Chapter 35
Chapter 35
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Does Spring Come to the Stolen Fields? (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Ah, does spring come even to the stolen fields?”
“What’s with the sudden poetry after a warm meal? Did you eat something that went bad?”
“Shh. Just listen. This land now belongs to another—does spring come even to the stolen fields?”
Hattie Shaw tilted her head, watching Prometheus suddenly recite a line of poetry.
“Will spring ever come to these fields that were taken from us? Bathed in the sun’s rays, I walk as if in a dream, following the path between the paddies that parts the place where the blue sky and green fields meet. Ah!”
Prometheus gazed at the capital’s scenery beyond the spire, his expression filled with sorrow.
The sun had long since set, and even the moon was slowly fading from sight.
Despite the late hour, the capital was aglow with bright lights.
Beneath those lights, people were surely striving to rebuild the capital, to rebuild their own ordinary lives.
How difficult it was to lead an ordinary life. The word ‘ordinary’ was never something earned for free.
Not on Earth, and not here.
“Ah. To think an ordinary life could be this difficult.”
“Ugh. Prometheus, is it that eighth-grade syndrome or whatever acting up again? What kind of disease is that, flaring up at all hours? At this point, isn’t it incurable?”
Hattie Shaw sighed, vigorously scratching her arm, which was covered in goosebumps.
It was certainly a fine piece of poetry. It even mirrored the kingdom’s current situation. But why did hearing that man say such things with a serious face give her the chills?
“It’s just one of those things. How could you easily comprehend the spirit of resistance, the love for one’s people, the sorrow of a colony, and the will of those people to overcome it all, born from hot tears and simple emotions? It’s practically a required question on the university entrance exams, you know?”
“Ugh, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Stop with the nonsense. His Majesty wants to see you. He said if you’re up in the spire getting drunk and sentimental again, I’m to drag you down by the scruff of your neck.”
At Hattie Shaw’s words, Prometheus suddenly flopped onto the spire floor, let out a great sigh, and started flailing his arms and legs.
“Ah! I don’t want to! I want to stop working! Ah! A vacation! Where are the labor laws?! A 52-hour work week! A guarantee of at least 15 days of vacation a year!”
There he goes again. She had no idea what labor laws were.
But one thing was certain: he always said things like that whenever he didn't want to work, so she just learned to go along with it.
“Yes, yes, you can tell His Majesty the Emperor that yourself. Let’s go. There’s a mountain of documents to approve, and honestly, ugh. A vacation? What vacation? Don’t you know this is our busiest time? We’re already swamped with post-war recovery as it is!”
“Give me back the spring in my stolen fields—!!!”
***
“Puhahaha—”
A laugh suddenly burst from Hattie Shaw’s lips, as if the tense atmosphere from moments before had been nothing.
“Right. Spring does come to the stolen fields. Eventually.”
Now, over a decade later, Hattie Shaw felt she understood a little of what the man had meant by the poetry he’d mumbled atop the spire that day.
He had covered it with laughter, jokes, and games, but the expression on his face when he spoke those words had been real.
“We found the stolen fields, only to have them stolen once more. And an ordinary—”
“Ah. To think an ordinary life could be this difficult.”
Now, Hattie Shaw was the one whose fields had been stolen, the one waiting for spring more desperately than anyone.
It was something no one else could understand. A memory shared solely between Prometheus and herself.
She might not know the man’s true intentions, but he was definitely Prometheus’s disciple.
She wondered if Prometheus had told him even that, but in any case.
“A disciple of Prometheus, you say. What’s your name?”
At the question, Kratos nodded and briefly pursed his lips.
What name should he give? Kratos? Or a new one?
What kind of person should he be here?
All sorts of thoughts swirled in Kratos’s mind.
“Kratos. My name is Kratos.”
Yes, Kratos. In the end, the White Mercenary Corps and this place were both major currents in the river of revenge against the Empire.
Creating different identities would only complicate things. It was better to tie past connections together.
As long as their goals were all the same.
Besides, an alias was most useful for deceiving enemies, not allies.
“Kratos, huh. Hmm, yes. I have heard that name recently. From old man Hoare’s mercenary corps. The Ashar Desert, right?”
Hattie Shaw nodded as if she finally understood.
How intriguing it had been when the name of a new mercenary suddenly surfaced from the White Mercenary Corps.
She was well aware of the difficulties in the Ashar region, which made it all the more interesting.
“That’s correct. Are you acquainted with the Captain?”
“Well, you could say we’re acquainted. A relationship formed after Prometheus passed away.”
In that case, her true allegiance likely didn’t lie with the Empire. Mike Hoare wasn’t a careless man.
“Your appearance is different from what I’ve heard, so you must be in disguise. Hmmm. Alright, for now, I’ll believe that you’re Prometheus’s disciple. And that you’re not a pawn of the Empire.”
Of course, that didn’t mean she could trust this man completely.
“Well, that’s enough for me. As long as we can distinguish friend from foe.”
“Then why were you there? That place is a long way from the mercenary corps’ base.”
“To show that past connections are never forgotten. Even if I was a little late. It was his will, too.”
In response to Hattie Shaw’s question.
*Snap—*
“You. What on earth.”
Hattie Shaw stared at the restraints, which had been torn apart as if ripped to shreds and now lay fluttering on the ground.
He tore them with brute force? If it were an ordinary rope, maybe, but these were bonds that literally suppressed the flow of mana.
It was the kind of rope that required at least an Expert-level individual to break. Yet he had torn it so easily, without even breaking a sweat.
Once his hands were free, Kratos handed the potion he had bought at the temple to Haveron.
The man hadn't drunk a single drop of the potion he’d been given, instead pouring it all into Anya’s mouth.
“Use this to treat your eyes. With consistent treatment, you should see improvement.”
“Th-thank you. But who are you, to help us like this…?”
As Anya’s breathing stabilized, Haveron asked with a dumbfounded expression. To be in a situation like this so suddenly.
He still couldn’t believe he had escaped that hellhole. He had thought he would never be able to get out.
A full decade. Ten years he had lived only for Anya, worrying about how she would survive after he was gone.
Reading that expression, Kratos couldn’t stop the bitter feeling from rising within him.
“Thank you for holding on. And I’m sorry for being so late. I’m sorry, and sorry again. It took too long.”
“Could it be, really… that person. He… ah…”
His voice was thick with emotion. He had been so focused on Anya that he’d only half-listened to the conversation between Hattie and this man, but he had definitely heard the name Prometheus.
“Thank you for holding on. I’m sorry for coming so late.”
He held out the pouch of gold coins he hadn’t been able to give them the first time.
“Feed the child until she’s full, and survive. Then change your names and find a place to settle. This should be enough money. Please, take it, for Anya’s sake.”
This was the best I could do. For now. At least for now.
“Ah. Come to think of it, they said Anya was born with a blessing of mana.”
He recalled their conversation. A body blessed by mana. A child born with a talent for magic.
Even if she was too old to start learning magic now, she would surely become great if she began.
“A blessing of mana…”
“It would be best to be careful. They’re not fools; they’ll surely be looking for Anya.”
“Ah… I’ll have to hide her well.”
Haveron looked at Anya, who was sleeping peacefully, his expression dark.
He knew what a blessing of mana was. The potential to become a great archmage.
It wasn’t just a possibility. A blessing of mana was just that. It was the kind of talent that would allow one to use magic naturally, even if they never walked the path of a mage.
But to become an archmage, one needed to learn magic systematically. One could still use magic without it, but it would be a waste of talent.
The problem was that the only places on this continent to learn magic systematically were the Imperial Academy and the Mage Tower. Both were places they could never go.
The alternative was to learn from an unaffiliated mage, but she wondered if that long, patient road would be too harsh for Anya.
“I think I can help with that. I have a few people who are decent with magic. If she has a blessing of mana, it would be best for her to learn for her future.”
“Well. That would be a good thing. For now, you should rest and recover. Your eyes need treatment as well.”
“Thank you once again.”
Ten years of loyalty deserved to be rewarded. Even if everyone pointed fingers and called him a traitor, he had endured those harsh ten years with faith and loyalty alone.
“I’m so glad those ten years weren’t in vain, truly.”
Even if a potion and a few gold coins could never truly repay such devotion.
“Hah. What on earth…”
Hattie Shaw shook her head and scanned her surroundings. The capital was surely still in chaos. It seemed better to continue their conversation in a safer place.
“We’re moving! Everyone, pack your things! And clean up properly!”
***
Leaving the rainwater reservoir, they navigated a maze-like sewer system and arrived in the basement of a small house.
A basement they had dug themselves. Connecting a sewer to a private residence.
“You’re well-prepared in many ways.”
A headquarters in a residential area. He could guess what that meant. The basement was the main area, while the floor above was likely decorated like a normal home.
And what he could tell from this basement was that, as expected, Hattie Shaw was still running an intelligence organization.
But if this basement was all there was to it, then it was small. Far too small.
“Hoo. Everyone, rest. You’ve worked hard.”
Though much had changed, some of the faces here were familiar. They were faces he had surely seen coming and going in the Empire in the past.
It seemed they had all been living as fugitives from the Empire since that day.
All of them had dead eyes. The kind of eyes that had lost their light, their purpose. The people’s appearances were also far from good.
“An intelligence organization?”
“What intelligence organization? We’re just survivors. Survivors struggling to stay alive under the Empire.”
Hattie Shaw’s expression turned bitter. As Kratos said, she had tried to build an intelligence organization, but there had been far too many limitations.
The biggest problem among them was, in the end, money. Money. You needed money to acquire information.
“Is your goal revenge?”
“Revenge is a pipe dream.”
Even if they wanted revenge, their opponent was not one they could face. The current gap was like a band of back-alley thugs charging at the Empire.
“I heard from my master. He said he had never seen anyone better than you, Hattie Shaw, in the intelligence network. Can you rebuild the organization?”
Having been an information broker himself, he knew. Everything ran on money. Wasn’t that how he had met Hattie Shaw in the first place, through that line of work?
Her skills had been so highly valued that she had even been scouted by the Empire.
Kratos took out more than half of the gold coins he had brought from the vault from his inventory.
“What…”
Her heart pounded at the sight of the pile of gold coins before her. Her mind raced with all the things she could do with this money, things she hadn’t been able to do until now.
Hattie Shaw took a cigarette from her breast pocket, lit it, and took a long drag. The hand holding the cigarette was trembling slightly.
Establishing new information lines, repairing facilities, and taking care of her agents’ livelihoods. From one to ten, everything cost money.
“I know it takes a lot of money to build an intelligence organization. This should be enough to at least lay the foundation and maintain it.”
“...I’ll gratefully accept.”
When the cigarette had burned down close to the filter, Hattie took the money Kratos offered and put it into her dimensional pouch.
This was a time to choose practicality over pride. Especially since this wasn’t a trap and the man before her was an ally.
“What is your purpose? I mean, why show up now, after ten years?”
The one thing she was most curious about. What was the purpose of this man named Kratos standing before her?
After ten years had passed? Because he was Prometheus’s disciple?
That decade-long gap kept raising questions in her mind.
Did he need to build up his strength? Was there another reason?
“There were various circumstances that prevented me from acting for ten years. Unavoidable ones. But, I will say this clearly: my purpose is revenge.”
“Revenge…”
“The time will surely come. The day we reclaim our stolen fields and spring arrives.”
As Hattie Shaw looked at Kratos, his expression was filled with conviction.