Iron Vanguard
“Guildmaster!”
A slick-looking guild member burst through the door in a panic, cradling a thief soaked through with blood.
Derik’s eyelids fluttered. He swept everything off the table with one arm and laid the man down on the cleared surface.
“He was tracking the Fallen when they ambushed him.”
“…Those lunatics brought mana beasts this close to the capital?”
“They seem to have been moving carefully outside the patrol zones. And this guy was trying to pin down their hideout when he…”
Long gashes ran across the man’s chest and abdomen. From the depth and width of the wounds, they hadn’t been made by any ordinary blade.
“Black Foot’s work.”
“Black Foot… Those bastards again…”
“He’s alive, at least. Get him to the church. Tell Priest Bendel that Derik sent him.”
“Understood.”
Slick gathered the wounded man up again and vanished.
Derik, who had seemed so composed, stared down at his own blood-red hands and began to shake.
“Ugh…”
He gripped the edge of the desk, groaned, and hung his head. Eyes squeezed shut, he fumbled at his belt, pulled a roll of tobacco from his pocket, and stuck it between his lips.
Hiss—
He held the roll over a wavering candle flame and drew deep.
“Ss… Haaah…”
Only then did the trembling ease. He took a few more pulls, crumpled the rolled leaf in his fist, tossed it to the floor, and ground it out under his heel.
“I’ve waited long enough, Andersen.”
Derik snatched his jacket from the back of the chair and left the room.
“Done. Whew. Finally finished.”
Five cruiser bikes, the product of nearly ten days without sleep. The original plan had been a week, but Vulcan had failed to deliver the parts on time, and that had cost them three extra days.
“Haaah! At last!”
“Does that mean… we can rest now?”
“We have accumulated meaningful data proving that the human body can withstand this intensity of labor.”
“Right. Starting today, you get a one-day holiday.”
The three research apprentices, who had been struggling to their feet, froze. The word “one-day” sat wrong with them.
“What? Not happy with it?”
Perhaps the discontent showed on their faces. Robon’s mouth twisted and his eyes narrowed. A chill brushed their skin, as if Ted Blædwin himself had just walked into the room.
“N-no, of course not!”
“Woohoo! Holiday! Holiday!”
“Ahem. One day is more than enough time to recover from accumulated fatigue.”
The three apprentices bolted from the lab shouting about freedom. Ten days without going home would do that to anyone.
“Aigoo, got dust in my eye… But is one day really enough?”
Robon rubbed his eyes, startled by how fast the apprentices were vanishing.
“I was going to give them an extra day for all the hard work…”
Had those three always been this passionate? Lately they had looked full of complaints, so he had assumed otherwise. You really never could tell from the outside.
“They are remarkably driven. They have the skill, and all three of them passed the engine-knowledge exam this time around.”
“I like them. We can peel the apprentice tags off them soon.”
Exactly the kind of people he wanted. Workaholics.
Ten days of pure work without going home, and they were satisfied with a single day off.
Well, back in my day, ten days was nothing. A month… no. There were stretches when I basically lived in the lab for half a year without going home.
Of course, he had had the support to make that possible—but so did they, here.
How well did he treat his people, after all?
Thinking about it, one day was already generous. He had gone soft.
“Production division gets the day off too. One day should do it, right?”
The engineers forced smiles and nodded. Then they quietly fanned the coals of resentment toward the apprentices who had just locked them into a single free day.
You little… Just wait till you get back from leave.
I told my son I’d play with him for two whole days. Damn it.
The festival at Central Plaza is the day after tomorrow, and I promised the family. My wife’s going to scrape my hide raw for this.
Sensing the mood dip, Robon pulled a few pouches from his coat and handed them out, one per person, by way of encouragement.
“Here. Bonuses for this job.”
The engineers’ faces lit up at once.
“Chief Engineer Alvar, I put a little extra in yours. Spend some of it and rest properly this holiday.”
“Understood, Director.”
Robon called after the departing Alvar with one more reminder.
“You work too hard and never rest. You’re going to collapse for real one of these days. Actually rest this time, all right? If you want, I can throw in another half day.”
“I’m fine. This time I’ll truly rest well and come back, Director.”
Alvar’s age made Robon especially anxious. He had fallen so deep into magic engineering late in life that he never gave his health a thought and lived buried in the lab. Even Robon—of all people—worried about him.
“If you’re going to give leave, shouldn’t you add at least one more day?”
“Huh? How much can you even do in half a day?”
Andersen’s mouth shut. The Director genuinely seemed to think that way.
“At any rate, the finish quality came out better than I expected.”
Five cruiser bikes stood in a neat row in front of the lab. All five were the same model, but each had been given a slightly different exterior. They had been built with their owners already in mind.
A knight riding a cruiser bike alone through a battlefield of mounted horsemen.
How romantic was that?
“Well, we’ve built them all. What now?”
“What do you mean, ‘what now’?”
Andersen swung a leg over one of the gray bikes and took the handlebars.
“Now we go catch that slippery little black mudfish, don’t we?”
Vroom!
The engine turned over, and the cruiser announced its presence. Its name: Iron Vanguard.
The Iron Spearhead—named with the riders who would sit astride it firmly in mind.
“Shall we call them, then? The owners of these bikes?”
“I’ll go fetch them.”
Andersen spun the handlebars with practiced ease, turned, and roared down the mountain.
A short while later, three knights came tearing up the slope after him at tremendous speed—along with one outsider.
“Huh? That person is…?”
Vast land, fertile soil. Fields and paddies stretching all the way to the horizon. Looking out over them, the people of the Raven Merchant Company thought the same thing.
So it was true—the Lobel family really was the wealthiest house in the Mardan Principality.
We might just make a killing here.
Jackie had been expecting nothing more than rich country bumpkins in the middle of nowhere. Then the variable appeared.
Rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle…
A massive steel beast, the likes of which none of them had ever seen, was plowing the earth with a spinning blade of steel.
A grotesque machine-monster—and, perched atop it, a man gazing their way with total ease.
As the mechanical beast clattered closer, the knights went on guard and the warhorses snorted and stamped in agitation.
Erdin, drawing near, scowled at the unexpected guests.
“What do you want?”
The Raven party froze, unsure how to answer.
“Heave-ho.”
Erdin hopped down from the cultivator, tugged off his straw hat, and looked them over one by one.
“Don’t know any of you. Where’d you come from?”
The knights of Rodria started to draw steel; Jackie stopped them and stepped forward.
This is no ordinary man.
A straw hat like a farmhand’s, work clothes built for labor—he didn’t look like a noble at first glance. But a closer look at the fabric and cut of his clothes made it clear they were anything but cheap.
Especially the sword at his hip, the unflinching presence in front of armed knights, the quiet force and atmosphere he carried.
This man was definitely a noble. Why he was dressed like that was anyone’s guess—he clearly had his reasons.
And anyone riding that red steel beast was no ordinary figure either.
“A pleasure to meet you. I am Jackie, and I run a merchant company out of Goldhaven.”
“Goldhaven? You came all the way from there?”
Erdin glanced past him. The wagons, hastily patched with boards, and the horses piled high with packs looked genuine enough. The hollow-eyed exhaustion of the party was exactly what you saw on people who had crossed the Valces Mountains.
“You’re familiar with the Stens Alliance, then. Have you heard of the Raven Merchant Company?”
“No.”
Jackie twisted his lips, pride slightly stung, and forced his expression back under control.
“That’s fair enough. If it isn’t too much trouble, might I ask your name, my lord?”
“I am Erdin Lobel.”
Jackie smiled inwardly. His guess had been right.
“A son of House Lobel. It is an honor to meet a member of so renowned a family.”
“Why are you here?”
Erdin’s constant condescension made Jackie’s temper spike, but he swallowed it. If he wanted to sell House Lobel these Rodrian warhorses, this was the time to bow his head.
“We have come all this way to introduce you to the Zephyr—warhorses that grow only in the far southern region of Rodria.”
“Those things?”
“Yes, precisely.”
Erdin looked at the copper-skinned warhorses the knights held by the reins. The muscular legs, the glossy coats, the sheer size—they clearly weren’t ordinary stock.
Reading that glint in Erdin’s eye, Jackie grinned.
Of course he’s impressed. Horses like these are unheard of in a backwater like this.
Only beasts raised and tempered alongside the nomads of the grasslands grew into something like this. They were a different breed from the start—something you would never see in a peaceful neighborhood like this. Surprise was only natural.
“The name Zephyr evokes the fierce winds of the southern grasslands. They are animals that can endure that harsh environment—which is why their stamina and balance are unmatched. Their burst speed, as well, is in a class of its own.”
“Hmm… is that so?”
Instead of the awe Jackie had expected, Erdin’s reaction was lukewarm. He stroked his chin and surveyed the horses at a leisurely pace, looking distinctly uninterested.
“They’re good-looking animals, I’ll give you that.”
“Hahaha! Right?”
Jackie fought down a surge of panic.
Does this guy not even ride? That reaction, after everything I just said?
His eyes drifted to the red steel machine behind Erdin. Calling it a wagon felt wrong—it was closer to some kind of beast.
Is it because of that thing? he wondered, and asked:
“If I may, what is that?”
“Ah, this? First time seeing one, I bet. Latest equipment. Something the country bumpkins of the Stens Alliance could never even imagine! Hahaha!”
He slapped the side of the cultivator with a couple of solid thumps and laughed.
C-country… bumpkins?
Jackie was both offended and more curious than ever.
“It’s called a cultivator. It plows the fields in place of oxen. One of these can easily replace twenty head of cattle!”
“Th-there’s equipment that remarkable?”
“There is!”
“Truly incredible!”
Even as he marveled out loud, Jackie sneered inwardly. What ridiculous bluster.
Erdin’s boasting killed the last of his interest.
So he set this thing out here to fool first-time visitors.
Nothing else made sense. Replace twenty oxen? With that? It might dig the soil well enough, but running something like it would clearly burn through an absurd amount of mana stones.
Did he think that kind of nonsense would work on people from the sticks?
“Would House Lobel be willing to host us? We have far more to offer than just the Zephyrs. I believe you’ll find yourselves quite satisfied.”
“Ah… well…”
Erdin’s response was distinctly awkward. He pursed his lips, hesitated as if wrestling with something, and finally tossed out a single line.
“I don’t think they’ll be all that interested in those.”
“Pardon? Does House Lobel not keep knights, by any chance?”
“What? Are you looking down on my family?”
“N-no! Not at all. My apologies.”
Erdin flicked a glance at the Rodrian knights and snorted. They weren’t Blædwin knights—what were these nobodies even supposed to be?
“Tsk. Bad timing. If you’d shown up a month ago, it might have been fine.”
“Excuse me?”
“There’s a reason. Follow me. I’ll show you the way.”