The Knight's Song (1)
My body burned like a furnace.
The brief realization that hit me as I opened my eyes—after losing consciousness from exhaustion in the heat of battle—was nothing more than that.
*Swish.*
I sat up and scanned my surroundings. A tent, a military barracks, or a makeshift shelter. Fortunately, my sword lay quietly beside my head.
*This is...*
The barracks were impeccably tidy for the owner's temperament, with a warm stove at the center. Given the cold weather outside, he must have lit the fire just for me.
“Now that you’re awake.”
In the corner of the barracks, a man sat in a wide folding chair, reading a book.
Even without him glancing my way, he had clearly sensed my awakening. With his back turned, he flipped a page and continued speaking.
*Flap!*
“Identify your affiliation and name. As a mercenary contracted by the Empire, you will be treated comfortably without any inconvenience.”
“...”
Affiliation and name? I frowned, then exhaled a long sigh.
*No need to ruffle feathers.*
From the context, this unknown man was clearly the one who saved me. No reason to pick a fight.
*I could have been nothing more than prey for some wild beast.*
When I swung my sword at the last orc and lost consciousness, I woke up not in the freezing orc camp but in this tent—thanks to his mercy.
“Oak Mercenary Corps. Frey.”
I had already heard the name of the mercenary band from my conversation with Hans. I told him casually.
*Click.*
After that short reply, the man’s fingers, which had been turning pages gently, stopped moving.
He rose slowly from his seat and approached me with measured steps, sitting down beside the bed where I reclined.
*Tap, tap.*
“Oak Mercenary Corps, Frey. You don’t need to use honorifics. That’s not the culture of mercenaries.”
With those few words, the simple action that followed was nothing more than tapping my shoulder. Without further explanation, his heart seemed to pour through that gesture.
“You’ve worked hard. The Empire has triumphed. Your contribution on the front lines has helped bring victory to the Empire. And your comrades... their bodies will also be cremated and returned to their families at home.”
He hesitated for a long time before speaking, as if weighing his words.
*...Ah.*
The serious man’s face suddenly reminded me of something I had forgotten. I stared at him, mouth agape.
I knew this man. Better than anyone.
Brown hair, brown eyes, a firm jawline with a touch of stubbornness, and lips set in a straight line. His white armor was spotless, as if it had never known dust.
The Empire’s rising star, the man who would one day become the Empire’s most righteous Sword Master.
*Sir Lancelot.*
Sir Lancelot du Armand.
A character from *Silvering* was breathing right in front of me. For a moment, my breath caught. Imagine a character from a game, a movie, or a comic actually speaking to me.
*First name I meet in the game was Lancelot... Is this good fortune?*
I almost let out a laugh.
The reason was simple. I knew the future of Lancelot du Armand like the back of my hand.
*The perfect specimen of an honorable knight who lives and dies by honor. Yet a knight whose symbol of chivalry is haunted by a strong complex about money.*
Of course, he wasn’t the type to brag about wealth. If he had money, he would have shown it. This was the future Sword Master, after all.
*Swish.*
Sir Lancelot straightened his back and introduced himself in a low voice.
“Lancelot du Almans. Captain of the Golden Lion Knights.”
“As I said earlier, Frey.”
“...No surname?”
My immediate reply made Lancelot tilt his head, as if the lack of a surname was strange.
*...Surname? Did I have one?*
Sad, but I didn’t know. From the beginning, my name “Frey” and my affiliation “Oak Mercenary Corps” were both things I only learned after being captured by orcs.
“I don’t know. My memories are hazy. Maybe the head injury I got before being captured by the orcs... I can only remember my name now.”
“Hmm. That’s serious.”
“Anyway, where are we?”
“This is the knights’ encampment. I brought you here after you lost consciousness and treated you.”
That explained it.
The only thing certain was that this man was my savior in more ways than one. In such cases, one should at least express gratitude... but he asked a strange question right away.
“Are you not afraid of me?”
“What?”
What kind of absurd question was that?
*The representative traits of the named character Lancelot du Armand were the refined version of [Sword God], namely [Sword Demon], and [Genius]. He didn’t have the trait that instilled fear in others, [Intimidation], did he?*
“...No. You don’t need to answer. You’re different from ordinary mercenaries.”
Lancelot shook his head heavily. As expected, communication was difficult with this guy.
“Anyway, thank you, Lancelot du Armand. You saved my life.”
“Hmm.”
Was he misunderstanding?
Lancelot gazed at me with a complex expression, then turned and walked toward the tent flap.
“It seems I need some time to calm my emotions. I’ll bring something simple to eat in half an hour.”
“Also a drink.”
“Ha.”
*Flap!*
But...
A faint smile spread across the corners of his mouth as he left with that short sigh.
I watched his retreating figure silently, unable to stop my stunned expression.
*Smiling?*
...I didn’t think that kind of character would do that.
* * *
A shocking rumor spread through the knights’ encampment. The source was the low-ranking knight “Blabbermouth” Andrew.
*“A newly adult mercenary single-handedly slaughtered hundreds of orcs!”*
The seasoned knights scoffed at the news.
The probability of a brand-new adult mercenary being able to formally train in swordsmanship and mana was near zero. That meant it was almost certainly Andrew’s tall tale.
But...
“It’s true.”
Captain Lancelot, who had been on the mission with Andrew, ended the doubt.
The knights were stunned. A low-level mercenary who had solo-killed hundreds of orcs? It was impossible even if you scoured the historical records of the ages.
And right now.
“Captain! What about that mercenary?!”
“How is his condition? I heard his injuries aren’t severe.”
The knights, having heard that the protagonist of the rumor had awakened, swarmed Lancelot like flies.
“It’s interesting.”
“...!”
“...What?”
The knights in the encampment gaped at Lancelot’s reply.
Lancelot wasn’t the type to say something was “interesting.” For knights who had only seen training scenes of him swinging a sword since joining the order, it was an incredibly fresh shock.
“Captain, is it true that he killed hundreds of orcs?”
“I haven’t asked yet.”
“Wow!”
The knights’ exclamations filled the encampment.
If the site Andrew and Lancelot had investigated was really just the work of a cocky rookie mercenary, this was an enormous incident. At best, it could reach the expedition commander, and with better luck, even the great Emperor himself.
And the next steps were obvious.
An invisible war would erupt over claiming that monstrous man. He might not only receive noble titles but, with good fortune, even become the Emperor’s son-in-law.
*Whoosh whoosh.*
Even knights who lived and died by honor were unable to stay calm. Everyone began whispering among themselves. It was simply that the value of talent had become priceless in this era.
But then...
“Sir Lancelot. Why did you say he was interesting?”
Someone muttered as if amazed.
All eyes turned to the middle-aged man who had appeared, parting the crowd.
He was a knight in full armor, yet his belly was so thick it seemed he would burst at any moment. The other knights’ gazes toward him carried faint disgust.
“...Sir Gler.”
“It seems I’ve become interested. I’ve never seen Sir Lancelot call someone ‘interesting’ before.”
The middle-aged knight, Gler, shook his plump cheeks and spoke. As expected, he dismissed the rumor with contempt in his eyes, glancing around at the surrounding knights.
“It’s absurd! Where do people who believe such nonsense get their sense of honor...!”
“Tsk! He who has no honor himself and sends his subordinates to the battlefield only to flee.”
“What? Who just said that! How dare a lowly—”
A cold voice cut through the air at that moment. Gler’s face flushed red with rage as he roared.
“You, you damned fools! I’ll personally peel the skin off that liar and make him spit out the truth!”
*Swish!*
He drew the sword at his waist and strode forward. The destination was obvious: the tent of the mercenary who was resting—Lancelot’s tent.
“H-hey?!”
“Captain! You must stop Sir Gler!”
A few knights, startled by the sudden turn of events, shouted at Lancelot.
“...No.”
Yet what shocked the knights even more was Lancelot’s reaction.
He shook his head slowly with the same expressionless face he always wore. It was as if he was saying that there was no need to stop Gler; let things take their course.
“Ugh.”
Lancelot watched the knights rushing toward the tent and recalled the events from moments ago.
*Lancelot du Almans. That is my name.*
After Sir Lancelot’s introduction.
*Anyway, thank you. Lancelot du Armand, you saved my life.*
Even Frey’s greeting.
*Heh.*
Lancelot was simply blunt; he wasn’t stupid enough not to notice the difference between the two sentences. He immediately sensed that the man in that tent was someone who bore a similar... *blessing* to his own.
“...I should watch this.”
There were many things he wanted to ask him. Very many.
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**STYLED BLOCK 1 – NEWS HEADLINE (in-universe rumor bulletin)**
**STYLED BLOCK 2 – COMMENT (fanatic knight forum post)**
**STYLED BLOCK 3 – COMMENT (corrupt noble skeptic)**