Chapter 295
Chapter 295
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: End of the Expedition
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You got caught good.
Rishir intended to make the peddler, who had tried to swindle him and his blacksmiths so desperately, pay the proper price.
He planned to entrust the man with procuring the missing materials essential for restoring the sword forge.
Of course, for free.
If the peddler had succeeded in fleecing the dwarves as planned, the damages would have amounted to that much anyway—it was a fair measure, in Rishir's mind.
In this world, the lawlessness where the sword was sometimes closer than the law could be felt.
Rishir was delighted to glimpse a positive function in that lawlessness for the first time.
"Hero, even so, that seems too harsh...!!!"
"Oh, does it...?"
But when he conveyed the plan, the dwarves were horrified.
Rishir scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
Had he gone too far in casting aside mercy?
'Well, justification has its degrees... If I do this, there's no difference between me and that swindler—'
Rishir readily admitted he had overdone it.
"Alright, then—"
"First, let's burn that tongue of his!!!"
"Hm."
Rishir fell into contemplation.
What?
Too harsh meant it was too lenient?
Rishir found the lawlessness, which closed the distance so aggressively even when he approached just a little, burdensome.
"That bastard dared to use Your Excellency's refined reputation and status to intimidate us!!! Making him a mere slave is too merciful, isn't it!!!"
"Slave?"
That was why the dwarves were so furious.
They could tolerate the peddler trying to grab them—even overlook it.
Such money and equipment would pile up again while crafting weapons anyway.
But he had crossed the line.
To use the hero's righteous and upright character for intimidation.
To tarnish his honor and reputation!
Among dwarves, there was a culture of gifting a masterpiece named after oneself to a single hero.
In hopes that the masterpiece's name would rise alongside that hero.
And Mulrin and Dugan had already marked Rishir as the man for their masterpieces.
A hero whose fame hadn't spread yet—it felt miraculous!
To have their masterpieces alongside such a great hero, just imagining it filled their hearts.
That was why they prioritized restoring the sword forge over guild duties to win his favor.
And yet!
To dare blemish such a hero's reputation!
The dwarves were outraged as if someone had spat on their masterpieces.
"On second thought, there's no need to dirty Your Excellency's hands!!! Right now, toss that bastard into the furnace—"
"Y-You think you'll get away with harming me!? Do you know how many friends I have in Iphrien—"
"Who cares!!!"
"Th-These crazy dwarves!?"
The dwarves' eyes were rolling, truly intent on shoving the peddler into the furnace and melting him.
With a heavy strength unfit for their boyish faces, they hoisted the peddler up effortlessly.
Realizing they were serious, the peddler lost even his last shred of reason. He screamed in terror.
"Everyone! Calm down first!!!"
"My god! Even in this state, you're still embracing this trash with tolerance!?"
"How can you be so merciful...!"
"This trash!!! He must become the hero's slave and repay that grace for life!!!"
"U-Ugh... Th-Thank you... H-Hero... To think you'd protect me here... Th-Thank you so much for your mercy...!!!"
Rishir had tried to exact retribution on the swindler with malicious intent.
Thus, he became a saint of mercy and tolerance.
"Hm."
Rishir fell into contemplation.
A kind peddler who brings whatever anyone desires!
Thanks to his kindness, Rishir's group could join the expedition with light steps, free of their last worries.
They rode on horseback for a short while.
Then, a group preparing to depart, waiting for one person, entered their view.
"Whoa! It's grown again!!!"
That was Ratsil's greeting to welcome Rishir.
Seeing the dwarves' luggage, she realized they hadn't come just to see him off.
"Grown again."
Rishir let out a chuckle at the peculiar greeting.
But only briefly.
"...Huh?"
Rishir's expression slowly hardened.
"You. Returned?"
An elf group led by Guardian Karoer.
Ilratten expedition.
"Sir Rishir. You've returned. Good work."
A knight order led by Ares ye de Brienne.
Dragon followers.
"Oh, Sir Rishir...!!! I was about to come fetch you—"
A stone-hearted group of Amui warriors led by Delron.
Popandal's sword forge.
Members of the expedition, hearing of the protagonist's return, had all come to greet him.
From the left end to the right.
Rishir slowly turned his head, surveying the crowd surrounding him.
And adding the Granite Iron Guild that joined last.
"..."
Rishir suddenly recalled.
Ratsil's peculiar greeting just moments ago.
—Whoa! It's grown again!
At the time, he thought it was just her usual antics.
But now.
Looking again, his thoughts changed completely.
Rishir blinked and muttered.
"When did it grow this big...?"
Originally a small elite expedition centered on Ilratten's elves.
Before he knew it, it had become a massive one encompassing various groups and races.
As the expedition lingered near Iphrien for a while, rumors about them spread quickly.
"Hey, did you hear!? That elf expedition slew a dark swordsman in Tormun, got cheers from the townsfolk, and left—"
"What? Elves slew a dark swordsman for humans?"
"Nah, not that. There's this hero moving with the elves—he did it. Something about the owner of Yakjin?"
"The hero's traveling with the elf expedition? Why?"
"Who knows. Anyway, it's the hero, so he must have his reasons and plans."
"Ah, true. If the elves had weird ideas, the hero wouldn't join them. Huh? So that elf army isn't as dangerous as thought?"
"What's with all the commotion in town? Was Iphrien always like this?"
"You didn't hear? A few days ago, the elf expedition passed through."
"The rumored one!? How!?"
"They got a formal escort from the Ashen Order and city guards, passed straight through."
"The Ashen Order, those zealots, let the elves from the Great Forest into the city?"
"Not an army, just a normal procession. Y'know, nobles traveling in a group—"
"Then what's that? Elves starting a war—"
"Eh, common stuff. Much ado about nothing."
Their perilous passage through Tormun and Iphrien was finally bearing fruit.
The Ilratten expedition, once a target of suspicion in the area, had become an object of curiosity.
Moreover, the expedition's new members, not yet rumored, drew that curiosity in a more positive direction.
"What're those flags—de Brienne family? Why's a great noble's knight order with the elf expedition—"
"Dwarves? Am I seeing this right??? Why're dwarves with elves???"
People no longer avoided the expedition's path.
Instead, they detoured far to catch a glimpse of the famed group.
Unimaginable compared to the early expedition days, when they always took long detours to avoid chaos.
"We welcome your entry!!! If you wish, we'll prepare lodging for the entire expedition immediately!"
Even small towns now welcomed them with open arms.
Noble visits didn't stop while they stayed briefly.
Hoping to forge connections.
Thus.
The new expedition path was not just smooth—it was comfortable.
Time flowed steadily and swiftly—
"Ah! Sir Rishir! Come see this!"
"Delron? What's up?"
"From here, it's the Rehorn Highway! Follow this straight and—"
Delron folded the map, eyes shining.
"The next city is Bondalles."
The expedition neared its end.
"W-Wait a sec—"
Rishir stepped away from the procession for some alone time to think.
Returning to Bondalles at last made his heart flutter.
The journey, started by chance, had been so long.
Reflecting on it brought a wry smile.
"Hope everyone's doing well."
The girl in white. The golden-haired young noble. The resurrected killer ghost.
Rishir indulged in sentiment, recalling those missed faces for a while.
It didn't last.
A practical problem loomed immediately.
"Dingding..."
Rishir sighed heavily and called the young spirit.
The World Tree spirit.
—Zzzinnni!!!
What answered was the voice of the grayish fire clump.
—That super flammable one's sleeping right now!
"Title issues aside... Sleeping again? That thing?"
—Yes! That's right! It drained all energy transferring Zingni's power to the super flammable one!
The super flammable one.
The World Tree itself.
Lately.
The World Tree spirit had been as busy as its "mom"(?).
Growing in a foreign, barren, distant land.
It struggled to help the World Tree thrive.
The process:
Absorb tons of energy sleeping in mom's mental world.
Wake up, share it with the World Tree.
Sleep again to recharge—
—It inherited even a speck of Zingni's diligent virtue! Quite commendable for a flammable thing!
"Yeah..."
Rishir, who had watched the baby spirit's routine, felt the same.
Commendable.
But—
Too commendable, causing problems.
The baby spirit's vigorous activity.
Rishir harbored one anxiety.
'What if the World Tree grows huge and turns Bondalles into mini-Ilratten...?'
The World Tree was an undeniable sacred entity.
Its mere presence turned the space into a mystical land overflowing with pure energy.
Now.
Rishir considered it a done deal that some Ilratten elves would settle in Bondalles.
His worry stemmed from there.
'Surely... Many will take interest in Bondalles because of the World Tree.'
Ilratten elves were fine.
They loved and respected the World Tree above all.
But others?
Would those interested in Bondalles' changes have purely noble intentions like the elves?
'I have to handle it so no problems arise.'
Bondalles.
Rishir considered it his heart's hometown.
"Alright."
He reaffirmed his resolve to protect his hometown from the new changes unscathed.
His gaze turned to the demon sword in his luggage.
"..."
One clear realization from this journey—
The utility of power.
'If a problem can't be solved by force, maybe you just didn't have enough force...'
In a world where individual might could overwhelm groups.
The deterrent of overwhelming personal power far exceeded irrationality.
With enough power.
Any tricky issues in Bondalles' changing flow could be resolved sufficiently.
"..."
Sorting complex thoughts, Rishir soon nodded calmly.
Upon reflection, it wasn't a big deal.
The old days struggling to survive Bondalles' new environment.
And now.
Nothing changed.
Just striving for the best life in given circumstances.
"Wonder what'll happen once the sword forge is restored."
Rishir smiled expectantly at the demon sword.
The sun began to set.
The expedition set camp.
"Sir Rishir!!! No!!! This is our job!!!"
Rishir wandered groups to help with camp, but was chased away from chores without exception.
He ended up with unwanted free time.
"By the way—when will these demon swords wake? It's been ages since the sword forge broke—"
Then.
"Hm?"
Rishir noticed a commotion at the camp's edge and headed over.
Elves held the center, other groups encircled the outskirts.
The disturbance was on the outskirts.
Rishir stood and approached.
"Delron, what's going on?"
"Ah, Sir Rishir! Well—they requested to join us! Seems they want to spend the night near our camp!"
"Ah."
Rishir nodded.
Nights outside cities were pitch black.
Dark enough for anything to happen.
Small groups camping near roads getting raided by bandits was commonplace.
So, they wanted to spend the night with a large group like the Ilratten expedition.
Rishir looked at the small group.
A band of young women priestesses.
All beautiful.
The kind that evoked goodwill and sympathy over suspicion.
Rishir felt expectant gazes on him.
Not from the priestesses—from his comrades.
Popandal's sword forge.
Dragon followers.
Granite Iron Guild.
The young men of each group.
Their protective instincts stirred by the priestesses' pitiful aura, they hoped Rishir would accept them.
Expectancy mixed with faith.
Yeah.
The hero would surely do that!
And so.
Cheers erupted among them.
Indeed, the merciful hero didn't betray their expectations.
The priestesses were allowed to camp with the expedition.
"Thank you for your kindness."
The lead woman smiled meaningfully.
The serene night at camp.
Free time after dinner.
As everyone rested their way, an ominous vibe stirred in spots around camp.
"Ah, Priestess, you can't do this...!"
In tents.
Under trees.
In fields.
Some male expedition members were with the priestesses.
Very discreetly.
They approached the men with seductiveness unbelievable for priestesses.
The men were pinned before they knew it.
'This is wrong...!'
A secret tryst with a priestess, of all people.
They knew it was wrong, tried to push the priestesses away.
But.
Strange.
They couldn't push the priestesses off.
A sticky, viscous energy bound the men like slime.
"Don't be scared... We're just spending intimate time as man and woman...?"
"Ahh..."
"Close your eyes and stay still... I'll give you the best time..."
The 'priestess' smiled slyly at her prey.
—Hey Gallant!!!
Then.
A comrade's voice called the male member from outside the tent.
A smile curled on the priestess's lips.
Whether called or not, the man's attention was fixed on her.
Proof he was fully under her energy's control.
In this state, even slapping or cutting him wouldn't work.
The priestess drew closer.
Now, to thoroughly claim the defenseless prey—
—Hey, Gallant!!! You there!? The hero's doing something with that sword right now!
"Kyaaak!"
The priestess shrieked.
The man suddenly widened his eyes and bolted up.
"U-Ughhh... Th-That... I gotta see...!"
He staggered out of the tent without looking back.
The priestess blinked at his receding back.
"...What?"