Chapter 105

Swallows returned with the spring, and violets bloomed around the same time. That time was now. A cool breeze swept across the fields beneath the warm sunlight.

But the boy and girl with swallows embroidered on their chests had no leisure to enjoy the spring. They stood on the boundary between life and death. With trembling hearts, they drew their swords.

Did they really have to fight? They might die. This was insane. Those thoughts seemed to tug at the backs of their heads, telling them to run.

No matter how often they looked back at Ricard, he merely watched impassively, leaning on his staff.

"You clan bastards? Which one are you from?"

The man who seemed to lead the guards at the checkpoint spoke. He looked old for his age, with a filthy, unkempt beard and the eyes characteristic of a criminal, white showing all around the irises.

His gambeson hung open at the front, as though he had been resting. If anything, that slovenly appearance seemed to testify to his extensive combat experience.

At the question, Kaspar and Yulia turned back to face him. Why was it so difficult to get the words out? Their heads were filled with the futile hope that even now, they might still be able to turn back.

A wolf pack instinctively knew whether its prey was frightened. The men of Ringwald’s Sword Brotherhood realized that these two youngsters were afraid.

And they knew to go for the neck when their prey was frightened.

"W-we’re..."

"You little brat!"

Just as Kaspar was about to name his clan, the man roared at him. He flinched and stiffened in surprise, and the enemies rushed them all at once.

They could no longer see the men, only the fifteen or so gleaming blades flashing before their eyes. Kaspar and Yulia staggered backward in terror, unable to swing their swords even once.

They must have done their share of training and practice, but none of it came out. They might have known what to do against one opponent, or even two or three, but against more than ten, they had no idea.

If they blocked on one side, an attack would come from the other. They could not duck and avoid everything. In the end, running was their only option, and it was already too late for that.

Then, suddenly, they heard something like a flag flapping in the wind. Accompanied by that fluttering sound, something swift shot past Kaspar and Yulia and broke right through the enemy ranks.

The next thing they saw was the enemy leader, headless. He remained standing despite having lost his head. Blood spurted from the severed neck, and only then did his body crumple to the ground.

For an instant, everyone froze. Their expressions were less startled than utterly bewildered, unable to comprehend what had happened.

Ricard, who had passed through the enemy ranks, spoke.

"I’ll take this side. You two handle that one."

As he spoke, he whipped his staff around, sending the head of another blankly staring enemy flying.

As their name, the Sword Brotherhood, suggested, these were no run-of-the-mill swordsmen. Yet the slightest lapse of attention invariably cost them their heads.

By now, the enemies’ hair was standing on end. Unconcerned, Ricard threw a high kick, then jabbed the tip of his staff into a man’s throat. Three or four fell in a single flurry.

Only moments ago, Kaspar and Yulia had been retreating in fear. In an instant, the situation reversed, and the enemies were terrified. When their eyes met Ricard’s, they could bear it no longer and fled in a mass.

"Move!"

Ricard turned toward Kaspar and Yulia and bellowed fiercely.

Only then did the two snap out of their daze and chase the fleeing men.

The way they grabbed and slaughtered whoever they could was an ugly sight, but this was still a matter of life and death.

Kaspar seized a fallen enemy by the hair and stabbed him in the throat. Yulia slashed a fleeing man across the thigh to bring him down, then reversed her grip on her sword and stabbed him repeatedly in the chest.

Then they scrambled off to catch the others fleeing in panic.

Some enemies did resist, tearing their cloaks and cutting their gambesons. Fortunately, neither was seriously wounded.

Still, there was no swordsmanship to speak of here. They were merely hauling, shoving, and stabbing through brute force.

As a result, they failed to kill everyone. Four or five men kept running off somewhere, widening the gap too far for pursuit.

"Hah, hah, hah, hah..."

Clothes and hair disheveled, Kaspar stood with his bloodied sword in hand, staring down at a dead man and gasping for breath.

"What have you done to be panting like that?"

Ricard’s voice pierced his ears. He flinched and turned to look at him.

"I told you to handle that side, and you let five escape. If those bastards tell their main force what happened here, are you confident you can deal with the consequences?"

Ricard berated them, but neither could properly take in what anyone was saying. Perhaps because it was their first time fighting so many opponents, Kaspar and Yulia simply could not collect themselves.

"Search the bodies and the guard post. Take everything you can. You have one minute."

Ricard gave the order. When the two merely stood there, still dazed, he spoke quietly.

"One, two, three, four..."

Only when he began counting did they come to their senses again and scramble into action. Kaspar ran to search the guard post, while Yulia searched the bodies.

Rummaging through the clothes of someone lying there bleeding was hardly pleasant. Rings in particular were difficult to remove.

As she wasted time trying to pull off a single ring, Ricard snatched her sword and chopped down on the dead man’s fingers. The severed fingers scattered.

He tossed the sword in front of the startled girl and said coldly,

"Your minute is up."

Just then, Kaspar came running from the guard post with an armful of assorted odds and ends. Judging by his expression, his characteristic childish pride and stubbornness had vanished without a trace. He looked half out of his mind.

"Throw away everything except money and precious metals. It’ll slow you down. You only take the rest when you have time to spare."

At Ricard’s words, Kaspar dumped the metal tableware, candlesticks, and other items onto the ground.

Afterward, the two stood blankly, unsure what to do. Ricard asked them,

"Now what?"

"Pardon?"

"What are you going to do? You said you were saving decent people."

"W-well, perhaps if we contacted the clan and got some reinforcements..."

"Then when will you train? People like Volka or Bori will do the actual work, while you go back to sparring with practice swords against others just like you. Is that what you’re after? You win and feel good, or you lose and swing your sword at empty air some more. Then you puff yourselves up or lose heart over whether that means you’re talented?"

"... I don’t know. Please show us the way, sir."

When Kaspar finally addressed him as a teacher, Ricard grinned.

"Who says I’m your teacher? Isn’t Bori your teacher? Never mind. Once the ones who escaped report to their main force, they’ll prepare for us. That leaves us two options. Get our people out of here quickly, or strike at the enemy’s heart before they’re ready."

Ricard assessed situations in the field as naturally as breathing, but ordinary people, especially those without experience, found it difficult.

Perhaps this was an even more important ability than swordsmanship when it came to surviving real combat and achieving results.

Ricard repeated his original question.

"There’s no time. What will you do?"

Kaspar and Yulia looked at each other. Though one was a boy and the other a girl, it was like looking into a mirror: they were feeling much the same thing. Bewilderment and fear, unsure how to deal with this sudden turn of events.

Their talent had been recognized among the clan’s pupils, earning them places as a Sword Master’s direct pupils. They had even prided themselves on having no equals among others their age.

Even out on their journey to gain experience, keeping themselves safe had not been difficult. They had thought that as long as they chose their opponents well, they would not be in danger.

But now that a genuine, life-threatening “challenge” had confronted them, a curious desire to win rose alongside their fear. Had they ever truly tested their own limits?

In the dangerous, difficult fight just now, they had been unable to use their usual swordsmanship. Their minds had gone blank, leaving only clumsy sword strokes.

Ultimately, to surpass their limits, they first had to experience them. Now was the moment to choose.

Kaspar and Yulia exchanged a conversation with their eyes. Want to do it? Let’s. I want to. Each understood the other perfectly.

Resolve hardened in Kaspar’s eyes as he turned back to Ricard to speak. He could do better this time.

"We’ll attack the enemy."

"Good. But if anyone asks, answer proudly."

"Answer what?"

"When that man asked, you were too scared even to name your clan."

"... I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll be sure to announce our name proudly."

Kaspar bowed his head in shame as he answered.

"Let’s go."

Ricard walked in the direction the enemies had fled, leaning on his staff. They seemed to have been heading for the former Lord’s castle.

By the time they arrived after several hours of walking, the sun had set. This was a backwater, so the castle was small, and its walls were a wooden palisade rather than brick.

There was one problem, however: there were too many enemies. The castle could not hold them all, and the grounds outside swarmed with a haphazard assortment of thugs and swordsmen. There seemed to be several dozen at least.

Bonfires flickered here and there. The vulgar laughter of whores and drunken shouting and singing carried all the way to where Ricard stood.

Kaspar, who had so confidently proposed attacking, saw their numbers and decided this was a bad idea. A person’s resolve did change with circumstances.

"Where do you two think this Ringwald fellow is?"

"... In the castle, most likely. But I don’t think we should do this."

"Having numbers on your side makes it easier to let your guard down. Besides, they don’t seem to have any discipline. Hold your heads high and walk confidently. No one will know."

"How do we get back out?"

Yulia asked with her eyes wide.

"Don’t be frightened by their numbers. Look at the men themselves. Do they seem like the sort who’d risk their lives to avenge their leader? I’ll just shout proudly that I’ve slain Ringwald and tell them to clear a path. Of course, depending on the situation, we can slip out quietly if there’s a back door."

Ricard did not seem to have much of a plan either. And he told them to look at the men, but it was dark, and they could barely see their faces.

Still, he was not entirely wrong. There was almost no discipline; the men seemed wholly absorbed in reveling, drinking, and sleeping.

"You saw it this afternoon. If you’re scared, your opponent will pick up on it instantly. Then even things that should work won’t. On the other hand, act brazenly, and you can make the impossible happen. Understand?"

Kaspar and Yulia could not answer. Yet those who never ventured beyond common sense could never surpass it.

Ricard walked toward the castle with his staff. Passing the noisy, boisterous crowd, he reached the castle to find even its gates standing open.

Unless an army attacked, closing them would only make coming and going inconvenient, so they had left them open.

When they reached the cramped courtyard, the men guarding it stopped the three of them.

"Haven’t seen you before. Who are you?"

Ricard turned to Kaspar and Yulia.

"Brace your stomachs and shout as loud as you can."

"What? Shout what?"

"You said you’d proudly identify yourselves if someone asked, didn’t you?"

"Y-you want us to say that now?"

"When else would you say it? Are you going to keep disappointing me?"

No, but this was going too far. Surely they should not announce it in the middle of enemy territory. Kaspar looked close to tears.

Surprisingly, Yulia decided to hell with it and shouted shrilly,

"We’re from the Viola clan!"

The man watching them suspiciously frowned and stared hard at them.

More enemies kept gathering around, asking, "What? What’s going on?" Murmurs rose as well, perhaps because of the Viola clan’s formidable reputation.

Then a man emerged from the keep. He was tall, with short hair, hollow eyes, and sunken cheeks, as though he had not slept properly lately.

Yet his gaze was sharp, seemingly touched with madness. No one needed to say it for them to know he was Ringwald.

"What does the Viola clan want here?"

"W-well..."

Confronted by the leader himself, Yulia wilted under his presence. Kaspar was too busy looking around to think straight. They were completely surrounded. How had he ended up here?

Kaspar and Yulia looked like little birds surrounded by a wolf pack. Watching them, Ricard decided it could not be helped.

They had not met his expectations, but on the other hand, he was proud that they had made it this far. It seemed too early for them to spread their wings and take to the sky. This was as far as he could push them.

So he stepped forward himself.

"I’m Riki of the Viola clan. I hear you murdered the Lord’s family who lived here and have been oppressing the people."

"Riki? Riki... Ah, I know. Red Cloak. Are you the man who used to be famous as a genius swordsman? This isn’t the north. What brings you here?"

"North or not, do you admit to committing serious crimes?"

"Well, why is your clan trying to dictate how I handle my family affairs?"

"Family affairs?"

"Yes. Bastard or not, I carry my father’s blood. Haven’t nobles always killed their brothers and nephews to seize a title? Why shouldn’t I?"

"Nothing says you can’t. But you have to face the consequences too."

"Consequences? I think you’ll be facing those, not me. Did you think the Viola clan would scare me?"

Ringwald spoke with a nasty smile.

Even more swordsmen had gathered to surround Ricard, Kaspar, and Yulia. They all deliberately twisted their faces into fierce scowls, glaring as though they meant to devour them.

Ricard snorted.

"You’ve gathered a pack of fucking idiots and think that makes you safe. Even if I don’t kill you, it looks like it’s only a matter of time."

"Hahaha... Everyone lives and dies in the end. Before we die, we settle our grievances and fulfill our dreams. That’s how it goes. Have you fulfilled your dream, Riki?"

Ringwald spoke as though he had mastered the truths of life. In reality, however, he was the most anxious person here. The long, dark circles beneath his eyes, brought on by insomnia, testified to that.

Ricard released his staff. Then he slowly drew the sword at his waist.

As the blade emerged, flames sprang up. They burned golden in the dark of night, lighting Ricard’s face from below.

With gleaming eyes fixed on Ringwald, Ricard said,

"I see beyond what you call dreams."

Then a flash of golden lightning streaked through the darkness of the night.