Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Making an Impression (1)
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If you were to name the fundamental difference between a knight and a mage, it would be their attitude toward paying the price of their Oath.
Knights pay the price themselves, dedicating their entire lives.
Mages cleverly twist their Oaths, shifting the price onto others.
And if you were to point out a more practical difference, the first would be temperament.
The former shine when defending and protecting, while the latter specialize in attacking and harming others.
A meaningless distinction once they reach a certain level. But that was not the case for Grendel and Geriam before me.
The raw flesh of a mage who has yet to become a Madosa is nothing more than a single meal for the Knight Slayer.
Thunk.
Grendel, neatly pierced through the back, shuddered.
The bastard’s eyes rolled back to glare at me.
His contorted gaze seemed to protest.
How cowardly, to attack while I was chanting an incantation!
It is a knight’s virtue and romance to wait for their opponent to be perfectly ready before engaging in a proper duel.
But I am no knight, nor am I the kind of person whose head is filled with such flowery notions.
The Great War, a time when the pride and dignity of knights were thrown into the gutter.
It would be stranger if I, who lived through that brutal era, were exactly the same as the people of this age.
Of course, Grendel, who had only just met me, couldn't possibly know that.
It seemed I needed to politely correct his misunderstanding.
Fortunately, I had an excellent tool in my hand for overcoming such mutual incomprehension.
Click, clack. Thump.
Stab.
“Gyaaaak!”
Grendel shrieked as his armpit was pierced, following his back.
Fwoooooosh!
At the same time, the grayish-blue energy that had been blooming from his body began to rage violently.
A classic sign of energy running rampant after escaping its master's control.
“Damn it all!”
A curse laced with bewilderment and rage.
Boom!
The subsequent explosion blew away half of his upper body.
“Urgh.”
Even in that state, he was still alive.
He even staggered toward me.
“Gnash. Next time you meet a mage, aim for the head, kid.”
Truly, the people of this era, be they knights or mages, all seem to have their heads in the clouds.
To so kindly reveal his weakness.
Of course, I already knew a mage's weakness without him telling me.
Nevertheless, the reason I didn't aim for his head was because there was no need.
Something else was going to claim his life.
“Wh-why…!”
Grendel, who had been charging at me, suddenly stopped and screamed.
In his hand was a deformed longbow, shaped as if upside down.
Chomp, chomp.
The grotesque demonic weapon clattered greedily, like the jaws of a starving wolf.
He had probably seen this sight several times before.
Only this time, he was the prey.
“N-no…!”
Before his final scream could end, the demonic weapon devoured him.
Leaving not even a single drop of blood.
Thud.
The demonic weapon, having devoured its master, fell to the ground.
The shape of its curled limbs resembled the lips of a woman smiling in satiation.
The Faceless Witch.
Hasty and greedy, she had apparently decided, just as I predicted, to make a feast of her Oathbound, whose upper body had been blown off, instead of lending him the power to escape.
Just as she had devoured her Oathbound without a trace in my past life.
Now, only one mage remained.
Geriam the Grand, no, Geriam the Furious.
Geriam, who had managed to avoid a fatal blow while Grendel's energy rampaged and had now assumed a perfect combat stance, swung his demonic weapon at Gunther.
Click, thud.
I nocked an arrow on the Knight Slayer and aimed at Geriam.
Ready to aid Gunther at any moment.
But in the end, I couldn't pull the trigger.
Swoooosh!
Geriam’s demonic weapon, heated to a glow, dripped crimson flames as it swept through the air.
Clang!
Gunther strode through the center of that red arc.
Slow as a slug, yet steady, one step at a time.
“...?”
It was a scene I had witnessed several times in my past life.
Paladins, heavily armed in thick steel plate, used to pressure their enemies with that same slow advance.
The only problem was that Gunther’s armor was cheap iron plate, incomparable to that of the paladins I had seen back then.
If not for the silvery-white aura surrounding his body, the demonic weapon would have torn him to shreds long ago.
Crack.
With every step forward, his armor tore and blood spurted.
Despite this, Gunther continued to advance.
A flustered Geriam swung his demonic weapon more fiercely.
But Gunther neither retreated nor stopped.
As time passed, the aura enveloping Gunther’s body grew denser.
The light, faint at first, eventually transformed into something like an armor of light.
It was the very image of the paladins from my past life, whose defensive prowess made even high-ranking knights yield.
“Ah…”
I had no choice but to believe it now.
In all the world, only paladins fought so foolishly, taking every blow that came their way.
They were madmen who believed the thickness of their radiant armor was the measure of their faith and conviction.
Anyway.
To think the Beggar Knight was a paladin.
His talk of alms, alms, was actually about alms.
I thought it was just to preserve what little dignity he had left as a knight.
While I was reeling from the shock of Gunther’s identity, the battle continued.
Clang! Clang!
Though to call it a battle was a stretch; it was more like Geriam, standing stiffly in place, unilaterally bashing the approaching Gunther.
“Hmph!”
Gunther was clearly the one taking a one-sided beating, yet Geriam was the one growing anxious.
Scrape. Scrape.
With a grating noise, chunks of the light armor surrounding Gunther were sheared off. The exposed flesh was instantly scorched black.
Amidst the scattering fragments of light, Gunther took another step.
Thump.
Startled by the heavy footstep, Geriam lashed out with his demonic weapon as if having a seizure.
But Gunther simply continued his dogged advance.
And so, finally reaching Geriam, Gunther extended his longsword.
“An excommunicated paladin like you…!”
Geriam, filled with malice, opened his maw wide and spewed flames.
Ssshk.
Fwoosh.
And then, silence.
Gulp.
Only the sound of someone swallowing dryly could be heard.
Sliiiide.
A sound of something shifting out of place.
Thump, clatter.
Immediately after, Geriam’s head rolled across the floor.
His demonic weapon, falling companionably beside it, burst into flames for a moment before turning to ash.
The victor was Gunther.
Though he was grimy and scorched all over by the flames, he had succeeded in single-handedly subduing two of the three mages.
A surprising outcome no one had expected.
However, Gunther’s face showed none of the joy and ecstasy a victor ought to feel.
“...It seems these few steps were far too short to make up for the years I’ve wasted.”
He merely uttered those inscrutable words with a vacant expression.
His regretful gaze turned to the night sky, then back to me.
“I believe I’ve done my part. So.”
Gunther’s face returned to its usual expression, as if nothing had happened.
“I leave the rest to you.”
He looked at me intently, made his request, and then closed his eyes.
“M-Master? Master!”
Startled, I rushed over and checked Gunther’s condition.
Fortunately, there seemed to be nothing seriously wrong.
His entire body was a wreck from foolishly taking those brutal attacks head-on, and his face was completely scorched from taking the full blast of Geriam’s final flame breath.
But that was all.
For a paladin, not just any ordinary knight, with their regenerative abilities, these were but minor injuries he would soon shake off.
“I’ll need an explanation.”
As I was sighing in relief, a cold voice spoke.
It was the Grand Prince.
“Ah.”
Dozens of pairs of eyes were on me.
“Master?”
I shook Gunther.
But he didn’t budge.
Twitch.
I thought I saw his eyelid twitch, but it must have been my imagination.
Of course. No way.
“Hoo.”
I shook off the thought and straightened my posture.
“Here’s what happened…”
* * *
The Grand Prince was in a foul mood.
Not even a full day had passed since his humiliation at the departure ceremony, and now he was disgraced again.
And this wasn't just any disgrace; it was a matter that could drag his family’s prestige through the mud.
He had failed to recognize the mages right under his nose and had nearly suffered a catastrophe.
If the Relief Knights hadn't intervened, he would have been the subject of public ridicule for years to come.
That very fact made the Grand Prince even more uncomfortable.
He was vexed that they hadn't informed him beforehand despite knowing of the mages' involvement, and vexed that he had been played in their ridiculous charade.
And what about them infiltrating the barracks as they pleased?
It was blatant deception.
Despite all this, the Grand Prince couldn't blame them.
Since the Relief Knights had handled everything from identifying the mages to dealing with them, he had no grounds to reprimand them.
The ridiculous charade, too, could no longer be dismissed as mere deception the moment it was revealed that the Relief Knights' commander was, in fact, a paladin in disguise.
Their unauthorized infiltration of the barracks wasn't even grounds for accusation, as it was his side's fault for the lax security in the first place.
The Relief Knights held all the justification.
It was a situation where even weighing their merits against their faults was pointless.
The process hadn't been smooth, but in the end, hadn't he avoided a major disaster at the hands of the mages thanks to them?
Favors are repaid twofold, grudges tenfold.
This was the principle the Komlat Giftrang family had upheld until now.
And now was the time to repay what he had received twofold.
“...I am greatly in your debt.”
The Grand Prince hid his complicated feelings and expressed his gratitude.
The annoying brat’s eyes widened.
His face showed he hadn't expected to hear words of thanks from him in the slightest.
“Hmph.”
What on earth did he take the Giftrang family for?
As expected, he was a disagreeable brat.
But that brat had defeated one of the high-ranking mages.
Although it was aided by luck, such as the mage's energy running wild and his own star turning its back on him, a mere squire had brought down a mage.
A military achievement incomparable to defeating Iden in a single blow.
Indeed, the family head’s judgment was not wrong.
“They say gratitude expressed only in words isn't sincere.”
But regardless, it was clear that his actions were incredibly irritating.
He was about to hide his displeasure and demonstrate the magnanimity of the Giftrang family, who were clear about their favors and grudges.
“Let’s discuss the rewards for meritorious deeds.”
The brat beat him to it.
It was a strange thing to say.
Rewarding meritorious deeds was an act where a superior assesses the contributions of a subordinate and bestows a fitting reward.
“What…?”
The Grand Prince couldn't help but chuckle.
The young squire’s intentions were plain to see.
This was the young squire extending an olive branch.
The annoying brat who had humiliated him several times, making him a fool, had now established an achievement so great he couldn't even question it, and was now proposing a truce.
And what's more, he was telling him to graciously save face, while they took all the real benefits.
“Hahahaha!”
The Grand Prince laughed heartily.
“It was you! This was all your idea!”
He had thought all the actions so far had come from the master's head, but he was wrong.
He was certain.
You can tell a man's character by the way he fights.
Judging by that straightforward fighting style, the brat's master was by no means the type to scheme or plot.
Which meant he had been made a fool several times by the antics that came from that tiny head.
The fact was so absurd, so utterly preposterous, that he laughed for a long time.
But for some reason, he didn’t feel bad.
“Fine. I’ll do it. Reward your deeds. It’s not a difficult task.”
Even if all he gained was empty face, he decided to accept it gladly.
For a knight belonging to the family, being willing to die to protect that seemingly insignificant face was their mindset.
Compared to that, bestowing some trivial rewards was practically nothing.
“But not right now.”
The brat, showing a disappointed expression, muttered under his breath.
The rich are always stingier…
A complaint far too loud to be considered a mutter to himself.
The Grand Prince chuckled.
“If it were a matter of a few coins, I could grant it right here and now, but it would be wrong for the great Giftrang family to repay such a debt with a mere pittance. I myself might be reprimanded by the family head.”
Only then did the brat, who had been scowling, brighten up.
“Ah, and one of the demonic weapons is yours. The weapons of those defeated by your master have vanished, but the one from the man you defeated remains. It’s a sinister object, but with the right owner, it could fetch a handsome price.”
“I was planning on grabbing it on my way out anyway.”
His expression, which seemed to ask why he was trying to take credit for something that was already his, was truly brazen.
He was an irritating brat, as always.
But unlike before, it didn't seem entirely detestable.
“Then, I’ll be on my way.”
The brat gave a slight bow and left the barracks.
“A straightforward paladin and a cunning squire…”
Left alone, the Grand Prince chuckled.