Chapter 85

Chapter 85: Chapter 85

It was an age that had yet to conquer the darkness of night. When darkness settled thickly over the land, people believed demons or monsters lurked beyond it. Of course, such creatures actually existed as well.

Every region had its share of eerie folktales and legends. But they were not enough to make the home of a brave knight tremble in fear.

Only a few candles on the table illuminated the dark dining hall. As a result, only the shadowy outlines of those seated there could be seen.

There were Rickart and Marie, his father and elder brother, his sister-in-law, and his nephew.

There was no warm conversation. Everyone silently concentrated on eating. They tore bread and dipped it in soup, sliced salted meat, or spread butter on their bread. There were no utensils, only hands and knives.

Marie was busy glancing around during the unnaturally quiet meal. Rickart’s sister-in-law fed her young son little by little, tasting each morsel first, while the boy stared intently at Uncle Ricky.

Compared with his stern father and grandfather, Fritzrit found Uncle Ricky—who smiled whenever their eyes met—both fascinating and likable.

When his doll-like little nephew, with blond hair and plump cheeks, beamed at him, Rickart could not help smiling back.

"I heard you were poisoned."

Rickart’s father, Abelich, spoke abruptly as he wiped his hands and mouth, apparently finished with his meal.

"Yes. Well, I’m fine now."

"That cannot be true. I do not know much about poison, but if inhaling it from the air made you cough up blood, you could not have recovered so easily. When you have time, stop by the main estate and see Doctor Reno."

It was his way of showing concern. Rickart nodded and said he would.

Abelich did not ask his son, whom he had not seen in so long, how he had been or what he had been doing. Leaving only those words behind, he rose from his seat. He had not changed.

"I’m tired, so I’ll turn in early."

Apparently, he was deliberately giving them some privacy, since his presence would only make everyone uncomfortable.

He could have simply behaved more affectionately and put everyone at ease, but this was how the men of House Kaldevern of Stormherz showed consideration.

They neither welcomed a son returning after a long absence with great enthusiasm nor made him feel awkward. They simply treated him exactly as they always had, as though they had last seen him only yesterday.

Marie, of course, was a different matter.

"Child, you are both my son’s savior and his betrothed, so consider this place your home. Make yourself as comfortable as you please. I, too, shall treat you as a member of the family."

For Abelich, this was a display of affection that might occur only once in a lifetime.

"...Oh? Yes. Thank you."

Marie had not even realized he was addressing her and stared blankly for a moment before hastily replying. The atmosphere in this family was so solemn that she found herself thinking Rickart must actually be one of its more cheerful members.

Once Abelich had left, Rickart’s sister-in-law also rose with her son.

"Fritz? We should go to bed too, shouldn’t we? Say good night to your father, your uncle, and your aunt."

"Mm... Good night."

The adorable little boy nevertheless stood straight and bowed politely. Rickart wanted to give him a present, but he had nothing suitable with him. Once he went out and earned some money, he would have to send something later.

When his sister-in-law began clearing the table, Marie tried to help, which led to a small struggle between them, but it was an entirely warm and affectionate scene.

"Oh, you don’t have to. It’s all right."

"No, really. I’m an adventurer, so I’m good at things like this."

As a Sword Master, snatching the dishes away with quick hands was effortless for Marie. She smoothly swept them away without causing offense.

In the end, only the eldest and youngest of the three brothers remained in the dining hall. As though bringing the day to a close, Graut poured wine into a cup fashioned from an animal’s horn.

"Want a drink?"

"No. I can’t handle alcohol."

"You finally left the territory, and you still didn’t drink?"

"I never really felt like it."

"Then have one now."

Graut held out the cup he had already filled. Rickart picked it up and took a drink, only to make a displeased face at the bitter taste.

Graut smiled faintly, poured wine into another cup, and took a sip.

"The Emperor is dead. Will we be all right?"

Rickart asked the question.

"Who knows? That’s for the main house to decide. We don’t really know."

"And the main house follows the duke. Was it Brumbear?"

Because of the feudal system, people had little interest in the death of an emperor or king unless the deceased was their direct liege.

House Kaldevern had received its territory from an emperor in the past, but it did not have a direct liege-vassal relationship with the Emperor.

They served the Duke of Brumbear, whose house descended from a collateral line of the imperial family. The circumstances that had led to this arrangement were somewhat complicated, but in any case, the duke was a direct vassal of the Emperor.

In other words, the Emperor’s death directly affected powerful figures such as kings, dukes, and margraves. It was not something the lord of a remote rural territory like this needed to worry about.

Of course, it would be a different matter if war broke out, men like the duke or king entered the conflict, and all their vassals were summoned. But things had not yet reached the point where anyone could confidently say what would happen.

The consequences of the Emperor’s death depended on how the great nobles interpreted and reacted to it.

Some might think the Emperor’s death had nothing to do with them. Others might regard it as an opportunity, while still others might exploit the weakened state of the imperial family to declare independence.

For now, there was no way to predict what would happen next, and even if they could, there was nothing they could do about it.

"Is life as an adventurer treating you well? What was the Academy like?"

"If I had to give it some meaning, I suppose it’s about helping people in trouble and resolving problems. Though in the end, those problems are usually settled with blades. Life at the Academy wasn’t bad. Not for me."

"As I thought, you were extraordinary even as a child. I wonder what might have happened if we had discovered your talent a little sooner—or if you had been born just a little earlier."

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Who knows?"

Graut looked somewhat bitter. He had gradually been entrusted with more and more responsibility for managing the territory, and the burden was proving difficult to bear.

Nagging people, treating them sternly, and sometimes driving them mercilessly were all deeply exhausting. Protecting and governing a territory required doing many things one would rather avoid.

There was a reason their father was so stern, and Graut was gradually becoming more like him.

"Is something troubling you?"

Graut did not answer, but it was obvious that he had something on his mind. Rickart did not press him. He merely sipped his wine and waited.

"Keep this a secret from Father."

"That reminds me of when we were children. We had a lot of secrets between us back then. Billy would run around telling everyone while insisting they were secrets. Eventually, Mother would find out."

Even when he was young, Rickart had never once betrayed a secret shared between brothers.

Graut gave a faint laugh, apparently remembering the old days. But his face soon became troubled again.

He hesitated for a long time, looking embarrassed and reluctant, before finally speaking.

"You know the Adventurers’ Guild? Do you know anyone there?"

"...I do, but only in the Beringen Guild. Why?"

"Could you... get them to lower their commission fee a little?"

"What happened?"

Unable to meet Rickart’s eyes, Graut hesitated once more before answering.

"Father is against it. He says our problems are ours to handle and that we cannot rely on outside help."

That certainly sounded like their father. But what had happened? Rickart waited for him to continue.

After drinking a considerable amount of wine, Graut finally spoke.

"There have been a lot of outsiders nearby lately because of the swordsmanship tournament. Most of them are troublemakers. Driving those people out or killing them is easy enough.

"But one day, a man came here claiming to be an imperial lawkeeper. He said he needed food or money to feed his soldiers. His clothes, documents, and attendants all looked convincing."

As Rickart listened, he began to understand what had probably happened, but he also felt uneasy.

"The imperial court has never contacted us directly before. But the swordsmanship tournament really is being held, and the surrounding area has become unsettled because of it, so we thought this might be an exceptional case. We gave him food."

"But it turned out he was an impostor?"

In short, they had been swindled. It seemed almost unbelievable, but every so often, an unusually audacious man appeared—someone willing to deceive even nobles.

A common example was selling ordinary objects by passing them off as holy relics, but this case had been considerably more convincing.

"I wouldn’t be saying anything if that had been the end of it. It seems the bastard swindled people all over the region, not just us. Using what he acquired, he gathered something resembling an actual military force. A rabble like that shouldn’t last long, but now he’s openly making threats and demanding money. Naturally, we ignore him. The problem is that he’s wandering around the area claiming he intends to maintain public order."

It was obvious that he would use public order as an excuse to commit robbery. Moreover, because he operated outside their territory, House Kaldevern could do nothing about him.

If the imperial court had been functioning properly, it would have immediately crushed such an absurd criminal. But with the imperial household in turmoil, no one could expect it to intervene.

If men like him were left unchecked, they might gather strength until they became as uncontrollable as a swarm of locusts, plundering one place after another.

Perhaps these were signs of the troubled times to come. All manner of contemptible nobodies seemed to be crawling out of the woodwork.

What angered Rickart most of all was that this bastard had dared to target his family and homeland.

"What’s his name?"

"Luiginant. Apparently, his nickname is ’Lucky.’ Lucky Luiginant."

"That sounds like a western name."

The pronunciation would probably be different in the west, but in any case, the large tournament seemed to have drawn some peculiar bastard from far away.

"Probably."

Graut toyed with his empty cup, apparently ashamed and embarrassed to be telling his younger brother about this. Seeing him like that only made Rickart angrier.

"Brother."

"Hmm?"

"Lift your head. Why do you look so defeated?"

"It’s not as though I’m going to laugh at you or act superior because I’ve made something of a name for myself as an adventurer. I know managing a territory isn’t easy. And when you live long enough, all kinds of absurd things happen. So don’t let it get to you."

Graut’s eyes widened. Rickart had rebelled against the family once before leaving home, but in Graut’s memories, his youngest brother had always been gentle Ricky.

Now, however, his eyes were those of a warrior.

"I’ve traveled through a lot of places, so I know. One look at people’s faces tells me whether their lord is governing them properly. The people here look content because you’ve clearly been helping Father do a good job. That’s all that matters. Don’t torment yourself over a bastard like that.

"I’m leaving sometime tomorrow. My friends will be worried, so as much as I’d like to stay longer, I can’t. Forget about the commission fee. You’ll hear good news soon enough. Don’t worry."

It was difficult to find a messenger, and if Rickart had to arrange for one anyway, he might as well return himself. That was why he intended to head back to Ernberg as quickly as possible.

In any case, Graut blinked repeatedly and stared blankly at Rickart.

"You really have grown up."

"What did you expect? I’ve lived by the sword for three years. Did you think I’d still be a little brat?"

Rickart spoke with a laugh. Graut tilted his head, apparently still unable to adjust to this version of his younger brother.

"Have you heard anything from Billy?"

Graut shook his head. Regrettably, it seemed he had not. He poured more wine into his empty cup and spoke.

"I suppose I’m still not capable of being like Father. Anyway, what was the Academy like? Tell me about it."

"The Academy is one thing, but have you ever seen a vampire? What about the sea? You probably wouldn’t believe half the things I’ve seen and heard."

"Hey, you were only gone for three years, and now you’re treating me like some country bumpkin?"

"You are a country bumpkin, aren’t you?"

"You little—!"

"Hahahaha!"

Perhaps the alcohol was beginning to take effect, because the two brothers finally started teasing each other. It felt as though a layer had peeled away from the awkward atmosphere between them.

The world was harsh, and brothers turning their blades on each other was hardly uncommon. Even so, few things created as powerful a sense of kinship as sharing the same blood.

Rickart and Graut drank late into the night, sharing their troubles and reminiscing about the past.

When Rickart awoke after drinking himself to sleep, his face was buried in Marie’s breasts. He sprang up in alarm, collected himself, and opened the window to cool his head.

It was already broad daylight.

Damn.

His father and brother left early each morning to make their rounds, which meant he had missed his chance to say goodbye.

They could have delayed their work a little for a son who had returned after so long, but no one in this family ever did such things. As far as they were concerned, providing fresh food and a warm bed was enough. There was no need for overt affection.

Rickart could sometimes be so detached that others found him cold. Perhaps it was simply the family tradition.

Work had to be done. If their schedules failed to align, nothing could be done about it. They hoped each other remained well, and if the chance came, they would meet again.

Rickart therefore felt no disappointment at all. If anything, he was glad that they had not changed.

After waking Marie, washing up, and preparing for the journey, Rickart was about to say goodbye to his sister-in-law and nephew when she hurriedly called out to him.

"Oh, right! Take this with you. My husband asked me to give it to you. He said they sold the horses and bought it."

Apparently, they had sold the two horses Abelich had acquired after killing the bandits when he met Marie. They had been carriage horses, so there was little use for them here, and selling them was preferable to paying for their upkeep.

The item his eldest brother had left for him was a sword.

Rickart usually wielded longswords or greatswords, but this was an arming sword, commonly known as a knightly sword, designed to be used in one hand. That was because knights were expected to carry shields.

The family crest—a cross—was engraved on the rounded iron pommel that balanced the weapon.

It was not the type of weapon Rickart usually used, but he was skilled with swords like this as well. It would also be much easier to carry as a secondary weapon at his waist. Until now, he had carried his sword over his shoulder.

"Thank you. I’ll put it to good use."

"Father also insisted that you visit the main estate before going anywhere else. He said you must see Doctor Reno."

Their father might not have been affectionate, but his concern and love were obvious enough from this. Rickart smiled gently.

"Never act servile, wherever you go. Always conduct yourself with confidence and courage. Please take good care of my brother-in-law, Marie. May fortune favor you both in battle."

As expected of a woman from a knightly family, she did not tell them to stay safe.

After stroking his nephew’s hair one last time, Rickart said goodbye.

"Be good, Fritz. We’re leaving now. Let’s go, Marie."

With his new sword hanging from his waist, Rickart set out. He did not look back even once, to the point that he might have seemed heartless.

He had rested enough, obtained what he needed, and had nothing to leave behind here.

Or rather, the only thing he intended to leave was the good news he had promised his eldest brother would soon arrive.

Instead of going to the main estate first, Rickart set out to find the man known as Lucky Luiginant.

He had hidden it in front of his family, but ever since the previous evening, Rickart’s murderous instincts had been boiling inside him.

That rotten son of a bitch.

I’m going to kill him.