Chapter 126

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It was the most beautiful plain in the world. Not simply because of the memories it held—it surpassed every other place by comparison.

Not a single rolling ridge broke the horizon, nor was there any man-made structure. There was only an endlessly level expanse of grassland.

Ricard had seen the Beringen plain in spring, summer, autumn, and winter.

In spring and summer, flowers bloomed in every color imaginable. In autumn, fields of yellow gold stretched out before him, and in winter, the whole world became a snowfield of white.

Each season, joined with this place, seemed to make fond old memories beckon him closer.

It was spring now. It had been spring when he enrolled, and spring when he first left the academy on an outing with Volka and Bori. They had taken this road then, too.

Memory was more than the simple storage of information. The sensations, smells, and sounds of those days were all mingled with emotion.

Ricard had left his horse at the tavern and was walking to the academy. Perched atop a cliff, it had nowhere to keep a horse.

Gentle sunlight and a mild breeze swept across the plain to welcome him. Good to see you too, wind.

"You've been making quite a name for yourself in Adelorn lately, haven't you?"

The question from beside him broke into his reverie. It was none other than Regina.

"Hm? Oh, yes."

"Did you really kill five thousand mercenaries all by yourself?"

"I didn't kill all of them..."

"Then what happened?"

"I just got lucky, killed their commander-in-chief, and stole their war funds. That's all."

"That's hardly 'all,' is it?"

"Isn't it? Anyway, how did you end up enrolling at the academy?"

Regina's short brown hair fluttered ceaselessly in the wind. She turned her gaze toward the Beringen plain as she answered.

"To be honest, I resented you both for a while. Hated you, too. But she was right. Marie, I mean. A bird trapped in a cage. Destined to live however my father told me to. I realized I hated that. So I chose to leave the cage. That's all."

She could have said much more, but Regina left much of it unspoken with a smile. She merely said that was all, and smiled brightly at him.

There seemed to be many kinds of smiles. Mocking smiles, cynical smiles, the smiles of those who had attained enlightenment, and the easy smile of someone who had matured, like hers now.

The one unfortunate thing was that so many of her teeth were gold. When she smiled broadly, they sparkled in the sunlight.

Whether she was unaware of them or actually took pride in them, she seemed unbothered by having gold teeth at such a young age.

He had honestly thought her an incorrigible brat. You really never knew with people.

"Anyway, why are you on bad terms with the Viola clan?"

"There's no big reason. We're sort of rivals, I suppose? They copied us first, after all. Taking in pupils and teaching them. Sometimes we run into each other at festivals in nearby towns and villages, and a brawl breaks out. Then we get back at them, and they get back at us. That sort of thing."

It seemed they were simply clashing because they couldn't contain the hot-blooded energy typical of their age. A battle of pride, arguing over whose turf was whose.

"And they're, how should I put it... a bit stuffy? They care far too much about social status."

"You used to care about it, too."

"I'm not the same person I was then. People enter the academy because they're highborn, or because they make a large donation, or because they prove their ability. There are all sorts of admission requirements. Even commoners deserve respect if they've sufficiently proven their abilities. Don't you agree?"

"Uh... well, yes."

"So whose side are you on? The academy's, of course?"

It wasn't that serious—it was only children fighting—but Ricard was caught in the middle. He was an academy alumnus and a member of the Viola clan.

"... Well, I'm not sure."

"Where does that leave me? I enrolled because of you and your friends. Is Marie doing well?"

"... You really don't resent her?"

"Hating and resenting someone only eats away at me in the end. I did plenty of that when I was younger. Then I learned there were situations even my father couldn't do anything about, and my eyes finally opened. Marie was the one who opened them. So why would I resent her?"

Regina smiled brightly once more. A truly 'bright' smile, with all those gold teeth flashing. Ricard wanted to apologize on Marie's behalf, but swallowed the words. Sorry.

Still, it was good to see that she had grown up well. Most people were broken by this harsh world, but some, it seemed, blossomed like a solitary flower amid it all.

Perhaps, in the end, what mattered was what you took in and how you accepted it. Maybe Ricard himself was fighting because he wanted to teach people that.

Life was painful by nature, but it didn't need to be this much of a hell.

As he climbed the cliffside stairs with Regina, Ricard found it hard going. Not physically—it was more the tedium of so many damned steps.

How had he ever managed to go up and down them all the time? Back then, he'd been too excited about heading into town to notice the effort.

At last, he reached the top and saw the familiar inscription on the gate.

<Discipline shall set you free>

Once through the gate, it was something unfamiliar that caught his eye first. A stone statue stood there, carved in such astonishing detail that it looked alive.

Pillars surrounded it and a roof covered its head, as though to protect it.

The statue stood with its weight shifted to one side, its head turned slightly to gaze off somewhere. One hand rested on the sword hilt at its waist, the other on its hip.

It looked gallant, yet natural and relaxed. But something about it struck Ricard as odd, and he frowned as he approached.

"What the hell? That's me."

Indeed, the pedestal beneath the statue read: <Ricard von Kaldebern, Great Visionary, Genius Swordsman of the Red Cloak, a Hero of Siegfringer, and Beringen Academy's First Graduate>.

"It is. When I saw it, I thought how lucky I'd been. The Ehrenberg stonemasons' association made it. The people who fought with my father back then."

Regina spoke proudly in front of the statue's subject himself. Ricard, however, was far from pleased.

"Idolizing people is idiotic. And making a statue of someone who's still alive? What the..."

"Pardon?"

After his experience with the Church of Judgment, Ricard was more inclined to loathe being looked up to than to enjoy it.

"Anyway, thanks for coming with me. I'll be off now. Take care."

"You're just leaving?"

"What else should I do?"

"Won't you give a special lecture or something?"

"What's that?"

"If a famous swordsman tells the students what he's learned from his experiences, or something along those lines, it'll motivate them."

"Well, I don't know about that. Shouldn't motivation come from within? I'm off. I wasn't expecting to run into you, but it was good to see you. Truly."

Ricard hadn't come for a social visit, and he was never one to linger over goodbyes anyway. He left Regina and walked off alone.

It was sunset, and he saw students wandering about after finishing their tasks. When he entered the boys' dormitory, noise filled the corridors and assaulted his ears.

Students were running around playing tag or chattering as though they were in a crowded marketplace.

"Hey, you little shits! Quiet down!"

"Get ready for roll call! Everyone to your places!"

"Room leaders, check your numbers!"

He couldn't tell whether they were professors, dorm supervisors, student officers, or something else, but a few people were going around trying to keep the children in line.

The students didn't seem particularly bothered. They did as they were told, but without much urgency. Was that good or bad? Well, as long as they weren't getting beaten, that was something.

Ricard paused briefly to watch the students going about their lives, then climbed the stairs. The professors' offices and bedrooms would most likely be upstairs.

After a cursory look around, he went up to the third and highest floor. The building grew narrower toward the top, so there were only a few rooms there.

He approached the largest of them. The headmaster would have the best room, surely.

Sure enough, a nameplate on the door read: <Headmaster Karlich von Rosten>.

Ricard knocked on the door. A clear, resonant voice answered from within.

"At this hour? Well, come in."

He opened the door and entered. Karlich sat at a desk, writing on a document in the light of the setting sun streaming through the window.

His pen was moving busily when he looked up and saw Ricard. His eyes widened.

"Huh!?"

"How have you been?"

"Riki!"

Karlich sprang to his feet. The sudden movement jostled the things on his desk, but he paid them no mind.

He had always been older than Ricard and fairly tall, and the years had given him a mature air. That strange hint of madness about him seemed to have faded somewhat.

He came around the desk, plainly about to throw his arms around Ricard. Ricard wasn't keen on it, but he had come to ask a favor. He smiled awkwardly and returned the hug.

"Ha ha ha..."

"Good heavens, what brings you here!? Without even sending word? Oh, have you been busy lately? I've heard the news, too. The Red Prince, they say."

"Well, that's how it turned out. I just couldn't pass them by."

"What? The opportunities?"

"No. The people who were suffering."

"Ah... Riki... You haven't changed."

Karlich looked at him as though in a dream. It wasn't as bad as before, but that near-worshipful expression still made Ricard deeply uncomfortable.

"W-what do you mean?"

"You fought for the students back then, too. You're as wonderful as ever."

"... Not really."

"I've changed a little, Riki."

"Mm... It seems that way."

"Aren't you curious how?"

Honestly, he wasn't particularly curious. They hadn't been that close. He'd merely kept Karlich by his side for a while.

"Ha ha ha... A little?"

"Sit down first. Would you like a drink? Any favorites? Mind you, I don't drink just anything. I'm sure you'll like these, too, Riki."

Excitedly, Karlich opened a cupboard in his office and brought out several kinds of liquor.

All had been painstakingly made by herbalists, apothecaries, or renowned monasteries. They were worlds apart from the liquor villagers brewed at home.

Ricard wasn't fond of drinking, but he didn't dislike it either. He would simply have a glass or two when the occasion arose.

This time, though, he felt obliged to join in because he'd come to ask a favor.

Karlich tilted a liquor bottle that looked like a medicine bottle and poured into a ceramic cup. The drink was the color of fallen leaves, and its aroma resembled burning firewood. Was this good liquor? It did taste good.

Karlich took a sip as well, then spoke.

"What you said back then gave me a lot to think about, Riki. What is salvation? What do I want? Things like that. At first, I stirred the children up simply because I loved the sense of belonging so much. But I realized there was no need."

"No need for what?"

"The children are much stronger than we think. Every single one of them, without exception. I'm certain of it. If a student doesn't seem strong, I believe it only means I haven't recognized their strength and shown them the way. That's why I keep trying harder. In the end, they grow on their own."

"... Do they?"

"All I do is set the rules, enforce them, and give them a safe place to grow. Besides swordsmanship and unarmed combat, we teach equipment maintenance, riding, sewing, reading and writing, and basic arithmetic. That's about it, with advancement exams twice a year. Once they graduate, they help one another find their way toward their dreams. I like watching that. Watching them get up and follow their own paths, even when they fall and get hurt. That's what you wanted, too, wasn't it, Riki?"

He hadn't thought that far ahead. He had merely felt that the world was too cruel. And because he felt that way, he had acted.

But where Ricard's thoughts and actions had been vague, Karlich's were more concrete.

That moved him a little. Children made mistakes, but they certainly grew, and once they had grown, they could do things of greater meaning.

Karlich was a perfect example, as was Regina, whom he had met on the way here.

For some reason, Ricard felt grateful to them. He truly didn't know why. He was simply grateful that they had grown up so well.

"Oh, right. Why are you on bad terms with the Viola clan?"

"Oh, that? They're bound to clash when they're out and about in their free time. I've been talking things over with Volka. We can't let a children's quarrel turn into a fight between adults, can we?"

He was more mature than Ricard had expected. Steady, yet relaxed and capable. He was also certain of what he wanted to do and what he ought to do.

Had he always been like this? No. This was the person he had grown into.

"Anyway, what brings you here, Riki? Coming all this way to see me."

"Ah... Well, you know how I'm fighting a war in Adelorn these days? There's this infamous villain, Grantz the Invincible, and he has a lot of troops. I'm a bit short myself. So, well, I was wondering if there was somewhere I could get an army. Borrowing some money would help, too."

For the first time in his life, Ricard was asking someone for a favor. He was so embarrassed he could hardly bear it. He had always held his head high, giving to others rather than living in their debt.

All of this was to end Adelorn's civil war and bring peace to its people. For that, shouldn't he be willing to sell even his pride?

Yet, to his surprise, Karlich replied without the slightest hesitation.

"Riki, I'd sell the academy for you. So don't look so cowed. It actually hurts to think you don't trust me."

What was he talking about? Sell the academy? Was he serious?

"What would happen to the students if you sold the academy?"

"They'd grow up on their own. But I won't actually have to sell it. I have a way."

"Really? What way?"

"Have you heard the saying that a name has value? Once someone becomes famous, that fame itself is worth money. Sometimes it's worth even more than money. And the mercenaries who have maintained their traditions since long ago and made their names known throughout the world can't be hired with money alone. They have too much pride. Nord mercenaries, the Order of Flame, the Silver Shield Veterans, the Crown Mercenary Corps, the mountain troops of Tyren, and so on. The warriors of the Nibelung tribe may have been the strongest when the Empire was founded, but that's ancient history, isn't it? As you know, the imperial household's gone to shit these days. Anyway, to hire mercenaries whose names still carry weight, a commander needs martial renown to match. Not just anyone can hire them by throwing money at them. But someone like you might be able to, Riki."

Sure enough, Karlich's exceptional knowledge of the world allowed him to come up with a solution in no time. He was both clever and resourceful.

But one name had caught Ricard's ear.

"The Order of Flame? They aren't mercenaries, are they?"

"There's no Emperor, the brothers in the imperial household are on the verge of fighting each other, and being on the frontier doesn't mean fighting every day. So they offer 'combat support,' which is essentially mercenary work. They have to eat, don't they?"

"Is that so...?"

"It is. But the Order of Flame are terrifying people. They all remain celibate their entire lives and do nothing but fight. They're scarier than fanatics. Let's leave them out for now."

Ricard considered it carefully, then shook his head.

"No."

"Hm?"

"I know someone there."

"Who?"

Ricard didn't answer. As he had made so many memories in the wider world after leaving his family, he had forgotten other, deeper memories. Now they surfaced.

There was something too heartbreaking about them to call them mere memories.

He drained the strong liquor in one swallow. Hot breath rushed through his nose. As the alcohol went to his head, a young boy flickered before his eyes.

A boy who had been forced to leave home so suddenly, looking back again and again in bewilderment and fear.

"My older brother."