Chapter 140

Translator: Willia

If there is only one truth in the world, it is that no one chose to be born.

And yet, why does life move toward an inevitable death? In the face of that fundamental absurdity, all humans were weak.

However, if one wishes to live despite that absurdity, one must realize the reason to live on their own. Perhaps the cruelest joke placed upon humanity was exactly that.

When morning comes and one opens their eyes, they must believe that there is a reason, a mission, for living today.

That is true faith, and perhaps the path to approach God. And so, the process of realizing the mission given to oneself might very well be what life is.

However, Ricardt’s heart was filled with nothing but emptiness. Never in his life had he felt such a great sense of loss.

Not even the stars that filled the night sky of the Keresi Plateau, nor the moon quietly gazing down upon the world, could fill Ricardt’s heart.

Only the campfire crackled now and then, making sharp popping sounds. The faint scent of something burning brushed the tip of his nose.

Ricardt sat with his legs gathered, staring only at the flickering flames. His mind was completely blank.

The red horse lay sprawled on the ground, occasionally tapping Ricardt’s shoulder with its mouth. As if it sensed its master’s feelings and was urging him to cheer up.

Even so, Ricardt did not respond.

Hashim swallowed his words hundreds, even thousands of times, before finally opening his mouth.

“We’ll be heading to Saramosa.”

“......”

“The people must be waiting.”

“......Is there no magic to bring a man to his senses?”

“Well, your brother simply chose a path. He’s not crazy. What you must face is simply that the path has changed. You also have a choice. To leave all this behind and return to Adeloron, or to face it.”

“What is it I must face?”

“You, more than anyone, should already know.”

“......”

Ricardt remained silent. It felt like his heart had rotted and crumbled. But perhaps it was so decayed that it no longer even hurt, that kind of feeling.

“......Let me apologize on his behalf.”

“Hm?”

“Billy, my brother, said harsh things to you, Hashim. I’ll apologize in his place. So please, forgive him.”

“Ricky, you really……”

Hashim looked at the dejected Ricardt and couldn’t continue speaking. How could someone’s heart be so kind? No matter how he looked, he didn’t seem suited to sword. Like a lion born with the heart of a gentle lamb.

“I don’t hold it in my heart. I was originally a slave, sold here and there, wasn’t I? I’ve heard far worse words before.”

“Just because you’re numb to it doesn’t mean you’re not hurt.”

“If you put it that way, I don’t have a comeback. But get some rest. I’ll take watch tonight.”

“Will I even be able to sleep……?”

“Still, try to rest. You’ll feel a little better.”

Following Hashim’s advice, Ricardt lay on the ground with his pack as a pillow. Rather than trying to sleep, he simply closed his eyes without thinking.

And immediately, though there was no emotional upheaval, tears began to fall. His throat tightened. His chest ached with sharp stabs. And with his eyes closed, he saw his childhood.

More tears fell, and as he wiped them away, it seemed sleep was out of the question. But ironically, those sad days turned into a dream, lulling Ricardt to sleep.

Dreams were dreams because they were dreams. So it was fleeting, and sad.

Time passed, dawn broke, and Ricardt opened his eyes. The campfire still flickered faintly, suggesting that Hashim had tended to it.

But he was nowhere to be seen. Ricardt knew instinctively. That he had left. Yet the horse Hashim had ridden was still there.

Ricardt got up. With his hair tousled, he sat blankly, watching the dark sky beyond turn a shade of violet.

The stars bidding farewell to the day resembled those who leave without a word. When you turn back, they’re just gone, leaving behind emptiness.

Though he wore splendid armor and attire, sitting alone in the vast Keresi Plateau during the dim hours of dawn made it all seem meaningless.

Still, as Hashim had said, after sleeping, he felt a little better. The surges of emotion that had overwhelmed him yesterday were slightly less intense now.

If that was the case, then what he needed now was resolve.

Ricardt sat quietly, unaware of how much time had passed, lost deep in thought.

In Adeloron, Marie, his friends, and many others were waiting, but Ricardt couldn’t return just like this.

Who could have imagined that after such a long journey, deep despair and sorrow would be waiting at the end? But Ricardt knew that for those who reject the call of fate and flee, there is no salvation.

No particularly good ideas came to mind. However, just as the sun began to peek over the distant horizon, he made one decision: to win overwhelmingly and force a surrender.

Once he made up his mind, he rose without hesitation. His body was a bit stiff, but he shook it off by moving his joints around.

He stomped out the campfire, packed his belongings, and fed the horses plenty of hay and carrots before mounting the red horse.

He tied the other horses together in a line, held them in one hand, and, with a corner of his heart still weighed down by sorrow, set off for Saramosa.

But he couldn’t tell whether that sorrow was for what had already passed or for what was yet to come.

Departing in the morning and moving at a fairly brisk pace, he was able to reach Saramosa by the afternoon. From a military standpoint, it was practically right in front of the Order of the Flame Knights’ Fortress.

Two things born from the same root now stood as enemies, facing each other. Like brothers.

Saramosa Fortress was located at the junction of two rivers. The two rivers met, then split and flowed apart again.

A massive aqueduct, built during the time of the ancient Empire, ran across the city. Even though the structure was nearly a thousand years old, it still stood firm and served its purpose.

Fresh water drawn from the mountains supplied the city. It was used both for agriculture and for drinking.

Those who had followed Ricardt had settled here. They reclaimed the barren land and sowed seeds they cherished like life itself. Life continued anew.

However, they were in an extremely vulnerable state. Saramosa Fortress was a typical military stronghold, not equipped to house large numbers of civilians.

The knights of the Order of the Flame seemed to be doing their best to scout the area. When they spotted Ricardt, they surprisingly greeted him warmly. It was the exact opposite of Vilter.

“Did things go well with your brother?”

Ricardt shook his head. Disappointment appeared on the knights’ faces.

“Our commander is waiting. Let’s go.”

The Order had split, so now there were two commanders. The one leading this group was Raimund, whom Ricardt had met before.

Perhaps because travel back and forth was inconvenient, he wasn’t staying inside the fortress, but living in the barracks below.

He had already come out of the barracks and was waiting for Ricardt. When Ricardt dismounted, he asked the exact same question as the previous knight.

“Did things go well with Sir Vilter?”

“No.”

“……In the end, must brothers draw swords on each other? Ah, I didn’t mean you and Sir Vilter.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s the truth.”

“Then, what do you plan to do now?”

“I intend to defeat him. If the army is crushed, my brother will have no choice but to abandon his thoughts.”

Raimund fully understood Ricardt’s feelings. No, he even felt a shared sense of grief. The knights in the Order were as tightly bonded as blood brothers.

“By the way, Sir Ricardt, do you have combat experience?”

“Not just enough, more than I can count.”

“Where have you fought before?”

“Eastern Expedition Territory.”

“?”

“Charging across mud up to the knees, obeying foolish orders even when I knew better and losing comrades because of it, eating rotten fruit and moldy bread, nightmares that kept me from sleeping at night, and in winter, countless men lost their toes to frostbite. I experienced all of it.”

From Ricardt’s mouth came things that one could only know through real battle experience.

Raimund was a bit confused. It was because Ricardt always wore splendid armor, and he had assumed the man was a knight skilled only in mounted combat, simply possessing great talent.

An outstanding and boastful, yet compassionate knight, that had been his first impression of Ricardt. But now it seemed he had experienced far more brutal battles than expected, which left Raimund puzzled.

Raimund didn’t know much about the war from a hundred years ago, as he hadn’t been taught in detail, so he simply accepted it as it was.

What mattered wasn’t the veracity of the words, but whether Ricardt had real combat experience. And frankly, one could just tell with people like that.

Ricardt's calm gaze, Raimund felt, was like the two sides of a coin. Beyond that calmness, he could vaguely sense something characteristic of a killer lurking beneath.

And that led to a sense of kinship. Because the knights of the Order were all similar. Thoroughly trained, forged in the fire and blood of the battlefield, killing machines.

“You’ve had similar experiences to ours.”

“So, Sir Raimund, do you believe those experiences have meaning?”

“I don’t know. Our predecessors did it for hundreds of years, so we do it too. Guarding the Empire’s borders. But now that the Emperor has cast us aside, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. Just… not Sir Vilter’s way.”

In short, they were like guard dogs abandoned by their master. Values they had treated like duty, honor, even life itself for centuries, had vanished overnight.

“How much strength do you have?”

Ricardt asked.

“Two hundred knights, three hundred squires, and two hundred soldiers. We’re also short on support troops. In contrast, Sir Vilter commands eight hundred knights, twelve hundred squires, and two thousand soldiers.”

Two hundred knights, that was a truly formidable force. It meant two hundred fully armed heavy cavalry, something even the kings of most nations would struggle to muster.

However, maintaining all of that cost a lot of money. That’s why the Order had turned to financial operations.

But now their funding had been cut off, and they were burdened with a disgraceful false accusation on top of that.

Morale was at rock bottom, to the point where they debated whether to sell their prized horses, which they valued more than their own lives.

Even just feeding the horses hay was incredibly expensive. Not to mention paying the wages of squires and soldiers.

With things like this, it was no wonder extremists like Vilter had emerged, consumed by rage. When you looked at the deeper circumstances, all that talk about founding a new nation might have just been a pretext.

On the other hand, Raimund and the knights who followed him were trying to uphold their honor as knights and as men to the very end.

That’s why the brothers of the now-divided knight order hated each other so intensely. Each viewed the other as a traitor.

“Do you have a reason?”

Ricardt asked.

“A reason for what?”

“I mean… a reason why you don’t follow my brother.”

At Ricardt’s question, Raimund’s expression grew heavy for a moment.

Avoiding Ricardt’s gaze, he looked off at the people in the distance, reclaiming the desolate farmland.

He too was from Franken, and thus had blond hair. He appeared older than Ricardt, though not by much.

His hair, just long enough to brush over his ears, fluttered lightly in the wind.

“She was a heretic girl. The last one I killed. When I raised my sword high, the girl looked up at me. In those big eyes, there was no resentment, no hatred. She just looked at me as if I were pitiful. Why do you think that was? The girl knew. That God would abandon me. That I had abandoned God…”

Raimund was tormented by guilt. Even when people went through the same things, some were consumed by rage and pushed themselves harder, while others turned inward and reflected.

There were many reasons the Order of the Flame had split, but the most fundamental was exactly that.

Once you start to feel, 'this isn’t right', about the work you do, the path inevitably divides.

For the past centuries, even if they felt that way, they had just suppressed it and fulfilled their duties. But now that they had been cast aside by the Emperor, that was no longer the case.

“No. God has not abandoned you, Raimund.”

“Who knows…”

“God does not abandon. He isn’t one who can simply cast something away. Look at yourself now. Perhaps the path to salvation has already begun. Though it is difficult now.”

“...Do you truly believe that?”

“I believe it without doubt. When all this is over, you may follow me. When the war in Adeloron ends, I will prepare a place for you and those in need. The Vow of Purity is over now. Make a family. Raise children in love. Love your neighbors. That is the way to repay God, and the way to atone to that heretic girl. Of this, I am certain.”

Raimund wore a somewhat shocked expression at Ricardt’s words. With a trembling heart, he looked into Ricardt’s unwavering hazel eyes.

Perhaps it was the very thing he had most wanted to hear. Moreover, unlike most knights who were generally ignorant outside of combat, Ricardt was insightful and full of warmth. A warmth that passed from heart to heart, genuine encouragement.

Above all, he possessed an unshakable, firm faith.

“By the way, do you have enough supplies?”

“...Hm? Ah, well, King Santonio hasn’t exactly been generous with support. I understand. He probably can’t place full trust in us yet either.”

From the king’s perspective, these men were not pledging loyalty to him, and even if he accepted them all, he couldn’t afford to sustain them.

So King Santonio had merely handed over some leftover land to them and seemed to be figuring out how to make use of them.

People and horses needed food and water to move and fight; no battle could be fought without supplies.

“Introduce me to King Santonio. I’ll try requesting support myself.”

Raimund couldn’t readily respond. It was because this peculiar hero, despite them not having known each other long, was drawing his heart toward him. That, in itself, was a little frightening.

But there was nothing else he could do right now. Even if he had made the right choice, it was far better to hold on to hope than to simply be discouraged and deflated.

“Understood. Let’s go. I’ll guide you.”

The knight, burdened with sin, felt a sliver of salvation in Ricardt.

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