II. Where Sword and Embers Are Headed (1)
II. Where Sword and Embers Are Headed (1)
The Empire's northern Everfrost was not much to look at once the blizzard ended.
No matter how far Keldric traveled, he saw nothing but snow, and the strengthened sunlight reflected off it so brightly that he instinctively furrowed his brow.
Even so, Keldric rode Boreas slowly and took in the scenery.
'Beautiful.'
It felt entirely different from the scenery around the village.
The needlelike peaks towering over Carlton Village were magnificent in their own right, but the vast plain of snow made his chest feel open and free.
As he rode Boreas, Keldric occasionally dismounted to touch the nameless plants growing beside the road.
He found it astonishing that plants could bloom amid the snow.
Cold-weather plants certainly existed, but a blizzard had been raging here only a short while ago.
The plants that had stubbornly survived it were nothing short of wondrous.
Others might have found them unremarkable, but they made Keldric feel like a child seeing something wholly new.
He spent each day taking in the scenery. When the sun set, he built a fire on a stretch of dirt road where the snow lay thinner and cooked his supper.
Most nights he ate barley porridge made by boiling barley and shredded salted meat in melted snow.
It was hardly delicious food, but it was passable enough for Keldric's palate.
When darkness fell and owls began to hoot, he spread the cloak from his shoulders on the ground, pulled a hide over himself, and tried to sleep.
Keldric traveled that way for three full days.
Going three days without a proper wash felt deeply unpleasant. Keldric at least tried to keep his face clean with water made by melting and boiling snow.
He knew that if he met anyone, first impressions would matter.
On the third day after leaving Carlton Village, Keldric reached a fork where the seemingly endless dirt road split into two.
"Oh..."
It drove home anew just how remote Carlton Village was.
The road he had walked for three solid days led only to Carlton Village, which meant there were no other settlements along the way he had traveled.
Halting briefly, Keldric studied the signpost from atop Boreas.
The two boards pointing left and right bore crooked letters carved with a knife and blackened with charcoal.
Keldric studied one of them and narrowed his eyes.
'Schaffendorf, 5 Leuge'
There was no standardized unit of distance here, so people commonly used the distance an ordinary person could walk in an hour.
One leuge was the distance a person could cover on foot in one hour.
According to the sign, Schaffendorf was a five-hour walk away, though even that estimate might not have been exact.
'Straight ahead, through Schaffendorf, then Yalta.'
Keldric recalled the route Hilmer had explained. Though the directions had been given orally, they were simple and easy to follow.
"Let's go, Boreas."
When Keldric vigorously stroked Boreas's mane, the horse tossed its head and snorted contentedly.
Keldric turned Boreas toward the sign for Schaffendorf and repeated Hilmer’s directions to himself.
Schaffendorf, Yalta, and then west to Bellam.
Keldric lifted his head and looked up at the sky. With the blizzard gone, the northern sky was clear and bright.
The sun had not yet reached the top of the sky. The day was still young.
A person walked one leuge in an hour, but a horse walked a little faster than that.
If nothing went wrong, he would reach Schaffendorf before evening.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
Jorgen, captain of the Ram Mercenary Company, scowled up at the sun.
The sun, now hanging at its peak, signaled that it was noon.
When he looked down again, Jorgen found half a loaf of rock-hard rye bread in his hand—his so-called lunch. The dark-brown bread smelled faintly musty.
Clicking his tongue, Jorgen brought his dagger down on the rye bread.
A sharp 'clang!' rang out, a sound no one could mistake for something fit to eat.
"Just my luck."
Jorgen forced his dagger into the loaf and popped a piece of rye bread, hardened like stone, into his mouth.
It was at least easier to eat after he softened it with saliva.
He was lucky it contained no sand. In truly hard times, he had eaten rye bread mixed with sand.
Things were better now. The bread still tasted awful, but at least it didn't make him sick.
"Captain, couldn't we get a little wheat bread too?"
Toben, the clueless rookie, approached while Jorgen struggled to chew the bread he had softened with spit.
Jorgen followed the line of Toben's finger.
A woman in a dark-brown robe sat alone, indulging in the luxury of wheat bread.
Jorgen's throat bobbed. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd tasted soft wheat bread.
But that loaf was not Jorgen's share.
"Are you joking? Don't provoke the wizard for no reason. I'll at least boil some water for you tonight."
"But doesn't the wizard seem to have a small appetite? She's already been stretching that loaf over two days."
"That is for the wizard to decide. Toben, eat your own share."
Jorgen glared at the back of Toben’s grumbling head and swallowed a curse.
'As if I didn't want some too.'
It was one thing to choke down rock-hard rye bread for a day or two, but they'd already spent four days sleeping rough without a proper bed.
Even Jorgen was close to losing his mind while watching someone nibble soft wheat bread right in front of him.
If it had been meat, who knew what he might've done? He could restrain himself only because it was bread.
"Wizard."
After forcing down the rye bread, Jorgen approached the woman eating wheat bread by herself.
Her dark-blond hair swayed.
"What? Wait—don't come too close. You stink."
"...How much longer do we have to keep searching?"
"How would I know? What, are you tired already?"
Was she seriously asking because she didn't know?
Jorgen stared at her in disbelief for a moment, then gathered himself and pleaded his case.
"Are these mounted bandits even real? It's already been four days."
"I'm suffering too. Do you have any idea what it is like to travel around surrounded by stinking mercenaries?"
"It's just taking far too long."
"The City Council gave us this job. What, should we half-ass it, pack up, and go home?"
"No, that's..."
"If the mounted bandits go on another rampage in a few days because we did that, the City Council and Sir Herman would be just thrilled. Right?"
When she put it like that, Jorgen had nothing left to say.
This was the price of having eagerly snapped up the commission the city had posted. Had he known it would turn out like this, he never would have taken it.
But if he abandoned the commission and washed his hands of it, there was no telling how the Bellam City Council would punish him.
"If you don't want that, stop talking nonsense and go back."
"..."
In the end, Jorgen trudged back to his place.
'Fuck, what an attitude.'
Jorgen glared hard at the back of the wizard’s head, but his anger soon drained away.
Her manner was irritating, but what good would it do to resent a wizard who had done nothing wrong?
Ultimately, that wizard was in much the same boat as Jorgen.
She too had jumped at the City Council’s commission, only to discover that it meant spending days suffering outdoors.
Jorgen was accustomed to sleeping rough as a mercenary. The wizard, however, was not.
An Academia-trained wizard was rare.
The astronomical cost of admission and graduation was one thing; a student also had to survive the grueling course of study.
A truly skilled wizard was so sought after that nobles would scramble over one another to recruit them.
Of course, unless the wizard was born to a noble house, even that could not overcome the barriers of status.
The moment Jorgen returned, the rookie Toben hurried over in a fluster.
"Captain. How did it go?"
Jorgen gave Toben a sour look. He didn't like the rookie much.
A new recruit ought to be nervous and serious, but Toben was hopelessly frivolous.
If the company had not lost nearly ten mercenaries in the Battle of Robernst, Jorgen would never have recruited such an incompetent brat.
"None of your business."
Jorgen waved Toben away in annoyance.
Toben made no attempt to hide his displeasure as he withdrew.
'Once this job is over...'
Once Jorgen returned to Bellam and collected the reward, he intended to throw the greenhorn out and recruit a proper mercenary.
Until then, he had to put up with him.
"Captain."
Someone approached Jorgen. It was Anton, a veteran mercenary of the Ram Mercenary Company.
"What is it?"
"Someone is coming from over there."
The shaggy-bearded man raised a hand and pointed. Jorgen’s gaze sharpened at once and followed his finger.
"That's..."
It was still too far away to make out clearly.
Yet against an endless field of pure white snow, a lone shape of another color stood out unmistakably.
Jorgen stared at the shape as it gradually drew closer.
At a glance, it looked like a person mounted on a horse.
'Could that be a mounted bandit?'
Jorgen tensed, but as the figure approached, its clothing looked nothing like a mounted bandit’s.
"What's that?"
The wizard appeared to have noticed the figure as well. Jorgen approached her.
"It does seem to be someone on horseback, but I can't be sure. Shall I send a few men to check?"
"Forget it. If they're mounted bandits, why would you send only one or two men? We're better off staying together."
"Understood."
The wizard was rude but sensible. Jorgen agreed with her and kept the group together.
While Jorgen, the wizard, and the others waited on guard, the mounted figure drew close and stopped before them.
Facing the figure, Jorgen's eyes widened involuntarily.
A tin-can-like helmet covered his head. He wore chain mail over a thick leather coat and a navy surcoat bearing a bear with its forepaws raised.
'...A knight?'
By his appearance, he was unmistakably a knight—and a well-equipped one at that.
The problem was why a knight would abruptly appear in a place like this.
"The fuck, what is this?"
"Why's a knight suddenly showing up?"
"Look at that build. No joke."
"Ain't we screwed?"
Several mercenaries, alarmed by the knight, muttered among themselves. The rookie Toben merely looked confused.
Jorgen swallowed hard at the sight of the knight and immediately went to the wizard.
"Wizard, what should we do?"
"Hng... Knights are a pain to deal with."
Even the normally haughty wizard was cowed. That was what knights did to people.
"Then, I'll go."
In the end, Jorgen took Anton, his most reliable veteran mercenary, and stepped forward.
In this world, knights who drew their swords first whenever they were displeased were hardly rare.
Offering a courteous greeting before it was too late was the safest choice.
'God, please let nothing happen.'
As Jorgen approached the knight, he repeated the name of a God he normally never called upon.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
Keldric, who had been riding Boreas toward Schaffendorf for about two hours, saw several people standing by the roadside far ahead.
'What's that?'
He could not make them out clearly at first, so Keldric narrowed his eyes and focused.
Some carried long, narrow objects, while others held what looked like swords or clubs.
Several heads glinted as though they were wearing iron helmets.
He could not discern more detail than that, but they were certainly a far cry from ordinary peddlers.
'Mercenaries!'
Keldric recalled Hans and Gunther, who had attacked the manor house.
There were broadly two reasons mercenaries roamed about outside.
Either they were carrying out a commission from an employer, or they were robbing passersby blind as bandits.
Even if they were not bandits, there was a vast difference between a commission to kill people and one to dispose of low-grade monsters.
Keldric suspected they might be heading for Carlton Village.
Given that Hans and Gunther's lot had previously been under Baron Gofrit's influence, there was no guarantee that these were not yet more mercenaries sent by Baron Gofrit.
Keldric put on the helm that hung at his waist.
Keldric put on the helmet hanging from his belt and calmly rode Boreas toward them.
In truth, he had no other choice.
The only alternatives were to keep to the road, or to wheel his horse around and plunge into the snowfields.
As the distance closed, Keldric was surprised to find that the mercenaries were better equipped than he had expected.
The iron helms he had seen from afar were conical helms.
They were probably cheap helmets made with a great deal of inferior iron, but they were still far better than leather.
The other side seemed to have spotted Keldric as well, as two rough-faced mercenaries stepped forward.
Keldric pulled on the reins and waited. The two mercenaries soon came close enough to address him.
"May God’s blessing be with you. Good afternoon, honorable knight."
"May God’s blessing be with you as well. Yes, a fine afternoon."
Hearing Keldric’s deep, dignified voice, Jorgen had an immediate thought.
'So he really was a knight.'
High status and martial power naturally brought deference, and some men became so enamored of it that they impersonated knights.
True knights from noble houses, however, spoke with an accent commoners could not easily imitate, which made them easy to distinguish.
Only ignorant peasants were fooled by false knights.
By that measure, Keldric’s speech was flawless.
He rolled his tongue in the manner of a noble and lifted the ends of his phrases slightly.
"I am Jorgen, captain of the Ram Mercenary Company. We are carrying out a commission from Bellam and traveling with a wizard."
"Hm."
Jorgen deliberately mentioned the wizard, but Keldric did not so much as scoff.
'Oh. A wizard.'
He was merely intrigued to hear that a wizard was present.
Jorgen’s face darkened slightly as he continued.
"If it would not be rude, might I be so bold as to ask your name and house, honorable knight?"
Keldric marveled at Jorgen’s near-groveling manner, yet kept his voice imposing.
"God be with you. I am Keldric of House Bellaf."
"I see! Then what brings Sir Keldric to these parts...?"
"I am on my way to Bellam. I intended to reach Schaffendorf today. Why do you ask?"
"Ah, nothing. If the question was rude, I beg your pardon."
From Keldric's perspective, he had asked out of sheer curiosity, but Jorgen could not possibly have known that.
Jorgen trembled at the thought that he might have offended the knight.
Anton, standing beside him, was likewise breaking out in a cold sweat.
Keldric asked the two men another question as though it were nothing.
"What were you lot doing in a place like this?"
"As I mentioned, we are carrying out a commission from the Bellam City Council. We came here to subdue a gang of mounted bandits active in this area."
"I see."
Keldric studied the still-deferential Jorgen for a moment, then spoke readily.
"Are you returning to Bellam now?"
"No. We came all the way out here early this morning, so we were about to search for the mounted bandits while heading back toward Schaffendorf."
"Oh. Is that so?"
"Yes. If it would not inconvenience Sir Keldric, we would be honored to escort you."
That was not the truth. Jorgen had originally planned to look for a campsite around this spot.
Jorgen changed his plan because of what Keldric had said moments earlier.
Keldric was heading for Schaffendorf, while Jorgen’s company plainly looked as though they had just come from there.
If they simply let him pass, he might ask why they had not guided him and decide that lowborn mercenaries had insulted his honor.
It was a ridiculous leap, yet surprisingly plausible.
Nor was escorting him entirely undesirable. As far as Jorgen could tell, Keldric seemed reasonably good-natured for a knight.
Besides, if they guided him back to Schaffendorf, the knight might give them a few coins.
Knights tended to spend freely. Dispensing favors to their social inferiors as though giving alms was both a privilege and a luxury.
The knight might tell him to fuck off once the escort ended, and Jorgen would have no recourse. Even then, he could use the knight as an excuse to avoid sleeping rough.
Keldric had already seen through Jorgen’s hope for a handout. With a wry smile, he passed him several silver coins.
"Then I’ll leave it to you."
"Thank you! It is an honor to escort the honorable Sir Keldric."
A mercenary wary of knights, a prickly wizard, and Keldric, who thought little of the whole affair.
Thus began their peculiar journey together.