Chapter 175

Translator: Willia

Perhaps even the sun that illuminated the whole world had worries of its own, for the sky had been overcast since morning.

What was it pondering, sitting alone in its solitary cell? Despair in this life, or hope in the next?

Though it might have covered its eyes for a time, surely that did not mean it intended to keep them closed forever. To worry meant its heart had not yet turned away.

In the end, what bloomed from worry was an even deeper love. Once the clouds cleared, it would shine all the brighter. Smiling radiantly.

And so, to hold love within one's heart was......

“Wow......”

Marie murmured in admiration as she looked down at something. What she was looking at was none other than the passage Ricardt was writing on a sheet of paper.

“Why are you peeking?”

Whether embarrassed or annoyed, Ricardt shot Marie a sidelong glance, then turned away to hide what he was writing.

“If you hadn't taken up the sword, honey, I really think you would've become a poet.”

“I know.”

“You're so annoying.”

Ricardt hunched over and went back to scribbling. What he was writing was, in fact, something of a diary or a letter for his future son.

They were thoughts that suddenly came to him, things he wanted his son to know no matter what, or confessions of how much he loved him and would continue to love him.

Ricardt might not have studied much, but his handwriting was exquisite. Yet even that elegant penmanship could not compare to the depth and beauty of what he wrote.

“But isn't it a little difficult? I feel like he'd have to be at least fifteen before he could understand feelings like that.”

“Then he'll understand when he's fifteen.”

“But by the time he's fifteen, we'll......”

“Our second would be about twelve or thirteen by then.”

Ricardt said it absentmindedly without even looking back, and Marie's heart gave a little flutter. Embarrassed all by herself for no real reason, she lightly tapped the back of Ricardt's head with the edge of her hand.

His head bobbed with each tap, but Ricardt paid no attention and kept writing. Once he finally finished, he folded the letter neatly and slipped it into an envelope.

He wrote the date and his name, then To Billy or Hildi, before pressing his seal into red wax to close it.

When he opened a small wooden box, several letters were already inside. He gently placed the one he had just written on top, closed the lid, and rose from his seat.

He was not dressed in his everyday clothes, but in traveling attire. Underneath, he wore the Golden Armor, over it a thick gambeson, and then a red hooded cloak.

Thunderflash, his oldest friend, rested snugly at his waist, keeping close by his side.

Marie adjusted his clothes for a moment and said,

“Doing great things is nice, but simple things are nice too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don't go too far away.”

“Too far? It's right next door.”

Ricardt was headed to Britzlingen, where the Viola Clan was based. It was not particularly far from Adeloron.

As king, he could have summoned his friends to come to him, but there was no deeper reason for Ricardt to go to the Viola Clan himself. Britzlingen was simply the midway point.

People would be coming from the Miquella Sword Monastery and Beringen Academy as well, and more importantly, Ricardt could afford to leave his post for a while, whereas his other friends could not stay away from theirs for long. Their forces were too weak for that.

“You don't have to come out.”

“No. I want to.”

Ricardt left the castle, and Marie came out with him. When they emerged from the inner castle, knights and retainers had already gathered outside.

It reminded him of when he was young and people would gather whenever his father went out hunting. The scale was different, but the principle was much the same. Whenever the lord went somewhere, a whole group of subordinates had to move with him.

Roy approached holding Red Comet's reins. He exchanged a brief nod with his sister Beka, who was standing beside Marie.

Ricardt mounted his horse, guided Red Comet in a circle as he looked over everyone, then bent low to give Marie a light kiss before addressing his closest aides.

“I'm off. Take care of the Queen and the child.”

After meeting Marie's eyes one last time, he turned his horse and rode out of the royal castle. Only Bori and Roy accompanied him.

For a king's procession, it was remarkably modest. He could only hope that though the beginning was humble, the end would be grand.

Spring had already arrived, yet the air outside was still somewhat chilly.

Under the Viola Clan's protection, Britzlingen was a self-sufficient community that accepted disciples and trained them.

It was, in effect, both an autonomous territory and a kind of private armed organization, though that did not mean it possessed any real military strength. By civilian standards, it had some clout, little more than that of a prominent local power.

Spring had come to Britzlingen as well. Yet the faces of the people living there seemed to remain trapped in winter, far from the brightness of spring. Tension and anxiety were plain to see.

Britzlingen Castle, the clan's headquarters, seemed to float upon the lake. It was as beautiful as a painting, yet somehow, with so few people around, it looked desolate.

A man stood in the middle of the castle courtyard. He stood slightly askew, his head lowered, with an unmistakable sneer curling his lips.

Several people stood around him at a distance, glaring as though they had him surrounded, but the sneering man did not appear threatened in the slightest.

A short while later, someone emerged leaning on a cane. It was Volka, walking with a limp.

Though he needed a cane, the fire in his eyes was still very much alive. At twenty-three, Volka was still a young man in his prime, and he already had plenty of experience behind him.

“I assume you never expected to be treated as a guest in the first place. State your business briefly, then leave.”

The man who had been looking down gave a small shrug and snorted. Leisurely resting a hand on the hilt at his waist, he raised his chin and spoke.

“My business is the same as before...... Think of it as an ultimatum. It's time you made your choice.”

“If your business is the same, then so is my answer. I am neutral.”

This was evidently related to the war. But neutrality was not something that could be established simply by declaring it. One needed enough power to uphold it. Volka held no title, and therefore was no lord.

The clan was so empty because, with a fight seemingly imminent, many had grown frightened and fled. They were always talking about brotherhood and loyalty, but in the end, a person's true worth only revealed itself when a crisis came.

The man bold enough to come alone and deliver an ultimatum to the Viola Clan belonged to the ‘One-Eye Clan’, which served the Second Prince.

He was Metzger, known as ‘Belly Slitter’, a former adventurer. True to his nickname, he had a habit of always slitting open a person's belly whenever he killed them. No one knew why, nor did anyone particularly want to understand such a bizarre habit.

He was as skilled as he was cruel. The problem was that the One-Eye Clan had plenty of people around Metzger's level.

Unlike the Viola Clan, which raised inexperienced youngsters from the ground up before accepting them as clan members, the One-Eye Clan was made up from the beginning of people who could be thrown straight into battle.

As a result, every sort of criminal and lowlife imaginable had gathered there. The Second Prince was fighting a war, so he did not concern himself much with who they were. He simply gathered whoever he could and sent them to clear out the surrounding area.

Calling it clearing out was a euphemism. In truth, it meant indiscriminate murder, pillaging, arson, and massacre in the villages and cities belonging to the Fifth Prince and the lords who followed him.

In other words, horrific crimes were being committed openly with the Second Prince's approval. That was war. A state of affairs in which crimes ceased to be crimes.

Unlike ragtag bandits, former adventurers were professionals at this sort of thing.

“Waiting for the next battle?”

Metzger asked because the entire mood could change depending on the outcome of a battle. Recently, the Fifth Prince had suffered a defeat.

“I said I am neutral.”

“Yeah, well, with things the way they are, I'll speak plainly. I don't like you Beringen types. You carry yourselves like you're something special. Volka, didn't you only end up where you are because you picked the right side? Having good friends was pure luck too. It pisses me off seeing someone who doesn't have what it takes sitting pretty in a place this good.”

Though Volka had been left with a limp, and though many had abandoned him now, he stared Metzger down without wavering.

“I have made my way through hardships and adversity you cannot even imagine. Luck? Yes, perhaps there was some of that. But the fact that I stand here alive today, and the fact that I do not so much as blink before a man like you, are not simply the result of luck. I stand here because no hardship ever made me abandon friendship, loyalty, or trust. That is the Viola Clan. A lowlife like you would never understand.”

“Brings a tear to my eye. And with all that precious friendship and loyalty, this is all the people you've got left? Fine. Whatever. But there's something you won't understand even if you die, either. You're going to witness horrors beyond anything you can imagine. Everything you've been through so far is nothing. Hardship? Adversity? Bullshit. Ptooey.”

Metzger spat onto the ground and turned to leave. But Kaspar, one of Bori's direct disciples, stepped into his path.

The sword at his waist was still sheathed, but from the look in his eyes, it might as well have been drawn already. He did not flare up in fiery anger, but instead spoke coldly.

“If that was an ultimatum, doesn't that mean we can kill you now? Right?”

“A worthless little cur like you has quite a mouth. I'm the one sparing you, not the other way around.”

Was he really that confident? This was enemy territory, after all. Sure enough, several others stepped forward besides Kaspar. There was his close friend Julia, Blatter, who had been Ricardt's senior as an adventurer, and Sandy was here now as well. So was Res, who had once gotten Roy driven out after pulling a nasty stunt.

One word, just one word from Volka, and blades would be drawn at once. Whether nobles were involved or not, it was customary not to kill an envoy, but even a custom like that could be ignored depending on the circumstances.

But Volka shook his head.

“Enough. Let him go.”

Apparently it was not the order someone had been hoping for, because the grinding of teeth could be heard. Still, they obeyed and stepped back.

Metzger sneered once more, then deliberately walked out of Britzlingen Castle at an unhurried pace.

“Why did you just let him go?”

Kaspar asked.

“If we hadn't made our decision yet, that'd be one thing. But we've already chosen neutrality. If we killed him now, we'd only make fools of ourselves, and our neutrality would become meaningless. Whether we manage to stay neutral or not, even if we end up dying, once we've made a decision, we have to hold to it until the end.”

“What about urging Ricardt to hurry?”

“He may be my friend, but he's still a king. You can't tell a king to hurry up and come here. Besides, I heard Adeloron's Civil War has only just ended. It'll be difficult for him to mobilize another army.”

“Still......”

“Fighting to the death is all well and good. But what about the residents outside?”

Blatter asked.

“We'll have to bring them into the castle.”

They had too few people to go out and fight. Their only choice was to barricade themselves inside the castle and hold out.

Then it happened. The castle gates opened again, and someone came galloping full tilt into the courtyard on horseback.

The huge horse burst into the courtyard as though it were flying, startling the gathered clan members. Volka nearly fell, and Delphi, who stood beside him, caught him just in time.

Everyone was so flustered they barely knew what was happening when the rider atop the huge horse, the sun at his back, spoke.

“Some vermin-looking bastard picked a fight with me just up the road, so I killed him. Hope that's not a problem.”

Something dropped in front of them with a dull thump. It was a head. Metzger, who had been alive only moments earlier. His eyes stared upward and his mouth hung stupidly open. In death, he could sneer no longer.

When they slowly raised their heads and looked up at the rider, he was wearing a smile that was the exact opposite of a sneer.

“Am I the first one here? The king himself shows up and they dare be late? Looks like it's time we had ourselves a good brawl.”

One thing was certain. Ricardt's smile was the kind that made worries disappear. Like spring sunlight emerging after the clouds had cleared.

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