Chapter 182

Translator: Willia

Hiding behind one’s subordinates to save one’s own skin was a truly pathetic thing for a leader to do, but Randell’s men were neither disappointed nor offended.

That was because they all knew he was, for lack of a better word, pathetic.

Whether that could somehow be considered part of his charm was another matter, but his men had never expected much from Randell in terms of character to begin with.

Randell had excellent judgment and was quick to act, and he himself was strong enough to have once been counted among the Empire's Nine Swords. Whenever he gained something, he always shared it fairly with his men, and he was warmhearted by nature.

That was why Randell’s men followed him out of personal affection, not because they were drawn to any particular charisma or leadership.

When Ricardt fiercely threatened Randell outside the castle gate, one of his particularly loyal men suddenly shouted back.

“Bullshit! If you’re the King of Adeloron, then I’m the Emperor!”

Everyone had been cowed into silence by Ricardt’s presence, but when one man bravely stepped forward, they all whipped around to look at him. Then they suddenly came to their senses and remembered that they were safely inside the castle.

“Fuck you! Go ahead! Skin me! Come on, skin me! What are you, some fucking pervert!?”

“So what the hell are you gonna do about it!? Huh!? What are you gonna do!?”

“Go strip your own wife!”

When his men stepped forward for his sake, Randell, already somewhat drunk and now moved on top of it, felt his eyes grow hot.

“Y-you guys......”

Ricardt, naturally, felt quite differently. He simply glared murderously at the ruffians who had killed Count Caldebern. Even setting aside his personal grudge, the fact that there was nothing he could do to them right this moment infuriated him.

“Fuck off, you lying bastard! You think we’re fucking pushovers!?”

“King of Adeloron, my ass! Fucking bastard! I’m your father!”

There was nothing to gain from exchanging any more words with men like that, and results would speak better than a hundred arguments, so Ricardt turned his horse around for the time being.

That seemed to embolden them. Some brought out crossbows, while others hurled stones from atop the walls like monkeys. The bolts flew wildly off target, while the stones cut uselessly through empty air and failed to reach the retreating Ricardt.

“Wahahahaha!”

“Moooron!”

Their mocking laughter rang out behind Ricardt.

They jeered for quite some time, but once Ricardt disappeared again beyond the distant end of the road, their laughter gradually died away.

They had at least enough sense to realize that, whether the man had truly been Ricardt or not, things were not going the way they had expected.

“Feels like we’re kinda fucked.”

“Boss.”

His men all turned toward Randell. He rolled his eyes this way and that with a grave expression as he thought, then said,

“Anyway, the people from the Second Imperial Prince still haven’t arrived yet, right?”

“Right.”

“Even if that bastard really is Red Cloak Ricky, taking the castle isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

“I... guess not?”

“What the hell can he do by himself? Right?”

They all nodded with blank expressions. Then one of them raised a hand and spoke.

“He did take the royal castle of Basque before. I heard he killed the king that time too.”

“He doesn’t have a Knight Order with him now, so what the hell is he supposed to do alone? If we back down now, we really will be branded as noble-killers. Right? Let’s hold out until the Second Imperial Prince’s envoy arrives.”

“But didn’t the King of Adeloron crush the Second Imperial Prince once before?”

“No, fuck! I’m asking what the hell he’s going to do by himself! Can’t you understand plain words!?”

Randell snapped irritably at the very men who had stood up for him. Then he whirled around and descended the walls alone, while the anxiety that had surrounded Count Reinwaldt in life now wrapped itself around Randell.

Ricardt withdrew beyond their line of sight and reached the edge of the forest. The twenty or so people who had followed him were waiting there: monks from the Miquella Sword Monastery, Academy students, and members of the Viola Clan.

Each of them was an excellent swordsman in their own right, but they lacked the ability to storm a castle or conduct a military operation.

However, Ricardt had brought someone with him, and simply protecting her would be enough for them to fulfill their role.

“Sister-in-law.”

Ricardt called out as he dismounted. Aileen, who had been resting on a rock beside a tree, turned her head toward him. She wore a hood, and sweat beaded across her face from having hurried all the way there.

For the moment, she was the heir to the title of Count.

There were places where women were outright forbidden from inheriting titles, but local custom held more sway over succession than written law. In Ricardt’s homeland, female succession was considered taboo, but it was not completely forbidden.

In other words, Aileen inheriting the title of Count of Caldebern would make for a precarious succession in many respects, and at times like this, what mattered was establishing the fact by force.

If they killed the ruffians and reclaimed the castle, then had Aileen remain there under Ricardt’s protection, they would possess all the formal legitimacy they needed.

Paolo had advised Ricardt to have his father take the title of Count instead, but Ricardt felt that would be too cruel to his sister-in-law and had no desire to do so.

There were times when matters had to be handled coldly, but there were also times when one had to observe simple human decency.

“What happened?”

Aileen asked.

“Judging by the situation, it seems to be true. The Count is dead. Your nephew as well.”

Ricardt deliberately made no attempt to soften his words. He simply spoke calmly and clearly.

His sister-in-law Aileen did not seem devastated. Rather, she appeared to need a little time to accept the reality of the situation.

He was her father, but they had lived apart for more than ten years, caught somewhere between closeness and estrangement. She was not overwhelmed with grief, but naturally, there was no reason for her to be glad either.

“What should I do?”

“For now, I think you need to calm the residents. After that, I swear I’ll kill every last one of those bastards.”

“......”

Perhaps because of the shocking news, or perhaps because she now had responsibilities she had to shoulder, she had grown quiet.

Ricardt nearly offered her a few words of comfort, but stopped himself and instead addressed those who had followed him.

“Ten of you will stay with my sister-in-law and protect her. The other ten will come with me to kill Iron Arm Randell and his men. I’ll take volunteers.”

The monks of the Miquella Sword Monastery were the first to step forward. All of them were in their late teens or early twenties. Bori and Ice were not there, while Roy was guarding Stormhertz Castle.

The members of the Viola Clan volunteered next, though Blatter was the only one among them Ricardt knew.

In any case, Ricardt selected about ten volunteers, while the others were assigned to guard Aileen.

Ricardt mounted again and headed toward the village beneath the castle. Despite how long she had been away, the villagers recognized Aileen at once. In their memories, Aileen had been a troublesome young girl.

“My lady!”

“It’s my lady! My lady! She’s come back!”

Perhaps because theirs was a society built so heavily around bloodlines, Aileen’s mere arrival seemed to bring the people immense comfort. With a gang of thugs having murdered the Count and run rampant, it would have been a lie to say they were not frightened.

It had also been a long time since Aileen had returned home, and seeing the people of her homeland caused all the emotions she had kept suppressed to suddenly burst free. Tears streamed down her face.

At that, the people crowded close, knelt around Aileen, and openly sobbed.

Amid all this, the sight of Ricardt astride his blood-red horse was frightening, yet reassuring at the same time. From the villagers’ perspective, after all, he appeared to be someone Aileen had brought with her.

“I am Ricardt, King of Adeloron. I have come to punish these villains and set justice right, so you have nothing to fear.”

They had seen him ride past earlier, but apparently had not realized he was the famous Ricardt. The villagers stared at him in astonishment, their faces still streaked with tears.

Randell’s men, meanwhile, were watching the entire scene from atop the castle walls.

Judging by the look of things, they did not seem likely to come outside. Ricardt did not have enough men to pull out the foundation stones and bring down the walls, and the terrain made it difficult to set ladders against them as well.

Ricardt first secured the support of the villagers and took control of the village, then began thinking hard about a plan when an unexpected figure approached him.

“Is that you, Young Master?”

Ricardt turned to see who it was and, to his astonishment, found Doctor Reno.

“Huh!?”

Startled, Ricardt quickly dismounted. Doctor Reno had been Aileen’s tutor when she was young, as well as the man who had guided Ricardt onto the path of an Adventurer. He had also helped Ricardt when he was poisoned.

“You’re alive?”

“......Well, I tried several times to persuade the Count not to let those men inside, but in the end, he would not listen. As a man who served his lord, I ought to have died alongside him. But as you can see, I am an old man now, and I thought adding one more corpse to the pile would accomplish very little......”

“No. You did the right thing. You truly did. I can’t tell you how glad and relieved I am to see you alive again.”

“......Thank you for saying so. I hardly know what to do with myself.”

“And, well, I can’t exactly say this worked out for the best, but......”

Ricardt lowered his voice and told him that he had originally intended to kill the Count himself. He was not sure there was any real need to reveal that, but decided it was necessary if Doctor Reno was to understand exactly how the situation had unfolded.

And just as Ricardt had not reproached Doctor Reno for surviving alone, Doctor Reno understood Ricardt completely.

Doctor Reno suddenly looked at Ricardt again. The innocent-looking boy from a rural noble family whom he remembered at around ten years old had grown into such a proud and impressive young man that an inexplicable swell of emotion rose within him.

Their feelings passed between their gazes, and before either realized it, the two embraced tightly. Ricardt did not shed any tears in particular, while Doctor Reno sniffled.

“A king. A king. To think the Young Master became a king...... This is not only an honor to the family, but an honor to Stormhertz itself.”

“But I founded a new royal house, so strictly speaking, we’re not part of the same family anymore.”

“I really don’t think you needed to point that out.”

“That’s true.”

After exchanging a few light jokes, smiles finally appeared on both their faces.

“I know a secret passage. I shall guide you there. If Your Majesty punishes those ruffians, then perhaps my survival will have meant something after all.”

It was welcome news indeed. Without delay, Ricardt had Doctor Reno lead the way toward the secret passage.

The entrance to the passage was very far from the castle. It lay in a low stretch of woodland through which a river flowed. As with most secret passages, the route connected through an underground waterway.

Ricardt decided it would do. He waited until nightfall, then entered the deep underground waterway together with the ten volunteers.

Pitch-black darkness filled the passage, so everyone carried torches. It was hardly a properly maintained waterway, and the water reached their knees, splashing with every step. Even so, they pressed forward without hesitation.

At the end, they came upon terrain that looked almost like stairs, though no human hand had made them. The spacing was uneven, and the rocks they had to step on were jagged.

“Watch your footing.”

Ricardt held a torch and led from the very front.

The darkness was troublesome, but it was not particularly dangerous. In any case, after passing through the black passage leading toward the castle, they reached a ladder. Climbing it brought them into a secluded corner of the castle’s food storeroom.

They swept their torches around and examined the surroundings. The place was a complete wreck. Those rotten bastards had been helping themselves to the food however they pleased.

Ricardt waited until all ten members of the assault party had climbed up, counted heads, and then spoke.

“We take the keep first. Two people to each room. Sweep the entire first floor, then five of you hold the stairs. The rest follow me and clear the upper floors. Kill everyone you see. Randell, his men, pimps, prostitutes. Understood?”

Ricardt ordered total extermination. Perhaps because most of them lacked experience, their nervousness was obvious.

Before they had even finished steeling themselves, Ricardt tried to open the storeroom door. It would not budge. It had been locked from the outside.

Ricardt thought for a moment, then turned around and firmly reminded everyone,

“We have to move fast. Forget technique. Speed is all that matters. If you think you can’t handle something, run to me. Got it?”

Then he simply kicked the door. With a bang, the bar and hinges shattered with a violent crack. At the same moment, Ricardt sprinted toward the keep.

There were people wandering around outside late at night who turned toward the sudden noise, but regardless of who saw them, the whole group charged straight into the keep.

Just as Randell and his men had murdered the Count and his people in the middle of the night, Ricardt launched his own attack in the darkness.

Everyone already had their swords drawn, and the instant they entered the first floor, they quickly split into pairs and entered each room to kill those inside. Most used thrusts rather than slashes. They plunged their swords into people lying beneath blankets and pulled them free, leaving long streaks of blood across both blades and bedding.

But perhaps because they were few in number and unaccustomed to this sort of work compared to Randell’s group, screams soon erupted from all over.

“What the fuck!?”

“You assholes!”

“Come on! Come at me!”

Some thrashed around even while bleeding, while others charged at them in nothing but nightclothes. The operation was far from clean.

Ricardt made a swift judgment. The first floor was more or less secured anyway. If people who had heard the screams came rushing in, they would come from the upper floors and outside.

So he slammed shut and barred the door to the keep, then headed upstairs alone. The keep had been built as a defensive tower, so the stairway was extremely narrow and spiraled upward in such a way that a right-handed swordsman would strike the wall when trying to swing.

Ricardt, however, simply drove his sword into the belly of the first man he encountered and shoved him backward with brute force, sending everyone behind him tumbling along with him. It was the strength of a bull.

“Whoa!”

“What the hell!?”

The men behind him had no idea what was happening before they were forced backward. As they collapsed over one another in the narrow passage, Ricardt pushed off both walls and stepped upward, vaulting over the enemies in a single burst. He immediately reached the third floor, where the Count’s bedroom was located.

The moment he reached the third floor, he saw him.

A man with a steel prosthetic arm was fleeing down another passage.

Ricardt drew his sword arm back, then hurled the weapon forward with all his strength. The blade spun through the air at tremendous speed.

Clang!

Startled, Randell practically threw himself flat against the floor to evade it. Just as he tried to regain his footing, something flashed before his eyes. Ricardt had crossed that enormous distance in an instant and kicked him straight in the face.

Thud!

Randell could not even scream. He simply swung his signature weapon, the Iron Arm, while drawing a dagger with his left hand. The fact that he could still move like that while half dazed showed that he was no ordinary amateur.

But against Ricardt of all people, in a situation like this, none of that mattered. Ricardt grabbed the Iron Arm and tore it forcibly free.

Rrrrip!

“Aaaaaaaaaagh!”

Only then did a scream burst from Randell’s gaping mouth. He collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony, while Ricardt gripped the prosthetic arm and smashed it down against his head like a club.

Thud! Thud! Crunch!

Randell’s head was smashed apart, while the Iron Arm itself broke and quickly became a mangled wreck. By coincidence, it was the very spot where the Count had died.

After beating Randell to death, Ricardt casually dropped the ruined Iron Arm onto the floor. It landed with a clang.

Then he retrieved the sword he had thrown and looked from one corridor to the other. The enemies were all staring at him with shocked eyes.

“You would do well to fight until you die. Otherwise, you’ll be skinned alive. I keep my word.”

Ricardt did not even tell them to surrender. He had no mercy to spare for murderers of nobles.

The volunteers who had finished clearing the first floor were now rushing upstairs, while the stairway itself had become a tangled mess because of Ricardt, with men fallen over and trampling one another as they were slaughtered without resistance. Those who escaped fled back upward in a panic, only to find Ricardt waiting there.

Deafening noise echoed through the castle, unlike when Count Caldebern had been assassinated. Well, either way, everyone getting killed was the same, so it hardly mattered.

Ricardt broke apart the clustered enemies into smaller groups, while the volunteers drove them forward. Their numerical advantage or disadvantage therefore became meaningless.

The castle was soon filled with corpses. A few survivors remained, but Ricardt did not kill them. Instead, he locked them in the underground dungeon and, the following day, spent a considerable sum to bring in a professional torturer.

After all, he had publicly declared that he would skin them.

Randell’s ruined head and Iron Arm were displayed high above, while the torture itself was carried out in the middle of the village.

Their screams rang out at the top of their lungs for half a day. After half a day had passed, they apparently no longer had the strength left to scream, because they fell silent. They survived for three days.

Impressed by the torturer’s excellent work, Ricardt paid him handsomely.

Count Caldebern, Ricardt, Randell, and Randell’s men had all made their own miscalculations, but this was the result.

And there was one more person who had miscalculated. That man was the Second Imperial Prince, Rotarius.

Unaware that Ricardt had already seized the castle, he was currently marching south with an army under the pretext of punishing the murderers of a noble.

His true intention had been to use Randell to eliminate Count Caldebern, then seize the Count’s domain for himself.

Only then did Ricardt clearly understand what had been going on. Now, there would be no more miscalculations.

Around that same time, Bori was nearly there, leading the Adeloron Royal Knight Order, whose members were all former knights of the Order of the Flame Knights.

There were two hundred heavily armed knights.

Chapter 37 – Miscalculation. End.

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