From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 12
From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 12
After they passed through the long line and entered the gate, the coachman slowed the horses.
"The Silver Hawk Mercenary Company, was it? It's been a long while since I've been to Hellvern, but a coachman never forgets the roads. I'll have you there in no time."
"No, this is far enough."
"Why is that? There's still quite a ways to go."
Berak quietly pressed the letter of introduction from Roban inside his coat.
He had to prove his skill before he could earn the right to choose. From here on, the real test began.
If that was the case, he did not want to ride all the way in on someone else's wagon from the very start. He wanted to make his own way through the city and arrive on his own.
"I want to walk alone from here."
The coachman looked puzzled for a moment at Berak's answer, then nodded as if it made sense to him.
"I see. Then I suppose it's time to say goodbye."
"Thank you for everything so far."
"It's a common farewell among coachmen. May you accomplish what you set out to do."
"......May you accomplish what you set out to do."
Berak bowed his head briefly.
It was the first time he'd heard the words, but strangely, the greeting stayed with him.
The coachman turned the reins, and Berak turned his head the other way. The view of the city's interior spread out before him.
The first thing that caught his eye was a street so wide he couldn't see the end of it. Rooftops here and there caught the sunlight and gleamed faintly. High and low rooflines stretched on endlessly, so much so that he couldn't even guess how far the city extended.
Within it, the movement of people never stopped. Slow steps and quick steps mingled together, and the density was such that the slightest lapse in attention felt like it would sweep him into the current.
Berak stopped for a moment.
The cities he'd visited so far could be counted on one hand, but this place was different from any of them.
He could feel how vast and complex the world he was about to step into truly was.
Berak decided to ask for directions first.
"Silver Hawk? Judging by that axe on your hip, you look like a recruit. They're taking in brats like you now? Head to the Stormwell district."
"Stormwell district? Go northwest from here."
"Just follow the main road for now. From there, take the left avenue and turn onto Stone Curtain Road. Ask again from there."
A guard, a merchant, a random passerby.
Berak roughly mapped the directions he had been given in his head and started walking.
Hellvern was a city whose streets grew more tightly tangled the closer one got to the center. To a first-time visitor, it was extremely confusing. Still, every time he asked for directions, he could tell he was getting closer.
Then at some point, he realized he had wandered into a fairly quiet alley without noticing.
'......This can't be right.'
There were almost no signs here. Berak turned around and began retracing his steps.
'......!'
Suddenly, he felt an extremely light graze from behind.
A subtle movement, as if only the air had stirred.
But Berak's senses caught the movement of something just before it touched him.
Berak spun around and reached out.
Thwack.
"Aack!"
A short scream rang out as he caught a small hand. A pouch of silver coins was clutched between the half-withdrawn fingers.
Berak squeezed lightly to stop the other from fleeing. Just a little more force would have snapped the wrist, but he could control it well enough not to cross that line.
"It hurts! It hurts! Let go!"
The other was a child around Berak's age. He twisted his whole body and struggled desperately.
The pouch fell to the ground. Berak held the child with one hand and picked it up with the other.
"You were trying to take this?"
"Ahh, I'm sorry! I said I'm sorry!"
The child's voice was nearly a sob. Cold sweat glistened on his dust-stained cheeks.
"I mean it! I just—just this once, I only tried it this one time!"
"Liar."
"Fine! It wasn't my first time! I was wrong, so please just let go! It's coming off! My hand's coming off!"
He was making quite a fuss. Far from being torn off, Berak had used so little force that the bone was not even under strain.
When Berak lowered his gaze, the child's screaming abruptly stopped. The eyes that met his filled with terror. The child froze as if he had forgotten how to breathe, his body going rigid after thrashing only moments before.
When Berak quietly released his grip, the child clutched his own wrist and stumbled backward. His face had gone pale, drained of all color.
Berak put the pouch back inside his coat and looked at the child.
"If you tried to steal my money......."
As Berak took a step forward, the child's gaze naturally drifted to the axe at Berak's hip.
"Then you should pay for it."
The child let out a ragged breath. Soon his whole body began to tremble.
"Don't even think about running."
As Berak took another step closer, the child immediately threw himself to the ground.
"Please, just spare me this once, please! I won't! I won't ever try to steal anyone else's money again!"
"Fine."
"I really won't ever...... Huh?"
"Then don't. Just show me the way. That'll be payment enough."
It was generous treatment for someone who had nearly lost his entire fortune.
But he had gotten the pouch back anyway, and breaking one of the boy's limbs in payment would gain Berak nothing.
'Hellvern is complicated, so it'd be good to have someone to guide me.'
And the gaunt, exhausted child reminded him, just for a moment, of himself a few years ago.
"Th-that place kicks out kids like us if we get close. No, I'm not saying you look young, sir......."
"Just guide me."
"Yessir."
The child got up and led Berak through the alleys, weaving deftly between them. At last, a route through the city's tangled flow began to make sense.
After a while, the child glanced back and abruptly spoke.
"......I'm Kellum."
Berak looked up. The boy's face was completely different from the tearful, frightened expression of moments ago; now it was full of curiosity. The change had been quick.
"Um, what's your name......?"
"Berak."
"Why are you going to Silver Hawk? Seeing how incredibly strong you are, are you trying to join?"
"You know about Silver Hawk?"
"Of course. There's no one around here who doesn't."
Kellum rounded a corner and continued.
"The strongest mercenary company in the city! Especially the six officers—they say every one of them is as strong as a knight. Nobles, merchant companies—anyone with money or power—give them work. Even the city guards hate Silver Hawk because they can't touch them."
He had gotten a sense of the atmosphere while asking for directions, but hearing it directly made things clearer. The place Roban had introduced him to seemed more impressive than Berak had expected.
"That's not a way of speaking from around here...... Where are you from?"
Branvalt and Valken both spoke languages grouped under the western tongue, and the languages were not very different. The main difference was their accents. Berak did not bother answering where he was from.
Instead of answering, Berak asked a question of his own.
"Let me ask you something too. Why did you target someone carrying a weapon? You could've gotten badly hurt."
Kellum's steps slowed, and his shoulders sank.
"......When you're trying to survive, you can't be picky about things like that."
Kellum bit his lip once and turned his gaze away.
"I have a younger sibling to look after, and I have to pay tribute to the guild. If I don't, I get beaten and kicked out."
"So that's why you targeted me."
"......I'm sorry. I mean that sincerely."
In the end, the fact that he'd targeted Berak because he looked easy didn't change. It wasn't a situation that warranted sudden sympathy or understanding.
Still, he could accept that it was one way of surviving in this city.
And before long, Kellum stopped walking.
"There it is."
Beyond the end of the alley, the outline of a massive building came into view. Thick, solid stone pillars and a roof bulging like a ship's hull were visible.
"Then I'll be going......."
"Wait."
Berak took out two copper coins and held them out.
"Payment for guiding me. Take it."
"Huh? The guiding was the price for sparing me......."
"You got me here faster than I expected."
Kellum looked surprised, and Berak added firmly.
"I like payment to be exact."
Kellum clenched his hand tightly with a dazed expression.
"......Thank you. Really, thank you."
Then he raised his voice exaggeratedly.
"If you're a mercenary, you'll succeed at Silver Hawk too! When you get famous later, you can't pretend you don't know me!"
Berak gave a single nod instead of answering. Watching Kellum's retreating back, Berak unconsciously adjusted his pack. It was the first person he'd exchanged names with in the vast city of Hellvern.
It did not feel bad at all.
* * *
There was no gatekeeper at the main entrance. As soon as he stepped inside, he found himself in a large courtyard. The entire courtyard was being used as a training ground.
The hard sound of metal clashing.
The dull sound of running and pounding the ground.
Even commands and shouts.
Amid the sounds crashing together, several gazes turned toward Berak.
"......What's with the brat?"
"Hey kid, where's the home you lost?"
"Where'd he pick up that axe?"
Most only glanced at him, but one man approached. His shaved head gleamed beneath the helmet he had taken off.
"Go back."
Berak didn't back down.
"Silver Hawk isn't a place for half-baked nobodies to poke around. Least of all a kid like you."
Berak had no intention of wasting time.
"I've brought a letter of introduction from Roban."
At Berak's words, the man frowned.
"Roban? Who's that?"
He turned his head and shouted toward the mercenaries nearby.
"Hey! Anyone ever heard the name Roban?"
Replies rang out from across the training ground.
"Never heard it before!"
"Wasn't in our cohort!"
"Roban? Who?"
An older mercenary who had been maintaining a shield off to one side stopped what he was doing and looked up.
"Roban...... You mean that young man who was an officer back then?"
Berak's eyebrows twitched slightly. The reason Roban "knew" this place ran deeper than he'd thought.
The bald man asked.
"You know him?"
"I didn't know him personally—I'd just joined back then. But I remember him. It was about ten years ago. I saw him with the captain once."
Only then did the man's eyes change a little.
"......Ten years ago. That was a long time ago."
He took the iron badge and the letter of introduction from Berak.
"The emblem is genuine. Wait a moment. This isn't something we can judge among ourselves."
With those words, he hurried toward the building on the other side of the training ground.
The remaining mercenaries murmured as they looked at Berak.
"What's that kid's connection to this Roban person?"
"A letter of introduction? Does he really have something going on?"
Berak silently endured all those gazes.
A moment later, the man reappeared. This time he wasn't alone. A massive shadow followed behind him. Murmuring erupted across the training ground.
"The vice-captain himself......?"
"Over a single letter of introduction?"
The vice-captain stepped forward.
The man standing in the sunlight was imposing.
A build that towered over Berak's height, looking almost like a wall.
His thick arms seemed made for gripping the handle of a greatsword, and the pauldrons wrapped around his shoulders were as broad as Berak's entire upper body.
When that massive frame stopped in front of Berak, the height difference between the two became dramatic. Berak was like a small pebble set beneath a giant tree.
The vice-captain took the iron badge from the man without a word. His thick fingers slowly traced its surface—the worn emblem, its weight....... His gaze seemed to search through old memories.
He lifted his gaze from the badge and unfolded the letter of introduction.
A brief silence.
The vice-captain folded the letter in his hand and stared at Berak for a moment. His skin prickled wherever that gaze fell. After a moment of silence, the vice-captain muttered in a deep voice.
"......That bastard Roban."
Berak didn't miss the peculiar interest in that voice. The vice-captain tapped the letter against his palm and continued.
"This isn't simply asking us to fill out our headcount. Keep his name on our roster, but treat him according to his 'results'? He wrote it shrewdly. In the end, he's saying that if we're going to fuss over regulations, we shouldn't take you at all."
Berak's brow twitched faintly. Roban had only told him to go and prove himself. But behind the scenes, he had inserted conditions so unconventional that even the vice-captain was taken aback.
'For my sake.......'
It was not an ordinary letter of introduction. Roban had staked his own name to lay the groundwork for him. Berak's chest tightened.
The vice-captain's gaze fixed on Berak again.
"It says that if we take you in, the value you bring will be greater. In particular, it guarantees that you possess strength utterly impossible for a human of your age."
Berak's eyes met the vice-captain's head-on.
"I'll verify that first. Whether you're worth dealing with through results instead of regulations, just as Roban promised."
The vice-captain looked into the eyes of the boy who refused to back down and murmured in a low voice.
"Roban's proposal only means anything once your skill is proven. So if you can't even cross this threshold, there's no reason to discuss your worth any further."
The front yard fell silent for a moment.
"What do I need to do?"
Instead of answering, the vice-captain called the bald man who had first blocked Berak.
"Demein!"
"Yes, Vice-Captain."
"Among us, you're second only to me in raw strength. Check him yourself. See if he's worthy of that fancy scrap of paper."
The eyes of the surrounding mercenaries changed.
"Demein's stepping up? That bald ogre of a man......."
"The vice-captain's made up his mind."
"Isn't this too harsh for an entrance test?"
Demein walked over to a nearby log workbench used for weapon maintenance. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing massive forearms.
"Kid. Count yourself lucky. If the vice-captain had faced you himself, your arm would be powder by now."
Demein slammed his heavy right arm onto the workbench with a bang. A hand as thick as a beast's jaw opened toward Berak.
Berak stared quietly at Demein's enormous hand. If this was the stage Roban had set for him, there was only one answer. Before putting his arm down, Berak asked casually.
"It's all right if I pin you, right?"