The Song of the Knight
The hotel room I had arrived in was already spotless. The luggage that Lancelot had carried had vanished without a trace, leaving nothing but a single book resting on the table in my room.
[The Song of the Knight]
Tumbling and clattering, I immediately picked up the book and returned to the slums at a slow pace. From the open door of the dilapidated shack, the face I had seen earlier popped out and said,
“Cough! You never met that kid after all.”
“That’s right. Just let me rest here for a moment.”
“What? What kind of talk is that?”
I didn’t even wait for a proper reply and shoved myself inside.
The interior of the shack was bleak. There was no heating at all, so the cold from the floor rose straight up, and on the damp bed lay a soiled blanket caked with filth.
“When will people from Almans come?”
I had prepared myself to some degree, but the living conditions were far worse than I could have imagined. In such an environment, all sorts of illnesses could arise. Lancelot’s mother, for example, had been coughing nonstop right after I returned.
The moment I saw that scene, something inside me stirred. To dismiss it as just someone else’s story felt oddly off. The right word for the burning anger that rose was “unbearable.” No matter the win rate or justification, it simply would not die down.
“Cough! Cough! If there’s nothing special, they’ll come in the afternoon today. So hurry and go home.”
“Go home?”
“Yes. I already know you’re Lancelot’s friend.”
……I know you’re his friend?
Lancelot, that bastard, had left Roben without even listening to me. Friend, you say?
“That kid has a tendency to act cool toward those around him since he was little. I’m ashamed to say, but there will be times when you’ll need to understand him.”
“……”
I stared silently at Madam Armang. It was truly amazing how much her son’s face resembled his mother’s. That bitter smile at the corner of her lips, that resolute gaze in her eyes.
“Who in the Armans family is receiving money?”
“……The eldest son of Count Almans, Lord Martis du Almans.”
The woman’s face was full of worry. She probably thought they would cause trouble for me.
“Lord Martis? Why is that boy in Roben? Is Count Almans here in Roben?”
“Cough! Cough! No…… that’s not it… cough!”
Madam Armang waved her hand as she was violently coughing. Her trembling hands clearly proved how severe her condition had become. Watching her quietly, I spoke softly.
“I am the master of ‘Blessing.’ Do you know?”
“……I see. Lancelot, that boy, is also the master of Blessing. Thanks to that, he can become a member of a noble family instead of being a bastard.”
The reply was breathless and weak. Even without medical knowledge, it looked as if she needed to see a priest right away.
“I’m a little different from that guy. I have the power to see the future.”
“Fu, future……?”
Of course it was a lie.
Yet Madam Armang’s pale face turned wide-eyed. Seeing that, I let out an unexpected chuckle and continued calmly.
“If you want to help Lancelot, you’ll have to do as I ask.”
It was a plea disguised as a request. If Lancelot had seen this scene, he would have raised hell, but I didn’t care.
“A request? What kind of request?”
“I’ll give you money.”
Clink.
Still muttering, I pulled out a money pouch from my arms and held it out. It was money I had borrowed—well, temporarily stored—briefly from Madam Armang when Lancelot and I had come here earlier.
“Take this and go to the city church. Receive healing blessings from a priest. Also stop by the nearby bathhouse, bathe, buy clean clothes, and wear them.”
“……That money can’t be spent. You should know that better than anyone.”
“As I said earlier, Lancelot has never eaten any kind of pill. As far as I know, he’s never been injured badly enough to need holy water.”
I stated the facts calmly. She had been scammed. The worst kind of scam where her son was used as a hostage.
Why didn’t something like this exist on Earth? A famous professor on campus received a call saying his forty-year-old son had been kidnapped and transferred millions of won.
The world was like that from the beginning. After all, parental love was a power that could paralyze reason.
Anyway.
I somehow managed to convince Madam Armang. She left the slums, saying at the end that she trusted me because I was Lancelot’s friend.
……Well, I’m not his friend, after all.
* * *
“Donson. What’s so difficult about that idiot? Is receiving money that hard?”
“He said his head was spinning. Maybe he had a nightmare.”
The brown-haired man clicked his tongue.
What? Spinning head? That’s a pitiful excuse. Isn’t an agent making up such a lame story?
“Let’s drink. Let’s drink.”
“Young master, you’ve already spent all the monthly support money from the family. You should go home today……”
“I said I’m buying the drink! You idiots!”
“No. We’re on guard duty, so we won’t drink.”
“Fuck! Which knightly order are you guys? Huh? What’s your affiliation?!”
“T-The Luten Knights of the great Count Almans family!”
“See? If I buy the drink, you all drink it. Is that so difficult?”
The faces of the five guard knights turned pitch black.
It was well known that their lord, Martis du Almans, was a tyrannical thug. But they hadn’t expected him to be such a bastard that he would force alcohol on guard knights during duty.
Moreover.
“He’s trying to get money from Madam Armang again!”
The knights already knew Martis’s schemes inside out. He was lying about buying pills or holy water from Lancelot’s name so he could consume them himself.
So Martis strode through the slums with his knights. He plugged his nose with his fingers against the stench that stabbed into the lungs, and soon saw a bizarre scene.
“……Eh? Who are you?”
He had been trying to scare Lancelot’s mother and extract money, just as usual. But this was weird. A completely unfamiliar man was leaning against the doorframe.
“Are you Lord Almans?”
“Who the hell are you?”
Martis answered without hiding his astonishment.
Who was he? The eldest son of Almans, a family of counts known for swordsmanship in the empire—Martis du Almans.
Of course, he had been chased out of the family since childhood for his delinquent nature and was living in Roben far away… but noble blood was noble blood no matter where you went.
“I’m not someone you can face. I’ll show mercy this time, so get lost.”
Martis whispered coldly. He judged that it wasn’t worth causing a ruckus in front of the crumbling house where Lancelot’s mother lived.
“There’s one thing I want to ask.”
“Ask?”
“Give me Madam Armang’s money. Stop extorting her anymore.”
“Ha!”
Naturally, Martis’s eyebrows shot up.
“Crazy bastard! Everyone, draw your swords!”
Scritch!
No matter how much of a delinquent Martis was, a knight’s orders were absolute. The knights beside him immediately drew their swords.
“It’s just about not extorting Lancelot’s mother’s money.”
“Hmm, what? So you’re that kind of guy?”
Even though the five knights had completely surrounded him, Frey replied without being intimidated. Seeing that, Martis burst into laughter and shouted,
“Hahaha! Lancelot’s acquaintances? So what? What can you do? What exactly can you do to me?”
Martis thought the situation was hilarious.
Well, he looked like a noble young master too. That’s why he was puffing himself up like that.
But even if he was a noble, wasn’t he just some baronet from a backwater province? A true noble would have turned away from the foul stench of a bastard.
“Drop that ridiculous pride. Bastard. Get lost right now.”
Now that the point was clear, Martis shook his finger at the silent Frey. He could still leave now. It wasn’t worth chasing after him.
“……Leaving here is a bit difficult.”
Frey knew. If he left like this, those bastards would bother Madam Armang again in the future. And after that torment, her remains would be buried on the cliff by the sea.
“Are you out of your mind wanting to die?”
Martis looked at Frey’s rigid neck and shouted with a twisted face.
“Lancelot, do you have a debt to that guy? What do you want?”
“Debt? Yes. The value of a life, and the guy who helped me achieve my destiny.”
“Hah! What kind of talk is that? Are you a Golden Lion Knight?”
“No. Just someone connected by fate, like a friend.”
Martis could not understand the sudden intervention at all.
In the end, if it came to bloodshed, he would gain nothing at all. Yet he couldn’t understand why this guy was so confident.
Moreover.
“He hasn’t even learned mana.”
Martis’s anger was fueled by Frey’s rigid neck. Someone who hadn’t learned mana couldn’t defeat someone who had. That was common sense.
And.
They had five knights. All of them were active knights who had learned mana.
“Kill!”
Martis, having made his judgment, shouted.