Chapter 86
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 86
It was like a light piercing the darkness—the blade of a Swordmaster. As if slicing away a piece of the night itself, a vivid violet flash shone, neither blindingly bright nor too dim.
"Ooh..."
Camping under the stars with a crackling fire for the first time in a while, Rickert sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Marie, marveling at her sword.
Honestly, he wasn't marveling out of awe, but pure fascination. As the first Swordmaster in his previous life, he had been the one to conjure golden flames from his blade. Seeing a Swordmaster again after so long—and a close companion at that—was a novel experience.
Marie shyly withdrew the light and sheathed her sword.
"How does it feel?"
"I'm not sure. It's just... why didn't I know this before? That's how it feels. It's like I was born with an extra limb but didn't realize it until now."
"So even though you've become a Swordmaster, you don't know how it works?"
"Yeah."
"Then it's just a really sharp sword."
"Yeah, exactly. I think so too."
Rickert and Marie seemed to treat being a Swordmaster as something trivial. But looking at it from another perspective, perhaps the rest of the world simply overvalued it.
A Swordmaster still got hungry, grew tired, was made of flesh and bone, could be wounded by blades, and could die just like anyone else.
Nevertheless, there were two reasons why people held them in such high regard.
First, in an era where the quality of iron was inconsistent, swords were difficult to use on the battlefield. It was common for them to break after just one or two swings, so they were mostly relegated to sidearms.
In such an environment, wielding a sword that could slice through armor and shields like cheese was, in itself, an absurdly powerful ability.
And the second reason was because of the monstrous precedent set by one man: the first Swordmaster, Ricky.
Those who had experienced Ricky vaguely assumed: Ah, once you become a Swordmaster, you can defeat the Emperor's elite army all by yourself and become invincible.
But if someone were to travel back in time and ask that Ricky how he was so strong, he might have answered like this:
"I think the key is knowing how to use yourself as a chess piece. If you can read the entire board of a battle and deploy yourself properly, you can exert incredible power even without being a Swordmaster. But if a Swordmaster does that? At that point, they're practically a one-man army."
"That sounds like you're saying even though I've become a Swordmaster, this is only the beginning."
"First, what is the goal? Second, how will you win? Third, how will you fight? It sounds obvious, but I've rarely seen anyone actually keep this in mind and execute it. Except for Caldebert."
"Huh?"
Marie was puzzled by the unfamiliar name. Actually, it wasn't that she had never heard it before, but rather that she didn't realize the Caldebert Rickert mentioned was the legendary knight from over a century ago.
"Ah, just someone I know. Anyway, we start from these three principles. First, what is our goal?"
"To kill Lucky Luiginant."
"And next?"
"How will we win? Um, shouldn't we cut off his head?"
"No, that's not it. You have to think about your opponent. First of all, this guy is an outsider. Even if he gathered some forces, there won't be many, and their discipline will be terrible. Besides, do you think the bastards following him have any loyalty?"
Rickert spoke like a teacher. When he talked about swordsmanship, he usually spoke in vague, abstract terms that were hard to understand, but now he was perfectly clear.
So Marie listened intently, completely absorbed.
"No."
"Then we don't necessarily have to fight all the forces he's gathered. Men who gather easily scatter just as easily."
"So, how?"
"That's the second question: how to win. Always keep this in mind. Start with observation. No matter what. No matter how many opponents there are or how strong they are, you must observe first. Gather as much information as possible, quickly and accurately. This is a skill that improves with practice."
At Rickert's detailed explanation, Marie stared intently at her fiancé.
"What?"
"...How do you know all this, Professor?"
"Who knows."
"By the way, how is your chest?"
"The same. It hurts when I take a deep breath."
"Shouldn't we go see Dr. Leno?"
"Stopping by the main house is a bit..."
"Why?"
"It's just uncomfortable. And he's not a medical doctor. He's just a scholar. It'll be better to ask a real doctor later."
Marie stared at Rickert once more. This time, it was a bit different. Rickert could read exactly what she was thinking from her expression.
Marie still wanted to go see Dr. Leno. But would this stubborn man listen to her? If she pushed the issue here, it might turn into an argument.
Marie knew it, and Rickert knew it too. Thus, an awkward silence stretched between them.
"Fine. Let's stop by for a bit after we finish our business."
Marie grinned.
"Your father was the one who said so. I'm not forcing you."
"Sure, sure."
Rickert nodded in concession.
By the way, wasn't she worried about his poor physical condition? Especially since they were going to kill a guy who made a living swindling and blackmailing noble lords.
Setting aside the recklessness, it was truly fascinating. How could he be like this? But Marie liked that side of Rickert.
While an ordinary person would have made a fuss, fallen into despair, and lost hope, he just acted nonchalantly. Because of that, she felt that even misfortune couldn't truly torment him.
Marie naturally leaned into Rickert's embrace, voicing the exact opposite of the warm emotions welling up inside her.
"Idiot."
"Out of nowhere?"
"Idiot."
"Yeah, well, I suppose I can be."
Rickert hugged her back. It was a cold autumn night, but huddled together by the fire, they had no time to feel the chill.
*
Since Luiginant had been blackmailing and swindling people all over the place, finding his whereabouts wasn't difficult.
He was on the road leading out of the County of Caldebern toward Rheinfurt. It wasn't the side path Rickert had taken with Arno three years ago, but a frequently traveled main road.
Right at the crossroads, there was a makeshift checkpoint. Two mercenaries leaning on halberds stood guard. Rickert scanned the surroundings and spoke to Marie.
"Let's go up there."
Rickert climbed a mountain path thick with underbrush. After ascending a moderate distance, they had a clear view of the checkpoint and a temporary outpost behind it.
After scanning the scene for about ten seconds, he asked Marie like a master testing his disciple:
"What do you see?"
"Hmm, only about... seven or eight men? I could handle them by myself."
"Uh-uh, don't just rely on your sword skills and rush blindly into a fight. Look closer."
"Hmm... They look clean, they're wearing colorful clothes, they're well-armed, and... is that guy the leader?"
Since Marie had never experienced real combat, it was only natural she didn't know. Rickert pointed with his hand and explained things one by one.
"The colorful clothes mean they're mercenaries. If they gather in numbers, they have decent fighting power. Mercenaries like to dress up, but once they enter a real battle, they look like beggars in an instant. In other words, if they look like beggars but their weapons are perfectly maintained? That means they're dangerous. But what about them?"
"They look way too clean."
"Exactly. That means these guys don't really want to fight. They're just clinging to Luiginant to make a quick buck and run. Understand?"
This was knowledge that could only be gained through immense real-world combat experience.
Rickert asked another question.
"And what else?"
"Can't you just tell me?"
"Think about it, Marie."
"But I don't know..."
"Seven or eight grown men eat a lot of food in a day. Do you think they're farming out here? From what I can see, they probably brought a small amount of rations and are working in shifts. There's a city nearby, after all. In the first place, blackmailing lords with just that many men makes no sense."
"Now that you mention it, that's true."
"It's harvest season, so it's a busy time for selling surplus crops and trading. Blocking the road and extorting tolls here would fetch a handsome sum. But do you know something? Mercenaries don't just chase money."
"Really? Then what do they chase?"
"Money is the biggest reason, but they're also very sensitive to the political standing of the person they follow. What I mean is, even if they fight, they need to make sure there are no repercussions. They can't afford to be branded as rebels. If you become a rebel, it doesn't just end with washing your hands of the war. The empire will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and execute you brutally."
Marie just nodded, thinking, Ah, I see. She couldn't quite figure out how to put that information to use just yet.
"Let's be Imperial Magistrates."
"Huh?"
"We'll be official Magistrates dispatched by the Imperial Family. Then, naturally, that Luiginant guy becomes an impostor. Daring to impersonate an Imperial Magistrate? What's the punishment for that?"
"Forging imperial documents or impersonating an official is punishable by dismemberment."
Even if it wasn't the Imperial Family, impersonating an official recklessly resulted in having one's limbs torn apart by horses. Marie had seen such cases occasionally when she was young.
"But will they believe us?"
"We just have to show them your sword."
"Huh?"
"A Swordmaster, the glowing blade. Let's say you're the new Emperor's Champion. And you're my bodyguard."
"Uh..."
Marie didn't have any sense of authority or superiority, so she wasn't sure if it was right to use a Swordmaster's blade for a bluff like this. But well, if Ricky said so.
"I don't even need to draw my sword to kill a guy like that. Let's go."
Rickert walked back down the mountain path. Then, resting a hand on the sword at his waist, he strode confidently toward the fake checkpoint.
The mercenaries, who were standing around lazily with their halberds resting on their shoulders, glanced over.
They barked out immediately:
"The toll is half of everything you have."
It was utter nonsense. As expected, they were just highwaymen.
Rickert deliberately glared and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"How dare you, you insolent scoundrels! Do you know who I am? I am a Magistrate dispatched by the Emperor himself! So, you are the rabble disturbing this region!"
When Rickert shouted, the mercenaries blinked. They didn't immediately back down, but they carefully sized up his appearance.
"I heard the Emperor died..."
"Insolent fools! When the late Emperor passes, it is only natural for the Crown Prince to ascend the throne! How dare you speak of His Majesty's passing so lightly! I've had enough! Champion!"
Rickert shouted confidently, entirely unaware that the Crown Prince had already been killed by Bellator. Of course, no one here knew that either.
Marie still doubted if this was the right way to go about things, but she drew her sword and let the violet aura flare to life.
Only then did the mercenaries' eyes widen in sheer terror. A Swordmaster. She really must be the Emperor's Champion. But she was a young woman? How could this be?
"For the crime of insulting His Majesty! For the crime of following an impostor! Champion! Take the heads of these traitors!"
"W-Wait a moment! We didn't recognize you!"
"Wait! Wait! We didn't know! Truly!"
"W-We thought he was a real Magistrate! We were just hired! We have absolutely no intention of rebelling against the Imperial Family!"
At Rickert's roar, the mercenaries immediately threw down their weapons, dropped to their knees, and slammed their heads into the dirt. Ah, the taste of authority was indeed sweet.
But when Marie actually prepared to take their heads, Rickert quickly tugged at her sleeve and shook his head. Don't actually kill them.
Rickert frowned, pretending to deliberate, before speaking with heavy gravitas.
"Hmm... Very well. Since the new Emperor has only recently ascended the throne, spilling too much blood would be inauspicious."
"Y-Yes, of course! The gods would surely prefer the blood of a virgin or a lamb as an offering! Not filthy scum like us!"
He had no idea what kind of bullshit they were spouting, but regardless, Rickert intended to have them lead him straight to Luiginant.
"However, we cannot let the impostor go. Lead me to him. He must be captured and torn limb from limb. And clear away this crude setup."
"Understood! We shall obey your command!"
Feeling as though they had just been spared from the brink of death, the mercenaries sprang up and practically demolished the temporary outpost and the checkpoint blocking the road to clear the way.
Then, weapons in hand, they escorted Rickert and Marie toward the city. Perhaps they had experience escorting high nobles or wealthy merchants before, as they seamlessly formed a proper defensive formation covering all sides.
They escorted the 'Imperial Magistrate' with a sharp, disciplined posture they usually never bothered to show. There was no need to go this far, but it made Rickert feel like puffing out his chest a bit too.
When they entered the city in that grand manner, all the passersby stopped and stared. At a glance, he looked exactly like a high-ranking noble.
The other mercenaries who had been scattered around the city, harassing local women or enjoying themselves, froze. When they saw their comrades escorting someone with such solemn gravity, a cold sense of unease washed over them.
They sensed instantly that things had gone horribly wrong. Since mercenaries were highly sensitive to matters of life and death, their survival instincts were razor-sharp in these situations.
Thus, they instantly sobered up, let go of the local women they were bothering, and either hid or tagged along, pretending to help with the escort.
A mercenary holding a halberd respectfully opened the door of the largest tavern in the city for Rickert. Instantly, the overpowering scent of cheap perfume and stale alcohol blasted into Rickert's face.
Stepping inside, Rickert saw a man spending money like water, thoroughly drunk on gambling and women. At a glance, he knew that guy had to be Luiginant.
"Stupidity doesn't care about status, I tell you! The problem with people is they assume nobles know everything. In reality, they're sloppy and foolish. Dumbasses."
Having successfully swindled people left and right, he seemed to think he was some untouchable big shot, loudly showing off his supposed wisdom to the room.
However, the people around Luiginant froze in shock upon seeing Rickert and the heavily armed mercenaries file in.
"When I was in the west, you know! I must've bedded at least ten noble ladies. But then..."
Luiginant was the last to notice the shifting atmosphere. He slowly turned his head, following the terrified gazes of the crowd.
There, he found a young man and a woman with swords, along with the very mercenaries he had hired, staring intently at him.
Rickert smirked. He slowly walked over, pulled up a chair right next to him, sat down, and spoke.
"Ah... Luiginant. Are nobles really that easy? I'd love to hear more of your story."
"Uh... who are you...?"
"The Emperor's Magistrate."
"...I thought the Emperor was dead..."
"Yeah, he is. But his death is his, and yours is yours. Though, depending on how you behave, I might let you off."
In the dead-silent tavern, Luiginant looked around once more. Seeing the stiff, murderous expressions of his own mercenaries, he realized the gig was up and they had already turned on him. There was no way the local nobles could have reacted this quickly. They didn't have the capability.
By the time the lords gathered an army to respond, he would have already fled with the money. And Luiginant was highly skilled at that exact routine.
But just when things were going so perfectly, he hadn't expected the empire to react this fast. The Emperor had barely died, and a Magistrate was already dispatched?
Luiginant looked at Rickert again and stammered.
"W-What do you want..."
"Your backer, and the money."
"B-Backer? There is no such thing. And the money is..."
"Do you find it a waste? Then die."
"N-No! Wait! The money is in the vault of the Rheinfurt Goldsmiths' Guild. If we go there first..."
Rickert looked into his eyes and knew instantly the bastard was lying. There was no money. He had already blown it all on pleasure.
Rickert pondered what to do for a moment, then nodded as if understanding perfectly.
"Very well. I will wait here, so go retrieve the money. If you run, I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth."
"Of course! Of course! I will definitely return with the money!"
Thinking he had somehow survived, Luiginant scrambled to his feet in a blind panic. He rushed out of the painfully silent tavern.
Rickert didn't even look back. He just spoke to the mercenaries.
"Catch that man, tear him limb from limb, and cut off his head. Hang the torn pieces of flesh before each of the city gates, and send his head to Stormherz. Do that, and you shall be pardoned."
Before his words even finished echoing, the mercenaries rushed outside in a violent swarm. Rickert looked over the leftover food on the table, picked up a cup, and took a sip of the expensive liquor.
Then, looking at the pale tavern keeper, he spoke leisurely.
"Refund me for the leftovers."
"Pardon?"
"There's plenty of food left over."
"Ah... yes, of course. Understood."
"And since he didn't stay the night, return the room and entertainment fees as well."
Instead of a simple refund, the terrified tavern keeper brought out all the money Luiginant had paid today. It was a whopping ten gold coins. Entertainment expenses always leaked away like water once one started spending.
Rickert also swept up all the coins scattered messily across the gambling table.
The patrons merely watched the 'Emperor's Magistrate' with bated breath. They only hoped he would take the money, take whatever else he wanted, and leave quickly.
Right around that time, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from outside.
"Why! Why! I said I'd get the money! Wait! I— I— Aaaaaargh!"
Listening to Luiginant's dying screams, Rickert picked at the remaining food and ate.
Then, as if it tasted bad, he slammed a chicken bone onto the table with a thud and stood up. The onlookers, who had been watching in frozen silence, flinched violently.
When he stepped outside, the mercenaries were already hanging Luiginant's torn body parts on wooden poles.
"We will deliver the head in a sack of salt."
One of the mercenaries approached and reported respectfully. Indeed, they were professional, acting as if they had done this exact gruesome chore more than once or twice.
Mercenaries had their thug-like qualities, but they also possessed a certain professionalism. When they did a job, they did it thoroughly. It was just that they were expensive and difficult to manage.
Rickert stopped by the Imperial Guild Bureau and sent the money he had just extorted from the tavern back to his hometown. It was a modest sum, but it was more than enough to cover their previous losses.
Then, he quietly left the city with Marie and headed toward the main house. To meet Dr. Leno.
"You really killed him without even drawing your sword," Marie noted.
She had been worried because of Rickert's poor health, but this had been as easy as lifting a finger.
"Smart guys are usually good at reading others, but they often don't know themselves. That guy said nobles were sloppy, but in the end, he didn't realize he was sloppy too. The world must have seemed easy to him. But that's exactly how your luck runs out."
"You really know everything, Professor."
"This is only the beginning, my disciple. Keep striving."
He said it half-jokingly, but it was the absolute truth. If Marie, a Swordmaster, fully absorbed Rickert's strategy, tactics, combat knowledge, and techniques, she might truly become as invincible as Ricky had been in his previous life.
The Swordmasters who had fallen to Rickert so far, as well as the existing ones in this era, had never managed to break past the limits of being mere swordsmen.
To truly be reborn as a weapon of war, there was no other way than to survive countless bloody battles. However, the problem was that one usually died while trying to gain that experience.
Therefore, the teachings of an experienced veteran were worth more than their weight in gold.
But Marie only smiled and teased him.
“I don’t want to.”
“Huh?”
“You do it all for me, Ricky.”
As Marie joked and laughed, Rickert laughed too.
“What a terrible disciple.”
Come to think of it, Bellator could also be called Rickert’s disciple, but he was very different from Marie. Following Rickert’s teachings, he had seized the opportunity of a lifetime and committed a bold, splendid murder.
One was an excellent disciple, the other an unfaithful one. Yet who could say which was right: following the teachings faithfully, or simply fooling around?
In truth, examined closely, the things Rickert taught were chilling. Of course, what a student did with them was another matter.
As they walked together, Marie kept playfully nudging him with her shoulder. Pestering him like that—she really was an ill-mannered disciple.
Arc 17 – Back Home Again. End.