Chapter 168

Translator: Willia

Things often turned out differently from what one imagined once faced in person.

Someone thought to be great might prove to be nothing more than a coward, while someone who seemed insignificant might possess extraordinary ability.

A person believed to be intelligent might ruin his life in an instant through some absurdly stupid act, while someone everyone had written off might rise from despair and succeed once again.

So even if one were to see an angel and a demon with one's own eyes, could human intellect truly tell the two apart? If the distinction were easy, life would not be so complicated and difficult.

Ricardt was not what Count Cheska had imagined.

Perhaps it was something obvious that he had simply overlooked. In Count Cheska's eyes, before Ricardt was a shining hero, he was a man who carried an inhuman capacity for violence within him.

By inhuman violence, he did not simply mean that Ricardt was good at beating people or prone to savagery. It was something more fundamental than that.

Was he truly the hero who would save the world, or a demon king who would destroy it? Whatever fate awaited the world, if it was God's will, then there was no denying that Ricardt had been chosen by Him.

And there was one more thing. Whether Ricardt was an angel or a demon, Count Cheska had been utterly captivated by him.

So all he could do was pray that Ricardt was an angel.

“Winter is coming. How fare the county's food supplies?”

Ricardt asked as a chilly autumn wind blew past.

For some reason, Count Cheska did not answer at once despite looking directly at Ricardt. No, he could not. He was slightly dazed at the moment.

Ricardt's long golden eyelashes lent him a delicate appearance, but the Count knew very well that there was nothing delicate about him.

His eyes were like a deer's. Usually, at least. But they were different when he fought amid bloodshed. The contrast inspired an almost guilty feeling, as though there were something wrong about seeing him that way.

When Count Cheska failed to answer, Ricardt looked over the farmland, which was not particularly extensive, then turned back toward him.

He ran a questioning gaze over the Count from head to toe, as if wondering why he was not answering, then asked,

“Is something the matter?”

“......? Ah, no.”

Count Cheska answered in surprise. The sharpness his eyes had possessed when they first met had softened considerably.

“How are your provisions for winter?”

“Cheska has never had a large population to begin with. As you can see, we have farmland, but the soil is neither fertile nor extensive. Since people here have traditionally lived by hunting and gathering, winter rarely brings starvation with it.”

Agriculture could support a larger population than hunting and gathering, but it also carried a far greater risk of starvation.

If a year's harvest failed, farmers had little recourse. Hunting and gathering, on the other hand, rested on generations of accumulated experience and know-how, so winter did not change their circumstances quite so drastically.

Of course, either way, life was hard.

“What say you to this? The Monster Forest has good timber. Cut it and sell it. I shall buy it from you. We happen to need a great deal of firewood just now. If the trade goes well, perhaps we can keep it going.”

“Understood. It shall be done.”

Count Cheska answered at once without giving it any further thought, like a loyal subject receiving an order from his king.

Ricardt looked over Cheska's farmland once more. He had traveled widely and seen all manner of strange and beautiful sights, yet Cheska seemed steeped in gloom.

Strangely enough, the people who lived here seemed to carry resignation with them wherever they went. And yet they had served as a bulwark protecting the human world for untold ages. It was difficult to make sense of.

Perhaps some noble thoughts and deeds wore far humbler trappings than one might expect.

Was that why the cemetery where the nameless fallen were buried was called ‘Wretched Valor’? The thought brushed through Ricardt's mind like the autumn wind.

Ricardt mounted his horse. Its coat was the vivid red of autumn maple leaves. It suited the season well.

As Ricardt rode along the path between the fields, Count Cheska and several of his escort knights mounted their horses and followed.

After making a full round of the directly administered lands, they arrived at the cemetery called Wretched Valor, where Broken Fang's head had been offered before the memorial altar.

Whether that could truly bring comfort to the nameless spirits of the dead, he did not know. But at the very least, what mattered was that someone like him had not forgotten them.

Then he turned back toward Count Cheska and said,

“There is no need to accompany me as far as the checkpoint. A parting ought to leave a touch of regret. I shall be off.”

With that, Ricardt spurred his horse away. Raimund followed, while Roy at least gave the Count a slight bow of the head before riding after Ricardt.

Clop, clop. They receded into the distance, leaving only a faint cloud of dust behind.

For a king, or even a man who would one day become one, it was a humble sight. Much like the County of Cheska itself.

Yet just as the County of Cheska had fulfilled a noble duty despite its humble appearance, Ricardt's actions until now had been much the same. At least, that was how Count Cheska saw it.

He had not sought special treatment. He had simply shouldered the duty alongside them, and had proven himself even at the cost of taking risks upon himself.

Autumn was a lonely season, but it was also the season of harvest. And there was no greater harvest than winning people's hearts.

Wherever an army was stationed, certain things inevitably followed.

Drink, gambling, and pimps.

Adelun was not entirely free of such things either, but compared to the size of the army stationed there, they were practically nonexistent.

The members of the Knight Order had spent so long living like ascetic monks that they still retained their wariness of lust as a sin.

So someone had to go out of their way to pair them off. That was one of Ricardt's duties.

The soldiers were one thing, but there were roughly a thousand knights in the Knight Order, and the problem was that every one of them was a noble.

Nobles could not simply marry anyone. Marriage between a noble and a commoner was not forbidden under religious law, but by custom and tradition it was regarded as an enormous taboo.

Especially because everyone knew that once the Civil War ended, every knight would receive some manner of title and land, large or small. Whatever Ricardt himself might have decided, anyone with any sense could tell simply by looking at the way events were unfolding.

That made the matter both important and complicated, since they had to consider which daughters of influential local families each knight would marry.

Ricardt could not possibly investigate every candidate and arrange every match himself, so Marie ultimately took charge of the entire affair. At the same time, it gave her an opportunity to become acquainted with many of Adeloron's nobles.

Of course, some among them sought to reclaim the rights they had lost, but Ricardt rejected every such request. They had, after all, failed to defend their own lands.

In the end, outside forces were moving in and becoming the new ruling class. If they wanted that process to happen smoothly and with as little bloodshed as possible, integration with the native population was crucial.

Marriage was the method they chose to accomplish that. As human history had always shown, it was predictable, but endlessly useful.

Besides, it was something Ricardt had promised. The knights would be freed from their duties and allowed to build families of their own.

As for the soldiers, they would naturally become retainers of whichever knights they chose to follow.

Even setting the marriage issue aside, there was a mountain of work to do. The capital had to be rebuilt, the refugees settled, the disorder in the surrounding regions brought under control, and public security restored.

Marie handled internal affairs, while Ricardt took care of the work that required traveling around outside. That was how matters proceeded.

Amid all this, however, there was one matter Ricardt paid particular attention to, perhaps out of a personal desire of his own.

It concerned none other than Bori.

“How's the research coming?”

Ricardt asked beneath a tree whose autumn leaves had nearly all fallen, with dry leaves piled thick across the ground.

Bori sat perched on a rock, scribbling something across a stack of parchment.

Ricardt stood with a sword at his waist, looking down at what Bori was doing with a vaguely bored expression. Without even glancing back at his friend, Bori replied,

“I just work on it whenever I have time. That's all.”

“You really enjoy it that much?”

“Maybe we're all just finding our place. Volka, Ice, you, me. We're each doing what we want to do.”

“Speaking of which, what do you think about establishing a new Academy or Adventurers' Guild? The more I think about it, the Adventurers' Guild used to do quite a lot of good when we were kids. I was thinking we might try running one properly within the kingdom.”

“Sounds fine.”

The answer was positive, but his tone betrayed little interest.

“I want you to take charge of it. Headmaster, Guild Master, whichever.”

“Ugh. Sounds like a pain.”

Only then did Bori glance back at Ricardt. Though he quickly returned his attention to his notes.

“Hey, wouldn't that be a lot more meaningful than scribbling away at this stuff?”

“Meaning is whatever each person decides it is. It might be meaningful by your standards, Ricky, but not by mine.”

“Is that so? No matter how I look at it, I don't think organizing all this Mana Drive stuff is going to be very useful. Who's even going to read it? Wouldn't it be better to find talented kids and teach them?”

“Ricky, you always decide you're going to do something and then lose interest before long. Weren't you supposed to put together a book about the Mana Drive too?”

When it came to things Ricardt had to do, he always saw them through to the end. Hobbies and studies were another matter. Once he lost interest, he would not spare them another glance. It was something only those close to him knew, since Ricardt himself never made a point of showing it.

“I've got plenty of time. As long as I finish it sometime before I die. But helping people and making their lives better is urgent right now.”

That sort of half-excuse was something Ricardt would never have made to anyone who was not close to him. At Ricardt's half-excuse, Bori merely shook his head and laughed.

“Sorry, but I'm not particularly interested in other people.”

“Now that I think about it, you're surprisingly closed-off when it comes to relationships. Didn't you used to be friendlier with other people?”

“Was I? I don't know. Maybe that was just a survival strategy. I wasn't strong from the beginning like you were, Ricky. That's why people will understand things better if I'm the one who writes the book. And the reason you work for other people is largely because that's the conclusion you reached for yourself after thinking it through, isn't it? It's not as though you're driven by sympathy or compassion.”

“......You've really gotten good with words.”

Perhaps because he had read so many books, Bori had become remarkably well-read and knowledgeable. And perhaps because he took after Ricardt in that respect, his insight had developed a certain sharpness as well.

It was not that the innocence he had once possessed was entirely gone, but it had faded considerably.

“This isn't like you, Ricky. Stop beating around the bush and just say what you want to say. It's about Marie, isn't it? Has she been nagging you to get me married off?”

“......Yeah.”

Ricardt admitted it readily without trying to hide anything. Only then did Bori close his notebook. He shifted slightly where he sat and looked up at Ricardt.

For a moment, it brought back memories of their Academy days back in the chicken coop. Back then, they would hang from the exercise equipment behind the lodgings for no particular reason, facing each other and chatting idly about whatever came to mind.

What had not changed about Bori since then were his tawny bowl cut, his cute face, and the innocence that showed whenever he smiled.

Ricardt stood with his weight cocked slightly to one side and simply looked down at him. Bori spoke.

“Ricky, you said once that you didn't believe in love. I'm a little different. I'm not even sure whether something like love really exists.”

“Then what are Marie and I?”

“I don't know. Just a good-looking guy and girl drawn together by lust, I suppose. You two fight a lot these days too.”

“......That's just because we disagree about things. You've grown into quite the cynical adult. I should've stayed close and kept an eye on you.”

“You're just as cynical, Ricky. Who do you think I learned it from?”

“Me? Am I? Maybe I am.”

Ricardt showed trust and respect toward the people he acknowledged, but he undeniably had a tendency to dismiss or look down on most people who simply allowed themselves to be ruled by their own desires.

It was not that he denied human desire itself. He merely saw an inability to control it, and allowing oneself to be ruled by it, as weakness.

“You know how, when I was little, I joined the legitimate sons in tormenting my mother whenever they bullied her. The truth is, they didn't force me into it. I joined in willingly because I didn't want to be ostracized too. But unlike Ice, I don't really feel guilty about it. That woman never even accepted me as her son anyway. She said I was the reason her life went wrong. She said that if I hadn't existed, the lord would've kept loving her. Looking back now, I suppose she was pitiful. But I don't care how that woman lives or how she dies.”

“......I see.”

“I just like being peacefully alone more than anything. A few people I like are enough when it comes to relationships. I don't need a crowd. If anything, they just get in the way. You and Marie, Ice, Volka, and Delphi are enough. And if I ever have reason to visit Beringen, it'd be nice to see Molty and Lara for a little while. Isn't that enough?”

At least to Bori, Ricardt was an angel. Unlike Count Cheska, who had harbored a quiet sense of unease.

“That is enough.”

“So leave marriage to me and let me handle it myself. And just so you know in advance, I probably won't ever marry.”

Bori turned back around, opened his notebook once more, and sank back into his own private peace.

For no particular reason, Ricardt felt like bothering him, so he squeezed Bori's shoulders. Not hard, just enough to rock him back and forth and interfere with his concentration. Even as his body swayed, Bori smiled softly.

Come to think of it, there were hardly any people Ricardt teased like this. Aside from Marie and Bori, there probably was no one. Perhaps he was fortunate to have even two.

Time inevitably wrought change. Just as autumn ripened, their friendship too had matured into something different from what it had been in childhood. Or had it?

In any case, while Ricardt passed his days in a state both busy and peaceful, unexpected news arrived from beyond the borders of the Kingdom of Adeloron.

Fifth Prince Bellator had been defeated in battle by Second Prince Rotarius.

Whether it had been a crushing defeat or merely a minor loss was unclear, but it was still quite surprising. Rotarius had suffered tremendous losses at Ricardt's hands, his army left all but ruined, yet Bellator had somehow lost to him.

Bellator was not such an incompetent man, but without knowing the details of what had happened, it was too early to pass judgment.

Autumn ripened, and so did friendship. So, too, did the war. The War of Imperial Succession had begun in earnest. It began with Bellator's first defeat.

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