was the Northern Star, the Old Fox.
Just as he represented the west as the West's Sword, that one was a key talent leading the northern independence forces.
Now, that laid-back Northern White Lion had gained the supreme sword.
It was only natural they would form the core for unifying the independence forces.
Whether that led to unity or further division would depend on their capabilities.
Truly, new winds were blowing in Francia.
“Maybe I should move to the Northern White Lion too? Haha. ……What? It was a joke, but why isn't anyone thrilled?”
Nederman didn't hide his hurt feelings toward the group showing no reaction. Allen and Iriel just shrugged. They already knew most of his words were empty jokes.
“Tch, quite disappointing. Well, I get your feelings, so keep telling me about that guy. It's getting pretty exciting.”
Allen's story continued afterward as well, and Nederman heard every bit of it to the end.
Having heard it all, he didn't hesitate to give Allen a thumbs up.
“You can tell a long story that engaging? You'd make a huge success as a bard.”
“I actually applied for that, but it didn't work out back then.”
Allen smiled awkwardly.
Bards traveled the continent, crafting tales from what they heard and experienced.
Their poems and songs contained all sorts of information, making them practically an intelligence network nowadays.
Even independence fighters disguised themselves as bards to gather and spread info.
Nederman turned his gaze toward Genes.
‘Stories about that guy are probably spreading like wildfire by now.’
The Prairie Wolves had plastered posters in cities about the White Lion assassinating Vitero Chezen and Itzriel.
It was natural for rumor-chasers to flock to Arten.
And now he'd single-handedly wiped out the Prairie Wolves too—the rumors must have grown wings.
‘The north is in for a big shake-up.’
Indeed, the north's situation was unfolding just as Nederman predicted.
“So the Prairie Wolves got wiped out too?”
“Yep.”
“That possible?”
“Hard to believe, I know, but I heard it straight from a bard who went to Arten. He's still at the inn if you want to hear it.”
Lately, any time two or more people gathered, they talked about the White Lion.
He was by far the hottest topic in the current north.
People whispered he was the revival of the Leonir Lancers.
The Leonir Lancers were Francia's divine beast and the name of the old royal knights.
Its symbolism to the people was clear.
Stories of the White Lion spread like wildfire on the wind, impossible to contain.
From bards to merchants, mercenaries, travelers.
Anyone with a mouth carried the rumors willingly.
To Francia's people mired in despair and grief, these tales were sweet as honey.
The swelling rumors even claimed he wasn't human, but a divine beast sent by the gods to protect Francia.
Not everyone was excited, though.
Many saw it as just another fleeting hope, like always.
But it was undeniable that White Lion rumors blanketed the entire north.
True or rumor, the tales spread in a flash, eventually reaching foreign lands like the Kingdom of Jurha.
“Hot stuff, as expected.”
A faint smile played on the lips of the man reading the report that had flown in via messenger bird.
He looked up at the clear blue sky.
His blue hair fluttered in the wind, shining dazzlingly.
Beside him stood a platinum blond man.
“With this, the real winds will start blowing.”
The Northern Star, the Old Fox.
That was him.