Chapter 87
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 87
Dr. Leno's room at the main estate was cluttered with exotic and curious artifacts.
The heavy scent of aged wood hung in the air. It wasn't unpleasant; in fact, it had a strange, soothing effect on both mind and body.
Yet, despite the comforting atmosphere, Rickert felt deeply uneasy offering his body up to a suspicious contraption he had never seen before. No, "unpleasant" was the better word for it.
Dr. Leno unbuttoned the front of Rickert's shirt and pressed a device called a stethoscope against his chest. Tap, tap. The sudden, icy sensation against his bare skin made Rickert flinch.
"Inhale. Slowly."
The pot-bellied, heavily bearded Dr. Leno spoke with solemn gravity.
Unpleasant as it was, Rickert had already come this far. He followed the instructions. But halfway through his breath, his chest hitched, and a sharp, needle-like pain stabbed directly into his lungs.
"Again, slowly."
Rickert faithfully complied. After a few agonizing breaths, the doctor spoke again.
"Could you try forcing yourself to inhale past that catch?"
Rickert knew this was a terrible idea, but Marie, standing right beside him, shot him a look that clearly said, Just do as you're told. Grimacing through the pain, Rickert forced his lungs to expand all the way.
"Now, exhale slowly."
"Haaaa..."
Dr. Leno listened intently to the rattling inside Rickert's chest before finally pulling the dreadful stethoscope away.
"Hmm... Fortunately, it doesn't seem too severe. If you inhaled a poisonous powder, it was likely a toxin derived from the Rainbow Moth. Given its potent toxicity, it was probably diluted with something else."
"So, what about an antidote?" Marie asked.
Dr. Leno stroked his beard, his expression heavy, and shook his head.
"Only the creator of the poison knows the exact antidote. Treating it blindly could make it worse, so I cannot rashly brew a cure. Of course, it would be a different story if we could find the Witches of Dawn, but meeting them is as difficult as finding a dragon."
Rainbow Moths, Witches of Dawn—these were all terms Rickert had never heard before.
"It sounds like you're saying there's nothing we can do right now," Rickert muttered. As expected, he regretted letting the doctor examine him in the first place.
"That is not the case. Just a moment."
Dr. Leno rummaged through a cluttered pile of items and pulled out a small, dusty wooden box.
Right in front of Rickert, whose lungs were already in terrible shape, the doctor blew the thick dust off the lid and opened it. Inside sat dark, yellowish, crystal-like fragments.
"This is agarwood, which the Salamans use during their rituals. It is a highly precious commodity; even they must import it from the far east."
It was the hardened resin of the agarwood tree. Dr. Leno picked up a piece, shaved a suitable amount into a porcelain bowl with a small knife, and lit it.
Instead of bursting into flames, it smoldered, sending up a thin, steady trail of smoke.
In an instant, a heavy yet sweet fragrance filled the room. It carried a distinct sense of solemnity.
He brought the porcelain bowl right under Rickert's nose.
"Inhale. Slowly and deeply."
Rickert felt highly skeptical about inhaling this exotic smoke—something he had never done before—but he did as instructed. He slowly breathed it in until he felt the familiar sting.
At first, his chest ached, but the pain gradually subsided. By the time the agarwood had completely burned away, the agony had miraculously vanished.
"How do you feel?"
"Wow, what is this? I feel completely cured."
"No, it only alleviates the symptoms and the pain; it does not heal your damaged lungs. For now, take this with you and inhale the smoke every morning and evening. In the meantime, it would be best to look for a real cure."
Dr. Leno handed the small wooden box to Rickert while simultaneously holding out his other hand. At first, Rickert didn't understand the gesture, but it quickly clicked. He wants money?
There was no such thing as a free lunch. Even the most loyal knights would pack up and leave mid-war if they weren't paid on time. In this era, the prevailing notion was that contracts took absolute precedence over loyalty.
But Rickert had no money on him. And since this agarwood was imported from the far east, it surely wasn't cheap.
"Ah, well..."
Just as Marie was about to step in and say they would pay him later, Dr. Leno grinned, his bushy beard twitching. "I am only joking. You are a young master of this house, after all. How could I charge you? I am not that heartless."
"Really? Why?"
While Rickert possessed a progressive mindset that transcended his era in some aspects, there were still parts of him deeply bound by the conventions of his time.
Thus, while he was grateful, he genuinely couldn't comprehend why the doctor would just hand over something so valuable for free.
"I may not have guided your destiny, young master, but I believe I served as a signpost at a crucial juncture. Every time news of you reached me from afar, I felt both anxious and proud. I am simply filled with gratitude, so please consider this a token of my appreciation."
It was indeed Dr. Leno's influence that had largely set Rickert on the path of an adventurer.
Though he hadn't shown it, the doctor seemed to have harbored a deep sense of guilt and pity. Of course, the ultimate decision had been Rickert's, so there was no need for the man to feel that way.
But seeing Rickert adapt so well and make a name for himself had brought the doctor immense relief.
Rickert had sensed it slightly three years ago, but Dr. Leno truly was an admirable adult. He was a man of rare character in this harsh, unforgiving world.
Though Rickert had initially found the doctor untrustworthy, he was now deeply moved.
"Doctor, if you ever find yourself in trouble, don't worry about money. Contact me anytime. I don't have many talents, but I do know how to swing a sword."
"Hahaha, I merely pass the time running occasional errands for the Count. There is no reason for me to ever need a blade. If someone is angry, I simply apologize. If I refrain from pointing out others' flaws, I won't invite resentment. I only wish for good fortune to follow the two young masters and the lady."
"Still, you never know, so please take care of yourself, Doctor."
"Haha, I will. By the way, the recent events are quite worrying. I only hope the flames in the Imperial Capital do not spread too far."
He was referring to the assassination of the Emperor, the Imperial Family, and numerous high-ranking nobles.
"It is a disaster, but what can we do? There is nothing a mere swordsman like me can do about it."
"Even if there is nothing you can do, you can still have an opinion. Which side do you support, young master?"
"Support? Whom? Naturally, the Crown Prince will succeed him. He has to. That's what 'Crown Prince' means."
"Eh? Haven't you heard the news? It seems the Crown Prince was also killed in the chaos. That is why the Duke's household is currently in an uproar over whether to support the Second Prince or the Fifth Prince. That is also why the Count hurriedly left for Brumbear Castle."
This place was the main estate of the Caldebern family, a place Rickert had always felt uncomfortable visiting. Upon arrival, he had been relieved to find the Count absent, with only the servants around, saving him from any awkward encounters.
But to think the reason the Count had hastily departed was because of the Crown Prince's death.
Rickert was momentarily dumbfounded. Although he hadn't interacted deeply with the Crown Prince, he had grown somewhat fond of him during their brief time together.
He wasn't deeply grieved, but it was still quite a shock.
Marie, however, felt entirely differently. After all, she had been tormented by him.
"Good riddance to that little demon."
"M-Marie, still..."
"If you hadn't shown up in time, Ricky, I would have killed him with my own hands."
Marie could be clumsy, strong-willed, and brave, but perhaps due to her bloodline and upbringing, she also possessed a cold, ruthless streak.
Dr. Leno broke into a cold sweat, clearly not expecting her to speak so harshly about royalty.
"H-Haha... I suppose that's true. At any rate, in a situation like this, securing legitimacy will be paramount. And that legitimacy will likely go to whoever avenges the late Emperor."
"What revenge?"
"The Order of Condemnation. Wouldn't the one who roots them out have the highest chance of becoming the next Emperor? I hear hundreds of people are being hanged daily in the Imperial Capital right now, all under the guise of restoring order and weeding out cultists."
"..."
The Emperor had been assassinated. Naturally, it wouldn't be swept under the rug. But when the Imperial Family raged, it wasn't just the Order that suffered; anyone even loosely associated with them, including countless innocent people, would be sacrificed to the pyre.
While there might be some semblance of due process, realistically, it was impossible to distinguish who was truly guilty. Thus, the authorities proceeded by arresting and torturing anyone remotely suspicious. It was a raging tempest of blood.
Rickert and Marie looked at each other. Just by meeting her eyes, he knew exactly who she was thinking of. Ice...
Ice was no longer a member of the Order, but he hadn't completely severed ties either. Though his heart had strayed from their fanaticism, his current situation remained dangerously ambiguous.
"Is something the matter?"
"Ah, no. It's just... there must be so many people in the Order. Are they going to kill them all?"
"Even after the next Emperor ascends the throne, the Empire will likely continue its policy of violent suppression for the time being. My concern is that such campaigns often drag on aimlessly, growing increasingly brutal as malice festers."
"Ah..."
Had it been a mistake to take Ice in after all? Would it be better for him to voluntarily report that he used to be a member but had since defected? But they couldn't sell out a friend. It was a truly suffocating dilemma.
"By the way, do you remember what you asked me before you left for the Academy?"
"What was it?"
"The Haiden Fields."
The Haiden Fields. It was where Rickert had herded sheep in his previous life. It was the place where the purest soul in the world had sung to the stars, and where his sorrowful life had met its bitter end.
It was also the birthplace of his endless hatred and wrath toward the world.
"Uh... I don't remember clearly, but I think I did."
"Rumor has it that the Order's holy land is located there. I only heard about it in passing, so I don't know the exact details. If the Empire can locate their headquarters and root them out, it would be a massive, tangible achievement. Perhaps then the suppression will die down a bit."
"I see..."
Hearing the name of the forgotten Haiden Fields, Rickert was overcome by a sensation so bizarre he was left entirely speechless.
It felt as though an echo of the past was calling out to his present self. Where are you going alone? Why are you the only one who gets to be happy?
Perhaps this was what Armand had meant when he said Rickert had to face his past self.
Seeing Rickert grow gloomy, Marie assumed he was just worried about Ice. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to comfort him.
"Let's not give up. We did nothing wrong. That's what matters most."
"Yeah, thanks."
Rickert forced a smile.
After exchanging a few more words with Dr. Leno, thanking him once again, and wishing each other luck, they parted ways.
Rickert and Marie left the Count's castle and walked toward Rheinfurt. Their plan was to take a boat from there straight to Ehrenberg.
The cool autumn breeze did nothing to soothe Rickert's restless mind. Even when Marie acted cute beside him, trying to lift his spirits, he couldn't bring himself to do anything more than force a hollow smile.
The shadow of his past was far too dark to simply ignore.
The God of Condemnation... What was there to condemn? When had he condemned anyone, and whom? What on earth did people see in his past self?
The Demon King, the devil of devils, the murderer of murderers. Yet, on the other hand, a god who saved the powerless. There was no figure in the world with a more dramatically dual nature. That was the Ricky of the past.
Carrying his heavy inner turmoil, Rickert boarded a chartered boat in Rheinfurt with Marie. As they headed upstream toward Ehrenberg, they passed a city that was completely engulfed in flames. Had a war broken out?
Thick black smoke, illuminated by the hellish glow of fire from within, billowed from various districts of the city. The passengers on the boat gathered on the deck, watching the horrifying scene in anxious dread.
But surprisingly, those burning the city were neither an invading army nor a band of vicious bandits. They were angry peasants and citizens.
They stormed the grand estates of the city's nobles and wealthy merchants, dragging the masters and their families out into the streets by their hair. They beat and kicked them to death in the dirt.
Their shouts were inaudible from the boat, but it was crystal clear they were venting years, perhaps decades, of pent-up rage. Like a swarm of starving field mice, they tore through the manors and devoured the wealth the rich had hoarded.
The Order's acts of terror had served as a catalyst—a violent spark for the exploited and oppressed to finally rise up.
The situation was far graver than it appeared. It was no longer just a matter of weeding out and suppressing the Order of Condemnation.
The core of the problem was that not every fief in the world was as peaceful and idyllic as Stormherz.
Most humans lived in miserable, grinding suffering. Perhaps the Order of Condemnation was simply the condensed manifestation of that very pain.
The flames consuming the city raged so fiercely that their blistering heat reached the boat passing along the river. The thick, cloying smell of burning was like the stench of a monster's rotting heart.
And that smell seemed to arrest Rickert, dragging him slowly, inevitably, back into the past.