Chapter 8
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 8
Buds clung like dewdrops to the gaunt, bare branches. Before long, they would sprout and bloom into flowers.
Someone had once said that any journey without rain or snow was a lucky one.
The statement wasn’t wrong. Nothing threatened one’s health or drained one’s strength on the road quite like getting caught in the rain.
Just two days into his journey, Rickert had been fortunate enough to avoid it. However, he was currently passing through a mountain pass infested with bandits.
Though the mornings and evenings were still cold, beads of sweat formed on Rickert’s temples as he climbed the steep incline.
The donkey-drawn cart rattled ceaselessly, and every so often, the wagon had to be pushed from behind by hand.
It felt as though they were shouting their presence to any bandits lurking nearby when they should have been sneaking past as quietly as possible. They moved so slowly that if they were attacked, no one’s life could be guaranteed unless they abandoned all their possessions.
Exhaustion naturally bowed their heads. The village women carried babies tucked against their chests, even with heavy bundles strapped to their backs.
At least the older children were able to ride in the back of the rattling carts and wagons.
Despite his own fatigue, Rickert kept his head up, scanning the surrounding terrain. Danger had to be spotted early.
Then, out of nowhere, a young girl sitting in the back of a nearby cart—one he hadn't even noticed until now—thrust something toward him. Looking closer, he saw it was a ring woven from plant stems and flowers.
“Is this for me?” Rickert asked.
The girl silently nodded.
Rickert himself was rather untidy after two days without a proper wash, but the girl looked like a little beggar, with wild, messy hair and dirt streaking her face.
Yet the whites of her large eyes were as clear as a peeled, boiled egg, and her green irises gleamed like emeralds. The striking contrast with her ragged appearance made them stand out all the more.
The girl boldly grabbed Rickert’s hand and slipped the flower ring onto his finger.
“Now you and I are married,” she declared.
Rickert burst out laughing at the absurdity. “We don’t even know each other’s names.”
“We can learn them now. What’s your name?”
Just as Rickert was about to answer, Arno, who was walking beside him, abruptly interjected.
“Hey, you filthy brat! Do you have any idea who this young master is, spouting such nonsense?”
“It’s fine, Arno.”
“No, Young Master. I may be a commoner myself, but you shouldn’t be too nice to them. They’ll walk all over you. Do you think a nobleman’s marriage is some child’s game? Get a grip, girl!”
At the word “nobleman,” the surrounding travelers turned to stare, their expressions startled. The girl flinched and shrank back at Arno’s harsh scolding.
To their eyes, although Rickert was a bit dusty, his clothes were neat. Moreover, he had straight, even teeth and smooth features, and he lacked the weary shadows and signs of hardship typical of commoners who led harsh lives.
Looking closer, he really did resemble a young lord from a noble house. But why would such a person be here?
Along with curiosity, a wave of fear washed over the crowd. Crossing a nobleman could cost a person their skin. The reactions of those traveling alongside him were particularly severe.
Having grown up in the countryside, Rickert didn’t fully realize how commoners generally viewed nobles. In his previous life, the nobles he’d encountered were either military commanders or enemies on the battlefield.
Back in Stormherz, commoners and nobles had run around and played together.
However, every noble house and every fief had a different atmosphere. There were perverts, lunatics, and all sorts of eccentrics among them.
“I-I am so sorry, my lord!”
A woman carrying a baby hastily grabbed the girl and pulled her back roughly, nearly making her tumble off the cart.
Rickert caught her by reflex.
“It’s alright. I don’t really know why Arno is making such a fuss.”
When Rickert spoke to her politely, the woman looked stunned. It seemed the lord of her hometown ruled with a terrifying iron fist.
“I’m telling you, they’ll walk all over you…” Arno grumbled.
Ignoring him, Rickert turned back to the girl. “Thanks for the ring.”
“…”
Unfortunately, the bold little girl could no longer offer a reply.
Whether because of Rickert or Arno, an uneasy silence fell over the procession.
Then, the wagon ahead stalled once again, unable to clear a rock, bringing the entire line to a halt.
The wagon was loaded with a merchant’s goods, yet for some reason, ordinary men were pushing it from behind while two armed guards simply stood by, leaning lazily on one leg and watching.
Taking advantage of the delay, Arno and Rickert paused to rest. It was then that Rickert caught sight of several figures standing on the mountain slope.
From their appearance, they didn’t look much different from the commoners traveling below. They didn’t even bother to conceal themselves, simply standing there and staring down vacantly.
“Those guys are bandits, right?”
“Pardon?”
“Up there.”
“Uh…”
At Rickert’s words, Arno looked up at the slope. He, too, saw a couple of people standing motionless, gazing down in their direction. No, wait—not just two, but four or five? Huh? Their numbers were growing. Wait a second… holy shit.
They were definitely bandits. While not all of them were fully equipped, several wore ill-fitting gambesons or had helmets resting loosely on their heads, chinstraps unfastened. Anyone could see they were armed.
“Uh, wait…”
Soon, others in the group noticed the men on the hillside. At first, there was no panic; it was more like an awkward encounter between strangers.
But then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, one of the men on the slope raised a bow, nocked an arrow, drew the string, and aimed right at them.
“W-Wait, what—?”
Thwip. Thud.
An arrow flew through the air and slammed into a nearby tree trunk. That one arrow, which hadn’t killed or injured anyone, was enough to completely shatter the will of the travelers.
“Eeeeek!”
Some collapsed to their knees on the spot. Some shrank against the side of the wagon to hide. Others abandoned their families entirely, bolting back down the path they had come from.
“Don’t go that way!” Rickert shouted at the fleeing men. By showing themselves so openly, the bandits had surely blocked the retreat path.
“Dammit!”
“Let’s just get out of here!”
“Are you crazy?! We can’t leave the cargo!”
The merchant’s group at the front was faring no better. Though the two hirelings drew their swords, neither looked eager to risk his neck in a fight.
Meanwhile, several bandits watching from the slope picked up spears and began descending.
Two of them closed in on one of the armed guards. Pathetically, the guard leaned back, sticking his rear out while flailing his sword wildly at empty air in a feeble attempt to threaten them.
“D-Don’t come any closer! You bastards!”
The two bandits approaching him said nothing. Exchanging a brief glance, they thrust their spears simultaneously from both sides. Though their attire was crude, their movements were practiced and efficient.
Shockingly, the guard failed to parry or dodge. One of the spears drove straight into his belly.
Clang.
“F-Fuck…! You son of a…”
His sword fell limply to the dirt. All he could do was clutch the spear shaft buried in his stomach, curses spilling through his clenched teeth.
One bandit quickly scooped up the fallen sword and drove it into its owner’s neck, finishing him off.
Seeing a man—an armed guard they relied on for security—killed so effortlessly, the rest of the travelers plunged into blind panic.
“Aaaaaaghh!”
An ear-splitting shriek pierced the air as women screamed. From that moment on, people scattered aimlessly in all directions. When life was on the line, household belongings, trade goods, and even their own children meant nothing.
Panicked, the carriage horse thrashed violently, but tethered by its harness and trapped by the stuck wheel, it couldn’t bolt. In an instant, the scene devolved into utter bedlam.
Yet Rickert simply stood motionless, watching the bandits’ every move—whether out of fearlessness or sheer detachment.
Two of the bandits, who seemed to be the leaders, remained on the slope, looking down. The rest began descending upon the helpless crowd.
Plundering goods was good, but in times like these, humans were the most valuable loot. Goods could be secured later, so they targeted the women first.
Suddenly, someone yanked Rickert’s arm. It was Arno. He sprinted off toward the untracked woods, avoiding the main road entirely.
“Wait!”
Just as they took their first steps to flee, a young girl’s voice pierced Rickert’s ears. On his finger, he still wore the ring of fresh, unwilted flowers.
Rickert violently tore his arm free from Arno’s grip. Startled, Arno turned back and shouted, “Young Master!”
While the adults were all fleeing for their lives, the little girl crouched beside the cart with her hands wrapped around her head, completely lost. Rickert dashed toward her.
“Can you stand?”
But the girl was so terrified she could only tremble, unable to answer or move.
Rickert flashed a soft smile, tossing out a light joke to ease her tension. “I’m Ricky. What’s your name? Since we’re husband and wife, we should at least know each other’s names, right?”
Despite her overwhelming terror, the girl stared at Rickert as if spellbound, barely squeezing out an answer. “…Daisy.”
“Like the flower?”
“Yeah.”
Miraculously, her trembling subsided. In that fleeting moment, the rest of the world faded into the background. She saw only the boy’s face before her and heard only his voice in her ears.
Just then, the two men who appeared to be the bandit leaders descended the slope and walked toward them, clearly having heard a young girl’s voice nearby.
Compared to the other bandits, these two were decently equipped. They wore layered leather cuirasses, sturdy enough to turn away most blades.
Perhaps because of their armor, they approached the back of the cart without much caution. Suddenly, a child burst out and crashed right into one of them.
The bandit reached out to grab the brat who had bumped into him, but the child nimbly slipped away.
That was when the bandit felt a searing heat in his lower abdomen. Looking down, he watched as his intestines spilled out through a gap in his armor.
“Huh…?”
He couldn’t comprehend what was happening.
By the time he realized the entrails pooling on the ground were his own, a strange emptiness—distinctly different from hunger—hollowed out his belly. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees.
“What’s wrong with you? What happened?” the bandit following behind asked, bewildered. It looked like his partner had simply bumped into a stray kid and suddenly dropped to the ground.
Then his eyes widened in horror as he saw the organs spilling from his partner’s belly. His comrade was dazedly trying to scoop his guts back into his abdomen.
The shocking sight held him spellbound. It was a fatal mistake.
Just as he raised his head to see who was responsible, Rickert’s dagger sliced through the gap of his armor and tore deep into his inner thigh.
“AAAAAARGH!”
Squeezing his eyes shut in agony, he collapsed without even understanding what had hit him. Overwhelmed by pain and shock, he flailed his arms at empty air, unable to even draw the sword at his hip.
In the meantime, Rickert grabbed the hair of the bandit trying to scoop up his own guts, yanked his head back, and slit his throat. The dagger was so razor-sharp that it slid smoothly even through cartilage.
Rickert callously shoved the man’s head forward. The bandit face-planted into the dirt, coughing up blood as he slowly drowned in the crimson pool.
“Cough, ghkk… grrk…”
The man with the sliced thigh thrashed on the ground, pale with horror as he watched his partner die.
He tried to stand, but with the tendon in one thigh severed, his body refused to cooperate. He repeatedly pushed himself up an inch only to collapse back down.
Rickert delivered a hard kick to his chest, flipped his dagger into a reverse grip, raised it high, and threw his full weight into plunging it straight into the bandit’s eye. The blade sank all the way to the hilt.
Thwack!
As the blade pierced his eye and bit into his brain, the bandit convulsed like a fish thrown onto dry land.
Rickert pulled the dagger out with a firm tug, wiped the blood and fat on the corpse’s clothes, and stood up to survey his surroundings. Everyone was busy fleeing or giving chase, leaving the immediate area surprisingly deserted.
Only Arno remained, frozen mid-flight. He was now sitting slumped on the ground, his mouth opening and closing silently as he stared.
To Arno’s eyes, Rickert was unnaturally, almost inhumanly calm. It wasn’t an act of forcing himself not to be afraid; it was as if he were fundamentally lacking something essential to being human.
He looked like a creature possessed by a demon, one that desperately needed an exorcism. He didn’t look like an ordinary ten-year-old boy in the slightest.
What was even harder to believe was watching Rickert casually search the dead bandit’s coat, sever a finger, and claim a gold ring.
A mountain breeze swept through, cooling the sweat on Arno’s skin, but he felt no relief. A bone-chilling terror washed over him, raising goosebumps across his entire body.
Rickert wiped a few flecks of blood from his face with his sleeve. Then, offering his usual mild smile, he said to Arno, “I didn’t expect them to just walk up like idiots. We got lucky.”
Before starting up the mountain pass, Rickert had said that luck was something you made for yourself. Meeting bandits might have been bad luck, but saving the young girl in time could be considered good luck.
Good fortune and bad fortune, happiness and misery, were like roads crossing paths—or perhaps two sides of the same coin, permanently bound together.
Ultimately, which path to walk at those crossroads and which face of the coin to look at was a matter of personal choice.
Therefore, there was no need to despair when bad luck struck. It merely meant that a moment of choice had arrived, and that choice was made by one’s own will. That was what Rickert believed.
Perhaps that was why his comrades in his previous life had given him that nickname.
Arc 2 – Lucky Ricky. End.