Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: The Song of the Rusted Sword
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Chapter 10. Chapter 3, The Relief Knights (3)
Anton told me it wasn’t something he could decide on his own and asked me for a day.
In a way, he had a point.
But his real intention was probably to check if there were any freelance knights he could summon immediately.
Go ahead and check.
During our previous contract negotiation, Anton had mentioned that freelance knights recruited from other cities were on their way to Giftrang.
That meant all the freelance knights suitable for the bandit subjugation had already been contracted.
The only knight who could amicably ‘give up’ his existing contract through ‘negotiation’ with the Guild was Gunther.
If he waited, Anton would realize it too.
In the meantime, I just had to do what I needed to do.
I left the office and headed straight for the alley where the beggars were waiting.
“Did it go well, Boss?”
Sasha, who had been waiting for me with bated breath, asked.
“Spread the rumor as soon as the sun rises. It would be best if it’s in the form of a song, easy to remember. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just easy to memorize.”
Instead of answering, I gave him a few instructions.
“How did you know I was confident in my singing! Anyway, leave it to me! Boss!”
Sasha replied with enthusiasm.
Unlike Sasha, the other beggars and the slum boys looked rather unmotivated.
They seemed displeased about being dragged into my business, which had nothing to do with their own.
In times like these, a little grease is needed to get the wheels turning.
“We’ll make sure there isn’t a single person in all of Komlat who doesn’t know!”
“Leave it to us!”
After each received a one-quarter coin, the price of a loaf of bread, the beggars and the slum boys, as if they had never been unmotivated, shouted with faces full of vigor.
“Take care! Boss!”
“Have a peaceful night! Boss!”
The words ‘Boss’ had somehow attached themselves to the mouths of the slum boys who were echoing Sasha.
At this rate, I was going to become famous not as an esquire, but as a back-alley boss.
“From now on, don’t call me Boss. Call me Esquire Yan.”
It wouldn’t do any good for rumors to spread that a knight’s esquire was involved in back-alley affairs, so I gave them a light warning.
“Yes! Boss!”
“……”
I headed straight back to the inn.
“Oh! You’re back!”
The faces of the mercenaries who greeted me were flushed red.
It seemed they had been drinking themselves to death while I was away.
“Ugh. Smells like mercenaries.”
Unable to step into the hall filled with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and iron, I stood by the door, and the mercenaries tilted their heads.
“Smells like mercenaries? Well, you’re not wrong, but…”
“Why does that feel so bad?”
I ignored the mercenaries’ clamor to come in and waited for a while.
Once the air had cleared a bit, I closed the door and stepped inside.
“Wow. You’ve really started something.”
“They say that Anton fellow was scared out of his wits. It’s a shame I couldn’t see his face myself.”
Bok and Garon, who must have looked around while I was gone instead of just drinking, said with sly smiles.
“Anyway, everyone’s in an uproar because of you, Esquire.”
“Everyone’s talking about the Relief Knights or whatever. If there are more than two people, they’re all busy talking about it.”
Ugly rumors about the bandits had already been starting to circulate, so the news that a Relief Knights unit was being formed had apparently caused a huge stir.
It wasn’t a bad thing.
The more the rumor spread, the more pressure the Guild would feel.
“But hasn’t this gotten a little too big?”
Bok seemed worried that I had blown things up too much with the Guild.
He looked concerned that we might get on the Guild’s bad side because of this.
But what could I do?
I had no intention of stopping here.
I was planning to make the stage much bigger, much louder.
Seeing my lack of response, Bok’s face grew even more anxious, but the other mercenaries didn’t seem to have any particular thoughts.
Because they didn’t have any thoughts at all.
That Garon fellow, in particular, looked exceptionally thoughtless.
“A drink to celebrate?”
The rascal brazenly provoked me.
If I had my way, I would have shown him the majesty of ‘Yan Who Drinks by the Cask’ and ‘the Esquire Who Serves Alcohol,’ but I held myself back.
“We might be busy starting tomorrow, so drink in moderation.”
After giving a warning to keep the atmosphere from getting too heated, I went up to the second floor.
“You’re back.”
Gunther was sitting on the bed, waiting for me.
“It’s not set in stone yet, but I think it will go well.”
I gave him a brief summary of the conversation at the office.
Though he must have had many questions, he didn’t pry and simply nodded his head.
“Relief Knights. Right. There was such a thing.”
He just kept repeating the same words, as if he had remembered something important he had forgotten.
I watched him with an awkward expression.
Somehow, I felt like he was becoming more and more distant from the Beggar Knight I used to know.
I wasn’t just talking about his cleaned-up appearance.
His way of speaking had become strangely heavy, and his demeanor was different from before. It felt like he had changed since we visited the Guild.
I wondered if he had some kind of change of heart.
Especially those eyes.
The eyes that had shown not a shred of motivation were now sparkling.
They were so clear that in the dimly moonlit room, it looked like only his eyes were floating, which was utterly grotesque.
Did the bathwater at this inn really have some special property that washed away the grime in his heart along with the dirt on his body?
I watched him for a moment before lying down on the small bed prepared for a servant.
*Groan.*
My body was tired from running around all day.
I was about to fall asleep, but I shot up.
Training. I couldn’t skip my training.
*Snore, snore.*
Gunther had already passed out.
It seemed like he had perfect timing, always falling asleep right when I was about to train. It was probably just my imagination.
His staff was conveniently placed nearby. I stealthily picked it up and began my training.
In a few days, these pathetic days of training with a staff instead of a sword would be over.
The items I ordered from the old blacksmith would be ready soon.
After training silently for a long time, I drifted off to sleep.
* * *
This is a dream.
I was clearly aware of that fact.
If it weren’t a dream, Roman wouldn’t be looking at me with such an expression.
A face that seemed to cross inexplicable worry with pride.
His lips twitched constantly, as if he had something to say.
But instead of opening his mouth to speak, Roman raised his sword.
…?
But the sword technique wasn’t the transcendent sword dance I had always seen, but an ordinary thrust.
The very same move I had repeated countless times since returning to the past.
But Roman’s sword, while similar to mine, was different in some indefinable way.
It didn’t take long to realize what that subtle difference was.
*Swoosh.*
A sword strike suddenly lunged at me.
The moment I tried to twist my body slightly to evade it, the tip of Roman’s sword wavered.
*Stab.*
Huh?
I let out a dazed sound as I looked at the sword that had pierced my thigh, even though I was sure I had dodged it.
*Shlk.*
Roman’s sword pulled out. And lunged again.
It was the same thrust as before.
*Stab.*
This time, it was the other thigh.
*Swoosh.*
Another thrust flew at me with a sharp sound of cutting air.
*Stab.*
I was skewered by the sword without fail.
But this time, I was able to watch Roman’s sword until the very end.
I saw the tip of the sword tremble minutely for a fraction of a second, naturally changing direction to follow me as I moved.
The thrust that followed was the same.
The moment I tried to raise my sword to block, my eyes widened as I saw the blade twist like a snake and slither up my wrist.
The same situation repeated several times.
I tried to dodge, and I tried to block.
I tried everything, but Roman’s sword unerringly pierced one of my four limbs.
I realized.
I can’t block that. Even knowing it’s coming, I’ll get stabbed.
But I was too furious to just stand there and take it.
It was a thrust purely for attack, unlike his transcendent sword dance that combined offense and defense.
I ignored the incoming sword and thrust my own toward Roman’s chest.
Die, you bastard!
A scream born of rage was a bonus.
*Clang.*
My eyes went wide.
Roman had raised his sword to block his chest.
It was the first time.
The first time Roman’s sword, which had pierced me with every thrust, had been withdrawn without achieving its goal.
It was a first in all the countless nightmares I’d had since returning to the past.
*Thud.*
My deflected sword spun and landed far away.
I stared at it blankly before looking back at Roman.
He stood with his sword lowered, no different from usual.
But why? Why did he seem strangely angry?
*Flutter, flutter.*
Roman’s sword dance began.
*Stab, stab. Shred, shred.*
A web of sword light, twice as dense as usual, diced my body.
Thanks to that, I…
“Gyaaaaaaaaaaah!”
…had the most spectacular awakening among the many I had ever experienced.
“What, what is it!”
“Garon! Check on the men first!”
“Forget the armor, grab your swords!”
The inn was thrown into chaos.
* * *
“Phew. It’ll be a big problem if strange rumors start spreading because of this.”
The next day, I had to listen to the innkeeper’s complaints for quite some time.
He went on about how a few long-term guests had checked out because of the commotion last night, and how he was worried that nasty rumors would spread.
As if I didn’t know perfectly well that aside from Gunther and me, the only guests were the Forsaken Dogs mercenary company.
But I wasn’t in a position to argue, having caused a disturbance in the middle of the night.
The mercenaries all had a word to say as well.
They complained that for mercenaries whose bodies were their livelihood, losing sleep was the greatest loss.
Frankly, it seemed their lack of sleep was due to their hangovers rather than my sleep habits.
But what could I do? I was the one at fault.
I kept my mouth shut and endured the mercenaries’ subtle rebukes.
While I was enduring this morning of patience…
“The, the city has been completely turned upside down!”
Bok, who had gone out to check on the situation outside, returned.
“Right now, the entire city is filled with a song about some righteous knight who took up a rusted sword for the citizens of Komlat!”
Hearing his words, I thought to myself.
It looks like Sasha and the beggars are doing a good job.
A nameless knight who took up a rusted sword for the powerless.
What could be more fitting for the first verse of the Beggar Knight’s song as he roamed the world?
* * *
The atmosphere in the Giftrang household was far from good.
And for good reason. Overnight, a strange tale had spread through the city, creating a massive obstacle to their plans.
It would be stranger if the atmosphere were good.
“This is a problem. If I report this, there will undoubtedly be hell to pay.”
For Klail, who had the duty of reporting the outside situation to the family head, this was more than just a matter of atmosphere.
The situation was particularly grave for him, as he had been the one to voice his opinions on the overall subjugation, including the recruitment of freelance knights.
Considering the head’s ruthless nature, he wouldn’t let it slide just because they were blood relatives.
Wasn’t this the same head who had practically cast out his own eldest son for being an eyesore?
It was highly unlikely the head would show any leniency to a mere nephew like Klail.
“Hoo.”
But he couldn’t skip the report. He dragged his reluctant feet to the door of the head’s office.
“Lord Head. It is I, Klail.”
No answer came.
After formally announcing his presence one more time, Klail opened the door and entered.
A woman with green hair was there.
The foremost knight of Komlat, who had elevated a once-mediocre family to a collateral branch trusted by the main family.
Gritta Giftrang.
“The air of the household feels quite disturbed today.”
Klail read a subtle discomfort beneath her cold expression, which seemed no different from usual.
She, who likely hadn’t taken a single step outside her office, looked as if she knew everything that was happening outside.
Thus, Klail, instead of reciting the countless excuses he had come up with on his way to the office…
“The Guild is planning to recruit a Relief Knights unit.”
…stated the situation as it was.
“The entire city is abuzz with talk of the Relief Knights.”
“It hasn’t even been a full day since the rumor spread, but the children in the market are already singing a song about it.”
“A knight who rose up because he couldn’t bear to see the suffering of Komlat’s citizens. It’s utterly absurd.”
Despite the flood of reports, Gritta Giftrang offered no response.
“This wasn’t Anton’s idea. Considering how much money he’s taken until now, there’s no way that money-grubber would suddenly abandon his greed. Something feels unnatural.”
Gritta Giftrang slowly rose from her seat.
As she, a head taller than most knights, stood straight and looked down, Klail felt a pressure as if a great boulder were placed on his head.
“Your departure ceremony is in five days, was it not?”
Klail’s shoulders flinched at the clear displeasure underlying her low voice.
“We’ll be reduced to a side-show.”
Klail squeezed his eyes shut.
This was the problem.
The Giftrang family had prepared a great deal for this bandit subjugation.
To become a family renowned not just in Komlat, but throughout the West.
To rise from a mere collateral branch supported by the main family’s patronage to a member of the ‘prestigious houses’ that even the main family could only linger at the threshold of.
To do that, the bandit subjugation had to be led entirely by the Giftrang.
But at this rate, the Giftrang would do all the work, while some Relief Knights unit, who could be nothing more than gutter rats, would take all the fame.
The ambitious family head’s mood could not possibly be pleasant.
The head’s gaze swept over Klail.
The vertically slit snake eyes, proof of the Giftrang blood that flowed more strongly in him than in most direct descendants. Before that persistent gaze, Klail trembled as if stripped bare.
He felt it instinctively.
Depending on his answer, he could end up just like the eldest son.
“We will spread rumors from our side as well. The departure ceremony will also be made larger than planned. The Relief Knights or whatever, compared to the name of Giftrang, those mongrels are…”
“It is a disgrace that our name is even mentioned alongside those mongrels you speak of.”
At the head’s words, Klail’s heart stopped.
He quietly closed his eyes and awaited his punishment.
But the severe punishment he expected from the head never came.
“However, it’s not bad.”
Klail opened his eyes.
“Rather, it should be fun.”
Gritta Giftrang was smiling.
If you could call that thing, with its gleaming yellow eyes and lips stretched to the ears, a smile.
“I’ll give you the Yuhyeolmogi.”
The Yuhyeolmogi were the public sword of the Giftrang.
Though few in number, they were an elite force composed entirely of knights of 3-star rank or higher.
“Go on. Try to make it as spectacular as you possibly can.”
It seemed the head intended to thoroughly crush the Relief Knights, or whatever they were called.