Chapter 139

Translator: Willia

Ricardt passed through Valencia and moved inland, away from the coast.

Though he had killed four knights, the Amir of Valencia took no further action. It was unclear whether he was frightened or simply lacked the means to respond.

Still, was there truly no one who could protect the people? The number of refugees following behind Ricardt looked to be at least several thousand.

Unintentionally leading them, Ricardt arrived at the Keresi Plateau, where the headquarters of the Order of the Flame Knights was located. The field, covered in shrubs and short grass, was breezy, and the lake water was clear.

However, the thousands of people who had been following Ricardt suddenly sat down and settled in that place. As a result, Ricardt was unable to move, as if shackled at the feet.

Should he abandon them, or should he do something? But what could he possibly do?

“If you look closely at such crowds, there are always people like village chiefs among them. Ask them what they intend to do.”

Hashim offered his advice. Following his words, Ricardt decided to at least ask, and approached the people.

Riding a bright red horse and wearing ornate armor, he was clearly visible even from afar, and all several thousand people had their eyes fixed solely on Ricardt.

Ricardt rode back and forth on his horse, scanning the crowd, then spoke.

“Is there a leader among you? I'm asking if there is someone like a village chief.”

At this, the people rolled their eyes around and all glanced at someone. Soon after, hesitantly and fearfully, a few individuals stood up here and there and approached Ricardt.

They all had dark skin. They were not of the same race as Ricardt.

“I have a path I must take. Have you decided where to go? Is it safe to stay here?”

In response, the leaders who seemed to be from the same village or region just watched each other for cues.

Then, an old man with a turban, with the kind of courage unique to someone who did not have long left to live, stepped forward and spoke.

“This is our homeland. If you go that way, you’ll reach a village called Musa. That way, there’s a village called Alpanti. And beyond that ridge over there, there’s a village called Jose. And if you go further in that direction…”

The old man kept pointing here and there, naming places where villages or towns once stood. It was unclear what his point was, but Ricardt patiently listened to everything he had to say.

The old man continued.

“However, all those villages and towns have been destroyed. El Cid may not understand, but for people like us, even though they’ve been destroyed, they are still our homeland. If we have a wish, it is not to evacuate far away, but to rebuild our homeland and live there again.”

The people referred to Ricardt as ‘El Cid’, In the Salaman language, it meant ‘master’ or ‘lord’, similar to being called ‘nari’.

It was a rare thing to be respected by followers of another religion, but this was not a situation that brought only joy.

“Who destroyed your villages and towns?”

“It was the Order of the Flame Knights.”

Upon hearing that, Ricardt felt a tightness in his chest and a heaviness in his heart.

And as expected, with such a large crowd gathered, they were bound to draw attention. In the distance, mounted riders were approaching.

At the front was a rider carrying a triangular pennant. The flag was white with a flame symbol drawn on it, and the surcoats covering their chainmail also bore the same white background with flame insignias. They were clearly knights of the Order of the Flame Knights.

They approached Ricardt, and one of them wearing a nasal-guard helmet stepped forward and asked him,

“I am Raimund, a knight of the Order of the Flame Knights. Are you the one who killed the knights of Valencia and is protecting heretics?”

Though the people had merely followed of their own accord, the rumor had already spread differently, contrary to Ricardt’s intentions. That was the nature of rumors, they often spread regardless of the subject’s actual intent.

But Ricardt affirmed it.

“That’s right.”

“Why are you protecting heretics?”

“We only differ in how we worship, but we all believe in the same God. And look at them. Do they have any power to resist? Tormenting the innocent is the act of a demon, and protecting them is a command from God. So I am simply following the will of God.”

Ricardt looked up at the sky and expressed his most honest thoughts to himself without any embellishment. Judging by how things were going, he might end up fighting a knight of the Order of the Flame Knights.

However, the knight named Raimund glanced at Ricardt and the people briefly, then gave an unexpected response.

“It’s rare to hear such a reasonable statement these days. What is your name?”

“I am Ricardt of the Caldebern Family, hailing from Stormhertz. I have come to request support from the Order of the Flame Knights, as we are fighting a war in Adeloron. I also wish to meet my brother, who is in the Order, and I’ve come to fulfill a request from the unjustly slain Edmund.”

Ricardt confidently stated his three purposes: first, to seek support from the Order of the Flame Knights; second, to meet his brother Vilter; and third, to deliver the holy reliquary.

Upon hearing Ricardt's origin and family name, Raimund visibly flinched and showed a startled expression.

“My word... Do you have a brother named Vilter? The Red Reaper Vilter?”

“The Red Reaper?”

“That’s what we call him here. In any case, this is troubling…”

“What is the matter?”

“I don’t even know where to begin, but to get to the point: the Order of the Flame Knights is currently divided into two. Your brother has taken control of the Order’s stronghold and is acting as the commander. The rest of us, unable to follow his will, have turned to King Santonio for support.”

Ricardt was left dumbfounded by this completely unexpected and shocking news. Seeing his reaction, Raimund continued his explanation.

“There’s been some degree of internal division within the Order for a long time. Then, with the recent imperial oppression, it finally erupted in full. One faction wants to establish a nation for the Order, while the other believes in simply fulfilling our duty. For the record, I belong to the duty faction. I stand opposed to the Red Reaper.”

The Keresi Plateau was, in every way, a picturesque field. The wind was refreshing, and the lake was clear. But beyond this beautiful highland, blood and fire lurked in wait.

Ricardt felt it was somehow reminiscent of the Heiden Fields. Though the Heiden Fields lay far in the north, and this place was warm while that was cold, that was the only real difference.

“I must meet Billy in person. Can I trust you with these people?”

It wasn’t the kind of request one should make to a stranger, and the reason why he should do it was even more unclear.

However, as Raimund looked at Ricardt, so closely resembling his brother, the Red Reaper, he felt a strange sense of trust.

Their thoughts were different, and so were their pursuits, but as a knight, Vilter was the strongest he knew. Perhaps that respect carried over into how he viewed Ricardt.

They were similar, yet completely different. That’s what he felt from Ricardt.

“It’s a strange thing. There’s land aplenty, but no people. There’s a fortress in Saramosa. There are plenty of fallow fields in front of it. I’ll take them there for now. I’ll speak to King Santonio later. Go to Karagosa. That’s where your brother is.”

At Raimund’s approval, Ricardt simply nodded calmly. After glancing back at the people once more, he set out on his way again, with Hashim accompanying him.

The Order of the Flame Knights had guarded the Empire’s borders for hundreds of years. Though they swore an oath of purity, those who retired or left the service had long since settled here, raised families, and lived their lives. That too had gone on for centuries.

In the early days, there must have been many great wars, but time had blended their blood together, and they lived alongside one another.

And in such conditions, doubt was bound to grow slowly. Who exactly was the enemy? What were they defending, and from whom?

Though all non-believers were lumped together and called Salaman, they didn’t even look the same as the real Salaman people.

Perhaps, like how objects wear out with time and use, the once-noble ideals had simply grown old and worn out.

As the sun began to set, Ricardt finally arrived. After more than twenty days, he reached the headquarters of the Order of the Flame Knights, Karagosa Fortress.

Karagosa Fortress was originally built during the days of the ancient Empire, later expanded by the Salamans when they took control, and then expanded again after the knights seized it, now boasting an overwhelming presence and impregnable defense.

It was on a completely different level compared to the shabby fortresses of the Empire. Positioned atop a steep cliff, the fortress was solid, thick, and exuded majesty.

The banners of the Order of the Flame Knights fluttered all around. Below the fortress was a large barracks complex resembling a village, where the commoner soldiers affiliated with the Order lived.

As Ricardt and Hashim rode side by side through the area, the soldiers stared at them with hostile eyes. It looked like they might charge at them at any moment.

People began to tail them, knowingly or unknowingly, surrounding the two as if encircling them. Everyone had weapons in their hands, spears, halberds, billhooks.

When they reached the entrance of the fortress at the base of the hill, a knight approached. His eyes gleamed under his helmet with the emotionless gaze characteristic of someone who had taken many lives.

“If this is a pointless visit, I won’t guarantee your life. Who are you, where are you from, and for what purpose are you approaching this great fortress?”

“Stormhertz. Caldebern Family. Ricardt. I’ve come to see my brother, Vilter. And I’ve come to deliver a holy reliquary on behalf of the knight Edmund of the Order of the Flame Knights.”

To the harsh and deadly question, Ricardt responded with calm composure. The knight, clearly not expecting the brother of his commander to appear, stood silently for a moment before speaking.

“Wait here.”

He then sent word to the fortress. Ricardt and Hashim waited, surrounded by hostile onlookers. Neither of them showed any sign of fear.

In truth, Ricardt wasn’t scared at all. Or rather, he was. Not because of their threats, but because of an inexplicable sense of unease that might soon become reality. His pounding heart refused to calm.

Eventually, someone came out from the fortress. He whispered something to the knight, who nodded in understanding.

“Enter.”

Fortunately, they were not turned away at the gate. Ricardt remained on horseback and rode up the hill road into the fortress. Inside, there were knights either wearing or taking off their armor.

A guide took the reins and Ricardt dismounted. The knights inside stared at Ricardt and Hashim, while they didn’t glare openly, the stern and cold looks in their eyes were intense.

There wasn’t a single word spoken. It was as if silence itself was pressing down on them.

The guide didn’t take them into the inner keep, but instead led them around it and brought them to the rear garden. There stood a large tree, and under it, with his back turned, Vilter sat perched on the trunk.

“They have arrived, Commander.”

The guide spoke. But Vilter didn’t even look back or say a word. When the guide left, not even the sound of birds could be heard in the garden, only silence lingered.

Then, suddenly, Vilter turned to look at Ricardt. Blue eyes. That was the only difference. In height, build, golden hair, and facial features, they looked like mirror images.

But the indifferent gaze, devoid of any emotion, felt like a blade to Ricardt.

The longing he had held to see him, the reality that felt different from what he imagined, it all made Ricardt’s heart race uncontrollably. Say something, Billy…

Something seemed to rise up from deep within Ricardt, something he himself didn’t even understand, and he had to struggle to suppress it.

But contrary to Ricardt’s feelings, Vilter turned his head away again, staring at the ground as he spoke in a dry voice.

“What brings you here?”

Ricardt swallowed dryly and replied.

“Edmund, the knight who brought you, Billy, to Nibelungen. I saw him burned at the stake. Before he died, he asked me to deliver this to headquarters.”

Ricardt took out the roughly decorated holy reliquary and showed it. Vilter didn’t even look at it as he spoke.

“Leave it.”

“That’s it? Nothing else you want to say?”

“What more is there to say? By the way, what’s that beast next to you?”

He was referring to Hashim. Ricardt felt that something was seriously off here.

He turned to Hashim in confusion, but Hashim just stood there expressionless, unbothered.

“Beast? Hashim is my friend. He guided me here.”

“Friend? Are you out of your mind? Calling a heretic your friend?”

Vilter turned to Ricardt again, eyes filled with venom as if he were facing a mortal enemy. His gaze blazed like fire.

“…Why are you so angry? You’re not the Billy I used to know.”

At that, Vilter scoffed and shook his head.

“You’re still so immature, Ricky.”

“And what about you? How have you matured?”

Ricardt, suddenly overcome with emotion, raised his voice.

“As you see. I am the commander of the Order of the Flame Knights.”

“So what? Is slaughtering powerless people all a commander is supposed to do?”

“Don’t be naive, Ricky. In the end, they all have to die. Especially the heretics, they defile this land. Purifying the land and establishing a nation of purity is my duty as commander.”

“Don’t delude yourself, Billy! That’s not building a nation, it’s committing sin!”

Ricardt shouted. At that, Vilter suddenly shot up from his seat, grabbed Ricardt by the collar, and glared at him with murderous intensity.

“What do you know? Did you witness the death of your brothers? Do you know war? If you’re going to talk like a clueless child, get the hell out of here.”

Ricardt slapped his brother’s hand away and grabbed his collar in turn, shouting back.

“Snap out of it! What did the Order do to you to make you like this!? You weren’t like this before! Think about your family!”

Emotions reached their peak no, perhaps they had already exploded.

Vilter shoved Ricardt hard in the chest, throwing off his grip, then clenched his fist and shouted.

“Don’t speak of family in front of me! They abandoned me! The Order raised me! War did! Fire and steel! Blood! And death raised me!”

In that moment, Ricardt was so shocked he couldn’t breathe. It was as if lightning had struck, his body trembled uncontrollably, and his gaze, shaking, fixed on Vilter, who looked just like Ricardt’s former self.

Resentment, hatred, vengeance, and deeper still, a man who had been conditioned by slaughter.

As Ricardt stood silent in the grip of that shock, Vilter, panting, calmed his anger and turned his back.

“Don’t waste your time here. Go back. Go home, or keep playing at being an adventurer or whatever. As my final mercy to same blood, I’ll let you leave. But don’t face me on the battlefield. Even if it’s you, I’ll kill you.”

With that, Vilter marched off somewhere.

Ricardt’s legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground.

His strength drained, as if all energy had left his body. Everything he had done, everything he wanted to do, everything he had worked for...

Soon sorrow, disappointment, and guilt swirled in his chest. Even Ricardt, usually so stoic and untouched by emotion, could not hold himself together in that moment.

His childhood with Vilter seemed to flash before his eyes. Running through the fields of Stormhertz together, sleeping hand-in-hand at night, the smell of grass, the scent of flowers, the light of the sunset, being hugged and carried while laughing, and that tender heart.

But that boy was gone.

It hurt as if someone were wringing his heart. Eventually, those memories shimmered with tears. The grief, unable to find its way to anyone, turned to tears that fell silently.

The soft red glow of the setting sun wrapped around Ricardt’s back.

Chapter 28 - History Repeats Itself. The End.

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