Chapter 53
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Bran River (2)
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“Enough of that. Let's get moving for now. It'll be a pain if that farmer brings the militia along.”
“Yeah.”
“Still, we're lucky. Riding these bastards' horses will get us there faster. Stingy Luther! What would it hurt him to hand over a couple of horses?”
Recalling the man who'd put them through all this trouble, Damian ground his teeth.
“Yeah, yeah. Sun's about to set, so let's find a village quick. I'm starving, thirsty for booze... keh-heh! And craving a woman!”
“You seriously thinking about screwing around in a situation like this?”
Bodies split open with brains spilling out... torsos cleaved in half, guts splattered everywhere...
Damian glanced around at the blood-soaked scene of carnage and gave Rickbear a pitiful look.
But Rickbear just shook the blood and flesh from his axe blade and tilted his head.
“Of course. We're killing 'em, eating well, screwing hard, and staying alive—what's wrong with that?”
“Impressive. Truly impressive. Keep fucking till you drop dead.”
“Damn right! My dream's dying with a smile on my face mid-fuck. Uh-haha!”
“You're hopeless... Huh?”
About to snap back, Damian narrowed his eyes.
In the distance, a few horses and a group of soldiers were charging toward them at full speed.
“Doesn't look like the garrison. Who the hell are they?”
“Shit! Get ready.”
At Damian's word, Rickbear gripped his axe—meant for his shoulder—instead and let his thick, snake-like muscled arm hang loose.
Damian narrowed his sharp eyes, dangling the sling from his wrist while slipping his other hand behind his back to grasp his dagger.
Soon, the soldiers arrived near the two men.
“Th-there! That's them!”
It was the farmer who'd screamed and fled earlier.
Not the garrison, then. Private guards from some local lord? If it comes to it, we'll kill 'em all and bolt.
A murderous glint flickered in Damian's eyes.
“Uh? So...”
At that moment, the plain-faced knight in the lead glanced between the corpses on the ground and the two men, scratching his sideburns with a finger as he asked,
“Hey, you guys... You the ones who did this?”
“Jeez! Can't you tell just by looking?”
Rickbear retorted incredulously, swinging his axe.
The sideburned knight flinched, and tension rippled across the faces of the swordsmen with him.
Damian stepped forward in front of Rickbear.
“We did kill them, but it was self-defense. They came at us first, and we only fought back. Hey, you saw it yourself, right?”
At that, the sideburned knight turned to the farmer who'd come with them.
“That's what they say.”
“Ah! Y-yes, sir! Th-they did charge first, the ones lying there. Something about... handing over a letter...”
When the farmer mentioned the letter, Damian quickly scanned the knight and the soldiers' reactions.
But their demeanor didn't change.
The sideburned knight scratched his chin with a sour look for a moment, then shrugged.
“Well, guess that makes it self-defense. Anyway, got any ID? Gotta tell the garrison if they ask later. Oh, and leave the horses. They're key evidence.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
The unexpected response caught the two off guard.
But Damian quickly recovered, pulling his ID plaque from his pocket.
“A reasonable man. We're discharged Imperial soldiers. Heading home.”
“Eh? Discharged from the Imperial Army? But your accents aren't northern. And the only Imperial post around here is Northernrocks Fortress... You from there?”
“That's right.”
“Whoa!”
“N-Northernrocks!”
The sideburned knight's face changed instantly, and the swordsmen with him stirred in agitation.
“Northernrocks dischargees!”
Damn! Again?
Seeing their odd reaction, Damian stealthily reached behind his back again, slipping three daggers between his fingers.
But he couldn't throw them.
“S-so... You guys know a Blake? Taller than you, bald guy, scar across his face like this...”
Huh?
Blake's name out of nowhere startled Damian.
No way that inhuman monster's tied up in anything normal. Deny it flat out.
As he started shaking his head, oblivious Rickbear piped up.
“Huh? How do you know our monster... I mean, Captain Blake?”
“Ha! Knew it!”
Stupid bald pig bastard! Gonna die fucking your way to the grave!
Seeing their surprise, Damian inwardly cursed Rickbear and tightened his grip on the daggers.
But the sideburned knight's reaction was truly unforeseen.
“Wow! Running into Sir Blake's comrades out here? What a coincidence!”
“Huh?”
Damian froze mid-motion, hand still poised to draw.
“Wait, how do you know our captain?”
Rickbear asked, half puzzled, half curious.
Oblivious to how close he'd come to death, the sideburned knight chatted excitedly.
“No need to be shocked! Remember about a month ago, when reinforcements arrived at the fortress?”
“Oh yeah. Not many useful ones, though.”
“Haha! I'm retired now, but I was Headgates garrison back then. Escorted the prisoners there, y'know? And ended up traveling with Sir Blake, fresh off discharge...”
His face beaming with delight, the knight continued his tale.
He was none other than Guard, the former Headgates guardsman.
After Blake left, he'd quit the garrison and landed a gig as a retainer and squad leader for the White Family. He'd come out here on a farmer's report of shady groups lurking near Dunfries.
“...So I followed the Bluefin Knights to Dunfries! And there I saw Sir Blake again...”
“Oho! Nice!”
Rickbear listened with rapt interest, chiming in enthusiastically as Guard's story went on.
But Damian was different.
His expression grew graver with every word, freezing completely when Guard mentioned the uproar over the Second Prince's letter Blake had carried.
“...That's how it went. And thanks to Sir Blake, rumors spread that the White Family's connected to Prince Henrik—huge boost for us! Man, they weren't kidding about your builds. Real subordinates of Sir Blake!”
By now casually saying “our White Family,” Guard gazed at the two with sentimental eyes.
“Uh-hahaha! Yeah, that monster... er, Captain Blake's got presence! Good eye! Right? Kuh-ha!”
His doubts about Guard cleared, Rickbear slapped his thigh and roared with laughter.
Damian, who'd been frowning deep in thought, suddenly looked up.
“Huh? Yeah. What a wild coincidence. Anyway, sir, no issues with our ID, so we good to go?”
“Aw, leaving already? Come to our estate. The young ladies'll be thrilled—you're Sir Blake's men!”
“Whoa! Ladies?”
Rickbear's eyes bulged.
Damian hurried forward, blocking him.
“Thanks for the story, but we'll pass. Really in a rush.”
“Wh-what? Why?”
“Shut it, you. Only fifty days left to live.”
Hissing low to silence Rickbear, Damian turned back to Guard.
“Anyway, Guard, we're short on time. Mind if we take these two horses?”
“Huh? Oh! Shame, but sure. Fate brought us together—least I can do.”
Guard agreed cheerfully.
The horses were evidence and bribes, but as a recent guardsman, he could handle it on his own authority.
“Appreciate it.”
Mounting up, Damian shot Rickbear a glare.
“Tch. Can't we rest a bit?”
Rickbear smacked his lips regretfully but climbed on obediently.
“Safe travels! Oh, if you see Sir Blake or Sir Zaroph, tell 'em our eldest lady said she'll kill Zaroph someday! Haha!”
Guard burst out laughing, and the swordsmen—who knew about Lindelmann and Christine White—chuckled along.
Soon, they vanished into the distance.
Clop-clop.
The two rode on in silence for a while.
As bored Rickbear opened his mouth to speak, Damian muttered through gritted teeth.
“Damn! So that's how it is.”
“Huh? What?”
Damian scanned the surroundings sharply, then pulled something from deep in his pocket.
It was a letter sealed with Prince Henrik's crest.
“That Luther bastard didn't give us ID right away—told us to show this to the Headgates clerk for it! The clerk flipped out calling us knights and sirs after seeing it! From those lunatics not half a day out of Headgates to these horse-riding pricks—everyone asking if we're Northernrocks dischargees, then jumping us! All because of this letter and that guy!”
“That guy? Who?”
“Who else? Captain Blake!”
“Eh? Why him?”
“Idiot! Didn't you hear Guard blabbing? Captain stirred up hell in Dunfries. All sorts of northern nobles and merchants there—even Bluefin Knights and great lords' men. He made such a scene, he's famous now!”
“Yeah! Uh-haha! Showed 'em how badass Northernrocks scouts are! Just like that monster! Damn, if I'd been there, I'd have made it epic! Fucked all the girls too! Kuh-ha!”
Rickbear guffawed heartily.
“You moron! That's exactly why we're in this shit! Captain and us both carrying Luther's letter! They think we're all in cahoots!”
“Whoa.”
“Ugh! Thanks to the captain's stunt, every cutthroat in the north—not to mention Bluefin whatever knights—will be gunning for us!”
Damian scowled fiercely.
“Really? Hmm. Pfft, whatever! Complicated bullshit! Just hack the heads off anyone who charges! Kuh-ha!”
“Ugh! You brute! Drop it!”
Snapping irritably, Damian's face darkened.
“Damn! Should've known when Luther said show the letter to the Headgates clerk for ID. Even the clerk's attitude flipped the second he saw it. Bet he spread word far and wide that we're with the captain. That's why flies swarmed right after we left Headgates. Shit! Luther probably planned it all. Grr!”
Three days out of Headgates, after three ambushes, Damian finally pieced it together, grinding his teeth in fury.
“Tch! Part of me wants to ditch it all, hide out, and screw over Luther...”
But he couldn't.
He and Rickbear had to reach Soria in fifty days—or bleed out every orifice and die.
Damned if they did, damned if they didn't.
Still, they'd fight to live first, right?
“Fuuuuck! Blake! Luther! Die, both you bastards!”
“Don't know what, but die! Kuh-haha!”
The roar of one man whose fate twisted against his will—and his ever-jolly comrade—echoed through the northern woods.
(To be continued)