Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Gunther the Beggar Knight (1)
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A squire's day is relentlessly busy.
From the crack of dawn, they rise to inspect and maintain their master's equipment, and it's no ordinary task.
Knights are experts in combat, veritable all-weather war machines.
Swords, spears, bows—if a man didn't have the sense to draw the right weapon for the situation, he couldn't be called a knight.
Naturally, the amount of gear they carried around was staggering.
And managing all of it was the squire's job.
Sometimes, they had to tend to the arms and armor without a break until the sun was high in the sky.
Add to that the heavy armor, which was hard to acquire and even harder to maintain, and a warhorse, and it was common to spend the entire day getting battered by steel and kicked by hooves, with no time left for training.
In that respect, Gunther wasn't a very demanding master.
All he owned was a single wooden staff, which could hardly be called a weapon.
There were no swords or armor to maintain, no warhorse to dote on, so I didn't have to waste any time on such things.
But to say I wasn't busy would be another story entirely.
I had to spend all day scrounging for food.
In a world where it was common to abandon one's own flesh and blood just to have one less mouth to feed.
“If you have any leftover food…”
“Get lost!”
It would have been stranger to get a good response.
“What’s this beggar doing here so early? Such bad luck.”
“Why is an able-bodied punk like you begging for food?!”
Curses and insults were the norm,
“You, stay right there.”
“What? You think you can dodge?”
And it was common for people to swing clubs at me without warning.
“Well, now. You’re a slow one, aren’t you? This is our elders’ territory.”
“For those who don’t listen to words, a club has always been the best medicine!”
The territorial squabbles of the beggars were an added bonus.
After being pushed around by people all day, the hours would fly by without me even realizing it.
Today was no different.
“Lucky me.”
At least today's haul was decent.
I looked at the iron pot cradled in my arms.
I can say with certainty that this pot was the most valuable of all Gunther's possessions.
I checked its contents.
A few pieces of bread, softened to a nice mush, in a watery soup I got from a kind old woman.
This would be our daily bread.
“Hee hee hee.”
The thought of eating my fill for the first time in a while made me feel generous.
Humming a tune as I walked, I suddenly stopped in my tracks.
“...What am I doing right now?”
In my past life, hadn't I made it all the way to a Shield Bearer?
A Shield Bearer was a combatant who could pull their own weight on the battlefield.
But now, I'm just an excellent beggar.
“Why. In the world. Am I. Begging.”
I cried out in frustration, but of course, no answer came.
What could I do?
For a while, I had to keep doing this, whether I liked it or not.
It might have been different in the central regions where public order was stable.
But the western lands, all but abandoned by the Empire, were no easy place.
The western Empire was a harsh monster that would devour a half-grown kid like me in one bite and not even burp.
Until my body had grown a bit more, I needed someone to act as a shield.
And that was Gunther.
“Once I’ve built up enough strength, I’m out of here.”
He might look like a beggar, but Gunther was a knight. He was more than enough to serve as my shield until I could be independent.
“Let’s see. I started growing around fifteen, right?”
I’m about fourteen now, so I just have to endure for one more year.
Fortunately, as long as I provided him with one meal a day on time, Gunther was a pretty good master.
Take today, for example.
“You have a talent for alms-seeking.”
Gunther, who had gulped down the soup with bread pieces so soggy they had completely dissolved, offered what he considered a compliment.
“I knew I was right. You’re an excellent squire.”
I was dumbfounded.
Where else in the world would you find a knight who says something like that just because you're good at begging?
“It's not begging, it's alms-seeking. How many times do I have to tell you?”
He's a knight, not an ascetic monk. What's all this about alms-seeking?
“...Anyway, it’s all good experience, so just do as you’re told.”
I gave a vague reply to his nonsense and, seeing my chance, got to my feet.
“Hey, you brat! You just ate!”
I casually ignored Gunther's nagging from behind me.
Having decided to strike out on my own soon, I had nothing to fear.
I ran along the city's edge, lightly warming up my body.
It was something I'd been doing consistently since returning to the past, so my body had already adapted to some extent. It wasn't as hard as it was at first.
“Good.”
Unlike the body from my past life, which was riddled with all sorts of scars and aftereffects from wandering the battlefields, this one didn't have a single creak in it. I was delighted.
After a few laps around the city's perimeter, I returned to find Gunther already snoring away.
I couldn't believe it. A man who called himself a knight was fast asleep, completely unaware of anyone coming or going around him.
Shaking my head, I was about to lie down next to him when Gunther's staff caught my eye.
It was a little long, but its straight form made it look perfect for use as a sword.
I unconsciously reached for the staff, then snatched my hand back in surprise.
“You want me to do that again?”
I had suffered my whole life chasing an impossible dream, only to die a miserable death. I had no intention of repeating the same mistake in this life.
I shouldn't. I really shouldn't...
I grabbed it.
When I came to my senses, the staff was already in my hand.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
I told myself.
This is just a habit.
In my past life, I never let a sword leave my hand.
What's the big deal about picking up a staff, which isn't even a sword?
Besides, I had a good reason.
In ten years, the Great War would begin.
A harsh era when the entire massive Empire would be laid to waste, and death would overflow throughout the world.
To survive in such a terrible time, I needed at least enough strength to protect myself.
Yes. Of course.
Having convinced myself, I cautiously thrust the staff forward.
I went through the swordsmanship moves I had learned over the shoulders of the many masters I had served.
“Hmm.”
Perhaps because they were moves I had forced upon my originally lame body, they now felt incredibly awkward.
If anyone saw me, they would think I was just a child flailing about, knowing nothing.
After catching my breath, I performed a few of the moves Roman had taught me.
‘If you ever display that rootless swordsmanship in front of me again, I won’t let you off easy.’
It was a swordsmanship that Roman had forced upon me.
In the past, I hadn't been particularly fond of these moves.
They felt awkward and uncomfortable for some reason.
I always thought that if I were to die, it would be because of this swordsmanship that didn't suit my body.
And in fact, I was mistaken for that foul-tempered man's favorite disciple because of this swordsmanship, tortured, and killed. So, my thinking hadn't been wrong.
In any case, it was a swordsmanship that just didn't suit me.
It was, it definitely was.
“Huh...?”
But right now, I couldn't feel any of the awkwardness or discomfort I had felt in the past.
Swish.
I thrust the staff forward.
The staff moved as if it naturally belonged there.
As if possessed, I performed several more moves in succession.
Thrust, slash, upswing, and downswing again.
Every movement flowed like water.
‘You’ve gobbled up a whole lot of what you didn't know would be poison.’
A phrase suddenly crossed my mind.
‘A cripple trying to force his body to copy things that don't suit it... that's why your body's balance is so ruined. Tsk. You're a lost cause for greatness.’
I remembered the image of Roman clicking his tongue, saying that the swordsmanship I'd picked up over others' shoulders had ruined me.
Ah.
I realized.
This was different from my past, where my body's balance had been completely destroyed from trying to mimic others' swordsmanship with my crippled body.
The disability that had followed me my whole life, the countless injuries from the battlefield—they were all gone.
That was probably why my current body could accept Roman's swordsmanship without any resistance.
I clenched my fists.
In my past life, I had watched Roman train countless times.
I had watched him over and over again, to the point where I could recall it all just by thinking about it.
When to breathe out, when to breathe in.
How to step, how to extend a hand.
It was all in my head.
So, what that means is.
“I’ll make it all mine.”
That sublime swordsmanship, which I could only drool over in my past life because of my broken body, was now mine for the taking.
Of course, it wasn't something I could do right away. Even with ample time, I didn't think I could become like Roman.
I'm not a genius like Roman.
‘You’re worse than a monkey.’
In fact, I was closer to a dunce.
“Still…”
Even if I fell short, just gaining what I could would be a profitable venture.
Roman's swordsmanship was what had made even the proud old sword masters of the Empire's Eight Great Sword Families exclaim in admiration that a true sword existed outside their eight houses.
Anyway, such a remarkable swordsmanship was within my grasp.
I tried to suppress my growing excitement.
This is just for self-defense, nothing more.
Repeating that to myself, I practiced the moves Roman had taught me.
Since I was learning it anyway, I would build from the basics, step by step, so as not to ruin my body by learning haphazardly like in my past life.
And so, if the opportunity ever arose, I intended to pay back the one who had made me a cripple in kind.
“Hoo.”
After swinging the staff for a good while, I was completely exhausted.
“...”
Panting, I glanced over at Gunther.
Snore, snore.
The sound of his rhythmic snoring.
“...Was it like this?”
Recalling Roman's sword dance in my mind, I swung the staff from left to right.
Ugh.
That simple movement was unbearably uncomfortable and awkward.
Just like when I had tried to follow the moves Roman taught me with my completely broken body in my past life.
Well, if I could do this, I'd be an Ascendant myself.
I tossed the staff aside and flopped onto my back.
And just like that, I fell asleep.
And then.
“...You son of a bitch, Romaaaan!”
I woke up screaming before the morning had even arrived.
“Again, again, again!”
Gunther snapped irritably.
“Who the hell is Roman that you make such a racket every night?!”
Ignoring him, I frantically felt at my chest.
Only after stroking the smooth, scarless skin several times could I finally breathe again.
Damn Roman.
Ever since returning to the past, I'd been plagued by nightmares.
The moments right before Roman's ascension replayed every night.
An inhuman sword dance would unfold, and I would watch it from beginning to end.
Then, our eyes would meet, a sword would suddenly appear in my hand, and I would have to fight for my life.
The Roman in my dreams was just as strong as the real Roman.
Especially his sword right before his ascension—it was more than a sword, something that far transcended the blade of a mortal.
The problem was that in my dreams, I had to face that sword-that-wasn't-a-sword.
How could that be possible?
The nightmare always ended with me flailing desperately before Roman's sword pierced my chest.
After waking up like that, I would have to sit there in a daze for a long time until the vivid sensation of my chest being pierced faded away.
That damn man.
To think I'd be tormented by Roman even after returning to the past.
Right. I'll just think of it as the price for his swordsmanship.
Hoo.
Shaking off the lingering nightmare with a single exhale, I forced my eyes shut.
Children need to sleep well to grow big and strong. Let's sleep.
If there was any consolation, it was that after having the nightmare once, I wouldn't have the same dream again that night.
“Stop looking for Roman and get some sleep. Huh? Please.”
Listening to Gunther's nagging as a lullaby, I tried to sleep again.
* * *
An uncomfortable bed, a terrible nightmare.
The quality of my sleep was awful, yet my body felt as light as a feather.
It was strange, especially since I wasn't eating well.
“Is it because I’m young?”
Then again, kids this age are usually full of energy.
Having convinced myself, I wandered through the city.
“That… that damn beggar is still loitering around.”
“The mood is already tense enough these days.”
It was a small shame to see people's kindness drying up with each passing day.
Still, wasn't there a single righteous person somewhere in the city who would show some kindness to a poor child?
But there wasn't.
“See? I told you, didn’t I? That thing’s iron!”
“It’s true! That pot, it’s real iron!”
“You brat! Hand over that pot right now!”
Instead of a righteous person, only beggars appeared, rushing at me to demand the one pot I had.
“You’ve been doing business in someone else’s territory, so you have to pay the price.”
“And it just so happens you have something suitable. Right there in your hands.”
“Hand it over while we’re asking nicely, and you won’t get hurt.”
The way they recited their cliché lines while fiddling with clubs worn smooth at the ends showed this wasn't their first time.
“Heh.”
I let out a small laugh.
What a coincidence.
Because it wasn't my first time dealing with something like this, either.
“I needed a place to test something out anyway.”
Just then, I picked up a small twig rolling by my feet.
Compared to their grimy clubs, it was a pathetic thing, but that was hardly a problem compared to the one they were about to face.