From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 24
From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 24
Before long, someone emerged from the main building. A massive frame, imposing enough to be clearly visible even from a distance. It was Vice-Captain Varkan.
Varkan had been walking with his eyes fixed on the carriage when he noticed Berak standing nearby. Berak gave a slight bow, and Varkan answered with a brief nod.
Arriving in front of the carriage, Varkan spoke with crisp formality.
"I am Vice-Captain Varkan. From here, I will escort you on foot."
Light footsteps descended from the carriage. The figure wore a chestnut-brown hood pulled low, oddly mismatched with the ornate vehicle. With the face hidden, it was difficult to guess the person's age.
"Is the captain inside?"
The short question only revealed that the speaker was a woman. Even with her voice lowered, she could not hide its distinctive timbre.
"He is. I will guide you."
The hooded woman followed Varkan, who led the way. The two knights guarding the carriage fell in behind her as if screening her.
Berak kept watching until her retreating figure disappeared from view.
The mercenary beside him muttered.
"Well, that's a rare sight."
"You mean the count's house coming here?"
At Berak's question, the mercenary shook his head.
"No, the count's house has sent commissions before. But when someone gets out of a carriage like that, you can't miss that they're someone important. Seeing them cover up like that, though..."
"It is strange."
"Well, either only the key people are supposed to know, or they're leaving themselves room to deny it was her. Either way, this is probably the kind of job where grunts like us are better off getting involved as little as possible."
Berak suddenly recalled a conversation he'd had with a guild member before.
"I heard Silver Hawk commissions are usually delivered through the guild's couriers."
"In principle, yes. But nobles don't obediently follow such cumbersome procedures. Especially when it's something secret that must not leak outside, they're even more likely to move on their own."
"I see."
He felt a flicker of curiosity about the commission, but shook it off within a few steps. If it was something he needed to know, he would hear about it eventually. If not, he was better off focusing on his own preparations.
Instead of lingering in the bustling front yard, Berak headed for the training ground deeper in the encampment.
* * *
For the next several days, with the vice-captain busy, Berak kept his combat instincts sharp by sparring with the other mercenaries using swords and axes.
He focused most heavily on throwing.
Hitting the undead that had lunged at Dora in the graveyard—he felt luck had played a part in that. And the stat itself was still stuck at a mere 3.
He gathered ten crude daggers and repeated the act of throwing them at straw targets until he was sick of it. Then he pushed himself harder—throwing while sprinting at full speed, right after a forward roll, or from midair.
「Throwing Proficiency + 1」
「Throwing Proficiency + 1」
There was also an unexpected result.
「Dagger Proficiency + 1」
'When I use a greatsword, my Swordsmanship proficiency rises. So daggers are classified separately?'
He could guess that daggers had their own handling methods that didn't fall under Swordsmanship.
Over the next few days, while his body learned ranged techniques, his mind was being honed as well.
「Intelligence + 1」
「Sensitivity - 1」
「Intelligence + 1」
「Sensitivity - 1」
"There's nothing more for you to seek out. I have nothing left to teach. At best, I could share my experiences, but those are better learned through the body than through words."
It was a declaration from Demein, who had been steadily teaching him combat doctrine.
Berak nodded readily.
Sure enough, no further Intelligence notifications appeared during today's conversation. Demein had reached the limit of what he could teach as an instructor.
◎ Education
- Military Studies: Beginner
'For that to change to Intermediate like the Western language, I'll need higher-level knowledge.'
Berak bowed his head lightly.
"Thank you for everything."
"Enough. Your head turns faster than the rocks lying around everywhere, so you were worth teaching. At first I only meant to give you the basic rules, but I didn't expect you'd drain me dry."
Demein scratched his bald head, looking slightly embarrassed.
Then, while Berak was spending his days so diligently, the captain's summons reached him.
"I heard you were looking for me."
"Yes, sit."
Captain Kyle gestured lightly.
The captain's office looked just as neat on Berak's second visit as it had on his first.
Back then, his gaze had lingered on the handsome captain's face rather than the room's interior.
But this time, his eyes went elsewhere first.
The bookshelf filling the lower part of the wall.
Even from a distance, Berak's eyes clearly made out the titles densely packed on the spines.
A few old, untitled books were mixed in, but every spine that bore lettering caught his eye.
'Poliorketika, A Botanical Survey of the Wasteland, A Mirror for Princes: On the Proportions of Goodness and the Origins of Sentences....'
His gaze did not linger, but the sharp-eyed captain seemed to notice anyway.
"Are you interested in books as well?"
"The titles caught my interest for a moment. Forgive me."
"That answer is what's interesting. To most people, this bookshelf is just an expensive decoration."
Kyle swept his eyes over the bookshelf and asked casually.
"So, is there a field you're particularly interested in?"
"Lately, I've been wanting to study military science more deeply."
"Hm. I can't tell whether you deliberately chose the proper answer or whether you mean it, but..."
Kyle pulled a book from the spot where Berak's gaze had lingered.
"<Poliorketika>. In the ancient language, it means 'siegecraft.' Try reading it."
"Thank you."
Berak carefully accepted the book. The heavy texture of parchment touched his fingertips.
"You may borrow anything here at any time. Ask if you need something."
"May I really?"
"If there were secrets to hide, I wouldn't leave them openly shelved like this. I don't know how much you'll understand, but if you exceed my expectations... then I gain someone in the company I can have an intellectual conversation with. That would suit me just fine."
For Berak, this was a chance to test a new possibility. Would knowledge built through self-study, without anyone's teaching, also be reflected in the 'Education' category?
If that was possible, it would open not only the next stage of Military Studies but countless other fields that could teach him how to understand the world.
Kyle spread a map across the desk.
"Let's get to the point. You're aware of the count's house visiting a few days ago."
The fact that the captain was telling him meant the commission had indeed fallen under "something he needed to know."
"The official commission is a swordsmanship exchange between our mercenary company and the count's knight order, plus regular patrols of the outer roads."
"That... doesn't sound like a particularly difficult mission."
"Right. But the moment we enter the village bordering the wasteland, some of us will break away from the column."
"The wasteland?"
"Yes. Geneve. You've heard of it, I assume?"
Kyle's finger pointed to a spot on the map. Beyond the orderly districts of the great city of Hellvern lay a rough, smeared region that looked as though ink had been spilled across it. This was the "Geneve Wasteland," known as a land of lawlessness and death.
Berak, too, knew its reputation well from his fellow mercenaries' conversations.
A danger zone located within the borders of the County of Hellvern, yet beyond the reach of any law or order.
He'd heard it was gray land that rejected life, the exact opposite of Hellvern's fertile soil.
At the same time, for mercenaries willing to take risks, it was a land of opportunity. Mutated herbs and magic beast byproducts that grew only in the wasteland's depths were another pillar supporting Hellvern's prosperity.
Kyle sank back into his chair and continued.
"The real commission begins there. There, we'll join the young lady and head deep into the wasteland. To complete a lost family tradition, the 'Lion's Rite.'"
"A tradition?"
"It's a rite that proves an heir's worth through the caliber of the magic beast they hunt in the wasteland. It fell out of practice because of the danger, but the youngest lady seems to think differently. With all the opposition and pressure she faces within the family, she has no better way to break through head-on."
Berak narrowed his eyes. He couldn't articulate it clearly, but something felt off.
"Captain, this doesn't seem like simple magic beast hunting. No matter the commission, you'd be siding with that young lady to screw over—no, to make things difficult for her siblings. Won't the mercenary company itself be put in danger?"
"Exactly. That's why we need a small elite team for 'cutting the tail' that won't appear in any official records."
Kyle's expression grew grave.
"In truth, this is less a company venture and more a matter of repaying a personal debt. I'm simply repaying a favor I once received from a certain person of the count's house to that person's child, the young lady."
Kyle added.
"And even in the worst case, the count's house won't be able to harm the mercenary company directly."
Doubt flickered in Berak's eyes. For Kyle, the confidence sounded unusually unsupported. Berak could not guess what made him so certain that a mere mercenary company could avoid the blade of a count's house.
"Anyway, the reason I brought this up is to offer you a place in that small elite force."
"......."
"I need the bravest people with proven skill. The others agreed to join even knowing my personal motives, but..."
Berak sank into thought for a moment. As long as he stayed in Hellvern, the Geneve Wasteland would be the most consistent source of real combat. Experiencing it in advance wasn't a bad choice for his growth.
But looking at it the other way, did he really need to gain that experience while getting caught up in the count's internal family struggle?
"Think of it this way. If this mission succeeds, it changes the balance of the Hellvern succession. It may also be a chance to leave a lasting impression on the next heir."
After thinking it through, Berak made up his mind. For the mercenary company's safety, success was the best outcome anyway. And chances to leave a noble indebted to him truly were rare.
"I'll join."
"Good. Be ready. We march the day after tomorrow."
* * *
Two days later.
The village patrol that lasted half a day was so peaceful it was boring.
The knight order in neatly fitted silver armor marched down the central road. Banners bearing the count's house crest fluttered boldly under the autumn sky. The mercenaries' column following behind also matched their steps with discipline, at least for today.
At dusk, as planned, part of the knight order and the mercenaries broke away and assembled in the desolate field beyond the village.
From what he'd heard during the march, the young lady's name was Vivian. She had black hair and rode a massive black horse, its coat the same color as her hair.
Vivian's composed gaze swept over the mercenaries and came to a stop at the end of the column.
"Captain. Didn't you promise that this mission would consist only of elites?"
"It was."
At Kyle's answer, Vivian tilted her head slightly.
"Then why is that child... here? Is Silver Hawk truly so short on manpower? Or is the captain's judgment lacking?"
Berak smiled bitterly.
Being judged by appearance alone—he was used to it by now. But being used to it didn't mean it wasn't unfair.
To survive. To move forward.
He had merely started early. He simply had not been granted as much time as everyone else. Was that really so wrong?
Kyle stepped forward. His tone was courteous but not servile.
"I understand your concern, but Berak is a capable fighter who has passed strict standards within the company. He is a talent I vouch for as captain, so you may trust him."
Even at Kyle's courteous answer, the young lady's expression did not change. She merely stared past Berak's shoulder with doll-like, indifferent eyes.
"I wonder. That's not an easy claim to believe."
Vivian's lips moved as she murmured quietly. Her voice still carried no sharp edge, but her next words were firm.
"This is not a mission with enough leeway to bring along dead weight. I will eliminate uncertain factors in advance."
Vivian gestured with her chin. At the same time, the knight guarding her back spurred his horse.
"Neigh!"
With a sharp whinny, the massive horse burst forward. The distance closed in an instant. Berak's hand flew to the sword hilt on his back.
"What—!"
Before he could even finish his exclamation, the knight carried the horse's full speed into a diagonal slash aimed down at Berak's head.