Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Black-Haired Knight King
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We returned to the village late in the evening, handed the injured soldier over to the barracks, and hurriedly reported the situation to the Patrol Captain.
It would have been proper to report the next day since everyone had already gone home for the evening, but the matter was far too important to delay.
'Orcs commanding wolves have appeared.'
Naturally, the patrol unit that heard about the day's events erupted into chaos late into the night.
We had plenty of evidence supporting the full context before and after, and it wasn't something they could dismiss as vague—not when casualties had already occurred at the outpost.
Recognizing the gravity of the situation, the Patrol Captain wore a serious expression.
He quickly initiated the procedure to summon the Gray Wolf, who had left with the other administrators for training.
Yes, it wasn't too late.
We could respond as long as we prepared.
After relaying the current situation to them, I stepped back with a sense of relief.
This was the Gray Wolf's village, after all, and for me to step in would be overstepping my bounds.
"I'm afraid that won't do."
But I never imagined that would be my mistake.
The very next day, right after I began standing by as an observer, the patrol unit's actions ground to a halt.
"Why not? Why? Orcs! Orcs! If we let this slide, it'll be a disaster!"
"Damn it! You think I don't know that? The Administrator's blocking the messenger pigeons and won't let them go!"
The lord governing the village was the Gray Wolf.
If the lord was absent, Barley Stalk would act in his stead, and if Barley Stalk was unavailable too, the other three administrators would inherit the authority.
The problem lay in the subtle tension flowing between those three administrators—administration, patrols, and Huscarls.
"Is that Administrator an idiot? How can he fail to grasp the situation?!"
The Patrol Captain was fundamentally a good man.
He was the first to move at news of danger to the village, and even before knowing my identity, he had listened attentively to my opinions.
But the Administrator blocking this matter was said to be a selfish sort interested only in building invisible factions.
No matter the situation, he opposed the Patrol Captain's words on principle first.
Couldn't you see the picture forming?
I never thought I'd witness yet another power struggle here—the kind that's an ever-present undercurrent in human society.
After a long exchange of shouting that left Orchid Flower's voice properly hoarse, she muttered.
"......It's not just anyone—it's Broken Sword. No matter what, shouldn't we at least pretend to trust him?"
"He's probably trying to drag this out like this. Damn it, I know he's not someone who deserves this treatment, so don't look at me like that."
"If only the lord had given us a word before leaving......"
Quite some time had passed, it seemed.
I, who once fought under the Knight King, had become an aged outsider, and the Gray Wolf had become a lord rather than the legendary Huscarl from tales.
It was time to acknowledge the years.
Born as slash-and-burn farmers in this northern frontier where the territory was their whole world, I would understand them and now move forward in my own way.
Taking a deep breath to shake off the frustration, I asked once more.
"No response from the Huscarls?"
"Haa, they won't move an inch until the lord commands it directly. They're utterly disinterested in anything outside of combat......"
"So they're not bad people, then."
"Yes, not at all. Their asses are just heavy, but they're good folk."
One side was a cunning fox,
and the other, a lazy lion.
Knowing the Huscarls' traits well, I chuckled inwardly with a "That figures."
But that laugh wasn't born of despair.
No matter what, the Huscarls would fulfill their duties, and depending on my actions, they could become comrades fully capable of defending the village.
I asked the Patrol Captain again.
"I have one messenger pigeon I can send to my disciple. It's under the Gray Wolf's prior orders, so the Administrator can't interfere recklessly."
"Ah......!"
This village resembled the Gray Wolf in valuing principles and strictly separating public and private matters.
Thanks to that, the Administrator could pressure me under the pretext of established rules and had insurance to defend himself.
But he had overlooked something.
The blade of principle has no fixed direction—it can always aim for the wielder's own neck.
"Not my favorite method, but...... if they play dirty, I'll respond in kind."
I had received a messenger pigeon from the Gray Wolf to contact Snow-Covered.
I was free to write whatever I wanted on it, with no restrictions on timing.
In other words,
if the Administrator wouldn't summon the Gray Wolf, I would call him through my disciple.
The lord's command was the principle to uphold.
If he tried to block even that, the Administrator would be the one erring against his own professed rationale.
I asked the stunned Patrol Captain.
"How much authority does the patrol unit have?"
"Ah! We basically handle all reconnaissance outside the village."
"Any way to restrict villagers' movements?"
"The main gate falls under the Administrator's authority for some reason...... Probably no way."
Snow-Covered had told me via letter that it took three full days on foot to the training grounds.
That meant at least four days minimum from the pigeon arriving until the Gray Wolf returned.
Preparing countermeasures then would be too late.
At minimum, before the Gray Wolf returned, we needed to confirm the identity of the Orcs owning those wolves
and what purpose had brought them to this northern frontier.
I'd wanted to avoid moving without the Gray Wolf, but lives were at stake.
Looking at the patrol members whose enthusiasm I'd rekindled, I politely requested.
"I could use your help."
Patrols venturing into the harsh lands outside the village were grueling work no one wanted.
Yet these people willingly made it their calling for the village's sake, and even now, they worried purely for their families and neighbors.
The world should be led by people like this.
I planned to show those sullying the village with greed what true pettiness looked like.
Snap, snap, snap.
"Damn it...... How many termite roots have I dug up for you? Was it that hard to give me a heads-up in advance? Huh? Was it?!"
Power was truly fearsome.
Sometimes it became a mighty force bending all to its will, other times an excess that made people ugly.
And the man called the Administrator belonged to the latter—utterly vile.
Emboldened by his petty authority, he was wreaking havoc again today.
The assistant clerk watching silently from the side cautiously asked.
"Won't this get us all in deep trouble? If the lord finds out......"
"Shut your mouth! That's why I'm moving first right now!"
The emergence of Orc-led wolves was shocking enough to chill the spine.
But to the Administrator, far more terrifying was the legendary figure who had appeared claiming to be Broken Sword.
Not content with successfully saving the outpost alongside what he saw as a ragtag patrol,
Broken Sword had single-handedly cut down dozens of wolves and brought word of the impending Orc invasion.
To ordinary eyes, it would seem the arrival of a hero come to save the village,
but in the foolish Administrator's view, it was the emergence of another faction threatening his position.
What if the merit-earning Broken Sword settled in the village?
He might even have to share the tasty pie of power.
But crisis was opportunity—the merits the patrol had sniffed out needed reshaping into his own achievement.
The Administrator stamped his seal hastily on two letters with bloodshot eyes.
"Send this urgently to the lord. And this one to Barley Stalk."
"Yes, Administrator."
He knew well how dangerous this response was, as his subordinate assistant clerk had said.
Yet the Administrator trusted in the solid wealth he'd amassed and his successor, Barley Stalk, who had supported him devotedly.
While the patrol fools floundered blindly, he would deliver the news first.
Of course, any collateral damage to others was none of his concern.
But just as he sat back down reassured, another clerk who had gone to check the situation burst in shouting.
Thud!
"B-big trouble, Administrator!"
"What now?!"
"The patrol scum have come to the pigeon loft! And in a whole group!"
The Administrator's eyes bulged.
Then he burst into laughter that shook the room as he hurriedly donned his outer coat.
These idiots!
Unable to find a proper counter, they'd resorted to this show of force to flip the board.
But this wasn't an ordinary slash-and-burn village—it was the Gray Wolf's domain.
Straying from principles to change things would only bring backlash.
"Come with me to the loft! And you, summon the Huscarl warriors!"
"Yes!"
The Administrator, now coated, rushed out of the room with his following clerks.
He hurried toward the messenger pigeon loft, not far from the building.
The fools must be all riled up, right?
A few beatings and some smashed goods would make it perfect for the Huscarls to swoop in and suppress them.
Harboring sinister thoughts, the Administrator cleared his throat and stepped forward.
Ahem, ahem!
Villagers had gathered, buzzing noisily after hearing the commotion.
And behind them, about a dozen patrol members stood before the loft building.
The Administrator swiftly schooled his face into a stern mask and bellowed with dignified authority.
"Hey! What is this outrage? Even in urgency, there are procedures for such matters! I've summoned the Huscarls, so stand down immedia—?!"
Flutter, flutter!
At that moment, his voice cracked.
Because at the arrived loft, a man of unknown identity was already releasing a messenger pigeon out the window.
The shocked Administrator screamed.
"Argh!"
This was the only pigeon capable of flying to the deep mountains.
But that man had sent it off first, squandering their sole means of communication.
"You......! You bastard!"
Who the hell was this fool ignoring him, the Administrator, to use the pigeon so freely?
Furious, he strode forward as if to grab the man by the collar right then.
"- - - - - - -?"
But the closer he got, the stranger the atmosphere felt.
The loft, which should have been a mess from the patrol rabble, was eerily quiet.
And the pigeon keeper managing the birds looked pale as a ghost.
What was going on? Who had come that the patrol scum wore such expressions?
The Administrator stared blankly at the man approaching him instead.
Worn clothes, shorn hair, an ordinary sword.
Yet he bore the dignity time had bestowed—a presence no golden garb could mimic.
Like a vast mountain formed by ages of nature and terrain piling upon one another.
The man spoke lowly.
"My name is Broken Sword. I have come to exercise the legitimate rights granted by the lord of this land. Do you have business with me, Administrator?"
Legends were always like that.
Heard in stories or seen in records, the figures felt too distant to truly grasp their greatness.
But the Administrator was privileged to confront that outsider's legend face-to-face—the one he'd deemed worthy of challenging.
Sword Saint Broken Sword.
Cold sweat beaded heavily on his forehead, and he couldn't meet the man's eyes.