The Ghost Knights of Dickens

Elbridge and his companions arrived at Baron Riverford's domain.

As it had been the previous year, the windmill atop the hill turned lazily.

Rombel remarked bluntly, "A peaceful little fief you've got here."

It had been that way a year ago, and it remained so now.

Yet Elbridge couldn't help but notice that the people of Baron Riverford's domain no longer wore expressions quite as bright as before.

"The lord's castle is over that way."

Elbridge led the group forward.

They had made no prior appointment, but there was no faster way to meet the baron than this.

Fortunately, a small stroke of luck came their way. On the road to the lord's castle, they encountered a familiar old knight—Walter.

Elbridge approached Walter and extended his hand for a handshake.

"Sir Walter. It has been a long time."

However, Walter regarded him with a hint of wariness.

"And who might you be, sir?"

"I am Elbridge. We hunted a wolf-type demonic beast together."

Walter remained half-doubtful until he spotted Marcus standing beside Elbridge.

When Marcus gave a polite nod in greeting, Walter finally grasped Elbridge's hand.

"That must have been around last spring, yes? You've changed so much I barely recognized you. Back then you were so gaunt it was almost painful to look at. Who would have thought you'd turn into such a fine young man... Marcus, good to see you too."

Following Elbridge, Marcus also shook hands with Walter.

Unlike most knights, Walter treated the mercenary Marcus without any airs of superiority. He had always been a straightforward man, both then and now.

As Walter led the way, he asked Elbridge, "Sir Elbridge, has something happened in your order?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Suddenly four new seats appeared in the assembly. That's no small matter. There must have been some tremendous event."

Walter was the second believer of the Rusty Shield Order. He himself remained unaware of that fact.

"It was largely thanks to you, Sir Walter."

"What could I possibly have done? Don't talk nonsense."

Apparently taking Elbridge's words as a joke, Walter laughed.

But in this world, there are people whose mere existence holds meaning. Walter was exactly such a person.

"You've come to see the baron, I take it?"

"For now... yes, that's correct."

"Very well. I'll guide you. Though I must say, we've got two rather distinguished guests with you. A priest from the Golden Platter Order and even a brother from the Steel Anvil."

Rombel twitched an eyebrow slightly but refrained from correcting Walter. He knew the remark carried no malice.

"Sir Walter, how has the mood in the domain been lately?"

"To be honest... it's not as good as before. Did you see the wooden palisade around the outskirts?"

"Yes."

Baron Riverford's domain had no outer walls.

There was an inner wall surrounding the lord's castle, but it held little practical meaning. Its height was simply too low.

The baron had supposedly begun construction to assert his authority, only to abandon it due to widespread discontent among the people.

In any case, a year ago there had been nothing separating Baron Riverford's domain from the open fields beyond.

Now it was different. A palisade of sharply pointed wooden stakes encircled the entire fief.

"Demonic beasts keep appearing, so the people are anxious. That palisade was built because of them."

"That alone won't be enough, will it?"

Walter nodded.

"Last autumn, Sir Oswald died fighting a demonic beast."

Walter's voice was surprisingly calm.

In the past year, the old knight had aged a little more, but far from growing frail, he had become even tougher. Battle and death only harden those who survive.

"So there are only two knights left in the barony now?"

"Thanks to the baron emptying his own pockets to hire wandering knights and mercenaries, we've managed to catch our breath. But how long that will last... Ah, what am I doing, burdening guests with such talk."

The old knight gave an awkward smile.

The group reached the lord's castle.

Perhaps due to the shortage of troops, there were no dedicated guards at the castle. Walter escorted them all the way to the baron's office, then called through the door.

"My lord, you have visitors."

"Show them in."

Perhaps because it was such a relaxed domain, that was the entirety of the procedure required to meet the baron.

When Elbridge's party entered, Baron Riverford looked slightly startled.

"And who might these people be?"

"This is Sir Elbridge. You met him last spring."

"Elbridge... you mean that scrawny fellow? My goodness, it's been a while. Have you been well?"

In the past year, Baron Riverford's hair had noticeably whitened.

One could easily imagine how much worry he must have endured.

"And these gentlemen beside you?"

"This is the mercenary Marcus. And these two are..."

Heinz stepped forward.

"I am Heinz, Bishop of the Eastern Diocese of the Golden Platter Order."

Baron Riverford nearly knocked over his inkwell in surprise.

A diocesan bishop of the Golden Platter Order wielded power comparable to that of a high-ranking noble—far beyond what a minor lord on the frontier could match.

The baron shot to his feet.

"Good heavens, please sit down, Your Grace. What brings someone of your stature to this humble little domain?"

"Archbishop Elbridge told us that Viscount Dickens would be here."

"...Archbishop?"

Both Baron Riverford and Walter turned their gazes sharply toward Elbridge. He felt a touch embarrassed.

"Sir Elbridge, weren't you a holy knight?"

"It... somehow turned out this way."

A mid-tier order's archbishop was likewise a figure whose authority easily surpassed that of a remote lord—especially in these turbulent times, and even more so for one from a combat order.

Moreover, Elbridge could not be placed on the same level as other archbishops of combat orders. After all, was he not the very embodiment of the Rusty Shield Order itself?

Baron Riverford grew visibly more tense.

"I... I see... Might I ask why you are looking for Viscount Dickens?"

Bishop Heinz answered directly.

"Viscount Dickens is suspected of having broken the seal of a great demon."

For a moment, Baron Riverford seemed unable to grasp the meaning of those words.

Then his eyes widened.

"Is that true?"

"It is still only a suspicion at this point."

Marcus added in a casual drawl, "For now."

Baron Riverford's hands began to tremble violently, and he finally spilled the ink bottle.

Black ink spread across the desk. But the baron had no attention to spare for it.

"I did know Viscount Dickens, but... I had no idea he would do such a thing. None at all. None whatsoever."

"We believe you. Where is Viscount Dickens now?"

"He returned to his own domain."

Elbridge frowned slightly.

"Didn't you say all the people of Viscount Dickens's domain had vanished?"

Elbridge had never visited the Dickens lands himself.

But the chance that this information was wrong was extremely low. Unlike him, the Golden Platter Order would certainly have sent people to confirm whether the letter's contents were true.

"Viscount Dickens... No. The viscount said he would somehow rebuild his domain."

That was impossible. Rebuilding a ruined domain was not something one man could accomplish alone.

Suspicion was rapidly turning into certainty.

Elbridge said, "My lord, please provide us with a single guide."

Baron Riverford assigned Sir Walter as their guide.

It was a clear sign of just how terrified the baron was by the matter of Viscount Dickens.

Still, using an old knight whose hair had turned completely white as a guide felt somewhat troubling.

"Sir Walter, are you sure this won't be too difficult for you?"

"I am a knight. I have trained my entire life. This is nothing."

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"I seem to remember you riding a horse before."

Walter smiled sheepishly.

"Our baron has already emptied what little personal funds he had. How could I stand by and do nothing? I sold my own remaining horse to help as well."

"You must respect Baron Riverford a great deal."

"It's less respect and more... affection. Sometimes I feel as if he were my own son. I've watched over him since he was very young, after all."

"I will keep this a secret from the baron."

"No need. The baron already knows."

Walter's wrinkled eyes curved into a warm smile.

"Speaking of which, the baron recently told me that since we don't know when the demonic beasts ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠might overrun us, we should abandon the domain and flee together to Soleneon."

A major city like Soleneon could withstand the assault of most demons.

But Baron Riverford's domain was different. Even a few powerful demonic beasts—never mind demons—would be enough to wipe it from existence. The odds were high that this fief would meet exactly such an end.

Even so, the baron's decision had not been an easy one.

The things one takes for granted are always the hardest to let go.

"Then why are you still here in the domain?"

"Because the people opposed it."

Baron Riverford might appear clumsy and indecisive, yet at the same time he was an extraordinary man in many ways.

The idea of leading every last resident away was unusual, and the fact that he had yielded when they refused was equally so.

"Most of them have never known any world beyond these lands. People don't want to leave their homes."

"They will die if they stay."

"When I told him that, the baron replied that ruin always approaches more slowly than an old man's footsteps."

It was a famous saying.

The baron had seen the coming ruin. He had even prepared to escape it.

But the people had chosen to close their eyes and turn ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠away rather than flee.

And so, instead of leaving alone, the baron chose to close his eyes alongside them.

Baron Riverford might not be an outstanding lord. But he was undoubtedly a fine one.

"I will pray that Baron Riverford's domain weathers the coming storm."

"May the Goddess of the Rusty Shield watch over our lands."

The Goddess of the Rusty Shield would certainly watch over Walter. Whether her gaze alone could overcome every trial, however, was another matter.

Late the following night, Walter pointed toward a spot in the darkness.

"That is Viscount Dickens's domain. It's been a long time since I last came here."

In any inhabited city, even late at night, a few lights would usually be visible. The same held true even for small villages.

But Dickens Territory was different. It was as if something had covered it completely— not a single light could be seen.

Along with the night wind came the cries of birds. It was not a tranquil night, but an eerie one.

Through the bird calls, the Goddess's oracle descended.

"My Goddess. There are no such things as ghosts in this world."

Elbridge grew more worried about the fact that the Goddess of the Rusty Shield had yet to sleep than about nonexistent ghosts.

If her day and night cycle became reversed, it would be a serious problem. She might not be able to bestow her power at a critical moment.

"My Goddess, the night has grown deep. Would it not be wise to retire now? Lately your bedtime has been growing later and later."

"..."

Elbridge doubted that plan would go smoothly.

However, further nagging might border on disrespect, so he refrained from offering another prayer.

Whoosh—

The surroundings brightened slightly. When he turned, he saw Walter holding up a lantern.

"As one grows old, night vision fades."

The moment Walter lit the lantern, someone shouted from a short distance away.

"Put that light out! Now!"

Instead of extinguishing it, Walter raised the lantern higher to see who was speaking.

It appeared to be a young woman.

"I said put it out!"

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Her cry was so desperate that Walter quickly doused the lantern after only a brief moment.

Marcus called out toward the figure in the darkness.

"Who are you people? I heard there was no one left in Dickens Territory!"

The person in the shadows answered.

"Is this your first time here today?"

"That's right."

"Then you should thank me for saving your lives. Sheesh..."

The sound of movement came closer, and the voice grew much nearer.

"Don't be so wary. There's still plenty left to scavenge."

"What exactly are you scavenging?"

"You came here looking for Dickens Territory, didn't you?"

Marcus understood the situation and asked the nameless woman, "So you're here to steal whatever's left in the viscount's lands?"

"Why pretend you don't know? There must be dozens of people like you around this domain. No need to act so proper."

It was only natural for thieves to gather in a city abandoned by its people. After all, it meant blind money was lying everywhere.

Apparently interpreting their delayed response in her own way, the woman in the darkness continued.

"Don't be so wary. Like I said, there's a ton left to salvage."

What was surprising was that even a full year after the people had vanished, the looting still wasn't finished. Normally it should have ended within a month or two after the rumors spread.

Before Elbridge could ask, Marcus spoke first.

"Why did you tell us to put out the light?"

"Right, I suppose you wouldn't know. If you light a fire, the ghost knights appear."

"Ghost knights?"

"That's why we still haven't finished stripping this place clean. The ghost knights wander the city. They're especially sensitive to light, so you have to be careful."

"Hmm."

"There's a lot you need to know, so forget about moving separately and join our group. We've marked the places we've already looted and the ones we haven't on a map..."

As the woman was speaking, the faint sound of hoofbeats reached them.

Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Clip-clop.

"Shit...!"

The woman in the darkness began to flee.

But the group did not run. Instead, they turned their gazes toward the direction of the sound.

Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Clip-clop.

The small hoofbeats gradually grew louder.

'Is that it?'

Some large shape could be seen approaching.

Yet because the dark silhouette moved through the pitch-black night, it was difficult to make out clearly.

Elbridge listened carefully to the sound, measuring the distance between himself and the opponent.

'Three. Two...'

Before he could count to one, however, his instincts sent a warning faster than his reason could process.

If he attacked carelessly, he might expose a fatal opening.

Still, in Elbridge's experience, ignoring one's intuition at such moments was never wise.

'Now!'

Elbridge swung his sword. And then—

Crunch.

He felt the blade sink deep into something solid.