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My Villains Chapter 29
8. The Mill and the Undertaker (3)
The happy time came to an end with a sudden loud noise. It sounded like a wooden door being smashed.
Following the sound of murmuring voices, a group approached the barn.
Ah, who the hell are these bastards? Why now of all times!
I swallowed my curses internally as I gently pushed Daria away and stood up.
"Huh, Phoenix?"
"Someone's coming. Several people."
At my words, Daria quickly regained focus in her eyes and wiped her lips with her sleeve.
"M-maybe it's people coming to the mill?"
"I'm not sure."
Feeling somehow ominous, I picked up my falchion and buckler.
Although I didn't have a helmet or breastplate, I was confident I could handle some local thugs with just these.
...Confident I could handle them? With a falchion? To chop them all up? How ridiculous.
After graduating high school, I had lived my whole life without getting into a single fistfight. For such an exemplary citizen like me to adapt so well to this dog-eat-dog world. It's truly remarkable.
While I was thinking this, the murmuring noise approached closer.
"Hey, there's no one here? Is this the right place?"
"There, that must be it."
"Are you sure there are only two of them?"
"I'm telling you, it's right, man."
After a moment of whispering, six or seven men appeared in front of the barn.
"Huh, there really are only two."
"And their armor looks pretty good too."
"Right? These bastards just won't believe me!"
The men who appeared - or rather, it's awkward to even call them men, they were more like late teenagers.
They were armed with long spears, bills with wide, large blades, and heavy axes that didn't match their shabby appearance.
But aren't pikes and bills weapons used by soldiers? Where did these local punks get such things?
Anyway, this damn city is really a mess. You can't walk around anywhere feeling safe.
"Phoenix..."
"It's okay."
I reassured Daria and stepped forward, while the guys started chattering among themselves.
"But will this be alright? That guy looks like a mercenary-"
"Are you scared of one guy, you idiot?"
"Hey, hey. Look at the woman behind him."
"Wow, shit. Was there a woman like that in this neighborhood? Ric, let's have some fun before we go."
As one skinny guy said while licking his lips, the one called Ric looked Daria up and down and swallowed before answering.
"It's tempting, but- ah, no. We need to run before the guard chases us."
"Can't we take her with us? I've seen big mercenary groups dragging along maids to do dishes and laundry."
"...Really? Then should we?"
Well, I can pretty much guess what kind of guys they are. Seems like some idiots got excited, stole weapons, and are planning to run away outside the city.
They might be local punks, but with military-grade weapons in their hands, I had to be careful. Even just swinging those around with their weight could send limbs flying.
I loosened my wrist slightly and readied my buckler and falchion in a fighting stance.
Then the guys who had been chatting among themselves suddenly fell silent.
"...What, you want to try something? Why don't you just quietly leave the money and the woman?"
"Ric. The sword and armor too."
"Right, hand over the sword and armor too."
The one who seemed to be the leader of the group lowered his voice with a frown. But he was still just a kid with a face full of acne.
Thanks to my experience of facing fierce iron-masked warriors, these ragtag bunch just looked pathetic.
So I grinned and opened my mouth.
"Don't talk nonsense, you little brats."
"...Little brats?"
"Yeah. Don't get stabbed trying to act tough. Go home and suck on your mother's tits."
When I spoke in a cheerful tone, their faces twisted nastily.
"...Ha, are you crazy? You think we'll back down if you bluff? You big-bodied bastard."
Looking at them, it didn't seem like they would easily back down. Maybe they'd come to their senses after three or four of them lost their arms.
I wanted to just scare them off since they were young, but... I guess there's no choice.
Just as I was about to cut my palm with the falchion to use a skill, someone appeared behind them and shouted.
"Wait! Young men, stop for a moment!"
...What?
The one who shouted and appeared was an old man wearing a wide-brimmed black hat and a black coat.
To describe the old man-
He had the impression of a gentleman more suited to the modern era than the medieval period. Should I say it was an atmosphere that made you think he might pull out a pocket watch from his breast pocket at any moment? It seemed like he wouldn't look out of place even wearing a monocle.
His attire looked simple at first glance, but the tunic he wore underneath had a sheen that suggested it was quite high-quality. There was a little dirt on his leather shoes and coat sleeves, but the rest was as clean as if it had just been washed.
His build was average, but he stood with his back straight and wasn't using a cane. Combined with his quite loud voice, he seemed very vigorous for his age.
His cleanly shaven beard was impressive, but what caught the eye more were the two eyes visible between his deep wrinkles. His deep blue eyes seemed to hold a wisdom befitting his age.
And decisively.
His face wasn't unfamiliar to me.
"Wait-! Young men, stop for a moment!"
Unlike me, who carefully observed the suddenly appeared old man, the young punks just turned around and spat out curses.
"What? Who's this old geezer?"
"If you don't want to get hurt, get lost."
These bastards, they have no respect for the elderly. As a Confucian, I simply can't stand by and watch this.
"You wet-behind-the-ears,"
As I was about to hurl insults at them, the old man in the black hat waved his hand and burst into laughter.
"Ho ho, wait, wait. Just a moment, please."
"Ah, what is it? Don't be a nuisance and get lost, old man."
"I'd like to, but... I'm worried about you boys."
"What nonsense? What are you worried about?"
The boys frowned and glared, but the old man still laughed softly with a peaceful expression.
"You all know there was a public execution yesterday, right? And that one of the executioners was beaten to death there?"
Ah, I know this story too. I heard it from Daria on the way here.
To me, it's a horrible thing - but in this world, beheadings were one of the best spectacles.
The reason... I'm not sure. Is it because it's an opportunity to feel that public safety has recovered a bit? Or is it because handkerchiefs or bread soaked in the blood of the condemned sell for high prices?
Well. Whatever the reason, there was a beheading yesterday, and because of that, they say an enormous crowd gathered in the square. In front of that crowd, one young executioner made a mistake.
He failed to cut off the condemned's head in one stroke. If it had been an experienced executioner, he would have calmly finished the job, but this young man couldn't do that.
He hastily swung the execution sword again, and this time he cut off the condemned's arm. The crowd that witnessed this became enraged.
It was because of a superstition that if the head isn't cut off in one stroke, the soul of the condemned will hold a grudge and bring misfortune. And now he had failed to cut the neck twice, so they thought a great calamity would befall them.
The angry crowd immediately dragged down the young executioner and beat him. After being beaten for a long time, he eventually died.
...As I listened to the story, I didn't know where to start tackling it. What a truly messed up world, right?
Anyway. The punks seemed to know this story too, as they looked at each other and then asked the old man, "So what?"
Then the old man lowered his voice and continued speaking.
"Young Fanis, who was beaten, was brought here, and right at that spot! Yes, right where you're standing. That's where he breathed his last."
"This crazy old man. What kind of unlucky talk is this?"
"Listen. Fanis was expecting a child next month. But he died so miserably, so how deep must his resentment be? That's why Fanis's vengeful spirit is still wandering around here. Looking for someone to vent his anger on."
Despite the old man's threat, the punks just snorted and growled.
"Do you think we're your grandchildren? Did you think we'd tremble and run away if you told us a scary story?"
"Ah, of course not. No matter how old I am, I wouldn't do such a thing to grown men. But it's not bad to give a warning, is it?"
"What warning?"
The old man's gaze, which had been directed at them, slowly moved upward. Then, pointing above the punks' heads, he whispered.
"Look, above your heads."
"Above our heads?"
The guys raised their heads following the old man's hand. Then their faces turned pale.
Whoosh.
A blue flame was wandering aimlessly, as if staggering, in the air. A small flame that looked faint in the bright midday sun.
It was a will-o'-the-wisp. At the moment the punks were surprised and held their breath, the old man suddenly shouted loudly.
"It's Fanis's soul! Quick, run to the church!"
"Aaaaah!"
"W-what's that!"
"Run!"
The punks screamed in panic and started to run away, passing by the old man.
Daria, who was hiding behind me, seemed to be scared too, as she pulled on my wrist with trembling hands.
"Phoenix- Let's hurry to the church too!"
"No, there's no need for that. You can relax."
"But... It's scary."
"I'm telling you, it's fine."
I put the falchion back in its sheath and wrapped my arm around Daria's shoulders.
"There's no need to be afraid. That's just... Something like magic."
As I was saying that, the old man who was left alone was approaching us. The will-o'-the-wisp that had been floating in the sky had already disappeared.
"Isn't that right, sir?"
"Ho ho, you have a good eye. May I intrude for a moment?"
"Ah, of course."
As we stepped aside, the old man went into the barn and came back with a shovel. Then he smiled with his wrinkled face and shrugged his shoulders.
"I need to dig, but my shovel broke. I came to borrow one from the mill."
"You're digging?"
"That's right. There's someone I need to bury."
Someone he needs to bury.
It wasn't much of a statement, but I didn't think it suited the old man very well.
"Are you perhaps... The Bloody Swordsman?"
Ugh, this nickname sounds awful no matter how many times I hear it. Who on earth came up with it?
While grumbling internally, I nodded with a calm face.
"I do have such a nickname. My name is Phoenix."
"Ho ho, that's right. Nice to meet you, Phoenix. I thought it might be you from your appearance."
"My appearance?"
"That's right. Thanks to hearing quite detailed rumors, I recognized you at a glance. By the way, are you not hurt? You and the young lady behind you?"
"We're fine. We owe you one, sir."
At my words, the old man laughed heartily and shook his head.
"Owe me? I was just afraid the young men might lose their lives over a moment's mistake. Burying young people is never a pleasant task."
"Haha, I didn't intend to kill them. I was just going to teach them a lesson..."
"Ah, is that so? Then I meddled unnecessarily."
"No, not at all. It's better to avoid fights when possible."
"Yes, yes. It's better to avoid fights. If only all young people were like you... Oh my."
The old man, who had been chattering excitedly, suddenly looked surprised and took off his black hat.
This revealed his neat white hair, slicked back with oil. Seeing his fully revealed face, I could confirm the old man's identity.
"I haven't introduced myself."
Saying this, the old man offered a handshake. As I grasped it, I felt long, slender fingers and a rough palm that didn't match them.
I looked into the old man's deep eyes and recalled the information about him.
"My name is Luke."
The old man's name was Poppa Luke.
"An undertaker."
He was a seeker of the 'Golden Gate' and a Necromancer.
"...Nice to meet you, Mr. Luke."
As I answered like that, I barely managed to swallow the cheer that was about to burst out.
...Hehe, hooray!
Now it's smooth sailing until Chapter 5!