Chapter 180

Translator: Willia

It reminded Ricardt of the days when he had gone out to hunt boar as a child. Stormhertz Castle had been bustling since morning, with people hurrying busily back and forth.

Students in navy-blue academy uniforms stood gathered around, listening to someone explain something, while people wearing monks' robes over armor carried supplies and offered brief prayers.

There were also people from the Viola Clan. Blatter, an adventurer senior to Ricardt, could be seen gathering the clan's younger members together and lecturing them about something.

They all came from different backgrounds, but they had two major things in common. Every one of them was armed, and despite their different origins, they all followed the orders of one man.

That man stood beside a horse whose entire body was vivid red, gently stroking its neck. His hand moved softly over the horse's neck, but his gaze was fixed on a woman as he spoke with her.

The woman was Aileen, Ricardt's sister-in-law and the mother of Fritzlit and two daughters. Perhaps because she had borne three children, she had filled out somewhat.

Fritzlit was nine now. His second sister was five, while the youngest was only just about to start walking and was being held in a nursemaid's arms.

In a way, having unfamiliar adults come into one's home was a frightening thing. Especially when those strangers were carrying cold, gleaming weapons.

Their mother looked uneasy and frightened as well. But her fear and anxiety did not come from the strangers. They came from what Ricardt was carefully telling her.

That her own father was after her and her children.

But none of it registered with Fritzlit or his two sisters. Adults' words had a way of simply brushing past children's ears like the wind.

Fritzlit had seen Ricardt once before, but he had been too young to remember it. For all practical purposes, this was their first meeting, while his two sisters truly were seeing their uncle for the first time in their lives.

Half blankly, half with curiosity, and with just a trace of fear, they stared at their youngest uncle.

Considering what Ricardt was telling his sister-in-law, his expression was not particularly bright either. He looked grave.

But to Fritzlit and his two sisters, their unfamiliar uncle simply looked dangerous, frightening, and rather impressive.

They had heard stories from the people of the estate here and there. Their youngest uncle, they were told, had been remarkably gentle and obedient as a child.

Now, however, there was no one in the world who did not know of him. His valor was said to be without equal, he was bold enough to kill a sultan and a king, and no one could rival his swordsmanship.

"......So I'm going to hide our people. When the insolent bastards after you and the children come, we'll draw them all the way into the castle and capture every one of them. We'll kill some, keep a few alive, and make them confess who's behind all this."

"And by 'who's behind all this', you mean the Count."

"I know it's difficult to accept, Sister-in-law. But it's too late to contact Father or Brother, and if we try to find out what the Count is planning, he'll catch on. He may get frightened and give up for now, but that wicked intent won't disappear. He'll wait for another opportunity."

Aileen took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She fidgeted with her fingertips, looking too anxious to keep still.

"......In the end, I suppose it comes down to whom I love more."

Ricardt had not said it outright, but he had already made his intention clear. He was prepared to kill the Count, Aileen's own father.

Aileen had been left alone to defend the estate, and the entire chain of events was difficult enough to accept in itself. It was only natural that she felt confused in more ways than one.

Even so, she knew what truly mattered. Her children were right beside her, staring at their uncle with somewhat vacant expressions.

Watching his sister-in-law, Ricardt spoke gently but firmly.

"Those bastards who enter Stormhertz with wicked intentions ought to be killed. But anything beyond that, I'll take responsibility for. Whether Father or Brother gives me an earful, or whether you come to resent me, Sister-in-law. I'll shoulder all of it."

Aileen stared quietly at Ricardt for a moment, then gave a faint chuckle.

"You've grown a great deal, Young Master."

"I grew taller than you ages ago."

"That you did."

Only then did Ricardt notice his nieces and nephew staring fixedly at him. He reached out, stroked Fritzlit's head, and said,

"You've grown a lot too, Fritz."

Whether he simply was not good with words yet or still felt awkward around this stranger, Fritzlit said nothing and merely let Ricardt pat his head.

The second of his brother’s children was a girl, yet somehow her face was covered in grime, as though she had just come back from getting into something. Ricardt scooped her up as he pleased and held her in one arm.

She was neither frightened nor displeased. But neither did she seem particularly happy about it. She simply stared intently at Ricardt while wriggling her fingers.

She had inherited her mother's large eyes, and her cheeks were plump with baby fat. Even with dirt smeared across her face, she was adorable.

Most children raised in Stormhertz were alike in one respect: they were not particularly aristocratic. Yet that itself was what made them special. It meant they had grown up amid nature and among the people.

"What's your name?"

Ricardt asked.

"......"

"You should answer him."

Aileen gently urged her.

"Livi."

"It's Levina."

When the girl gave her nickname instead, Aileen gently corrected her again. Her full name was Levina. Levina von Caldebern.

"I'm Uncle Ricky. Have you heard of me?"

Levina nodded several times.

"It's been so long since I was last here that my memory's a little hazy. Will you show me around the castle and the estate?"

Hardly anything had changed, but Ricardt deliberately asked his niece anyway. Once again, Levina nodded several times.

"Will you be all right without eating?"

"I ate before I came. I'm more worried about the estate's food supplies. I brought some provisions with me, so please take a look and have the people sort everything out, Sister-in-law."

With that, Ricardt carried Levina in his arms, put Fritzlit atop Red Comet, and went with them to look around the area outside the castle. Levina showed him one place after another.

After a little while, Fritzlit began talking as well. Something had happened here, Levina had cried there, and other little stories of that sort.

Roy followed a short distance behind with trudging steps, as though he were Ricardt's personal escort knight.

As they went, Ricardt looked around the places that had shaped his character more than anywhere else. They were nothing more than quiet, humble places. And yet from that very simplicity had sprung the spirit to command the entire world and a will of steel.

A man raised with his mother's love gained the strength to conquer the world, while a stable environment planted within him an indomitable will capable of facing any hardship or suffering. Everything else was secondary.

There was not a single place Fritzlit and Levina showed him that was untouched by Ricardt's memories. Of course, they were now places where his nieces and nephew were building new memories of their own.

Ricardt listened to their explanations as though he were seeing everything for the first time, burying the ruthless and bloody affairs of adults in his heart for a little while.

*

"Betrayal. That's my conclusion."

The man who spoke had sharp eyes. It looked as though he had shaved his beard and then let it grow back slightly, leaving his jaw covered in rough stubble.

Something of a feast had been laid out on the table, though there was no display of a cook's skill. There was simply roasted meat, wine, seasonal fruit, and the like.

The right hand resting on the table was astonishingly not made of human flesh, but steel. It was crude, yet it had fingers and everything else a hand ought to have. But could it actually move properly?

In any case, this man was none other than Iron Arm Randell.

"The messenger still hasn't arrived."

A subordinate standing nearby said this despite an empty chair beside him. Randell shot him a vicious glare.

"Messenger, my ass. How are you supposed to serve as my adjutant if you're that fucking dense? We never should've made a plan that crammed as many as fifty men into a single staging point in the first place. These fucking bastards always start running wild the second things look like they're going well, like dogs who've never tasted meat."

Randell was talking about the clan members in Weissfeld. When he lost contact with them, it never even occurred to him that Ricardt had killed them all. Instead, he assumed they had betrayed him. It was the more reasonable conclusion. That sort of thing happened often enough.

"......"

"They were nothing but a bunch of wild dogs to begin with. Frankly, it's impressive they listened to me for this long."

"Then what do we do?"

"What do you mean, what do we do? Dump them. Just watch. They'll turn on each other, scatter in every direction, and get hunted down before long. You think this is the first or second time I've seen this shit?"

"No, I'm asking what we're supposed to do about Count Caldebern's request."

"Hey, does some piss-ant little estate with no men, just women and children, really worry you that much?"

"What worries me is the Count pinning the blame on us. That's why we planned to use the men in Weissfeld. What happens if we step in ourselves and end up saddled with the murder of a noble? Even with the Count personally guaranteeing us. I never trusted a word that came out of a noble's mouth in the first place."

"You little bastard......"

Randell glared at him as though he might kill him. The expressions of the other subordinates in the room darkened as well.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room before Randell suddenly shouted,

"Applause!"

Then he clapped his hands. But one of those hands was made of iron, so there was no actual clapping sound. Perhaps it had been well oiled, because it made a smooth whirr, whirr instead, moving far more naturally than one might have expected.

"This little bastard finally says something that sounds human. Even a mutt starts understanding human speech if you keep it around long enough. Looks like you've finally reached that level."

It was hard to tell whether that was an insult or a compliment, but either way, the adjutant looked proud to have received those words from his leader.

"Of course I don't trust what nobles say either. But if we want to rise in the world like the Viola Clan, we've got to get ourselves a noble patron one way or another. Otherwise, no matter how hard we bust our asses, we'll never be anything more than mercenaries or thugs."

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"You little shit! Who am I!?"

At that, every subordinate in the room shouted the same answer in a single booming voice.

"Iron Arm Randell!"

"That's fucking right! I survived that goddamn Crown Mercenary Corps! I even survived when that devil bastard, Ricky or Dicky or whatever the fuck he was called, was carving adventurers to pieces! I didn't get this old for fucking nothing! Now my time has finally come!"

"So what exactly are you going to do?"

"If you're going to get yourself a noble patron, you've got to pick a big one. Then all you have to do is solve that bastard's problems. Count Caldebern sent Stormhertz's Manor Knight off to fight while he himself sits back and does nothing. What do you think the Second Prince makes of that? Hm? 'Look at this bastard. I summoned him, and he won't come? What's he plotting?' Don't you think that's what goes through his head? And everybody knows it. Everybody. The Second Prince might be shit at fighting, but he's damn quick on the uptake. I heard the whole story before I came here."

"What story?"

"I was told that if the Count really was harboring strange ideas, I could stick him a few times, nice and deep."

By 'stick him', Randell meant stabbing him with a sword. In other words, he had been given permission to kill him.

"......Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Ricardt's prediction had been half correct. Count Caldebern truly did intend to swallow Stormhertz, but Ricardt had failed to realize that Iron Arm Randell would not be so easily manipulated. He simply had not had enough time to investigate the matter thoroughly.

What was more, not only Ricardt but even the Second Prince had already been planning to eliminate Count Caldebern.

The important question, then, was who would become the next Count. By bloodline, the title naturally should have passed to the Stormhertz side. But if the Second Prince intervened, matters could become somewhat more complicated.

Looking at human affairs, those in power often preferred an obedient dog over a brave and upright man.

When waging war, battle itself was naturally the most important thing, but managing one's subordinates was every bit as crucial.

The Second Prince had been beaten by Ricardt, but he had recovered by defeating the Fifth Prince, and he was still fairly capable when it came to handling people.

"When? When are we doing it?"

The adjutant asked cautiously. Randell used the sharp edge of his steel hand to slice off a piece of meat, stabbed it, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed noisily. Meat juices ran down.

"Tonight. We kill the Count, and all the brats too."

****

For more chapters, you can check out my Patreon here –> https://patreon.com/warriorsballad