Chapter 134

Translator: Willia

As if it had been cut off cleanly by a knife, the desolate wasteland terrain ended and a green wetland unfolded. It was bizarre to the point of feeling unnatural.

"This is the Golden Triangle. Ahead lies a wetland larger than most countries. It’s also called the Empire of the Witches, or a land formed from the rotting corpse of an ancient god. If you follow the river upstream, you’ll find a floodplain where crops grow just by scattering seeds. No one starves, and they even export grain to the whole world. This is the Mayub Sultanate."

While riding along the river upstream, Hashim spoke. Ricardt looked down at the wetland from atop his red horse.

"Doesn’t sound like good news. That rude brat seems to be a prince of this country. There will definitely be a pursuit party."

“Well, will there really be?”

“What do you mean?”

“In this place, the sultan forms a harem and fathers children. It’s not unusual for him to have over a hundred children.”

“What is a harem?”

“A place where beautiful women, who can be embraced only by the sultan, are gathered. It differs from sultan to sultan, but usually there are at least dozens of women.”

“......Even though they’re heathens, I try to maintain a respectful attitude, but this is beyond my understanding.”

“Anyway, the sultan is bound to have dozens, no, over a hundred children. It’s rare for them to be overly concerned if one prince goes wrong. Of course, it all depends on the sultan’s will.”

Perhaps because it was an unfamiliar and foreign custom, Ricardt felt extremely uncomfortable. Wasn’t it too promiscuous? And even setting aside the promiscuity, wouldn’t this lead to disputes over succession?

“Still, only the queen’s children would have the right to inherit, wouldn’t they?”

“No. In other sultanates, only the legitimate wife’s, that is, the queen’s, children have inheritance rights, but the Mayub Sultanate is a bit different. All of them are formal princes.”

“Then how is succession decided? Honestly speaking, even in our Empire, problems arose because the previous Emperor had too many children.”

‘Though it may be considered a barbaric custom, we have raised strong warriors by fostering wisdom and courage through this method.’ That’s what the founding king of the Mayub Sultanate, Shazar, said.”

“What does that mean?”

“A succession system where princes kill each other, and the final victor becomes king. The means and methods are free, be it assassination or war.”

“......”

Ricardt was momentarily speechless at such a ruthless succession system, wondering if this was even acceptable.

Ironically, however, this method of succession helped maintain peace. Since the princes and those involved only fought among themselves, the common people weren’t caught up in the flames of war.

And once a prince ascended to the throne through such a method, at the very least, he had exceptional skills in scheming and military affairs.

But was that really the right way? Ricardt didn’t think so. He believed that someone who ascended the throne by killing their own siblings would certainly have something seriously lacking or missing.

If one could kill their own siblings so easily, how would they value the lives of others?

In the first place, the Mayub Sultanate was a nation founded by nomads who conquered this land, so it certainly had a barbaric yet highly militaristic character.

Having set foot in such a place, staying long wouldn’t be beneficial. Ricardt thought he should resupply fodder, water, and food, then move on quickly.

But there was one serious problem.

“You’re planning to keep riding that horse, right?”

“I’m a man too, of course I’m fond of the horse. But I treat it as a friend. That’s the promise I made.”

“No, what I mean is, wouldn’t it be too conspicuous?”

The horse Ricardt was riding was red to an extreme degree. When sunlight hit its coat, it gleamed like flames. So it was impossible not to stand out.

“That’s true...... So, let’s pass through this area quickly.”

“That would be best. If it gets dangerous, I’ll help. I’ve just barely lived on as a slave until now, but this time feels different.”

Even bandits or robbers usually didn’t kill people. Why would they kill when they could just sell them? This was especially true in places where the slave trade was thriving.

“No. Hashim, you should only use magic to protect yourself. If possible, keep using that secret technique of yours. There’s no need to use magic for my sake.”

“Isn’t it what friends do, to help each other?”

“Helping and sacrificing are different things. A true friend does not wish for their friend to sacrifice themselves.”

“Is that so... I see. Seems you know more about friendship than I do.”

“Hahaha, it’s not about knowing or not knowing. It’s just the way it is.”

“Just the way it is, huh... Then what if someone wants to sacrifice themselves for a friend? And if they’ve already done so, what becomes of the friend left behind?”

“Well, they’d be sad.”

“That’s a difficult question.”

Was that really a difficult question? Ricardt thought even he wasn’t sure. Because if such a situation ever came, he felt he would throw himself in without hesitation.

But on the other hand, if a friend did that for him, while he would be grateful, he also wished they wouldn’t.

“Seems so. It’s difficult.”

Unable to give an easy answer, Ricardt agreed with Hashim’s words.

As they walked along the boundary of the wetland, a small city called Ayaba eventually appeared. It was one of the satellite cities of the capital, Yerev.

As they entered the city, people stared at Ricardt. More precisely, they stared at his bright red horse. Due to the rare coat color, it was impossible not to attract attention.

Ricardt, rather shamelessly, held his head high and walked confidently. Then he went to the trough next to an inn and fed the horse plenty of water and fodder.

When traveling long distances, or during pursuits or fleeing from one, it was best to use multiple horses.

No matter how much of a great horse it was, said to run a thousand li a day, it was still no match for switching mounts frequently.

Then, how much rest should be given to a horse? That was always a difficult question.

Moreover, warhorses were not used for daily riding. They were preserved and ridden at decisive moments. Knights or mounted warriors usually rode riding horses in daily life.

But Ricardt’s red horse had only just been broken in, and the horse Hashim rode was decent but not originally meant for combat.

In mounted combat, more than seventy percent of a warrior’s fighting power depended on the performance of the horse. The rider’s skill mattered, but no matter how good they were, they couldn’t do much if the horse fell short.

But the gazes of the citizens looking at Ricardt and his red horse were not ordinary. Clearly, it wasn’t just curiosity.

Ricardt sensed it instinctively.

“Seems a bounty has already been issued.”

“Hmm? Then what about resupplying?”

“Let’s get out first and think later. We’ll eat wild lizards if we have to.”

“Let’s do that.”

Ricardt flicked a silver coin to the stablehand and calmly exited the city. Heading west, he saw a massive stone bridge crossing the river.

At the entrance to the bridge was a checkpoint, and while the soldiers and warriors weren’t inspecting every passerby, judging by their eyes, they seemed to be searching for someone.

Then one of them locked eyes with Ricardt, and stared at the red horse.

“Pretend you don’t know me and go ahead first.”

Ricardt whispered to Hashim. Then he turned his horse’s head and moved slightly away from Hashim. As expected, the warriors and soldiers began walking toward Ricardt.

No, they seemed to be sending signals somewhere in a hurry, as if trying to form a wide encirclement.

Once they reached a certain distance, a warrior on horseback spoke to Ricardt.

“You there, knight of Franken. That horse belongs to the Sultan.”

“Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

Ricardt brazenly retorted, but it didn’t work. Of course not.

“There is only one horse in the world that red.”

“Well, in any case, I don’t remember the name, but I won it in a wager with a prince. So I didn’t steal it or rob anyone. Does the king of this country desire other people’s horses?”

When Ricardt feigned provocation, the warrior’s gaze turned cold.

“...Don’t get cocky. Barbarian.”

“You too.”

From atop his horse, Ricardt quickly scanned his surroundings. Then he saw Hashim crossing the bridge. He decided the time had come.

Once the decision was made, he drew the sword from his waist without hesitation.

“Whether it’s the place I came from or here, when it comes to protecting what’s yours, you have to fight. And if you want to take something from someone else, you’d better be ready to risk your life, right? Hyah!”

Ricardt spurred his horse and charged toward the warrior. The warrior drew his curved sword to counterattack, but the acceleration of the red horse was faster than expected, and he had to twist his waist to dodge, nearly falling off his mount.

Ricardt ignored whether the man dodged or not and galloped toward the bridge. But there was a problem. The bridge was crowded with civilians, making it impossible to gain proper speed.

"Move aside! Move aside!"

Ricardt shouted loudly. People panicked and scurried about in confusion, which only clogged the path further. Damn.

Of course, enemies were pursuing him from behind, and soldiers were entering from the opposite side to catch him. Fortunately, Hashim had already crossed the bridge.

Stuck with nowhere to go, Ricardt looked down at the river from atop the bridge. The current wasn’t that strong. But judging by the width, the water looked deep.

“Do you know how to swim?”

Ricardt asked his horse. As if it understood human speech, the red horse suddenly leapt up and plunged into the river with a splash.

For a moment, both man and horse were submerged, but the red horse flailed its limbs to regain balance and began swimming.

However, due to the horse’s physical structure, it couldn’t swim fast, it was very slow. The water lapped up to Ricardt’s nose.

Still, seeing a horse swim with a man on its back was such a rare and curious sight that both civilians and soldiers stared in wide-eyed amazement.

But the soldiers, having come to reclaim the red horse, quickly ran to the riverbank to capture Ricardt. On the opposite side of the river, gleaming spears and swords awaited him.

However, as the red horse neared the riverbank and its hooves touched solid ground, it suddenly rose up as if a red dragon were soaring into the sky.

Nihihing-!

It was an unbelievable leap. And from within water, no less.

As it soared to nearly a person’s height, the soldiers panicked and scattered. Some mounted warriors swung their curved swords to kill Ricardt.

But even as he was stabilizing himself, Ricardt thrust his sword toward them.

Clang-!

As golden flames erupted along the blade, he cut through the enemy’s sword and killed the warrior. The warrior’s armor split open, and he collapsed, bleeding from his neck and upper body.

“It’s a Jihadra! A Franken Jihadra!”

One of the soldiers shouted. In their language, that meant holy warrior, roughly translated, it meant Sword Master.

After killing one warrior, Ricardt quickly urged his horse forward. But despairingly, a full military force was already waiting on the other side of the river.

It was the sultanate's strongest elite cavalry unit, maintaining nomadic traditions while wearing civilized armor.

Among them, as expected, was a man with a massive turban and gleaming, ornate armor, clearly the king, the Sultan.

Ricardt’s eyes met his. Perhaps because he was a man who had killed his own brothers to become king, his gaze was as sharp as a blade. He gave the impression of someone who wouldn’t bat an eye at the death of a son. Clearly, this was all about the horse.

In any case, the situation turned urgent as warriors came at Ricardt with lasso ropes, hooks, spears, and swords. If he fell from his horse, it would be the end.

The one saving grace was that, since they were trying to reclaim the red horse, they weren’t using arrows. In fact, their greatest strength was mounted archery.

Without bothering to analyze further, Ricardt dashed off to the side. The red horse accelerated once more and quickly reached top speed.

Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Clip-clop!

It was the fastest, unfortunately, the horses ridden by the Sultan’s warriors were also carefully bred and specially trained warhorses. So he couldn’t completely shake them off.

Dozens of massive horses galloped with great force, pounding the earth so hard it felt like the ground was trembling.

Dudududududududu!

A thick cloud of dust rose behind them, and the city’s citizens and villagers watched the astonishing chase. It was not something one often saw, and even the Sultan kept his eyes fixed on it.

Those watching held their breath without realizing it. And naturally, since the color red stood out and it looked like Ricardt was leading a race, their hearts leaned toward him for no particular reason.

But how must the one being chased feel? Ricardt’s heart was pounding hard. Even so, he quickly concluded that running at full speed to shake them off wasn’t going to work, so he abruptly pulled the reins.

The red horse came to a sudden stop, and Ricardt nearly got flung forward. He barely managed to stay on, while the pursuing warriors couldn’t slow down in time.

In fact, even if they wanted to, they couldn’t, there was a risk of collision with their own forces behind them.

Ricardt swiftly changed direction, broke through a narrow gap, and bolted westward.

But there were simply too many pursuers from the beginning, and one warrior at the rear quickly caught up and thrust his sword at him.

Ricardt stepped hard into the stirrups, almost standing up, and raised his flaming sword high. The flames whipped violently in the wind.

At that moment, the warrior’s sword stabbed forward, and simultaneously, Ricardt gritted his teeth and struck down with force.

Crack! Thud!

Ricardt broke the opponent’s sword and nearly cleaved the warrior in half. He had so much power left over that he also cut through the saddle and even killed the horse.

A massive spray of blood erupted, and both horse and rider collapsed. The pursuing warriors crashed into the fallen bodies in a violent mess.

Thud! Crash! Crack! Thud!

Neigh!

The horses collided and fell one after another, sending the mounted warriors flying far away or slamming into the ground, either shattered or crushed.

At the truly horrific and fiery sight, the spectators gasped in awe without realizing it.

“Wow!”

In any case, Ricardt had broken through the enemies and gained a brief moment of respite.

But it wasn’t over. Just as there were tales of entire kingdoms sold out for the sake of a single horse, the enemies had no intention of giving up.

This time, lightly armed pursuers came at him in a wide encircling formation. Unlike the heavily armored warriors from earlier, these wore no armor, each carrying only a rope or weapon as they chased after him like a race.

And perhaps because they had been waiting on standby, their horses were still fresh and full of energy.

At this point, Ricardt thought, “Ah, I guess one horse really isn’t enough?” and considered whether he would just have to fight to the death. That’s when someone called out to him.

“Ricky!”

Startled, he turned his head and saw Hashim riding toward him from the side. Hashim suddenly dismounted and, as if he were about to be trampled, spread his arms wide toward the oncoming pursuers. What the hell is he doing? Ricardt’s eyes widened.

Then, suddenly, the black pupils vanished from Hashim’s eyes, leaving only the whites as his body trembled like he was having a seizure.

In an instant, dark clouds gathered in the sky, covering the sun. The clouds grew thicker, and a pitch-black shadow spread around Hashim and his surroundings.

Even the pursuers who had been chasing Ricardt widened their eyes in confusion at the eerie sight.

Then, suddenly, from within the thick shadow, large, long, tentacle-like limbs shot out. They grabbed horses’ legs, bodies, and necks at random and slammed them to the ground, creating chaos before anyone could react.

Thud! Squish! Crack! Thud! Squish!

The truly terrifying and horrific spectacle left everyone, including Ricardt, stunned. Someone shouted.

"It's a mage!"

As expected of courageous warriors, they were startled and surprised but didn’t fall into panic.

However, from this point on, they began drawing their bows and widening the distance. Perhaps they’d had enough, now they nocked arrows and pulled the bowstrings tight. No matter how powerful the magic, what could it do against long-range sniping?

Ricardt realized this was bad and quickly turned his horse around. What happens when a friend sacrifices themselves for you? Then I must sacrifice myself too. There was no doubt in his mind.

The red horse had not merely run at a steady pace, it had been sprinting at full speed for a long time and now had white foam around its mouth. If Ricardt turned back now, it could be the end.

“Hashim!”

Arrows whizzed past Ricardt, flying toward the pitch-black abyss as well. Then the shadows suddenly receded, and there lay Hashim, collapsed unconscious on the ground.

Ricardt hastily sheathed his sword and, in a nearly acrobatic motion, leaned his body to the side and grabbed Hashim with one arm, hoisting him up. Then he tucked him under his arm and rode on.

The enemies, true to their nomadic instincts, quickly moved to block the direction Ricardt was heading. He was surrounded. One side was a near-vertical dry slope, and the other three were filled with enemies.

But for some reason, Ricardt charged straight at the slope as if he were going to crash into it. The onlookers stared with dumbfounded expressions, wondering what he was doing, and then, an unbelievable scene unfolded before their eyes.

The red horse galloped up the nearly vertical slope as if it were flat ground, like it was ascending to the heavens. It was something physically impossible.

Then, from the clouded sky, a thunderous chorus erupted.

Ooh ooh ooh ooh!

Ricardt finally reached the top of the slope. There, he brought the horse to a stop and looked down at the base. By now, even the brave warriors were left staring upward in blank astonishment.

What was that just now? The voice of a god? More importantly, how did he climb that? Isn’t this a miracle?

Ricardt himself was overwhelmed with a soaring feeling he couldn’t explain, and his heart pounded as if it might burst. Without realizing it, he burst into laughter.

“Wahahahahahahahaha!”

The finest elite warriors of the Sultanate stared up at him with dumb, bewildered faces like dogs that had lost the chicken they were chasing.

Ricardt laughed for a long time, and just as he was about to turn his horse and leave, a sharp, resonant voice rang out.

“You there! Knight of Franken!”

Ricardt looked down and saw the Sultan. He, too, had ridden up to this point and was looking up at Ricardt.

“I am Sultan Aslaf! What is your name?”

Ricardt looked down at him and shouted in reply.

“I am Ricardt of Stormhertz! Given the circumstances, forgive me for not observing proper decorum!”

Sultan Aslaf, hearing what he assumed was Ricardt’s name, didn’t understand what "Stormhertz" meant, so he asked the official next to him.

“What does Stormhertz mean?”

“It means Heart of the Storm.”

The Sultan, not realizing it was a place name, assumed it was a title or nickname. Fitting, indeed, a name that matched the man.

Looking up once more, he shouted:

“O Heart of the Storm from afar! I have witnessed your valor! You have proven yourself worthy to be the master of that horse! The Hajid Plateau is rough terrain, so descend and continue your journey! In the name of Aslaf, I guarantee your safety and peace within my lands!”

Then the Sultan ordered his men to leave behind extra horses, food, silk, treasure, armor, and weapons on the ground. After that, he led his troops and withdrew.

Ricardt, still bewildered, watched the Sultan and his army grow distant. Then the magic-forged dark clouds parted, and several rays of sunlight poured straight down onto the earth. Were they really leaving?

After a while, Hashim woke up.

"Mmm......"

“Are you awake?”

"Huh? Ah, I see. So that's what happened. By the way, are we both safe?"

“Glad you didn’t forget me.”

Ricardt said with a smile. Hashim couldn’t remember what happened while he was using magic, but he at least knew Ricardt hadn’t left him behind.

“Is this what they call friendship?”

“Well, something like that.”

“Seems friendship is the kind of thing that creates miracles.”

Hashim looked down the slope as he spoke. The Sultan’s warriors were gone, and in their place were fine horses and treasure. Since he had no memory of what happened, it must’ve seemed to him like it had all fallen from the sky.

“Seems that way.”

Ricardt replied. The two of them took a long detour to descend the slope and gave their weary horse plenty of water and food.

And then, with their treasure in hand and as if nothing had happened, they headed west once more.

Chapter 27 - The Wasteland Mage and Swordsman. End.

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