From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 4
From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 4
It was a foggy dawn in the forest. The workers' job was to carry the timber to the far end of the logging site where the wagons were waiting.
"We've got a long way to go! Move it, move it!"
"Don't think you can rest just because you moved one!"
The overseers raised their voices more than usual.
The work was done in teams of four. Two in front, two in back. Except Berak was too short to brace the load on his shoulder. He couldn't match the height of the person beside him.
"I'll carry the back by myself."
"You sure, kid?"
"I'm fine...."
Despite his worried words, the worker beside him didn't even wait for an answer. He just turned and headed off to another team without a second thought.
"Tch."
Judging by the reaction of the worker he'd been laboring alongside, or by the forest warden's test, no one here was going to be surprised that he was taking the back end alone. He bent down and worked his arms under the base of the log.
"One, two!"
At the lead man's command, Berak drew a breath. The next moment, he rose together with the two men in front.
This time too, he thought first about how to apply force to the exact right point.
The end of the log settled onto his shoulder. From shoulder to arm, from back to waist, from waist to legs. The weight flowed through his body. He realized it after only a few steps.
'This is harder than swinging an axe...!'
When he gripped an axe, the strength went mainly into his arms and shoulders. But now it was different. His whole body moved as a single mass. Shoulders, waist, legs, even the tips of his toes. There wasn't a muscle he wasn't using.
With precise force as the goal, his muscles each twitched on their own. One pushed, one braced, one tried to keep balance.
There was another problem too.
"Careful!"
The front was slightly too fast. The log tilted, and the weight shifted toward Berak. The impact shoved against his shoulder.
"Hup."
Berak quickly shifted his stance and caught his balance.
This was a job done by three people together. If anyone was even a little fast or slow, the load shifted through that tiny gap. Then they had to correct it as fast as possible.
Walking speed. Breathing. Posture. Taken together, it was a single "rhythm." It wasn't practice in handling force alone, but fitting his body to that rhythm.
Using more muscles. Unable to control the pace by himself. It was certainly grueling work. This was only the first log, and sweat was already beading on his forehead.
The worksite was chaotic in many ways. Maybe he didn't need to produce such "precise" force.
But it wasn't only compulsion. Berak knew what came at the end of this effort.
「Body Proficiency + 1」
That was the good thing about the newly appeared letters. They no longer only appeared after he finished his whole day's routine like before. They would show up on their own even in the middle of work like this. So over the past few days, the shapes had changed often.
[Body Proficiency: 16/100]
[Axe Proficiency: 14/100]
"All right, lowering. One, two!"
He set the log down in time with the front man's count.
"Ugh. Looking at how much is piled up over here, we've still got a long way to go."
"Don't say stuff that kills the mood. We've only just moved one."
The workers grumbled beside him, but to Berak it wasn't mood-killing at all.
Like that, they made several more round trips. He kept his whole body tensed and controlled. After sweat poured off him.
「Body Proficiency + 1」
The letters appeared once more.
* * *
After a short rest. The real hauling began. There were fewer than twenty people. Excluding the overseer, the forest warden, and two soldiers, the workers numbered only around ten.
Berak's gaze went to the sharp spear tips the soldiers carried.
His eyes lingered only a moment. There was no time to stay tense or think about anything else.
The logs loaded on the carts were pulled by horses. No, to be precise, they were pulled by horses and people.
Someone at the front steered with the reins, and the workers in the middle had to haul on the pull ropes together to get the cart moving.
There were two such carts. When the front cart moved, the rear cart followed.
Clunk.
"Push!"
"It's sunk in down there! Lay down a support block!"
The road was often soft. Every time a wheel sank into the mud, the workers, Berak included, rushed over.
「Body Proficiency + 1」
'I'm really earning letters today.'
Heading toward the city, it happened twice more. The shape changed.
[Body Proficiency: 19/100]
He felt good, but it was also a forced march that was hard to endure on a sense of accomplishment alone. They had started work at dawn, and before he knew it the sun was setting.
"Halt! We've arrived!"
"Whew."
"Wow, I thought I was going to die."
Sighs burst out from all around. Berak wiped his sweat-soaked forehead too.
"Wow...."
A great wall stood before them. A wide open area stretched out in front of it. People drove their carts and filed in through the gate in lines.
On the side adjoining the wall, the ground was paved with stone, and lights burned along every passage. There were also many brick warehouses and loading platforms.
"All right, we unload from this side!"
"Careful, watch your fingers!"
Voices poured in from every direction. Berak, gripping a rope, stepped onto the stone road he was seeing for the first time.
Following the overseer's instructions, the workers lifted the ends of the logs and rolled them off beside the carts. The ground rang with a "boom." It was the last task of the long day.
Martin came over first and spoke. There had been almost no chance to exchange words during the journey.
"Finally done. You worked hard, Berak."
"You too, Mister Martin."
"Right. So, how does it feel to see Delmore for the first time?"
Berak drew a breath. The smell of oil, charcoal, and horse stink all mixed together. So many people. Noise and lights. Brick and stone pavement....
"Is there normally a city outside the wall too? This place is...."
"This is the loading yard. The real city is inside, of course."
"I see...."
To Berak, even this place already felt like another world. Meanwhile, the forest warden spoke up.
"Today's work ends here. We stay here tonight. Make sure no one causes any trouble before we depart tomorrow."
The moment he finished speaking, he walked toward the wall. The two soldiers followed.
The overseer waited a moment, then looked over the remaining men.
"Well, you heard him. Dismissed. Those who want to drink, drink. Those who want to pass out, pass out. But if I don't see your face tomorrow, you know what happens."
"Beer, beer!"
"I'm going to stop by the brothel."
"Ha, tonight? Are you out of your mind? My back's about to snap."
"That guy's legs gave out earlier. Even if he goes, he won't be able to get it up."
"Shut up."
The workers headed toward the gate, chattering noisily. Berak, about to follow without thinking, stopped. The other serfs who had been part of the hauling crew. Those two stood rooted in place. The overseer turned his head as if he'd only just remembered.
"Ah, right, the three serfs came along too. You lot stay in the lodging near the loading yard."
Before coming here, the serfs had been told they wouldn't be free to look around. That had been true. They couldn't even enter the city in the first place.
"Hmm, I thought since there weren't many serfs, it might be different this time...."
Martin scratched his head.
"Berak. Looks like you really can't go in. This is...."
"I'm fine."
"Don't just say you're fine. You were like that when you were sick last time too."
He hadn't been sick that time in the first place. And right now, he really was fine.
It would be a lie to say he wasn't disappointed at all... but unlike what Martin thought, Berak wasn't looking forward to visiting the city itself. What he'd hoped for was an experience that would make new letters appear.
Since everyone was just going to rest once they got inside anyway, it didn't matter if he stayed out here. He decided to think of it that way.
But Martin seemed bothered.
"Hey. Is there anything you want from the city?"
"Not really...."
Berak, about to decline, hesitated. Something had suddenly come to mind.
"What is it? Tell me. If it's not expensive, I'll get you one."
"Letters."
"Letters?"
"You know, the things people write on paper. I'd like to see them."
When there was no answer, Berak hastily added.
"They're, you know, the shapes are cool. More than wood grain."
Martin was quiet for a moment, then spoke in his usual way.
"All right. Then I'll find something with letters written on it. Maybe I can find something at the market entrance."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Whatever it is, as long as the shapes are cool, right?"
Martin shrugged, waved, and walked off. Berak watched him go, then turned away. It was time to head to the place assigned to the serfs.
* * *
At the end of the road leading from the wall to the loading yard, there was a side gate for foot traffic. Two keepers stood at the entrance. Anyone entering had to say which overseer they'd come under.
A little while after Berak went in, there was a clank. When he looked back, a soldier was fastening the latch. They said that gate would not open again at night.
The lodging was a barracks made of plank shacks joined together. The roof was low, and the walls were stained with damp marks. Through the small window, almost nothing outside was visible.
Beyond that narrow window, faint lights barely shone through. According to the people who had come with him, porters, day laborers, and drifters slept nearby. Songs and laughter sometimes drifted over from that direction.
The barracks where Berak and the serfs stayed was in a separate section so they wouldn't mix with those people.
After the first night's observations, the next day. For Berak, it was the first time in a long while—no, perhaps the first time ever. He was given no work.
That didn't mean he was free. The overseer ordered them to stay in the lodging. The other serfs were perfectly satisfied, but Berak couldn't help feeling restless at not being able to put his body to work.
'Stamina, Strength, Dignity, Education, Proficiency, Axe....'
Berak lay down, closed his eyes, and recalled the letters. Without looking at them directly, in his head.
He had long since memorized their shapes whole, even without knowing their meanings. He passed the time combining them and taking them apart.
The next day. The overseer came. Originally they were supposed to return yesterday, but for some reason it had been delayed by a day.
"You lot, follow me. We're going back to the logging camp."
As Berak moved to follow, the overseer stopped him.
"Wait. Not you."
The overseer looked Berak up and down again.
"I was told to have you keep waiting."
Berak wondered who, but soon arrived at the obvious answer: the forest warden.
After the overseer left, the area in front of the lodging quickly grew quiet. A dusty gust of wind passed through.
Berak stood there for a while.
"Stay behind?"
The words slipped out. No one had explained the reason.
The forest warden had left him behind alone. Was it to test him again like last time? Or to give him new work?
Or had he, in the end, been found out for hiding his strength?
'Was being that careful not enough?'
No, let's not borrow trouble.
It might turn out to be nothing special. Maybe they were just reducing the number of workers for the return trip.
But somehow, the feeling wasn't good. He couldn't help the unknown unease rising in him.
Berak shifted his gaze toward the lodging door.
That was when.
"Berak."
A low voice reached him.
When he turned his head, a familiar face showed through the gap in the door.
"Mister Martin?"
"So you really were left alone. This isn't good...."
His voice was tinged with worry. Berak hurriedly leaned closer.
"Mister. Do you know why I was left alone?"
"I'll tell you in a bit. Let's go inside first."
Inside the lodging. Martin took a thin book from his coat.
"I got it. The thing you mentioned."
Berak forgot his unease for a moment and swallowed.
In Martin's hands was a worn picture book. Unfamiliar letters were packed densely between the frayed corners of the pages.
"At the market entrance, this was the only children's book they had. It's a story about a hero."
Martin handed over the book. Berak touched the cover with his fingertips.
"Thank you! Really!"
"Save the thanks. I haven't even shown it to you yet."
Martin smiled and opened the book. The first page, a mix of letters and pictures, was revealed.
"Here, I'll teach you."
"Huh?"
Berak's eyes went wide. Martin raised an eyebrow slightly, as though Berak's reaction were nothing unusual.
"You don't think I'm unreliable, do you?"
"Ah, no. That's not it...."
Martin pointed at the page with his finger.
"Of course, I can't read everything either. But I can make out the gist. This shape is 'hero,' and this one is 'sword.' What was this one again?"
He added with a smile.
"Back in the day, I handled the accounts for another logging camp. I kept watching the clerks write, and it became familiar. From then on, I started copying other letters here and there...."
Berak's face went blank. Martin's hand came to rest on his head.
"Letters. You wanted to learn them, right?"
Berak's lips trembled slightly. Only then did he realize that his clumsy excuse back then hadn't fooled anyone. The bit about the letter shapes being cool.
"...Please teach me."
"Good. Sit next to me."
Martin's low voice filled the cramped lodging.
"Long, long ago, in an age when the light of the gods shone more brightly upon the world, a child was born. He would later come to be called a 'hero.'"
In the air above the open book, Berak's eyes moved across the letters. He followed their shapes with his gaze, trying to carve them whole into his mind, just as he had when memorizing their forms in his head.
"...And so the hero set out on a journey of training to a distant land."
In that instant, something flashed in his mind.
'Training.'
That was clearly shaped the same as what he had seen before.
The shapes he had seen alone were never a product of imagination or a demon's trick.
The letters were this world's language.
And the things he had been seeing were written in that language.
「Insight + 1」
"...The hero gathered strength in both arms and held up the collapsing pillar."
Berak focused his mind. This time, a different word caught his eye.
'Strength.'
It wasn't unfamiliar.
It looked similar to [Strength]. The picture book showed a man with bulging muscles holding up a pillar.
'Is this... the same thing?'
The meaning might not be exactly the same. But the shape was similar. And the meaning was somehow similar too.
He couldn't grasp everything from hearing it once.
But the hero's gestures, sword, and expression in the pictures began to take on meaning little by little.
「Intelligence + 1」
"...That's all for now."
When Martin finished speaking, Berak checked his changes.
◎ Education
- Kingdom Language (Branvalt): Beginner
* Attributes
[Intelligence: 6]
[Insight: 1/100]
That he had learned even a little of the sense of reading. That he now had a foundation for deciphering letters in the future. That it was expressed like that.
......That was far more moving than he had expected.
Berak stroked the closed picture book and slowly raised his head.
"Thank you. Mister. Really...."
Berak's words cut off. Martin's face had hardened at some point. Almost frighteningly so.
"Berak."
His voice was as firm as his expression.
"Tonight, you have to run."
