Chapter 9
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Headgates (2)
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"It's really big. Even in Headgates, I've never seen anyone that tall and burly before."
"But he's neither a noble nor a knight affiliated with any particular group."
The man in his mid-thirties, with his brown hair neatly combed back and tied, replied in a low voice to the boy sitting across from him.
The boy nodded lightly.
"That makes sense. There were no crests on his scabbard or clothes. He seems like a wandering knight of unknown origin. But that decently handsome guy with the chestnut hair next to him is definitely from nobility. A knight from a noble house in some other region, not around here."
"You saw that very well."
The man spoke with a somewhat impressed expression, and the boy grinned in response.
"No big deal. The crest on his scabbard was one I'd never seen before. Anyway, which house's knight do you think he is? What's his connection to the big guy?"
The boy's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
The man glanced around briefly before speaking even more quietly.
"It's a family crest I've never seen either. So he's at least not connected to the Credo Family. But he might have ties to the Lancaster Family. Unlike the Credo, who never leave Northway, the Lancasters started as merchants and have connections all the way to Alteria."
"Right? Then what about the big guy?"
"He's probably a bodyguard mercenary they hired. The North is no place for a noble to travel alone, even with a knight."
"Then those people might be the same. Sigh... It's already the second day, and we haven't recruited anyone. We're staying hidden in a place like this on purpose, but..."
The boy spoke in a slightly dejected tone.
He was mature and clever beyond his years, but still just a child.
The man looked at him with pitying eyes for a moment.
They were being pursued.
To be precise, they had come to Headgates expressly to recruit someone for protection, but were being tracked by those acting on the orders of someone trying to stop them.
They had originally planned to go to West Horton or Stone Street, but knowing their pursuers weren't idiots, they figured those would be the first places searched, so they came here instead.
And since nothing had happened even a day after arriving, that judgment had proven effective so far.
But while they had bought some time, their goal of recruiting remained stalled with no progress.
Unlike the slums of West Horton or Stone Street, Winterflower rarely saw lightly monied mercenaries or wandering knights.
Then, Blake and Lindelmann had caught their eyes.
It was truly a stroke of luck.
"Whether it works or not, I'll try my luck with that knight. He matches what we're looking for, at least."
With that, the man cautiously scanned the surroundings.
Combining both floors, there were about twenty people, and half carried swords, but most were ornamental.
A few had blades that looked battle-ready, but the crests on their scabbards or clothes were all ones the middle-aged man recognized.
Every one bore the mark of a house tied to the Credo or Lancaster Families—no chance they'd help.
The others were no different.
Before dinner, the man had discreetly approached a few wandering knights and mercenaries who clearly hailed from out of town in West Horton.
But the mercenaries shook their heads at the mere mention of Credo, and even the wandering knight who claimed not to fear them fled at the name Lancaster Family.
So the knight who had just entered might turn out the same.
But they couldn't just let him go.
Time was short, and they had to grasp at any straw—the harsh reality for the boy and the man.
Besides, those two newcomers matched their criteria better than anyone else they'd seen in Headgates.
"Will you do it? Whew. No matter how I think about it, it should be me stepping up... I'm really sorry, Sir Carlson."
"Don't say that. I'm just doing what must be done. Now, let's finish our meal and head to the room."
Carlson smiled and served food onto the boy's plate.
"Yes!"
The boy replied briskly and began to eat.
Uncharacteristic for a boy his age, he took small bites with careful manners, but he eventually emptied his plate.
The man watched him with a fond gaze.
Children eat poorly in hard times.
But the boy always made sure to eat his meals, even forcing it down.
He knew it was because the boy didn't want to worry him.
His maturity beyond his years was endearing beyond words.
'Even if this is the end... I will protect the honor of the White Family.'
He clenched his fist under the table.
As a knight sworn to one house, his resolve to stand with them to the last surged anew.
Having scrubbed off the grime of travel, Blake sank into a large wooden tub, fragrant steam billowing up around him.
Splash!
Water overflowed immediately, and the boy waiting outside to change it called out cautiously at the sound.
"Shall I call a barber, sir?"
"Do it."
Recalling the fortress commander's firm instruction to get his beard and hair trimmed upon reaching Headgates, Blake agreed readily and slowly stretched his back.
"Hm."
His body warmed, bringing a languid sensation that felt utterly strange.
The clear, fresh scent from the water only heightened the unfamiliarity.
This was his first time bathing in proper conditions like this.
No—staying at an inn like this, soaking in a steaming hot tub with someone tending him by changing the water, encountering a professional barber—it was all firsts.
"Here comes Headgates' finest barber!"
A boisterous voice announced the arrival of a man with skin as smooth as a woman's, sleeves and pants rolled up to his elbows and knees.
In one hand, he carried a basket brimming with mysterious tools.
"Good grief! How long has it been since you last shaved?"
"Can't remember."
Blake masked his awkwardness with an even gruffer tone.
"Ah, I see. Heh heh!"
A bit intimidated at first, the smooth-skinned barber chuckled slickly and brought his hands to Blake's face.
"With a beard that thick, it'll be perfect for a real masterpiece. How about the fashionable southern style—elegant yet vibrant..."
"Cut it all."
"Pardon?"
"Clean. Just shave it all off."
"Ah, well... I-if you insist... A-alright then. Here we go."
The barber made a briefly sullen face before pulling tools from his basket and approaching Blake's face.
"...!"
In an instant, Blake's eyes flashed sharply.
Splash!
Water sprayed as intense pain shot through the barber's wrist.
Thud!
"Gah!"
The barber dropped his tool and collapsed in place.
A massive hand, scarred and rippling with thick muscles like writhing serpents, gripped his wrist.
"S-sir, why...? Ngh!"
The barber called out to Blake, face drained of color.
His gaze fell to the dropped item—a keenly sharpened straight razor.
"..."
Confirming it was a razor, Blake twitched an eyebrow and released the man's arm.
It had been a mistake.
The blade, small as it was, was razor-sharp and headed for his throat; he'd forgotten the commander's words about barbers and reacted on pure instinct.
"N-no, why are you doing this, sir?"
Terrified, the barber rubbed his reddened wrist and scooted back while seated.
Blake, silent for a moment, spoke lowly.
"It's nothing."
"N-no! What did I do wrong...? You didn't even ask what style you wanted, and I just started! Unworthy of Headgates' top barber—that was my mistake."
Choking back tears, the barber seamlessly turned the blame on himself upon seeing the silver coin Blake offered.
A copper could have covered it ten times over—talk about a big tipper to match his build.
"Again."
"Yes, sir!"
The barber pocketed the silver in a flash, his hands moving swiftly now.
Scrape, scrape.
The razor danced along Blake's jawline.
Though small, it was lethal enough to kill; entrusting his bare face to a man wielding it left Blake far from relaxed.
No killing intent, but each touch to his throat and jaw made his body twitch involuntarily, a urge rising to snap the barber's neck.
But Blake endured.
This was one of the hurdles the commander had said he must face to adapt to the world beyond Northernrocks.
"..."
As he grew slightly accustomed to the barber's movements, Blake's mind wandered to the streets of Headgates he'd walked earlier.
Just like this barber, navigating crowds of non-threatening people had been profoundly odd.
The countless stares directed at him.
The emotions in them held some fear, but mostly curiosity.
Utterly unlike the gazes of people in Northernrocks Fortress or the Northern Great Mountains.
Hostility, anger, or sheer terror.
The outside world's looks lacked those, at least.
Unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.
In truth, much of Headgates felt oddly novel amid the awkwardness.
This wasn't his first city, of course.
But memories from his snot-nosed days wandering before the commander took him in were faint, and everything had changed since.
Blake might as well have been experiencing a city for the first time, requiring a touch of tension.
And to hide that from Lindelmann, he'd put in real effort.
Seemed successful so far.
The inn staff and other guests had only glanced, nothing more.
"Hm."
His thoughts reached the one gaze that had lingered, probing like it was searching for something.
Unlike the others, from a kid at a table with a middle-aged man.
No hostility or threat, but deeply unsettling.
'A thief?'
The commander had warned as much.
Those scrutinizing you closely outside were either potential friends or thieves.
Not grasping what "friend" even meant, Blake dismissed that.
Left a thief, then.
Even suspecting one, he couldn't strike first unless they stole.
That was the law of this world.
'If we meet again, stay wary.'
With that, Blake set aside thoughts of the boy.
More pressing were the Credo Swordsmen Corps—the "enemies" from the earlier scuffle, certain to cross paths again.
They'd surely hunt him down.
But just as he couldn't kill them recklessly, they seemed unable to act rashly in a crowded city.
Sending just one to scout his lodgings confirmed it.
One answer, then.
They'd strike once he left Headgates, at a suitable spot.
'Swift and decisive. Only one horse-mounted knight, so hit them first while riding. Weak as they are, bait with the capital knights.'
Blake's eyes gleamed coldly as he contemplated the fight.
(To be continued)