Chapter 87

Chapter 87: Chapter 87

Doctor Reno’s room in the main estate was filled with exotic and fascinating objects.

The room also smelled of aged wood. It was quite a pleasant fragrance, one that somehow seemed to calm the body and mind.

Everything else was fine, but Rickart felt uncomfortable entrusting his body to a suspicious object he had never seen before.

No, he found it unpleasant.

Doctor Reno opened the front of Rickart’s clothes and repeatedly pressed an object called a stethoscope against his chest. The unfamiliar chill against his bare skin felt so strange that Rickart flinched each time.

"Breathe in. Slowly."

Doctor Reno, a potbellied man with a luxuriant beard, spoke with a suitably serious expression.

Unpleasant though it was, Rickart had already come this far, so he followed the man’s instructions. As he inhaled, his breath suddenly caught halfway, and he felt a pain like a needle piercing his lung.

"Again, slowly."

Rickart faithfully obeyed his instructions. After Rickart had breathed several times, Doctor Reno spoke again.

"Could you try forcing yourself to inhale past the point where your breath catches?"

Rickart had a feeling this was not a good idea, but Marie stood beside him, signaling with her eyes that he should do as instructed. Frowning, Rickart endured the pain and forced himself to inhale fully.

"Now exhale slowly."

"Whew..."

Doctor Reno listened intently to the sounds inside Rickart’s body until the very end. At last, he removed the unpleasant stethoscope.

"...Fortunately, your condition does not appear particularly serious. If you were poisoned by a powder, it was most likely derived from a rainbow moth. To produce a poison this potent, it was probably mixed with something else."

"Then what about an antidote?"

Marie asked the question. Unfortunately, Doctor Reno stroked his beard with a grave expression and shook his head.

"Only the person who created the poison would know the exact antidote. Carelessly administering the wrong one could worsen his condition, so I cannot simply attempt to concoct something. The Witches of Dawn might be able to help, but finding them would be as difficult as finding a dragon."

Rainbow moths and Witches of Dawn—Rickart had never heard of either.

"That sounds as though you’re saying there’s nothing we can do right now."

Rickart spoke. As expected, allowing this man to examine his body had been a waste.

"That is not what I mean. One moment."

Doctor Reno rummaged through the disorderly piles of objects and retrieved a small wooden box covered in dust.

Despite standing in front of someone whose lungs were already damaged, he blew the dust away before opening the box. Inside were crystal-like pieces, dark and murky with a yellowish hue.

"This is agarwood incense used by the Salamans in their religious ceremonies. Even they import it from the distant east, so it is extremely rare."

It was hardened resin from an agarwood tree. Doctor Reno picked up a piece, shaved an appropriate amount into a porcelain bowl, and lit it.

Instead of bursting into flame, the ember slowly burned and released smoke.

In moments, a heavy yet sweet fragrance filled the room. There was something solemn about the scent.

Doctor Reno held the porcelain bowl beneath Rickart’s nose.

"Inhale it. Slowly and deeply."

Rickart felt uneasy about doing something so unfamiliar with this exotic fragrance, but he followed the doctor’s instructions. He slowly inhaled the smoke until the pain returned.

At first, his chest hurt, but the pain gradually subsided. By the time the agarwood had finished burning, the pain had miraculously disappeared.

"How does it feel?"

"Wow, what is this? I feel completely healed."

"You are not. It merely relieves the symptoms and pain. It does not heal your damaged lung. Take this with you and inhale its smoke every morning and evening. After that, it would be best to search for an actual treatment."

Doctor Reno handed Rickart the small wooden box and simultaneously extended his other hand.

Rickart did not understand the gesture at first, but he soon realized what it meant.

He wanted money?

Nothing in the world was free. Even loyal knights would abandon a war if their wages were not paid on time. In this age, a contract was generally considered more important than personal loyalty.

The problem was that Rickart had no money.

Something imported from the distant east could hardly be inexpensive.

"Ah, well..."

Just as Marie was about to promise that they would pay him later, Doctor Reno lifted his beard with a broad grin.

"I’m joking. You are the young master, after all. Naturally, I should give it to you. I am not so heartless."

"Really? Why?"

Rickart’s way of thinking was remarkably ahead of his time in certain respects, but there were also areas in which he remained bound by the values of this age.

He was grateful, but he genuinely could not understand why the doctor would simply give it to him for free.

"I did not guide your destiny, but I believe I served as a signpost at an important moment. Whenever news of you reached me from afar, I felt both anxious and proud. I am simply grateful, so please consider this a repayment of that gratitude."

Doctor Reno’s influence had certainly played a major role in setting Rickart on the path of an adventurer.

Though he had never openly shown it, he apparently carried a measure of guilt and regret in his heart. There was no need for that, as Rickart had ultimately made the decision himself.

When Rickart successfully adapted to his new life and began making a name for himself, the doctor had felt both relieved and grateful.

Rickart had sensed it to some extent three years earlier, but Doctor Reno truly was an admirable adult—a person of rare character in this brutal world.

At first, Rickart had found the doctor unreliable. Now, however, he was deeply moved.

"Doctor, if you ever find yourself in trouble, contact me without worrying about the cost. I don’t have many talents, but I know how to use a sword reasonably well."

"Ha ha ha! Aside from my personal studies, I merely run the occasional errand for the Count. I have no need for blades. If someone is angry, one need only apologize. And if one refrains from voicing every flaw one sees in others, there is little reason to earn anyone’s resentment. I merely pray that fortune in battle accompanies both young masters and the lady on the road ahead."

"Even so, you never know. Please take care of yourself too, Doctor."

"Ha ha, I will. More importantly, recent events are deeply troubling. I only hope the flames ignited in the imperial capital do not spread too far."

He was referring to the assassination of the Emperor, members of the imperial family, and many nobles.

"It is a grave matter, but what can be done? There is nothing a lone swordsman like me can accomplish."

"Even if there is nothing you can do, you can still think about the matter. Whom do you support, Young Master?"

"Support? Whom do you mean? Naturally, the Crown Prince will succeed him. He must. That is what the title ’Crown Prince’ means."

"What? Haven’t you heard? It appears the Crown Prince was also killed during the chaos. The ducal house is currently in an uproar over whether to support the Second Prince or the Fifth Prince. That is also why the Count left so suddenly for Brumbear Castle."

They were presently at the main estate of House Kaldevern, the place Rickart had been reluctant to visit. When he arrived and discovered that the Count was absent, leaving only the household retainers behind, Rickart had been relieved that he would not need to feel uncomfortable.

Yet the Count had departed so urgently because the Crown Prince was dead.

Rickart was momentarily stunned. He had not known the Crown Prince deeply, but he had nevertheless grown somewhat fond of him during their brief time together.

He was not devastated, but the news came as a shock.

Marie , however, appeared to feel differently. After all, the Crown Prince had tormented her.

"That little demon deserved to die."

"M-Marie , even so..."

"If you hadn’t appeared when you did, Ricky, I would have killed him with my own hands."

Marie could be careless, strong-willed, and courageous, but perhaps because of her bloodline and upbringing, she also possessed a merciless side.

Doctor Reno had not expected her to speak so harshly, and nervous sweat appeared on his brow.

"Ha... ha ha... I suppose one might feel that way. In any case, under these circumstances, securing legitimacy will be important. That legitimacy will most likely belong to whoever avenges the late Emperor."

"What revenge?"

"The Order of Judgment. Wouldn’t the person who uproots it be the most likely candidate to become the next Emperor? I hear that hundreds of people are being hanged every day in the imperial capital as the authorities suppress the unrest and hunt down members of the Order."

Rickart and Marie looked at each other. A single glance was enough for them to know whom the other was thinking about.

Ice...

Ice was not currently a member of the Order, but neither had he completely severed his ties to it. He himself had lost faith in them, but his position remained ambiguous.

"Is something wrong?"

"Ah, no. It’s just... there must be an enormous number of Order members throughout the world. Are they going to kill all of them?"

"Even after the next Emperor ascends the throne, the Empire will likely continue its policy of persecution for the time being. What concerns me is that such campaigns tend to drag on without a clear purpose until resentment makes them even more brutal."

"Ah..."

The Emperor had been assassinated. Naturally, the imperial family would never let the matter pass.

But when the imperial family gave itself over to rage, members of the Order would not be the only victims. People associated with them—and countless innocent people—would also be sacrificed.

There would presumably be some minimal procedure, but realistically, distinguishing one person from another would be difficult. Consequently, matters would proceed by arresting and torturing everyone who seemed even slightly suspicious.

Like a violent storm sweeping across the land.

Had accepting Ice ultimately been a mistake?

Would it be better for him to report voluntarily that he had once belonged to the Order but no longer did?

Rickart could not betray his friend.

It was a very difficult problem.

"Do you remember the question you asked me before you left for the Academy?"

"What question?"

"About the fields of Heiden."

The fields of Heiden were where Rickart had tended sheep in his previous life.

It was where the purest person in the world had sung to the stars and brought a life filled with sorrow to its end.

It was also where endless hatred and rage toward the world had been conceived.

"Uh... I don’t remember it clearly, but I think I did ask about them."

"Rumors say the Order’s holy ground is located there. I only heard this from others, so I do not know the details. If their headquarters were found and completely eradicated, the authorities would have achieved a visible result. Perhaps the persecution would then subside somewhat."

"I see..."

Hearing the name "the fields of Heiden," which he had all but forgotten, filled Rickart with such a strange feeling that he could find nothing to say.

It felt as though echoes of the past were calling to him in the present.

Where do you think you’re going all by yourself?

Why are you the only one allowed to be happy?

Perhaps this was what Armant had meant when he said Rickart needed to confront his former self.

Seeing Rickart grow despondent, Marie assumed he was worried about Ice. She placed a hand on his shoulder and comforted him.

"Let’s not give up. We haven’t done anything wrong. That’s what matters most."

"Yes. Thank you."

Rickart forced a smile.

They exchanged a few final words with Doctor Reno, thanked him once more, wished each other good fortune, and said goodbye.

Rickart and Marie left the Count’s castle and walked toward Rheinfort. From there, they planned to take a boat directly to Ernberg.

Even the cool autumn wind could not settle Rickart’s troubled heart. Though Marie acted sweetly beside him, he was in no mood to respond with anything more than a forced smile.

The shadow of his past seemed far too deep to ignore.

The God of Judgment...

What was he supposed to judge?

When had I ever judged anyone? Whom had I judged?

What had people seen in the person I once was?

The Demon King. The demon among demons. The murderer among murderers.

Yet at the same time, a god who saved the powerless.

No one in the world had ever embodied such dramatically opposing sides.

That was who Ricky had been.

Still tormented by these thoughts, Rickart boarded a rented boat with Marie at Rheinfort. As they traveled upriver toward Ernberg, they passed a city engulfed in flames.

Had war broken out?

Columns of black smoke, illuminated from within by firelight, rose from all over the city. The passengers crowded onto the deck and watched the scene with trembling unease.

Surprisingly, those burning the city were neither soldiers nor bandits.

They were enraged peasants and townspeople.

They stormed the homes of nobles and wealthy citizens, seized the owners and their household members by the hair, and dragged them outside. Then they beat and kicked them to death.

They were shouting something, but their words could not be heard from the boat. Even so, it was clearly an outpouring of grievances that had accumulated over many years.

They tore apart the wealth amassed by the rich like field mice devouring a storehouse.

The Order’s act of terror had merely been a catalyst—an opportunity for the exploited and oppressed to rise in revolt.

The situation appeared far more serious than Rickart had imagined. This was not simply a matter of identifying and persecuting members of the Order.

The heart of the problem was that not every territory in the world was as peaceful and pastoral as Stormherz.

Most people lived in abject misery.

Perhaps the Order of Judgment was merely the product of all that suffering compressed into a single form.

The flames consuming the city burned so fiercely that their heat reached the boat passing along the river. The heavy smell of burning was like the stench of a monster’s rotten, decaying heart.

And that stench seemed to seize Rickart and drag him steadily back into the past.