Chapter 165

Translator: Willia

Ricardt followed the Count of Cheska through the gate. Once they were through, Cheska Castle stood surprisingly close by.

Perched atop a sheer cliff, the castle looked lonely, almost abandoned, and the overcast weather gave it an eerie air.

The castle itself was not particularly large, but the natural terrain was so rugged that taking it seemed all but impossible.

The village lay some distance away, while the ground beneath the castle was covered entirely in graves. Nameless headstones stretched endlessly across the land in no discernible order, and perhaps because they were poorly maintained, the whole place looked bleak and desolate.

It looked like the sort of scene one might see at the end of the world.

“Were they killed in this Civil War?”

Ricardt asked the Count as they rode. The Count shook his head.

“No. Compared to this cemetery, those who died in the Civil War would not amount to so much as a scratch. This burial ground has stood here since the distant ancient past. It was already here before my house settled this land. The people of Cheska call it ‘Wretched Valor’.”

In other words, the cemetery was so old that even its origins were unknown. Still, though there was no way to verify it, a story had been handed down like a legend. And the people here believed that legend to be true.

“Only those whose names are unknown, who fell fighting monsters, may be buried here. Men of great renown like you, Ricardt, have no right to rest in this place.”

“That gate is not meant to stop what comes from the direction you came. It is meant to stop what comes from the other side.”

Ricardt looked back at the gate. Then he turned his gaze toward the dense forest far to the north.

Adeloron lay at the easternmost edge of the Empire. In other words, it bordered the forest of monsters. Somewhere beyond that forest lay the Eastern Frontier.

If Sinatria was the end of the world, then this place was another end of the world as well.

“Was guarding the gate against monsters a duty handed down through your house for generations?”

“It was. Which is why we never concerned ourselves with something like the Civil War in the first pla......”

Before the Count of Cheska could finish, something like the cry of a beast sounded from very far away, faint but unmistakable.

GWOOOOOOOOOOH!

It was clearly neither the howl of a wolf nor the roar of a lion. It was the war cry of an orc.

“There can be no mistake. They have caught the scent. The scent of division. It is God's providence that human folly must always carry a price. Yet no one cares. No one but us.”

The Kingdom of Adeloron had existed since before the Empire was founded. It was both the nation that first established the system of knighthood and a nation that defended the human world from monsters.

Perhaps the Kingdom of Adeloron itself had once been a vast military stronghold created by the ancient Empire to defend against monsters.

There were no records, so there was no way to know for certain, but from Ricardt's strategic perspective, the thought seemed vaguely plausible.

Yet as the long years passed, humans inevitably forgot. The early kings had at least supported the County of Cheska, but at some point that support had ceased, leaving the county to close ranks and carry on its ancient duty by itself.

They were not royalists. They were nobler than Ricardt had imagined. They lived in a dreary place like this, received no recognition from anyone, and yet had never once whined about it.

Even Paolo's insight could be wrong at times. Who could have imagined it? That anyone would continue such a duty generation after generation, even though no one acknowledged them and no one came to their aid.

Because Cheska Castle stood atop a sheer cliff, Ricardt, Raimund, and Roy left their horses at the stables below and climbed up on foot.

No proper banquet had been prepared for Ricardt, but they treated him decently enough as a guest. After all, Ricardt had lived a respectable enough life, and his renown was considerable.

Even setting everything else aside, being ‘He Who Crossed the Empire’ was an astonishing achievement in itself.

The Count of Cheska served Ricardt and his companions oat porridge, fruit, ham, and the like.

Ricardt had never been much of a gourmand or the sort to put on airs, so he simply ate what he was given with gratitude. The Count of Cheska watched him as though studying his every move.

Not a single word passed between them over the meal. Only after they had finished eating and mead was brought out did the Count of Cheska finally speak.

“There is one thing I wish to make clear. We cannot provide you with troops.”

“Very well. I understand. Nor did I come here seeking aid.”

“And we cannot swear fealty to you.”

“That matters not either. Count, you asked me whether I could prove myself. Very well. What would you have me do to prove it?”

“......But what will you do if I ask the impossible?”

“Would not accomplishing the impossible make it self-evident that I was ordained by God?”

“You have confidence to spare. And understandably so. You took the Sultan's head, beheaded a king, crossed the Empire, and even defeated the Prince's army. Yet there are terrors in this world beyond anything you have ever imagined.”

“Orcs?”

Ricardt asked as though wondering why he was dragging this out. The Count of Cheska studied him in silence before answering.

“Seeing them with your own eyes will be different from merely hearing of them.”

Ricardt had seen monsters with his own eyes in his previous life. He had experienced barbarians attacking an encampment with tamed trolls, and he had watched countless comrades be devoured by orcs during retreats.

The Count of Cheska had no way of knowing that, however, and seemed to think Ricardt was merely being foolhardy.

Courage and foolhardiness were different things. There was a world of difference between risking death to do what had to be done and risking death for something that did not need doing at all.

Ricardt merely responded to the Count's claim that seeing orcs would be different from hearing about them by telling him what he knew.

“Orcs have a rigid hierarchy. One dominant male keeps several female orcs under him. If a male child is born, he raises him until a certain age, but once that time has passed, he either kills him or drives him from the group. The sons either kill their father or wander with their brothers. Eventually, they kill the male of another group and take its females for themselves. If they fail, death is their only fate. Since they are always fighting one another, humans are generally safe so long as they do not enter orc territory. But every so often, a powerful chieftain arises who commands several groups, and when that happens, they invade human lands. That is what I have heard. Is any of it untrue?”

As Ricardt rattled off the details without hesitation, the sharp-featured Count of Cheska widened his eyes in surprise.

Ricardt knew the habits of orcs in such detail that there were even parts the Count himself had not known.

“Now tell me. What is it that I must prove?”

“......Broken Fang. That is what we call him. There is one orc here who is unusually large and powerful. He has been prowling near our lands as though provoking us, testing us. I suspect he is after the goats.”

“I don't think so.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is not after only the goats. He is after the people as well. They are always watching. And smelling. Whether we are terrified or not. Whether we have grown weak or remain strong.”

“......”

“So killing this Broken Fang is how I prove myself?”

Once a powerful chieftain was killed, the orcs would inevitably splinter. Their eternal war among the males would begin anew, and the cycle of fathers and sons killing one another would continue.

That was how orcs were exterminated. It was something Ricardt had learned in his previous life. As for goblins, one had to kill the shaman or goblin king and destroy their idol.

“......It is. Bring me his other fang, the one that is not broken, and I shall follow you. If need be, I shall swear fealty as well.”

He meant that if Ricardt killed the orc called ‘Broken Fang’, he would acknowledge that Ricardt had been chosen by God. And to be chosen by God meant possessing the right to become king.

But Ricardt was different. Far too different from the ambitious men the Count of Cheska had encountered before.

Ricardt shook his head and said,

“No. I will merely lighten the burden you bear. I shall kill Broken Fang. Afterward, I will actively provide the County of Cheska with supplies. What you and your house have done is truly noble. While the rest of the world has been busy satisfying its own greed, you have carried out a great duty. Now that I know of it, I cannot stand by and leave you to bear such a heavy burden alone.”

The Count of Cheska was once again taken aback by Ricardt's unexpected words. Was it not said that a man would die for one who recognized his worth? Something hot welled up in the Count's chest.

He clenched his teeth and turned his head away.

“I am somewhat tired from making haste to reach this place. I would like to rest for today.”

Ricardt spoke, then rose with his companions and followed a servant to the guest room.

As Ricardt unbuckled his belt and removed his equipment, Roy helped him and asked,

“Master, have you ever seen an orc before?”

“You could say that.”

“They're nothing special, right?”

“No. Not exactly.”

“How many troops should we summon?”

Raimund asked as he removed his own equipment. He would follow Ricardt's decision, of course, but he naturally assumed they would need troops if they were going to kill a powerful orc.

“We don't need an army. You don't throw large numbers of men at orcs. It only increases the casualties.”

“Then are we going to ask the people here for help? I doubt they trust us yet.”

“We're not getting their help either. The three of us are going to hunt it down.”

“......You're joking, aren't you?”

“Does it sound like I'm joking?”

Raimund blinked. He excelled at organizing armies, conducting tactical operations, and displaying courage on the battlefield. Hunting something down with only three men, however, was not his area of expertise.

“Roy and Ray, just back me up. I'll be the one to kill it.”

“I don't think it'll be that simple......”

“If it isn't simple? Then we'll make it simple.”

Ray did not look particularly enthusiastic, but Roy encouraged him instead. Whether that was because Roy did not yet understand how frightening the world could be or because he simply trusted Ricardt was another matter.

Ray roughly tousled Roy's hair for no particular reason.

“This is why I say I chose well when I took you as my disciple. That's right, Roy. You're right. If it isn't simple, then we'll make it simple,” Ricardt said.

“Still, if I'd known this was going to happen, I would have brought more escort knights.”

“I told you, didn't I? When fighting monsters like orcs, having more people isn't much of an advantage. If anything, they only get in the way.”

“That's not what I mean. What if, by some chance, something happens to you? Better that I or one of the other knights die. You still have things you need to do, Commander.”

“......Don't say things like that. I'm not the kind of man who wants to send others ahead of me just so I can survive.”

“That's why we follow you, but that doesn't make this right. If something happens to you, where are our six thousand brothers supposed to go?”

“Where else? This is your final destination. The place where you'll live out the rest of your lives. Just stay here. Even without me.”

“I'm not so sure.”

“Then I suppose I'll have to arrange a mass wedding or something. It's not like I'm your nursemaid, is it? I can't look after you until the day you die.”

The Knight Order was made up of men who had lost their way. Ricardt had led them like a shepherd, but just as he said, he could not lead them until the end of their lives.

“We could carry on your will. Even if something did happen to you.”

Roy spoke.

“What?”

“Ending the Civil War and bringing peace to Adeloron. That's your will, Master.”

Ricardt let out a short laugh. He found it touching, but absurd at the same time.

“I'm not going to die, you brat......”

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