Chapter 49
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 49
The Adventurers' Guild building in Beringen, nestled at the foot of a hill, was as quiet as an abandoned house. Not a single adventurer was in sight, let alone Dunkel. The only sound was the steady patter of rain outside. Inside, a young clerk sat alone by the fireplace, the sole guardian of the empty hall.
While it might have seemed defenseless, the true guild headquarters was safe within the castle atop the hill, so it mattered little if this outpost was ransacked. In fact, when war broke out between guilds, the locations of their command centers and gathering points were top secret. Only a fool would use their usual headquarters.
It was late. Midnight must have already passed, but with the sky obscured by clouds, it was impossible to be sure.
The young clerk, dozing in the warmth of the hearth, jolted awake at the sound of heavy pounding on the door. What’s going on? They said it was safe here.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Someone knocked again, and the clerk’s heart hammered in sync with the blows. He crept to the door and slid open the small viewing grate to peer outside. Wrapped in cloaks, the figures standing in the downpour looked like grim reapers.
The one at the front pulled back his hood, revealing a familiar face.
"It's me. Volka."
The clerk let out a shaky sigh of relief. "Whew… Volka, you scared me. You should have given some warning."
"Idiot, what if an enemy heard my name? Just open up, quick."
The clerk fumbled with the lock and swung the door open. Five figures, their cloaks thoroughly soaked, trudged into the building, dripping water onto the floor. The five- or six-hour walk from the Academy in the pouring rain had clearly been no easy feat.
Volka went straight to the fireplace, tossed in a few logs to stoke the flames, and hung his dripping cloak nearby to dry. Rickert, Boribori, Marie, and Delphi did the same, removing their wet outer garments. They sank into chairs, a collective sigh of relief escaping them as the strain left their legs.
Volka leaned back, tilted his head, and propped his feet up on another chair. "Ah… that feels good. I have no idea how I used to make that trip all the time. It's so fucking far, seriously."
Having graduated, the distance he had once traveled more than anyone now seemed dreadful. With his cloak off, Volka’s unusual armor was visible. Overlapping iron plates, resembling the exoskeleton of an insect, covered his entire left arm. Hidden beneath his clothes, more plates protected his chest and abdomen—armor designed to shield vital spots while maximizing mobility.
"Hey, take off your gear before you rest. You need to wipe the moisture off," Delphi said, already organizing her own equipment.
"Just let me rest for a minute."
"Sigh. If it weren't for me, you'd be a mess…"
With that, Delphi leaned over Volka and began helping him unstrap his armor.
Rickert, meanwhile, drew his sword to maintain it. Though it wasn't particularly wet, he wiped it down with a cloth before meticulously applying camellia oil. Marie and Boribori followed his lead.
As they sat catching their breath, the young clerk spoke up. "Volka, do you guys want something to eat?"
"Is there anything left?" Volka asked. Most of the necessary supplies had already been moved.
"Breadcrumb soup. We have jerky for meat, and a few potatoes."
"We'll have that, then."
The clerk, who had been guarding the building alone, brought over wooden bowls. He lifted the lid from a pot simmering over the fire and ladled out the soup that had been boiling for hours. He handed them out one by one. Rickert took his, blew on it, and took a sip.
It was a thin, watery porridge, moderately salty and made more for warmth than for flavor.
When Rickert was halfway through his soup, he looked over at Volka, who had stripped off his shirt and was wiping himself down with a towel, revealing a thickly haired chest and stomach.
"So, where are we heading?" Rickert asked.
"Kaits. We're going to join up with the Widowmaker Clan there. Our numbers are too small to hold a front on our own."
Clan Viola, with only four members, was a clan of the smallest possible size. In contrast, large clans could boast dozens of members, much like the difference between minor lords and great dukes. The largest clans could even sway the entire guild to their will, and in rare cases, some declared complete independence.
"And our mission?"
"Guarding a pass, basically."
"I guess no major fights have broken out yet?"
"I've heard rumors of skirmishes here and there, but it seems we haven't suffered many casualties. The guilds all seem to be testing the waters."
"Testing the waters how?"
"Well, they have to figure out who's friend and who's foe first, right?" Guilds could form alliances, but whether those alliances could be trusted was a judgment call left entirely to the Guild Master.
"So war is definitely coming, but nobody knows when it'll start for real."
"Yeah. But the signs are getting worse. The number of bastards loitering around with weapons is steadily increasing."
"What are the Widowmaker people like?"
"They're hot-blooded," Delphi answered in Volka's stead as she continued to maintain his gear. "The problem is, they're idiots."
"Ice is nearby too," she added. "I heard he's already killed five enemies. He's the enemy's number one target right now."
"If it's Ice, I suppose that makes sense," Rickert said.
"Ice…" Marie, hearing a stranger's name used as a benchmark, muttered it under her breath. At the sound, Volka and Delphi turned to look at her.
"You're Marie, right?" Volka said. "Sorry for the late introduction. I'm Volka."
"I'm Delphi. Nice to meet you."
"Hello, I'm Marie. I've heard a lot about you from Ricky and Bori."
"Drop the formalities," Delphi said warmly. "No need to stand on ceremony when we could die at any moment. We only just graduated ourselves." She sighed. "Volka, you're always so bleak." Then, turning to Marie with a comb in hand, she said, "Come here, let me brush your hair."
"Oh? Ah, thank… thank you…"
"Don't mention it. And speak comfortably."
After cleaning Volka's gear, Delphi was now gently brushing Marie's wet hair. Despite her boisterous first impression, she was a kind person who always put others first.
Rickert warmed himself by the fire, a brief wave of nostalgia for his Academy days washing over him before he turned back to Volka.
"Hey, Volka."
"Yeah, shoot."
"Do you think this war is worth fighting? Or are you just doing it because you're in the guild?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"If a new territory opens up, they'll need a new branch head, won't they? I can't spend the rest of my life as a hired sword, dragged from one fight to the next. I need to start building a life, preparing to settle down. Honestly, the North is a bit of a dump, but you have to seize an opportunity when it comes."
"Do you think you'll become a branch head when the war ends?"
"Who knows what the higher-ups will do? But since I live by the sword, it's not like I have other options. Once I save up enough, I'm going to clear some land and build our own manor. I want to live there with Delphi. Until we grow old and die."
"..."
Delphi, still brushing Marie's hair, said nothing. For once, she didn't offer a playful scolding; her cheeks just flushed with a faint blush.
"Volka seems like such an adult," Boribori said, helping himself to another bowl of the watery soup.
Volka just tilted his head back against the chair and chuckled. "I have to look out for you guys, too. I am the leader of Clan Viola, after all. If you have nothing better to do later, you can come plow the fields at our manor."
This time, Rickert chuckled. Just as he had been in the Academy, Volka was incredibly responsible.
"Let's rest here for a bit and head out in the morning," Volka announced. "Wash up if you need to. It'll be cold water, but we can't afford to be picky right now."
Just as he suggested, they warmed themselves by the fire a while longer before Rickert, Boribori, and Volka headed to the well in the backyard. The men washed by splashing cold water over themselves, while the two women used a tub filled with unheated water—better than nothing. Afterward, they dried their clothes by the fire and retired to separate empty rooms, men in one and women in the other, to catch what sleep they could.
The sound of rain drumming against the roof served as an excellent lullaby, pulling them into a short but deep sleep.
Patter. Patter, patter. Patter…
When morning came, they packed their gear and stepped outside to find a clear, bright sky welcoming them.
"Take care of yourselves," the young clerk said. It was admirable of him to guard the building alone, even if his duties were more about dusting than fighting.
The rain-soaked world looked fresh, but the ground was a muddy mess. It became more bearable once they left the city and started across the fields. The group followed Volka and Delphi southwest toward Kaits, a highland area where no one lived.
However, a long-abandoned defense tower stood there. Occupying it allowed one to control the surrounding region. Since anyone holding it could descend from the highlands to ambush the roads at will, failing to secure it made movement in the area extremely difficult. In short, it was a vital strategic point.
Volka led the way, scouting ahead, while Rickert brought up the rear. Though only a party of five, they maintained a proper formation. Open plains like this required even greater caution. The terrain was not perfectly flat; rises and dips in the land could hide features invisible from a distance. In spring and summer, the tall grass offered excellent cover. Enemies could lie in wait for an ambush, so they had to remain vigilant.
Rickert kept his senses sharp, but his keen intuition picked up no signs of danger.
The group quickened their pace. By late afternoon, they reached a landscape of gentle slopes covered in short grass and jagged rocks. This was the beginning of Kaits.
Just as they thought they had made it without incident, they ran into a group of five or six people. Hidden by a bend in the hillside, the armed men came into view only as Rickert’s party rounded the corner. Their gear was a mismatched collection, a clear sign they were adventurers.
They were roughly forty or fifty meters apart—an awkward distance. It was too far for a surprise attack, but too close to ignore. Close enough to exchange shouts, but far enough that they could have passed each other by. It meant one thing: both groups had been caught completely off guard.
"Hey!" one of them shouted. "What's your affiliation?"
The unspoken question hung in the air: Do we fight, or do we try to pass?
Volka glanced up the path toward the defense tower. More men had appeared there as if from nowhere, blocking the way forward. They were quietly watching the situation unfold below.
As the men below grew suspicious of their silence, Rickert quickly shouted, "Brabant!"
The Brabant Guild, along with the Beringen Guild, was one of the closest to the north-central region. Knowing they would never be on the same side, Rickert had gambled on the name. It was a quick-witted but flimsy lie.
"Brabant? Is Brabant coming too? Hey! Not the guild! Tell us your clan!"
The deception had failed.
"Let's head up," Rickert whispered, just loud enough for his companions to hear. "Volka, break through. I'll cover the rear."
"Got it."
Volka nodded. There was no time to debate. They couldn't run, either; shaking off pursuers would be far more dangerous. It was better to break through and join the Widowmaker Clan at the tower.
Without another word, Volka began walking casually up the path. Neither side had drawn weapons yet. As they closed the distance, the men above realized something was wrong.
"Don't come any closer! We'll consider you enemies!"
"Hey! You! Put down your weapons!"
"These bastards are from Beringen!"
With that last shout, Volka charged the men on the path like a raging bull. They were no novices; in an instant, they raised swords and maces to meet his attack.
A sword swung at Volka, but he deflected the blade with his iron gauntlet and slammed his body into the man.
Thud!
In the same motion, he hooked an arm between his opponent's legs, hoisted him into the air, and threw him bodily down the slope into the men below.
"Whoa!"
"Damn it!"
"Block them! Don't let them up!"
Even as several men tumbled over, those still standing desperately tried to hold the line. Volka drew a short, broad sword from his waist and fought with savage aggression—punching, throwing, and stabbing. It was a rough, wild style that left openings, but Delphi covered his back with flawless precision.
With a single clash, Volka broke through their line.
Marie and Boribori followed close behind. Rickert, his scabbard worn diagonally across his back, brought up the rear. An enemy lunged, aiming to stab him in the back.
But as if he had eyes there, Rickert suddenly spun, his sword flashing out.
Clang!
The enemy's sword shattered. Rickert’s meteoric iron sword continued its arc, slicing through the man's jaw and throat in a single, fluid motion.
"Urgh!"
Though one had fallen, two more rushed Rickert from either side. The broken blade of the first sword was still spinning through the air. The attacks were slightly staggered. Rickert met the one from the right first, thrusting his sword straight forward.
Clang!
Another metallic ring echoed. As the attack from the left cleaved empty air, Rickert twisted his wrist to disengage his blade and immediately swept it in a wide arc.
Whoosh!
The enemy closest to him was decapitated, while the one on the left had his windpipe slashed open. In a single stroke, he had cut down two men.
Only then did the broken blade finally clatter against a rock.
Ting!
The remaining enemies, who had been rushing forward, froze, stunned by the carnage that had unfolded in the blink of an eye. Ice had made a name for himself by killing five enemies, but Rickert had cut down three the moment he arrived.
Holding his blood-stained sword, Rickert stood on the gentle slope and looked down at them. The wind caught his red cloak, making it flutter.
One of the enemies stared at him, a look of dawning horror on his face. He pointed a trembling finger and screamed.
"You! The Red Cloak! Ricky the Red Cloak!"
"You know me?" Rickert asked, bewildered.
But the man didn't answer. Instead, like a shepherd warning of a wolf, he bolted across the highland fields, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"It's Ricky! Ricky the Red Cloak is here!"
The other enemies scrambled to flee after him. Volka, Delphi, Boribori, and Marie, who had been making their way up, turned around in confusion. The most bewildered of all was Rickert himself. What is wrong with them?
The enemies kept shouting the same name as they fled.
"It's Ricky the Red Cloak!"
"Ricky is here!"
Rickert had no desire to give chase, but he was curious about who they were trying to alert. He ran after them, rounding the bend of the hillside, and gasped.
"Ah!"
For there, swarming at the foot of the highlands in the distance, was an army. A force of well over a hundred men.
Volka and the others caught up, equally stunned by the sight.
"My god…"
"What is this… Are they actually fighting a real war?"
A guild war was usually a series of clashes between hired swords, mobilizing a few dozen people at most. Even a large guild wouldn't concentrate a hundred men in one place. This meant that multiple guilds must have formed a coalition.
Whatever the reason, one thing was certain: this was no longer a simple skirmish. This was war.
The men who had fled from Rickert were still running toward the massive force, their shouts echoing across the highlands.
"It's Ricky the Red Cloak!"
