Chapter 137

Translator: Willia

There is a saying that human history is a process through which the will of God unfolds.

However, human history has repeated prosperity and downfall, tragedy and comedy, with corpses piling into mountains and rivers flowing with blood.

Is the will of God truly embedded within this cycle of destruction and despair?

The capital of the Tyujis Sultanate, Tyujis, bore traces of that repeated history throughout the city.

When the ancient Empire was once a city-state, this place was settled by a power that had been its sworn enemy.

But it fell before the Empire, was destroyed by barbarians after many years, and the barbarians who settled here were also weakened by the passage of time and conquered again. More time passed, and the land was once again conquered, this time by the Salamans.

Several civilizations had bloomed and withered, and each time, destruction and plundering had occurred. Even people who believed in different gods had once lived here.

In the naturally gifted harbor, bearded and burly Vikings roamed about. They seemed to be called Varangians here.

Unlike the Nordics who had settled in the Empire and become assimilated, these had sailed here all the way from the far north.

They were both mercenaries and merchants. They were hired by the Sultan and also by lords of the Empire.

Of course, there were also Nordics who had settled down and lived here.

Naturally, there were many merchants who had come from the southern part of the Empire. As for the Salamans, this land was originally theirs, but they were not under the influence of the Caliph, who could be called their religious leader and Emperor.

However, the majority of the population were mixed-bloods. They were called Tyujistan, and the Sultan of Tyujis was also a Tyujistan, not a Salaman.

Tyujistans had facial features similar to the Frankens, but with bronze-colored skin. And somehow, every one of them was incredibly good-looking.

The men were healthy with intense eyes, and the women had voluptuous bodies with bold and striking features.

Although Ricardt hadn’t come here as a tourist, he couldn’t help but have his eyes drawn everywhere. At the same time, he began to wonder: why don’t these people fight?

Their appearances are different, their cultures are different, and even the gods they believe in are different, so wouldn’t they be expected to fight?

“It’s money. Every human has desires. That desire, money, is what brings them peace and keeps the balance. If there’s profit, they’ll join hands even if they believe in different gods. If there’s harm, they’ll become enemies even if they believe in the same god.”

While browsing the market near the harbor, Hashim spoke, as if he had read Ricardt’s thoughts.

“Honor?”

“Here, wealth is honor itself.”

“......It’s nice that it’s easy to identify at a glance.”

Loyalty, courage, faith, none of those were visible to the eye. On the other hand, money was plainly visible. In other words, if someone walked around in expensive clothes or carried good gear, they were an honorable person. At least, around here.

However, it wasn’t quite that simple. Having money and being able to flaunt it meant possessing a corresponding level of force, and it also implied a good social reputation.

Of course, that social reputation didn’t simply mean being a good-natured person. It encompassed being ruthless when necessary, keeping one’s word when it counted, being generous, and having guts.

It all converged under the term 'money', but people didn’t show respect just for the money itself. People who were only about money to begin with couldn’t accumulate much here anyway.

Right now, Ricardt was planning to dispose of leftover goods from his trade with the Azure Tribe through a middleman. It was mostly silk and spices.

Although their value skyrocketed the deeper inland they went, Ricardt himself was not a merchant and needed to lighten his load, so he intended to sell them here.

Coincidentally, the merchant he was going to trade with belonged to the Benicio Trading Company. Barbara, who had given Ricardt a ride on the ship, was also with the Benicio Trading Company.

Although things had gone wrong in the middle due to pirates, he hadn’t made enemies with the people from this side, so he intended to make the trade.

The merchant was a stout man wearing a loose-fitting silk robe. Perhaps because wealth equaled honor here, he was draped in rings and necklaces.

With rough and thick hands, he spread out the silk to inspect it, and for the spices, he smelled each one carefully and even took a tiny taste.

Then, tilting his head, he asked Ricardt,

“Where did you get these goods?”

“The silk was a gift from the Sultan of the Mayub Sultanate, and the spices were obtained through trade with the Azure Tribe.”

At that, the merchant's face slightly twisted, as if he found it hard to believe. He clicked his tongue as if brushing something off and said,

“Either way, both the silk and spices are of the highest quality. I'll be honest with you. We don’t have the money right now to pay for them.”

Are they that expensive? Still, Ricardt thought this merchant was remarkably honest for saying it so plainly.

However, the merchant had misunderstood something and thus spoken honestly to Ricardt. The misunderstanding was due to Ricardt's blond hair and the Viking bracelet on his arm.

Although Ricardt’s appearance was too neat for a Viking, Viking bracelets were something only a father gave to his son when acknowledging him as a warrior, and Vikings considered their bracelets so sacred they never removed them, treating them like their lives. So not just anyone could wear one.

And when it came to lying to a Viking or a Nordic, there was one thing you could be absolutely sure of, they would chase you to the ends of the earth, rip out your tongue, and split your skull with an axe.

The merchant's honesty had stemmed from a misunderstanding, but it wasn’t without reason.

“Is there a bigger merchant who can pay for them?”

Ricardt asked.

“Probably not. Unless it's the Sultan. But as you know, trading with the powerful doesn’t bring much benefit. It’s never clean. So how about selling just part of it? Spices are hard to manage against moisture when crossing the sea.”

At the merchant’s suggestion, Ricardt thought quietly for a moment before replying.

“Then let’s do this. I’ll sell all the silk and spices, so make me a war robe, armor, a couple of lances for horseback, and tack. I already have a cuirass, so I mean protection for the shoulders, arms, lower body, and shins. Deduct the cost from the total and I’ll take the rest.”

The merchant looked Ricardt up and down. Though covered with silk, the Emperor’s armor was slightly peeking out, glinting gold in the sunlight.

It wasn’t that surprising, as people who loved to show off sometimes plated their armor in gold.

But the design of the armor was ancient, and that in itself was curious. Was he some kind of actor? That’s what the merchant thought.

Of course, an actor wouldn’t receive gifts from the Sultan of Mayub, cross the scorching desert, and meet the Azure Tribe.

“That won’t be difficult. The best Nordic craftsman is under our company. Let’s draw up the contract.”

The merchant pulled out parchment from inside the shop. He drafted the contract on the spot.

It stated that the goods would be transferred, a down payment would be made, armor would be crafted, and the balance would be paid to complete the contract. It also included a vow to fulfill the contract in the name of God, the Emperor, and the Empire, and clauses detailing penalties in case of breach.

In any case, maybe because they had written a contract, the sense of wariness between them had eased. So the merchant, now in a lighter mood, asked while putting away the contract,

“By the way, are you a mercenary or a merchant? Are you affiliated with a group? Like the Black Fang Band or something.”

Ricardt shook his head.

“Neither a mercenary nor a merchant. Just a traveler. This here is my friend Hashim, and we’re on our way to Sinatria.”

“To there? I wouldn’t recommend going there right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because of the Order of the Flame Knights. They've always had skirmishes with the sultans over there, but lately it's gotten bloody. Massacres on a village scale are common, and apparently they took a city called Dostia and killed everyone inside. Children, women, old folks, didn’t matter. They say the blood was ankle-deep.”

“......”

Ricardt was slightly shocked by the unexpected news. Not realizing Ricardt’s state, the merchant kept rambling.

“Maybe it’s because the Emperor's been sweeping through their branches... well, not just the Emperor. Kings in places where the knight order has branches are raiding them too. Calling them followers of demons. Maybe they’re doing it to wash off the disgrace, or maybe they’re just broke and looking for loot... who knows. Either way, it doesn’t look like things will calm down anytime soon.”

“......”

As Ricardt remained silent, the merchant glanced around uneasily, wondering if he had said something wrong.

He hadn’t made any mistake. It was just that Ricardt felt a heavy heart over the innocent lives being lost.

Perhaps sensing that, Hashim placed a hand on Ricardt’s shoulder.

“What’s the fastest way to get to Sinatria?”

Ricardt asked.

“That would definitely be by ship. It won’t even take a full day. Half a day if you’re lucky? Maybe even faster. If you’re not heading to a specific city in Sinatria, you can get off anywhere, right?”

“What about going by land?”

“If you go straight west, there’s a place called the ‘End of the World’. There’s a very narrow strait running north-south. Even on horseback, it would take two or three days to get there.”

Ricardt looked back at Hashim. It seemed he wasn’t very eager to board a ship. But right now, he felt oddly pressed for time.

“Are there fewer pirates here?”

Hashim asked. At that, the merchant let out a scoffing laugh, as if the question was absurd, and couldn’t stop chuckling for a while.

“Hahaha... This is the very home of pirates. Who’s going to punish what happens at sea? There’s no way to know either. But maybe ships flying the Sultan’s flag are a little safer? Or... a Viking ship. What kind of crazy bastard would dare mess with a Viking at sea?”

"...I understand. Thanks for the information."

“That much info is on the house. Now, come with me. I’ll introduce you to a blacksmith.”

Ricardt and Hashim followed the merchant. Leaving the harbor, they walked along a large lakeside. The sunlight sparkling over the lake made it look truly beautiful. A few fishing boats drifted along.

The blacksmith’s shop wasn’t far from the merchant’s store, and there were many other workshops nearby. It was a kind of industrial complex run by the Benicio Trading Company.

The Benicio Trading Company didn’t specialize in just one kind of product, but handled almost every item used by humans. And they maintained a certain level of quality, too.

That was because nothing was more profitable than war. Wherever war broke out, they supplied goods and made money.

Compared to them, the Ernburg Trading Company back in the day was like a mere peddler’s stall.

In any case, Ricardt not only went to the blacksmith but also visited a tailor to have his measurements taken and explain his requirements.

It was fine if the armor had slightly reduced protection, but it had to allow full movement of the shoulders. The spear should be a certain length, and so on.

To the tailor, he explained the desired color, materials, and stitching method.

Since Hashim had been with him all this time, Ricardt naturally placed orders for the clothes and items he would need as well.

He handed over the goods to the merchant and received the down payment, no less than 120 gold coins. In silver coins, that would be 2,400.

He briefly thought that if Bori were here, he would’ve been overjoyed, thinking he’d become rich. Hashim, on the other hand, remained indifferent in front of the money.

That thought led Ricardt to recall that the Benicio Trading Company also handled message delivery, so he sent a letter to Marie and his friends back in Adeloron.

He wrote that although the ship had wrecked on the way and he had a rough time, he was safe. He mentioned visiting the Holy Land, receiving a red horse from the Sultan of the Mayub Sultanate, the gift from the Sultan, crossing the wasteland and meeting Auku of the Azure Tribe, and what happened at the Emperor’s mausoleum.

He included personal impressions too, how the Holy Land wasn’t all that special, how the wasteland held a sea made of sand, how there was a flower that glowed like moonlight and didn’t wither even when picked.

But after writing it all down, he realized each story sounded hard to believe. Surviving a shipwreck in the middle of the sea alone already seemed impossible. He even started to worry, “What if they don’t believe me?”

In any case, Ricardt handed the letter to a surprisingly young delivery boy and asked,

“Have you heard anything recently about Adeloron?”

“They say the legendary Red Prince has appeared? Supposedly, he defeated the invincible Grantz all by himself and drove him far away.”

Listening to the boy, it was roughly accurate, though not entirely precise. It also seemed he wasn’t aware of the most recent developments. Still, even this much was impressive intelligence, after all, this was Tyujis.

Ricardt, having finished his business, secured lodging at an exotic inn by the lakeside with Hashim. They intended to depart as soon as the armor was completed.

“Are we taking a ship?”

While unpacking and waiting for the bathwater to be drawn, Hashim asked.

“Since we have a horse, it’s probably better to go by land. We've lightened our load, so once everything’s ready, let’s change horses as we go.”

“That sounds best. Transporting a horse by ship isn’t easy, after all.”

Though livestock could be loaded onto a ship, it was inconvenient in many ways and carried the risk of illness. Ricardt knew from firsthand experience just how unsanitary it could be. He couldn’t treat the red horse like that.

Soon, a young attendant came to inform them that the bathwater was ready. Ricardt went to the exotic Tyujis-style bathhouse, undressed, and immersed himself in the hot water.

Perhaps the fatigue of travel had accumulated, his mind grew dizzy, and his body felt as though it would melt.

In truth, this was the first proper rest he had taken since the shipwreck. Up until now, he had only taken brief naps and spent the rest of the time walking or running.

Closing his eyes and leaning his head against the edge of the bath, his older brother Vilter naturally came to mind. The confused and frightened expression on his face the day they parted was something Ricardt could never forget.

He could only hope Vilter was still alive. If they met again, it would be the first time in eight years, how much had he grown? Had he adjusted well to life in the knight order?

These were troubled times, was he doing alright...?

All sorts of questions kept trailing one after another.

Suddenly sleepiness poured over him, and Vilter standing in a burning village with blood splashing on the ground flickered before his eyes. A reflection like a mirror, he looked exactly like Ricardt.

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