IV. Chivalric Romance and the Bastards (1)
IV. Chivalric Romance and the Bastards (1)
After seeing Baron Yaven and Sir Werner off on their way to Carlton Village, Keldric resumed his journey.
From Yalta, reaching his destination of Bellam was quick.
He would have to camp outside for about a day, but for Keldric, who had ridden from Carlton Village to Schaffendorf for four and a half days, it was no trouble at all.
Unlike the village roads where snow had been cleared only in patches, the highway—its earth packed hard—had been swept clean of snow or else the snow had melted and soaked into the soil.
It was proof that many people passed this way. Keldric, Alisa, and Jorgen's Ram Mercenary Company walked along that road.
When night fell, they made camp together in a spot where they had cleared the snow aside, and how long had they been walking since early morning?
"Oh..."
Just before noon, Keldric let out an exclamation of awe at the sight of the city in the distance.
Upon a low hill, a city girded by walls and spires lay spread before him.
Keldric stopped Boreas without a thought of riding further, and Jorgen, who had likewise halted his horse, spoke to him.
"That is Bellam."
If Bogenberg was the bridge linking the Everfrost with the central Empire, then Bellam was the Cradle of the North.
A city in the Everfrost, where snow fell year-round and the cold never lifted, where countless people gathered in search of opportunity and a place to nest.
"Still, we got here fast."
"Thanks to the wizard."
"What do you mean, thanks to me? It's thanks to Sir Keldric."
Whether Jorgen and Alisa chattered on or not, Keldric gazed at Bellam's walls as if spellbound.
The walls, with cone-roofed spires rising from every corner, were truly enormous. They possessed a solidity that seemed able to withstand even siege engines without crumbling easily.
The Cradle of the North, which had existed since before the founding of the Empire, brought Keldric—who had longed to see the city—a satisfaction beyond his imaginings.
"Are there two outer walls?"
"Yes. Though there's only one moat."
Keldric nodded slowly.
Digging even a single moat to encircle a city of that size was a massive undertaking, and a second one would risk destabilizing the ground in unpredictable ways.
"Still, a city this size—I wouldn't think it's ever been taken."
"Haha... I thought the same at first. But I've heard it's been captured twice since its founding."
Seeing Bellam's imposing grandeur, Keldric now understood why Baron Yaven had been so agitated over the cut-off iron supply.
For a city of that scale to function, iron was an indispensable resource, and without it the chaos would be beyond words.
Keldric set aside his admiration of Bellam for the moment.
All he wanted now was to unpack before sundown and fill his belly with a decent meal.
"Is there a decent inn?"
"That depends on how much coin you have. With enough money, you could have the finest experience."
As expected, Bellam's inns were beyond compare with those in some backwater village. Keldric nodded, focusing on what Jorgen was saying.
"But, Sir Keldric, will you be sleeping at an inn as well?"
Unexpectedly, it was Alisa who spoke. Keldric looked at her with a puzzled expression.
"What do you mean?"
"Sir Herman of House Kassel is staying in the city. Once he learns of your visit, wouldn't he extend an invitation?"
Hearing Alisa's words, Keldric nodded.
Now that she mentioned it, she was right.
For a knight entrusted by his liege with the governance of a city to fail to welcome another knight who had come to that city—that was, before any question of honor, a breach of courtesy.
The same held true for Keldric, who was nearer to a wandering knight.
As a rule, when visiting another's home, the visitor must show proper respect, and the host ought to offer suitable hospitality.
As Alisa said, even if Sir Herman's reception fell short of lavish, it seemed reasonable to expect at least adequate hospitality.
"And the rest of you?"
"We'll have to stay at an inn. As for the wizard..."
"I'll go with Sir Keldric. In any case, I need to report to Sir Herman about this commission."
In that sense, it surprised Keldric a little that Sir Herman would extend guest treatment to Alisa as well.
Though she came from a fallen noble house, it seemed she was at least not disliked by Sir Herman.
"Then, let's go."
Keldric set his horse in motion again.
The first destination of the long journey was right before him.
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"They're controlling the peddlers."
The highway leading into Bellam was packed with the carts of peddlers waiting to enter the city.
Riding toward the gate, Keldric found himself frowning without realizing it.
'What was this, the holiday-return expressway?'
The jammed highway showed no sign of clearing. At Jorgen's remark that they were inspecting cargo at the gate, Keldric could only click his tongue.
"They're checking every single load?"
"Yes. Mounted bandits have been running wild, you see, and a few months ago some madman smuggled in a plague patient hidden among his goods. That seems to be the reason."
It was enough to make anyone suck their teeth. In this age, the word plague was enough to make even nobles flee in terror.
"His son?"
"Yes. The father was a peddler, and his son fell ill—he'd been trying to reach a church in the city. In the end, a priest caught the plague and died."
Keldric clicked his tongue briefly at the pitiful tale. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"This is going to take a long time."
"It seems so. So then... Sir Keldric?"
Keldric drove Boreas straight ahead, past the peddlers lined up in a long row.
At first he'd intended to queue up and wait properly, but this was too much.
Jorgen and the Ram Mercenary Company followed behind him in bewilderment, and Alisa—wearing an expression that seemed to ask why they hadn't done this sooner—rode up alongside Keldric.
"If I say I'm going in, do you think they'll let me through?"
"Most likely. Mercenaries would be checked briefly for signs of plague, but you, Sir, could simply ride past."
Keldric approached the gate steadily. Just then, several gate guards who had been inspecting the peddlers' goods seemed to catch sight of him.
Wearing startled expressions, they left a few men to continue the inspections and gathered before Keldric as he reached the gate.
"Welcome to Bellam. Honorable Sir Knight."
"Thank you. May I enter?"
"If it's not too great an imposition, your house and name..."
"God be with you. I am Keldric of House Bellaf."
"Ah! Please, go right in! I shall escort you!"
The gate guards who had heard Keldric's words were behaving with utmost deference.
Sensitive though the times were because of the plague incident, there seemed no need to show such courtesy to a knight they were seeing for the first time.
When Keldric asked about it, Jorgen carefully gauged the mood and then whispered to him.
"A few days after the plague incident broke out, a drunken knight came to the gate late at night."
A city on edge from plague, the late hour with the gates already shut, and a knight so soaked in drink he could barely speak.
Keldric felt as if he could see the future unfolding, but he silently listened to Jorgen's words.
"And as ill luck would have it, the knight had come without his armor—in nothing but his underclothes. I heard he couldn't even manage to speak properly."
"...And? What happened?"
"He got beaten within an inch of his life by the gate guards. Couldn't even let out a proper scream, they say."
For a group to swarm in and beat an unarmed knight was a grave crime.
It was not merely an insult to that knight, but an insult to the nobility itself.
Commoners daring to strike a noble?
"What became of those guards?"
"What do you think? Do you see that tree beyond the hill over there?"
Keldric followed Jorgen's pointing finger with his eyes.
Right beside the city, on a small hill with a tree, stood a lone house.
"That place?"
"That is the executioner's dwelling. All three of the guards—vanished as the dew on the execution ground there."
Keldric was at a loss for words.
Setting aside the fact that the guards had beaten a noble like a dog in the street, he couldn't begin to understand why the knight who got thrashed had been pounding on the gate in his underwear in the middle of the night.
"From what I heard, he'd gone out hunting in broad daylight while drunk. And in the course of it..."
The knight, racing through the woods faster than his attendants could keep up and growing ever more carried away, had drunk with abandon, guzzling as if from a bottomless barrel.
In the end, the knight—dead drunk—had stripped off all his armor because it was too heavy and ridden to the gate with nothing but his horse. That was Jorgen's account.
"That's just completely..."
Keldric tried to say something, but in the end his mouth only opened and shut, words failing him.
It was so utterly absurd that he scarcely knew what to say.
"A bolt from the blue, I imagine."
"If I may be so bold... yes. For the guards, it was truly a bolt from the blue."
From the guards' perspective, it was deeply unfair—they had simply been trying to drive off a drunk.
But this drunkard happened to possess uncommon strength; it was a dark yard, his face was barely visible, and he couldn't string a sentence together. Reaching for their clubs was all but inevitable.
And yet, what were the odds.
Who could have known that the liquor-sodden drunk was a knight?
"At any rate, that's why those guards seem on edge. There's no harm in being careful."
"Mm..."
Keldric soon found himself looking at the gate guards who were leading Jorgen and the mercenaries away—with a touch of pity.
Keldric was unusually merciful, and the vast majority of other knights were as shitty and violent as ever.
Other knights wouldn't often wander around as leisurely as Keldric did, but it wasn't impossible that the guards would face a knight again—maybe more than once.
Hoping their end would not be the execution ground, Keldric urged Boreas into the city.
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Once inside the city, Keldric had no time to look around before he was summoned straight to the castle.
He hadn't been called away urgently, nor had he been summoned in a discourteous manner, but Keldric nonetheless clicked his tongue with a faint sense of regret.
"I wanted to look around the city."
"Tomorrow there'll be time. Sir Herman won't exactly be keeping you captive, after all."
Keldric looked down at Alisa walking beside him.
While she didn't seem to mind lodging in the castle thanks to Sir Herman's consideration, now that she was actually being called before him, her expression was far from eager.
But it wouldn't do to conclude that Sir Herman had a poor character—from what Jorgen had told him, Sir Herman was a decent enough knight.
There was a subtle difference between being a decent person and a decent knight, but even so, it meant he appeared decent in Jorgen's eyes.
"What sort of man is Sir Herman?"
Since Jorgen could hardly know Sir Herman in detail, it was natural for Keldric to ask Alisa such a thing.
Alisa glanced at Keldric, then let out a soft sigh.
"Sir Herman is... an excellent man. He doesn't stir up friction with the City Council, and he's doing his part to keep Bellam running smoothly. He doesn't do anything that would give the citizens cause for complaint."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. However..."
There was an uneasiness lurking in Alisa's attitude as she trailed off.
Keldric swallowed without meaning to. If it turned out that the man had the temperament of a goddamn nightmare of a knight, it would hardly make for a pleasant meeting.
"However?"
"...It's difficult to explain."
"Even a simple explanation would do."
"Sir Keldric. By any chance, do you have a book you've enjoyed reading?"
In that context, Alisa's question came out of nowhere.
Keldric looked puzzled, but he cast his mind back to the few books he'd read at House Bellaf.
They were all, without exception, dull as dirt, but among them there had been one or two that were worth reading.
"I believe I enjoyed Gernhilt of Kal Dren."
"Then there shouldn't be a problem."
Alisa was still saying things he couldn't quite fathom.
But before Keldric could press his questions, the two of them had already arrived at the office of the Outer Keep, where the steward resided.
When a servant who saw them knocked on the door, a hearty man's voice rang out from inside.
—Show them in!
The door opened, and at last Keldric came face to face with Sir Herman.
"Oh! Sir, you are the one I've heard of only through rumors..."
"God be with you. I am Keldric of House Bellaf."
"A pleasure! I am Herman of the honorable House Kassel!"
Sir Herman, wearing a feathered cap, possessed the body of a knight who had trained steadily—looked at as a whole.
A frame filled with a proper share of muscle, and a build of decent size.
He was no match for Keldric, but he too had the body of a knight.
It did not take long, however, for Keldric to understand why Alisa had been so reluctant about Sir Herman.
"So, Sir Keldric! I heard of your honorable exploits from His Lordship at the earliest opportunity!"
"Ah... did you?"
"One must never underestimate the speed of messengers! You've achieved deeds fit for legend, I'm told! You slew a Rock Troll with your bare hands?"
Stories inevitably get twisted as they pass from mouth to mouth, but it was true that Keldric had slain a Rock Troll with his bare hands.
When Keldric nodded, somewhat at a loss, Sir Herman's eyes sparkled as he looked at him.
"First, let's sit and talk. Surely it's uncomfortable for you to converse standing as well. Oh—someone, fetch the scribe!"
"No, I—."
"Come now, don't feel burdened. Let's have some wine brought out. Alisa, you come sit here as well!"
Seated in a chair by Sir Herman, Keldric looked at the multitude of books in the room and clicked his tongue.
'Gernhilt of Kal Dren, The Hairy Knight and the Sword, The Lady and Knight of Santiago...'
Every book on the shelves was chivalric literature. There was not a single other kind of book to be found.
"That story of honor worthy to rival the chivalric romances—could you tell it to me in some detail?"
Keldric looked queasily at Sir Herman, who was staring at him with oppressive eagerness.
Sir Herman was addicted to chivalric literature.