Chapter 43
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 43
When the girl announced she was heading to Beringen Academy, Rickert and Boribori stared at her in silence. Technically, that made her their junior. Not that seniority mattered much, but it was a strange coincidence.
It was early evening. A faint trace of the sun still lingered in the navy-blue sky. From across the campfire, Rickert spoke up.
“Why there?”
“I have to enroll. And…”
Rickert and Boribori waited for the girl, who had buried her face between her knees, to continue.
“I have to be number one there. No matter what.”
“…Why?”
“Because… that’s the only way I’ll be useful…”
“Useful for what?”
“Just… for everything…”
She clearly had her reasons—secrets she couldn’t share. Rickert and Boribori didn’t pry any further.
“Well, that’s a relief. We’re heading to Beringen Academy, too,” Boribori said.
The girl’s large eyes widened, and she lifted her face from her knees.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you guys enrolling there, too?”
“No. We enrolled about a year ago.”
“…What do you mean?”
“It’s an academy for adventurers. We can take on requests from time to time. We’re on our way back after finishing a job,” Rickert explained casually.
He made it sound like nothing, but they were actually returning from wiping out the notorious Ehrenberg Quintet—a group that had included one of the Nine Swords of the Empire.
“Oh… Wasn’t it dangerous?”
“Of course it is. But what can you do? If you want to be an adventurer, you have to live with one foot in the grave.”
“I… I guess so…”
“Why? Does that make you want to back out?”
“No. Actually, I think it might be better that way.”
“You must have been treated pretty harshly at home,” Rickert remarked.
Aside from himself, he had rarely met an academy student who had been treated like a proper child by their family.
“Something like that… But I want to achieve something with my own hands. Being an adventurer feels freer than being a knight. I think the danger is just the price of that freedom.”
“Optimistic, aren’t you? But you’re right. You aren’t bound by oaths. Still, you have to establish your own principles, which are just as important. Otherwise, freedom just becomes self-indulgence.”
“…”
The girl fell silent, momentarily stunned by the maturity of his words.
“…Then what are your principles?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m at the academy. To find them, one by one.”
The girl fell into thought for a moment before speaking again.
“Anyway, that means we’re all from the same academy, right?”
Though they had only just met, that single fact seemed to lower her guard and bring her a great deal of comfort.
“What’s your name?” Rickert asked.
“Ah, um… Marie. What about you guys?”
“…”
Marie shared her name and asked for theirs in return, but for some reason, the two boys just stared at her with skeptical expressions.
“W-what? What is it?”
“You’re a noble, aren’t you?” Boribori asked bluntly.
Marie flinched.
“Uh, n-no. I’m not.”
It was a terribly clumsy lie.
Rickert was naturally sharp as a whip, and Boribori, having been on the receiving end of that keen intuition many times, had developed an instinct for it himself. Frankly, they didn’t even need intuition. She was incredibly obvious. Besides, hanging around Rickert had taught Boribori much through osmosis, and observation was one of those skills.
Boribori pressed her. “Custom-made armor? Your family must be loaded.”
“W-well, yes, but… just because someone has money doesn’t mean they’re a noble.”
Marie was visibly flustered. Since she was clearly trying so hard to hide it, Rickert and Boribori didn’t push any further. Besides, Rickert himself had hidden his own noble background.
“Sure, whatever. I’m sure you have your reasons. But at the academy, nobility doesn’t mean squat. We’re all just students. So don’t take offense if we treat you like one.”
“I won’t. Of course I wouldn’t.”
“Yep, definitely a noble.”
“N-no! That’s not what I meant.”
“Rickert.”
“Huh?”
“I’m Boribori.”
“Uh…”
“I know. My name is weird. But Bori-style Swordsmanship is going to be awesome.”
“…”
To Marie, they seemed like a couple of oddballs. Fortunately, she didn’t sense any malice from them, but they were definitely strange.
Yet, that strangeness carried weight. Despite their youth, the two boys seemed completely fearless. Even though they were around her age, they faced the world head-on. There was something subtly cool about that, and it gave her courage. How could they be so relaxed?
“Anyway, you’re going to have to work really hard if you want to be rank one,” Boribori said.
“Huh? Oh, but I’m actually pretty confident in my swordsmanship. It might be hard right away, but I’ll definitely reach number one.”
“Sure, sure. Give it your best shot,” Rickert said dismissively, poking the campfire with a stick.
Currently, the number one rank at Beringen Academy belonged to Rickert. Since he was strong enough to kill one of the Nine Swords of the Empire, it was virtually impossible for any ordinary student to take the top spot from him. But thinking back to his past with his eldest brother, Rickert was the type who would rather avoid a fight than start one.
“By the way, isn’t it a bit early in the year to go swimming?” Boribori asked, referring to her flailing in the river earlier.
“I just… wanted to escape, I guess…”
“You’re going to get yourself killed like that,” Rickert warned. It wasn’t a statement of worry, but a cold, hard fact.
“Sorry…”
“Nothing to be sorry to us about. Anyway, let’s get some food in us, sleep, and head out early tomorrow.”
“…Thank you.”
Rickert and Boribori decided to eat their heaviest rations first to lighten their load. Roasting potatoes and sweet potatoes in the embers and pairing them with salted meat made for a decent meal. Marie, it turned out, was not a picky eater.
After they ate, Rickert took off his cloak and draped it over her. Marie fidgeted, her eyes darting around.
“Th-thank…”
“Only say it once in a while.”
“Huh?”
“‘Thank you’ and ‘sorry.’ Keep them rare. If you say them too often, they lose their weight.”
“Okay…”
With that, Rickert shared a single cloak with Boribori. Leaning against a rocky outcrop, they watched the campfire and rested. Before long, the sky turned pitch black, and the stars began their silent song.
Marie still couldn’t fully let her guard down, and sleep remained elusive. Besides, sleeping outdoors was incredibly uncomfortable. But when one is physically and mentally exhausted, a full stomach inevitably coaxes them toward slumber. The crackling of the campfire sounded like a lullaby.
In the dark, early hours of the next morning, Rickert stamped out the cold embers. He then turned to Marie, who stood awkwardly in his borrowed clothes, still wrapped in his red cloak.
“Your gambeson isn’t dry yet. It’s better if I wear the armor.”
A gambeson was a thick, padded jacket worn under armor. It offered some protection on its own, making it a popular choice for many. However, because it was stuffed with cotton, it was difficult to dry completely in a single night, even by a fire.
“Oh, okay.”
“You carry the helmet and the gambeson.”
“Okay.”
Rickert put on the mail armor Marie had been wearing. After fastening the belt around his waist, he handed her a sword.
“And this. Use this for now.”
It was Steiner's Sword. Marie had lost her own sword, leaving her with only an empty scabbard. Judging by its size, her usual blade was likely similar in length to Steiner's.
“Don’t wear it on your waist. It’s better to sling it over your shoulder like I do.”
“Okay.”
While she could wear it at her waist, the uneven weight distribution would quickly tire her out on a long walk. Unless custom-made, combat gear was generally designed for adult men, so carrying it in a way that suited one’s body was crucial. Marie’s armor was custom-made, but her sword was not.
Rickert explained everything, down to the smallest detail. He didn’t know how good her swordsmanship was, but her field survival skills were severely lacking.
Field survival skills were the collective ability to sleep, eat, walk, run, and adapt to any situation, whether it was raining or snowing. It required physical stamina, but mental fortitude was just as important. In other words, while swordsmanship was obviously important, survival skills were far more critical in real combat. Countless warriors had died simply because they grew too exhausted to use their true abilities.
On top of that, superior combat capability required sharp judgment, decisiveness, focus, tactical understanding, courage, and patience. Rickert was strong not just because of his transcendent swordsmanship, but because his proficiency in all these other areas was second to none.
As they finished preparing to set off, Rickert gave Marie one last instruction.
“Put your hood up.”
“Huh?”
“Lest you attract pests.”
Marie flinched, wondering if she smelled bad. But that wasn’t what he meant.
“You’re pretty.”
At Rickert’s words, Marie froze. She had never heard someone call her pretty so directly. She had heard plenty of soulless, roundabout compliments wrapped in flowery language, but never this. Her face flushed hot, but fortunately, the dawn was still dark enough to hide it.
“Oh, u-uh…”
Marie pulled up her hood, trying her best to act nonchalant.
“Let’s go,” Rickert said dryly, turning to lead the way.
And so, the three of them began their walk toward Beringen Academy.
As they followed the path through the fields, the sun slowly rose. The dawn-lit landscape was the color of the deep sea. Soon, sunlight rolled out like a carpet, revealing lush greenery damp with melted snow.
Rickert and Boribori walked along, trading jokes and teasing each other. Boribori told Rickert the armor suited him, suggesting he should become a knight instead of an adventurer, and even joked that he should start practicing horseback riding. In truth, what made knights terrifying was their mounts. No matter how well a person mastered mana, being trampled by a galloping warhorse would shatter their bones. Furthermore, a knight’s mobility and utility in battle were far superior to that of an ordinary swordsman; they were essentially formation-breaking chariots. However, mounted combat was not a skill one could master in a year or two. It was an advanced martial art that required at least a decade, if not a lifetime, of dedication. The downside was the exorbitant cost. The price of the horse itself was one thing, but the maintenance was a bottomless money pit.
Marie felt slightly left out, but since the two boys weren't intentionally excluding her, she gradually grew closer to them. In fact, their casual treatment was more comfortable for her than being fussed over. They looked after her in their own nonchalant way, just as the Nameless had.
When Boribori mimicked her earlier attempt at sounding like a grown man, Marie, flustered, told him to stop, which made Rickert burst into laughter.
Compared to when they had first left the academy, their steps were light. Marie also felt her fear of the unknown begin to fade. After all, when you are young, the most terrifying thing about going to a strange place is being alone.
The three of them took plenty of breaks along the way, and it almost felt like they were on a picnic. Eventually, Marie let her guard down enough to let out a bright, ringing laugh. Her radiant smile made her dazzlingly beautiful—so much so that one would completely forget her ill-fitting clothes and shabby appearance. Though they hadn't noticed before, Marie had slightly prominent front teeth, like a rabbit's, which only added to her charm.
The two boys, however, simply treated her for who she was rather than focusing on her looks. And Marie, freed from her suffocating, cage-like life and its rigid etiquette, was genuinely enjoying herself. Anxiety and excitement were two sides of the same coin, and thanks to the two of them, Marie felt thrilled rather than anxious.
But as dusk fell and darkness began to blanket the world, their lighthearted joy seemed to fade with the sunlight.
Having already calculated the distance, Rickert and Boribori arrived right on time at a roadside tavern and inn.
Its name was ‘Anna’s Loss.’ It was the very place where they had first met the Nameless after leaving the academy that winter.
A sudden wave of emotion welled up inside them, and a heavy weight pressed down on their chests. They didn’t let it show on their faces, but Marie sensed the subtle shift in their mood and fell silent as well.
When they pushed open the tavern door, a foul stench greeted them. The eyes of the rough, filthy-looking patrons inside immediately locked onto their group.
But Rickert simply walked forward with steady steps, approaching the bartender he had spoken to briefly a month and a half ago. The bartender didn’t recognize them at first, but his face soon lit up with recollection.
“Oh? You guys.”
“Long time no see. We’d like to get some food and a room.”
“Uh… by the way, where are you coming from?”
“The north.”
“The north? Ah, right. Didn’t you say you were taking on a request?”
“They’re dead.”
“Huh?”
“The Ehrenberg Quintet. They’re all dead.”
“…”
It was utterly unbelievable, and the idea that these two boys had done it was even more absurd. The bartender could only stare in bewilderment, certain it had to be a bad joke.
Just then, someone called out to Rickert.
“Hey, look. What’s a little knight doing here?”
Rickert’s build was far from that of a knight, so the sight of armor tailored for his still-growing frame did look somewhat comical. Ignoring the voice, he spoke to the bartender.
“Do you have rooms or not?”
“Huh? Uh, yeah, we do, but things are a bit different around here now. So…”
The bartender couldn’t finish his sentence. The man who had called out to Rickert stood up and approached them.
“I asked what you’re doing here, little knight.”
Rickert turned to face him. He was a tall man with a broad face. If it was just harmless teasing, Rickert wouldn’t have minded, but he had a feeling it wouldn't end there.
“Bori, give me your sword.”
Rickert unslung the sword from his shoulder and handed it to Boribori.
“Got it.”
By now, they didn’t need long explanations. The space was cramped, so Rickert was borrowing Boribori’s shorter blade. Boribori took Rickert’s sword and handed his Ghost Sword over in return. Then, he grabbed Marie’s arm and pulled her behind him.
Still wearing her hood, Marie looked around in confusion and fear. A foul-smelling tavern filled with sinister-looking people—she had never been anywhere like this before.
Rickert held the Ghost Sword in one hand. “Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want.”
“What?”
“If you want our gear, just come at us. Don’t pick a fight like a coward.”
“…Ha!”
The man scoffed in disbelief. He glanced back and gave a nod, and a crowd of men sitting at two tables rose all at once.
Seeing this, the bartender quickly backed away. Unlike two months ago, this place was no longer a neutral zone. The underworld, by its very nature, was a place of constantly shifting territories. The Arisen Brotherhood was gone, replaced by a new power, and the rules of the street had changed with it.
The man turned back to Rickert. “Fine. I’ll speak plainly. Hand over everything you’ve got. Your money, your gear, every single thing.”
“Then try and take it.”
With those words, Rickert drew the Ghost Sword in a flash of lightning.
The men standing behind the leader saw a blur of motion, but they couldn’t perceive what had happened. A moment later, however, the man’s thick neck slowly tilted before his head slid off and thumped to the floor.
At the same time, Rickert kicked the still-standing torso. The corpse fell backward, spraying a fountain of blood over his companions.
Whether due to the quality of the blade or the sheer skill of its wielder, not a single drop of blood stained the Ghost Sword.
Rickert spoke.
“Next.”