Chapter 58
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Bran River (7)
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“Ah, anyway, if I want to take the Imperial Army knight exam, I’d have to wait several more years, and since I’ve tied myself to your lot, going back home now would just drag me into even bigger trouble, right? Plus, like you said, I can’t join a knight order full of pointless hypocrites, and I don’t even want to...”
Glancing slyly at Blake’s reaction, Lindelmann continued.
“So, since it’s come to this! I figure heading south to gain more experience and scout a decent position would be best. And traveling with you, who has Prince Henrik’s letter, the Princess of Millena probably won’t treat us poorly either—good things are good, right? What do you say?”
“...”
Seeing Blake’s unchanging response, Lindelmann hurriedly added.
“M-moreover, the south is crawling with con artists preying on naive discharged soldiers like you who don’t know the ways of the world! So having a reliable companion like me would be...”
“Fine.”
“...Huh?”
Lindelmann, who had been ready to grab Blake’s pant leg and beg if refused, widened his eyes in surprise.
Blake spoke bluntly once more.
“On one condition: you follow my orders unconditionally until Soria, and after delivering the letter, your top priority is going your own way. Sir Zaroph, you can’t return to Northernrocks Fortress with me, right?”
“O-of course! Well, we’ll think about that when the time comes. Haha! I’ll do exactly as you say. Hahaha!”
Amid his joy, Lindelmann let out a hearty laugh, feeling oddly deflated for some reason.
“Good for you, Sir Zaroph!”
Rubens, who had been watching the two anxiously, flashed a bright smile and approached as if to hug him.
Lindelmann, about to smile back, cleared his throat and looked away instead.
“Ahem! Y-you, don’t smile like that...”
“Ah! Sorry, I forgot.”
Rubens scratched his cheek with an embarrassed grin.
“Then let’s go.”
“Oh! Right, let’s! Come on, quick.”
“Y-yes!”
Blake slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed down to the dock, the other two following behind.
One too big, one just right, and one too small...
Three very different shadows stretched out long.
But the three shadows somehow looked perfectly in sync.
“Hey, folks!”
Roddy, who had been watching their backs with a smile, suddenly remembered something and called out in his gruff voice.
“What about her?”
Roddy nodded toward one spot with a troubled expression.
There stood Annrose, her face a complicated mix of emotions.
“Um, Miss Bunnyard, are you getting off?”
Rubens, on slightly better terms with her, asked cautiously.
“Ah? Oh! Yes, right now.”
Startled, Annrose quickly put on a spirited face.
But inwardly, her heart was in utter turmoil.
It wasn’t because the letter Blake carried was addressed not to some capital bigwig, but to Prince Henrik’s daughter in Soria, his major domain.
That didn’t matter anymore.
It was the conversation she’d just overheard between Blake and Lindelmann.
Their words kept swirling in her mind, making her chest pound.
To her, shaped by past experiences, all knights were nothing but braggarts full of greed, simple and brutish.
So the scene of those two men moments ago had been a fresh, shocking revelation.
-You can definitely become that kind of knight.
Blake’s words to Lindelmann—delivered without emotion or consideration, in his usual monotone and bluntness—strangely sent vibrations through her heart.
And Lindelmann, whom she’d dismissed as averagely handsome at best, maybe below average, had surprised her once again.
But at the same time, a tightness gripped her chest, irritation bubbling up.
It wasn’t anger at the two men.
It was anger at herself.
An illegitimate child never properly respected at home, with failure staring her in the face.
Yet Lindelmann, despite his long, painstaking efforts to succeed on his own going up in smoke, was picking himself up without despair, ready to forge a new path.
What about her?
The decline of her once-prestigious family was largely her fault, if she thought about it.
Orphaned young, but old enough to judge right from wrong.
With just a little help, she could have managed the family herself.
But she hadn’t.
Accustomed to being pampered and flattered, she hated the hassle.
So she’d handed the reins to those distant relatives with fancy titles.
And disaster struck.
Trusting only in the Bunnyard name, living like a flower in luxury—her arrogance and vanity blinded her to their scheme of selling off the family name and businesses to form a group defying the imperial family.
Luckily discovered early, and with them cornered, they tried to kill her to claim Bunnyard fully, but failed. Miraculously, she was cleared of suspicion.
Thus, not the head of a treasonous family, but a pitiful girl exploited and surviving death earned her sympathy, and the emperor’s mercy granted full pardon.
She saw it as an unintended tragedy, mere bad luck.
All the misery and misfortune around her was others’ fault; she was just the victim.
So she resolved to rise by using others, just as they had used her.
She believed it justified.
But it wasn’t.
Her complacency and arrogance had sparked it all, yet her pathetic pride refused to admit it.
And that false pride, mistaken for Bunnyard dignity, was the root of every tragedy.
So embarrassing.
Her eyes welled up unwittingly.
A young knight of lowly birth, homeless and adrift, rises without faltering to find his own way.
Yet she, with a mansion to return to and a few loyal retainers still believing in the family, had acted as if plunged into abyss. She found herself utterly pathetic and infuriating.
Thud!
So furious, Annrose stomped her foot hard without thinking, drawing eyes from Blake and the others.
Caught off guard by her self-directed anger, rage, and the sudden stares, she panicked.
Tears streamed from her large eyes unbidden.
W-what?
Shocked at her own tears, she hurriedly wiped her face with her sleeve.
Her face burned red, tears unrelenting, but she bit her lip and stepped off the boat.
The gazes of Blake’s group and the rivermen silently followed the small, tear-streaked back of the Bunnyard earl family’s heir.
“Alright!”
Annrose, standing with narrow shoulders squared and fists clenched, suddenly whipped around.
“...?”
Everyone but Blake flinched.
Her eyes still misty but brimming with life, she scanned them, then dipped into a slight curtsy, heel lifted.
“Despite boarding this vessel without permission, you didn’t blame me and took care of me. Annrose of Bunnyard sincerely thanks you all.”
“...!”
Under the sunset glow, the young lady’s graceful greeting left even the rough rivermen gaping in awe.
Her beauty somewhat dulled by days of hardship, but her poise remained unshaken.
But only for a moment.
Straightening lightly, Annrose placed one hand on her hip and pointed sharply with the other.
“But you!”
Her slender white finger aimed unerringly at Blake, who watched her impassively unlike the others. Fixing it there, she continued boldly.
“I’ll remember your rudeness! And when I meet Prince Henrik, I’ll lodge a formal complaint. You’d better brace yourself until we meet again! And you!”
“Me? M-me?”
Lindelmann’s eyes bulged as he asked back.
Annrose hesitated briefly before pressing on.
“You... I’ll deal with you later. Goodbye!”
Gone was the gentle tone for the rivermen; sharp as a winter gale, she snapped it out, then turned on her heel and marched away briskly.
“Heh!”
Roddy, watching her vanish across the dock, chuckled in disbelief.
“Saw it when she jumped in the river, but that girl’s unstoppable. Heh! Looks like you’re in her bad books good. With that fire, she might head straight to Darlington—what then?”
Roddy said with a sly grin.
“Gah!”
As expected, Lindelmann’s face paled at her parting words, which he’d tilted his head over.
“Deal with you later” clearly meant that.
But Blake’s expression didn’t change.
“She said she’d tell the commander about me. And that she’d see him again. Whether she snitches for real, she’s decided to stick with the commander first. So she won’t go to Darlington.”
“Ooh! R-right!”
Lindelmann’s face brightened a bit.
“True enough. Anyway, folks, got a place to stay? If not, follow this guy. Swamp Firefly Inn—run by one of our league’s captains. He’ll treat you right, help with boats to Revat Port, and keep the flies off you.”
After introducing one of his men, Roddy winked at Blake with his final words.
Blake, catching the implication about potential letter-related hassles, nodded lightly.
“Thanks to the end.”
“Heh! No need. Your payback’s what we talked about earlier?”
“Hm. If trouble arises, I’ll harass him as much as I can.”
He’d never even seen Count Darlington, but given the past events partly thanks to him, and for Roddy’s sake, Blake vowed to torment him fiercely ahead. He nodded.
“That’ll do. Safe travels!”
“Take care.”
“Thanks! Stay well!”
“Prosper! Cut down on the bribes though!”
The three exchanged final waves and departed.
“Whew! Tough day. Those guests gone?”
Benil, finishing cleanup, dusted his hands and emerged.
“Yeah.”
Roddy, arms crossed at the rail, watched their shrinking figures and nodded.
“Sure are. Hey, brother, didn’t we overdo the generosity? Almost came back empty-handed, but we made bank.”
“I wanted to give even more.”
“Eh? Why?”
“They’re fun. Been ages since I met someone so promising and entertaining.”
Roddy grinned at the departing group.
“What’s that mean?”
Benil squinted, baffled.
“Heard of any famous knight orders or sword corps fighting lately? Or bandits or river pirates getting wiped out? Besides small fry.”
“Well, uh...”
Benil started to answer casually, then frowned and tilted his head.
“No point thinking—none.”
“Hm, yeah? But good’s good, right? World’s at peace or something.”
“Good’s good? Last year alone, our league lost over ten ships to Bran River pirates. No deaths, so we paid to get cargo and crew back.”
“R-really?”
“Yeah. Think about it—makes no sense. Pirates loot us, and we pay ‘consolation’ to retrieve it?”
“Mm...”
“And the knight orders and sword corps meant to fix it? They bicker over blood with childish duels, pat each other’s backs after—win or lose—with empty praise, while bigwigs settle it quietly. That’s ‘custom’ and ‘chivalry’?”
“...”
Benil fell silent as Roddy’s voice grew heated.
“Fuck! Since when is paying off the bastards who beat my men and steal my goods ‘custom’ or ‘chivalry’? Sitting on their asses. Ptoo!”
Roddy spat into the river; Benil nodded.
“Tch! Yeah, doesn’t add up.”
“See? That’s knights these days. Just like Sir Blake said—full of hypocrisy. Real criminals run wild, while hypocrites laze around playing hero, venting on easy targets. Hmph! But Sir Blake’s different.”
“True. Smashed Grime and Red Wind Knights at Elberra—clearly cut from different cloth!”
Recalling it, Benil smirked.
“Right? You had fun too. First real deal since the war—unlike those pale capital knights spouting ‘take my sword,’ ‘judgment of justice’ bullshit.”
“Heh! Yeah, gets why you like him now.”
“Right? But hey...”
Grinning toothily, Roddy turned a meaningful gaze toward where Blake’s group had vanished.
“Mark my words—it’ll get way more fun. Someday, just telling this tale in a pub might get us free drinks for life. Hahaha!”
Roddy’s booming laugh echoed across the now fully darkened dock.
(To be continued...)
