Chapter 57
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 57
Becoming a branch head was a highly complex affair.
First, one had to sign a contract with the guild, an agreement akin to vassalage. In an era with poor transportation and communication, a branch head enjoyed near-total autonomy. In return, they were obligated to provide supplies and military force to address guild-wide issues when called upon.
Conversely, the guild was obligated to provide the branch head with initial settlement funds and protect the branch. It was a reciprocal contract.
Second, the branch head had to integrate into the local region, which was the truly difficult part. They had to present gifts and tributes to the local lord to secure a business license, then establish roots in the area—either by cooperating with existing local factions or, if necessary, crushing them.
Although the Beringen Guild had already established a foundational contract with Duke Siegfringer, this was still a feudal society. The branch had to sign separate agreements with the vassals serving under the duke.
Once they secured business rights, defeated rival organizations, and successfully took root, they had to manage people. The branch head's clan, which signed the contract with the Guild Master, was known as the 'Core Clan.' But a Core Clan alone was not enough to run a branch. They had to gather and manage adventurers, ensuring they could carry out requests smoothly without causing trouble.
Assembling competent and trustworthy people was hard enough; managing them was an immense challenge where most problems erupted. When necessary, the branch head had to expel them, coax them, browbeat them, or even eliminate them.
The responsibility for all of this now rested on Volka's shoulders. Rickert and his friends had to help him ensure the branch stabilized and ran smoothly.
"Simple, right? First, go to Count Reinhold and give him his gift. Since we already have a contract with the duke, he'll accept it without a fuss."
It was anything but simple, yet Sally spoke as if it were a stroll in the park. Rickert hadn't known it before, but she was the Vice Master of the Beringen Guild.
Across the table from her sat Rickert and his companions, staring with dazed expressions. A mountain of empty plates was piled high in front of Sally.
"What? First time seeing someone eat?" Sally asked, accepting another plate from the server. On it was a whole boiled chicken. The server wore the same stunned expression as Rickert's group.
"...No. It's just, you have quite an appetite, yet you maintain your figure so well," Delphi commented.
"That's because I move around just as much. Ever since that bastard Dunkel became Master, he hasn't lifted a finger. He's gotten completely soft."
She grumbled while tearing the chicken apart with her bare hands and stuffing it into her mouth. Was that her third chicken already? Is that even possible?
Rickert stared in utter bewilderment before gesturing to Volka that it was time to leave.
"Uh, well, we'll be on our way then."
"Sure, sure. Work is work, but hostile guilds are still lurking around there, so watch your backs."
"Yes. You too, Sally."
Rickert and Volka left the inn, each carrying a chest. They weren't large, but they were incredibly heavy, filled to the brim with silver coins—the initial settlement fund from the guild.
The two went to the stable, placed a cloth over a donkey's back, loaded a chest on each side, and secured them tightly with ropes.
Boribori stroked the donkey's head, feeding it a carrot. "Let's go, Magnoli."
Magnoli, a name Boribori had whimsically derived from "magnolia," was the clan's very first asset and highest-priority property. It was special to all of them.
Boribori took the reins and led gently. Magnoli began to follow, its hoofbeats clacking on the ground.
The destination for Clan Viola was Ehrenberg—the former stronghold and primary playground of the Ehrenberg Quintet. It felt symbolic. Since Rickert was the one who had eliminated them, it was almost like claiming a trophy of war.
On the other hand, it was also the location closest to the hostile guild, Lucerat. This made it a frontier, the current front line. Establishing a foothold there was Clan Viola's assignment, a dream that five youths, none yet twenty, had to build from scratch.
*
"Ah, so you are the boy hero, the Red Cloak. Then, you must be Boribori the Dismemberer?"
A man with an impressive mustache, curled at the ends, spoke as he pressed his signet ring into a pool of red beeswax. This was Count Reinhold, the lord of Nordrhein, the territory that included Ehrenberg.
The Count had been looking at Volka, who quickly corrected him, "No, Boribori the Dismemberer is this guy," pointing at Boribori.
"Eh? This innocent-looking boy? That's rather chilling. To think he enjoys hacking people to pieces with such a harmless face."
"I don't enjoy it..." Boribori muttered.
"At any rate, I have received the gifts. You have my permission to conduct business in Ehrenberg. However, I will not protect you. I have also taken money from other guilds and issued them permits. Slit each other's throats for all I care, but do not harm innocent people. I'll turn a blind eye to a certain extent, but... well, you know the drill. I won't lecture you."
On the Count's desk sat one of the chests filled with silver coins. Half of their initial settlement fund was gone. In this era, there was no concept of bribery; offering gifts when obtaining a business permit was standard procedure. There was no fixed amount, and if a lord simply disliked you, even ten million gold pieces would be useless. Fortunately, Count Reinhold was a pragmatic man.
To him, it was free money, and having a reliable adventurers' guild in his domain was convenient. They stabilized public order, and if any troublesome matters arose, he could commission them. Mobilizing an army or hiring mercenaries was a heavy burden for a count. It simply wasn't cost-effective to deploy fully armored knights on warhorses just to swat a fly.
Thus, adventurers' guilds and noble lords shared a symbiotic relationship, much like the crocodile and the plover bird.
"Still, eliminating the Ehrenberg Quintet was like pulling a rotten tooth. Out of respect for the Red Cloak, I will personally speak to the mayor and have him find a good building for you. Is there anything else?"
Volka glanced back at his friends before answering. "No, my lord. There is nothing."
"Very well. I wish you good fortune. You may leave."
Holding the crucial business permit, Rickert and his companions left Count Reinhold's castle. The ancient, renovated fortress was far grander than the castle in Rickert's hometown of Stormherz. Yet even a lord living in such a place found it difficult to mobilize an army, forcing them to arm themselves and fight in person.
Magnoli the donkey walked toward Ehrenberg, carrying a much lighter load.
The journey from the Count's castle to Ehrenberg took a day, forcing the group to camp outdoors. Having a donkey made a massive difference. It allowed them to carry more gear, pitch a decent tent, and pack pots and tableware for a more varied diet.
Spring was drawing to a close, and the weather was perfect. The nights were still chilly but incredibly warm compared to winter. In the north, the grass grew short, but the fir trees were thick, straight, and tall.
Their shelter was barely a proper tent, but the tough canvas draped over branches was enough to block wind and rain. With the ropes pulled taut and stakes driven into the ground, there was plenty of room for five people inside.
They built a fire and fed the donkey dried bean stalks. While one washed the pot and fetched water, another chopped fruits and vegetables. The five of them truly felt like a family. Rickert and Marie sat close together, preparing their meal like a young married couple.
"Did I slice these too thick?" Rickert asked as he chopped a turnip. He was used to just eating whatever was available; actually trying to cook made him feel clumsy.
"Give it here. I'll do it," Marie said. She took the turnip and, without a cutting board, sliced it into pieces with a sharp dagger, tossing them into the pot.
Watching her, Rickert suspected she didn't really know what she was doing either. Noticing her bangs kept falling into her eyes, he reached out and tucked the stray strands behind her ear.
Rickert was oblivious to the fact that such a casual, thoughtless gesture could make Marie's heart flutter.
Despite her noble background, Marie never shied away from hard work. She didn't seem to care if her appearance got a little messy. Even with tangled hair, disheveled clothes, dirt on her face, or stains on her garments, her beauty never faded. If anything, she seemed to shine even brighter.
The dish they were making was a hodgepodge stew, less "cooking" and more "boiling whatever we have in a pot." Its only merit was likely a balanced intake of nutrients. They ended up with a strange concoction that was neither soup nor porridge, scooping it into their bowls. It tasted decent enough.
"So, what do we do now?" Delphi asked, blowing on her hot stew.
"We meet the mayor and establish the branch, right?" Volka replied, as if stating the obvious.
"No, that's not what I mean. That's just procedure. I'm talking about our enemies. Do you think they'll just leave us be?"
"...Right. That is a headache."
In the Kaits Highlands, the enemies had been clear. Their numbers were a problem, but the targets were obvious. Here, there was no telling when, where, or how they would strike.
"I have a solution for times like this," Boribori said confidently, catching everyone off guard. As they all stared at him, he grinned and shouted, "Ricky-Ricky, help meee!"
Rickert burst out laughing at the absurdity. What on earth was "Ricky-Ricky"?
"I don't have a perfect solution either," Rickert admitted. "The most surefire way would be to lay waste to the enemy's stronghold. Whether it's Brabant or Lucerat, invading their headquarters and killing everyone would solve it cleanly. But since that's not feasible, we should gather information first. Figure out who the enemy is and how they're moving."
"Should we pay a visit to the Thieves' Guild?"
"That'll probably be hard," Boribori said.
"Why?"
"Because we smashed them all to pieces last winter."
"Mmm..."
Their absurd achievement of wiping out criminal organizations across the region had been largely thanks to the Nameless. He was an excellent vanguard. As long as they backed him up, they could sweep through almost any organization. Volka was also a vanguard, but he was nothing compared to the Nameless.
"First, we need to build our influence with the help of the locals," Rickert said. "I heard the Masons' Guild is famous in Ehrenberg. Why don't we visit them first?"
There were all kinds of guilds in the world, associations formed by people in the same trade to protect their interests. They were local by nature and wielded immense influence. In this era, any business required enough martial power to protect itself, so merchant and craft guilds could not be underestimated. Blacksmiths' and masons' guilds, in particular, were filled with members as fearsome as professional brawlers due to their grueling work.
"But don't Thieves' Guilds just grow back like poisonous mushrooms, no matter how many times you wipe them out?" Delphi asked.
"That's true. But would they look kindly on us?" Rickert was skeptical, given their actions last winter. He wasn't opposed to partnering with a Thieves' Guild if needed, but they were the kind of people you gained nothing from associating with.
"I'll handle that. I have a rough idea," Volka said. While he couldn't devise brilliant strategies like Rickert, he was better at handling people—coaxing, soothing, and blackmailing. He knew how to show strength to the arrogant, offer comfort to the weary, and bribe the greedy. It was a talent. As long as he maintained the right balance, he could manage. He'd had plenty of practice since his Academy days, finding jobs for students and handling the trouble that followed.
"Once we get a branch building, let's move in two teams," Rickert proposed. "One team guards the branch while the other is out. We'll split into Volka and Delphi, and then me, Boribori, and Marie."
"Sounds good. But five people is definitely tight," Volka said, licking his fingers after finishing his meal.
Although every member of Clan Viola was a formidable warrior, any task still required hands to do the work. A crucial role of a branch was to gather and command capable adventurers. By leading multiple clans, a Core Clan could become a regional powerhouse, sometimes even surpassing the guild headquarters. Starting with a mere five people was, as Volka said, a tight squeeze.
The saving grace was the reputation of Rickert and Boribori, which gave them a head start, as they'd seen with Count Reinhold. Trying to establish a branch from scratch would have been maddening.
Perhaps Ehrenberg would become their second home. Though born elsewhere, they had to approach this with the resolve to be buried here. The most important part of establishing a branch was integrating with the locals and sharing their joys and sorrows. Without that, they would remain outsiders, and there were limits to what an outsider could accomplish. The local community was what could trip you up or lift you up at the most crucial moments.
Rickert thought that perhaps it was human destiny to leave the land of one's birth and choose the land where one would be buried. While there was nothing wrong with living and dying in one's hometown, he believed there was meaning in taking the affection and care that had nurtured him and bestowing it upon others.
They were all abandoned children in one way or another. What could be more meaningful than such people gathering to become each other's strength? Though human connection could bring excruciating pain, as he had learned from the Nameless, in the end, only another human could save a human.
Rickert looked up at the stars shining through the tangled branches. The stars were the same, but the heart looking up at them was different. He suddenly envisioned a future, years from now, tilling the fields with his friends in their old age. And by his side, Marie was smiling.
Could I ever possess such happiness? Anxious, he pushed the thought away. In the end, Marie was the brave one, and he was the coward.
He felt apologetic, but since they had agreed not to say "sorry," Rickert held his tongue. He simply sat closer to Marie, looking up at the stars with her.
Though Rickert often claimed there was no need for sentimentality, perhaps he was the most sentimental of them all. His very first friend, Caldebert, had once told him he had the qualities of a poet. Ironically, the only person who knew of Rickert's sentimental side was a friend from a hundred years ago. A man born with the soul of a poet, walking the path of the sword. Perhaps he was pushing happiness away out of fear of being unhappy.
I am a coward, Marie. I'm sorry. Forgive me. He felt a gentle weight on his shoulder as Marie leaned against him, and he spoke the words silently in his heart.
The night deepened. As the darkness grew, the stars shone even brighter.
In the dead of night, when all was quiet, Rickert, huddled for warmth with his friends, was jolted awake by a discordant sound from afar. Volka, who was on watch, sat by the campfire, his head turned toward the noise.
"Did you hear it too?" Rickert asked quietly.
Realizing Rickert was awake, Volka replied, "The sound of clashing swords."
Clang...
No sooner had he spoken than the metallic ring echoed from the distance once more.
"Wake the others. I'll go check it out."
Rickert stood, grabbing his sword.
"Yeah. Be careful."
Volka didn't try to stop him. He knew it was hard to imagine anyone being a match for Rickert.
Without even donning his cloak, Rickert walked toward the sound with only his sword in hand. The fir forest had little underbrush, but the darkness limited his vision. The further he went, the clearer the signs of human presence became—the sounds of people running, shouting, and the dying gasps of the fallen.
Rickert intended to keep his distance and assess the situation, but suddenly, someone rushed toward him at high speed. He was about to draw his sword like lightning when he froze, recognizing the face in the faint moonlight.
To his shock, it was Ice.
They collided with a dull thud, tumbling to the ground. Rickert sprang up and grabbed him.
Held in Rickert's arms, Ice looked up, his eyes trembling uncontrollably. He didn't speak, his face contorted as if he were about to burst into tears.
Rickert was too shocked to speak. Ice's appearance revealed just how much hardship he had endured. He was emaciated, his once-beautiful silver hair was dry and lifeless, and he looked like a wounded deer being chased by hunters.
Rickert had only heard that Ice was performing as spectacularly as he was; he had never dreamed he would find him in such a state.
Was this what it felt like to be torn apart by conflicting emotions? In that single, fleeting moment, a myriad of feelings crashed through Rickert.
The guild had done this to Ice. They had worked him to the bone with a cruel severity that had left him in this state.
Dunkel’s past words flashed through Rickert’s mind. The man had already written Ice off, pushing him to the brink with one dangerous mission after another, hoping he would either quit or die. Despite his outstanding skills, the guild had treated him as nothing more than a disposable pawn.
‘It's best not to get too close to him,’ Dunkel had warned. ‘Someday, his path will diverge from the guild's, and from yours. That guy is completely obsessed with becoming a Swordmaster for the sake of the Order.’
So what? If he were the type to be swayed by such words, he never would have made a friend in the first place. Besides, Rickert had not forgotten the promise he had made.
"Even if you abandon me, I won't abandon you, Ice."
Rickert spoke the words like a solemn vow. Then, he drew his sword and rose to his feet.
Seeing that unwavering resolve—the same as it had been in the old days—Ice finally let his sorrowful tears flow.
