A Bike for the Iron-Blooded Knight
Clatter—clatter—
The only sound filling the dining hall was the soft scrape of forks and spoons against bowls.
“Ah! So good.”
Everyone else was eating in careful silence, watching the head of the house for any sign of his mood. Only Wendy, utterly without tact, let her delight spill out without restraint.
Among them all, the one sitting on the sharpest needles was none other than Robon.
The anxiety of the man who had caused this whole mess defied description.
Unable to endure the atmosphere that felt ready to drive him insane, Robon half-rose from his seat.
“Ahem. Ah, my stomach’s acting up—I think I’ll step out first. If you’ll excuse me…”
“Wait, Robon.”
The moment he tried to slip away, every muscle in his body seemed to freeze solid.
He flinched at that cold voice and slowly turned his head.
Ted’s icy gaze stabbed straight into Robon’s heart.
“Y-yes… What is it, Father?”
“Wendy seems to love your gift a great deal. The way she rides it at all hours of the day makes that rather clear.”
So this was what people meant by words with bones in them. Father hadn’t even moved, so why did his chest hurt?
“Wendy! Are you actually finishing everything your mother tells you to do before you go tearing around on that thing every day? Hmm?”
The arrow of accusation swung toward Wendy.
“I finished everything, okay?”
Her defense was airtight. Damn it. Variable. Since when was this kid so diligent?
“Riding it isn’t the problem. How enjoyable must it be that she told her own father, ‘That was easy’?”
In that instant every hand in the dining hall stopped moving.
Marie let out a worried sigh.
Gain stared at her with stunned eyes.
Burgess’s jaw hung open and refused to close.
Even the nearby servants were the same; their pupils wandered without direction, lost.
She actually said that to Father?
Who in their right mind would spit words like that at the Iron-Blooded Knight? It was the sort of thing only Wendy could have pulled off.
Robon swallowed dryly as he looked at her the way one might look at a madwoman.
The mood was justified. He’d thought maybe she’d lost some brutal bet or something…
Gain, Burgess, even Marie all cast pleading looks at Robon. In their minds, the only person who could soothe Ted’s wounded pride was him.
Catching their gazes, Robon had no choice but to play his trump card.
“Actually, the thing that brings out the greatest efficiency for knights is a bike. From the start, the race between Wendy and Father was hopelessly one-sided. Honestly, the fact that she finished anywhere near him was already Father’s complete victory. Of course, even that was probably because Father went easy on her.”
Good. That sounded natural.
Robon snuck a glance at Ted’s face. The anger from a moment ago had clearly cooled. As expected, flattery was a magic technique you couldn’t help but fall for even when you saw it coming.
Now just one finishing blow.
“In fact, I’ve been preparing a bike for Father. Pickup trucks and bikes serve completely different purposes, so I thought you’d need one.”
“…Is that true?”
“Yes! Of course. Ah, I was going to give it to you later as a surprise gift, but…”
Ted’s rigid expression softened in an instant. Afraid of showing too much emotion, he forced his face back into neutrality.
“I see. You didn’t have to go that far. Ahem. Everyone, eat your food. Why are you all just sitting there?”
Robon sank back into his seat and let out a quiet breath of relief.
Wendy, completely oblivious to her brother’s turmoil, was cheerfully scooping up spoonfuls of soup.
Guess I’d better make Father’s first. Haa…
He already had something in mind.
A cruiser bike based on a modified Harley-Davidson Softail Heritage.
There had been a guy named Jake in his old research lab who was a fanatical Harley nut, so Robon knew a little about them.
Jake used to ride them around and brag about every little detail. Back then Robon had told him to shut up because it was boring. Who knew it would come in handy like this…
If I mount the family banner and engrave the knight order’s crest into the metal frame… Heh.
Just imagining it looked cool. The Iron-Blooded Knight thundering along with the family flag snapping behind a Harley-Davidson…
They could use this as an advertisement.
Director’s office of the research institute.
“I need to make a short trip to Eidras.”
“You’re taking another vacation? After the last one?”
Robon, who had been leaning back in his chair listening to Andersen, jerked his head side to side in a fit.
“No! Last time you went and got yourself kidnapped!”
“That won’t happen this time. Truly.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that how?”
Robon dug in his heels.
“Didn’t you say the demon worshippers from Laen are targeting me?”
“…Don’t tell me you’re going after them? Then it’s even more of a no! You said they’re the kind who kill people and offer them up to magic beasts! What do you think those lunatics will do to you?”
“Don’t worry. I told you—when it comes to dealing with those bastards, I’m the expert.”
Robon knew that much. But that was the old days, wasn’t it? He’d heard Andersen had been retired for quite a while.
Besides, last time he’d gotten caught by the Laen people and ended up in that state. Trust had to be earned.
He does look strong, though…
He’d heard that a 6-circle mage was roughly on the same level as Big Brother Gain.
Last time Father had said the older brothers were stronger than Robel’s knights… so Andersen’s skill should be around there, right?
There are people targeting him. I can’t just leave it alone forever…
Robon rubbed his lip, sinking into thought.
“I’m not going alone. An old comrade of mine is in Eidras.”
“Those comrades got captured too.”
“That was on purpose—”
“Enough! Then I’m coming with you.”
“With me… you say?”
“Yes. Someone has to make sure you don’t run off somewhere again.”
Andersen let out a hollow laugh.
To think he worries about me this much…
Robon’s excessive concern actually felt rather pleasant.
When had anyone ever treated him like this? Even when he had risked his life carrying out missions for the Empire, they had only ever treated him as a tool.
A smile spread across Andersen’s lips.
“Very well. We shall go together.”
“Great. I have a schedule today, so let’s leave tomorrow morning.”
“Understood.”
Not long after Andersen left, Miner came looking for the research institute.
This time he brought Beck, the captain of the militia who had trained under Robon.
“Loyalty! Young Master Robon! It’s been a long time, sir!”
Just as he said, Beck looked far more solid than before. Robon had heard that magic beasts still showed up occasionally even after the last hunt; fresh scars now covered the young man’s face and both arms.
“How’d you get so banged up?”
“Ahaha, you noticed? This one’s from when we found a goblin nest—got stuck with a spit. This one’s from a red-feathered crow that pecked me with its beak. And this one…”
Robon waved a hand at Beck, who was proudly pointing out each scar with his index finger.
“I get it. Good work. Are you using the weapons I gave you properly?”
“Yes, sir! Thanks to the crossbows, the mining village’s defenses have gone way up. The militia’s also doubled in size.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Everything was unfolding exactly as expected. The mass-production crossbows were weapons any healthy adult man could use easily.
“Miner. How’s the mineral study and reading practice going?”
“Yes. I’m working hard.”
“He’s barely sleeping and getting nosebleeds, sir. I keep thinking he’s going to drop dead with a thunk any second.”
“Who’s dying?”
“You, you idiot—who else?”
“Still, take care of your health while you’re at it. Alvar! Bring that over.”
At Robon’s shout, Alvar—who had been waiting—drove a truck out from behind the research institute and stopped it in front of Miner.
Miner’s and Beck’s eyes went round as saucers.
“I said I’d make you a truck, right? Here. It’s yours.”
“Th-this is really mine?”
“Yeah.”
“Whoa! No way!”
Beck poked and tapped the truck all over with a face full of curiosity.
“What if you break it?!”
Miner panicked and hurriedly stopped him.
“Don’t be such a baby. You think a little of that’ll break it?”
“It’s a gift from the Young Master—you have to treat it carefully. Young Master, thank you so much.”
Miner bowed nearly ninety degrees, tears of gratitude welling up.
“Why are you crying?”
“I never thought I’d receive something this precious…”
Not only had Robon recognized his worth and taught him reading and mineral knowledge—he had even given him a gift beyond imagination.
His chest swelled so full he couldn’t put it into words.
“I’ll dig up every single mineral in that mine and bring it to you, Young Master! No matter what!!”
Miner clenched his fists, steeling his resolve, while Beck watched him with open envy.
Robon grinned and brought over a box that had been sitting in a corner, handing it to Beck.
“You’re doing a solid job as militia captain, so this one’s for you.”
“Sir? M-me as well?”
His eyes couldn’t believe it, but his hands moved on their own. Inside the box was a new type of crossbow.
“It’s a more refined pump-action crossbow. The previous version had poor durability and broke too easily, so I couldn’t mass-produce it. This one has mana circuits engraved to boost durability a lot. It’s not as expensive as the truck, but it’s still pretty pricey, you know?”
Beck’s hands trembled as he took the pump-action crossbow. When he yanked the slide on the stock, a solid clack sounded from inside as a bolt chambered.
“May I try firing it, sir?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
He loosed a shot at a tree off to the side. The bolt flew and buried itself with a heavy thunk.
He worked the slide again; another bolt loaded itself and flew. At the absurdly shortened rate of fire, Beck’s mouth fell open and he stared at Robon as if looking at a monster.
“Truly… incredible, sir.”
“I’m counting on you with the mine.”
“Leave it to me!!”
Nothing moved subordinates’ hearts more easily than clear rewards for merit. Add special gear that matched their positions on top of that, and it was the cherry on the cake.
The truck and the pump-action crossbow would make those two men’s positions even clearer, and serve as powerful motivation for everyone under them.
“Go dig up lots of ore!”
Robon saw the two of them off as they drove away in the truck, then returned to the research institute.
It was time to prepare for the trip to the principality.
I needed to visit Vulcan anyway, so this works out well.
While he was at it, he should discuss establishing a power plant in the principality and supplying electricity with His Grace the Grand Duke.
The next day, Robon and Andersen set out for Eidras.
Robon headed for Vulcan; Andersen went to meet Derik.
Mice of the Blue Night
The old signboard creaked as it swayed in the wind. Andersen, hood pulled low, stepped into the guild.
“You’ve arrived, sir? This way, please!”
A man who had been chatting up a female employee at the entrance guided him with natural familiarity.
Every time Andersen visited he felt the same thing—the greasy-looking man’s acting ability was almost impressive.
“How long have you been with Derik?”
“Not long at all, heh. When I was scraping by in the back alleys I picked a fight with the Guildmaster, got beaten half to death, and ended up joining.”
Watching him rub his palms together with unfiltered servility was enough to leave anyone speechless.
Andersen didn’t bother stripping off the man’s mask and simply knocked on the door.
“It’s me.”
“Come in.”
Derik had clearly been expecting him. Seated on the sofa, he handed over a sheaf of documents first thing.
“Looks like they’ve got their hooks in deep.”
“You’re kidding.”
Derik stuck a rolled brown something between his lips, lit it, and clicked his tongue.
“Demonkin. Damn it. I thought we wiped every last one of them out back then.”
White smoke curled from the rolled tobacco. Derik raised an eyebrow, squinted, and gave a full-body shiver before pulling another from his coat.
“Want one?”
“No need.”
“Boring bastard.”
Andersen’s eyelid twitched. He lifted his gaze to Derik sitting across from him. Seeing his old comrade lost in white smoke made Andersen frown.
It felt too much like looking at himself from a few months ago, and that only made it more pitiful.
Every one of them from the Demon Slayer Unit was broken somewhere. Andersen himself was slowly improving thanks to Robon Blædwin’s help. Derik was not.
“Get a grip. How long are you going to live like that?”
“A grip? My head’s fine. Do something about that shiny dome of yours instead. It’s so bright I can’t even open my eyes.”
A vein bulged at Andersen’s temple.
“Shut up… Anyway. Is this information solid?”
“Yeah. Haa… There were traces of demonic energy left where the Fallen had been. Judging by the lack of reaction, they still don’t know who we are.”
“What are you planning to do now?”
The corner of Derik’s mouth lifted.
“Obviously, the same way we always have.”
Andersen nodded at that.
“But I’m sitting out any operations that are too dangerous. The Research Director worries, you see.”
“Ha! The great Andersen’s turned into a complete coward!”
“Think whatever you like.”
“Heh.”
Grinning, Derik stretched out on the sofa and drifted into old memories.
“See that? Black Foot. Those bastards are back. Footprint shape, spacing, even the habit of scraping the ground when they leap—it’s certain. At least five of them.”
Faster than a horse, strength comparable to a decent ogre, and reaction speed sharp enough to make them a real pain to fight.
Andersen examined the materials and frowned.
“An offering ritual?”
The Fallen’s foul rite of reviving magic beasts using their corpses.
The price of that ritual was living beings.
“Probably. Much as you hate it, we’ll have to borrow the Laen bastards’ power. To catch those things we need at least 5-star knight level, but we’re short on speed. Horses just won’t cut it.”
Andersen sighed. With the Laen group’s levitation magic the operation would become far easier, but he would rather die than accept their help.
“I’ll find a way somehow.”
“What? You? How?”
“I’ve recovered a fair amount of my old strength. In some ways it’s even better.”
“Heh. All bluster. You hate the Laen bastards that much?”
Derik crushed his tobacco out in the ashtray as he asked.
“Yes. And I have a plan.”
“A plan?”
The corner of Andersen’s mouth curled into a grin.
“I know a way to catch up to those Black Foot bastards.”