Chapter 86

* * *

It was like light cleaving the darkness. Such was a Sword Master's blade. A purple flash shone with a distinctness neither bright nor dark, as though slicing away a swath of night.

"Oh..."

Camping outdoors beside a fire for the first time in a while, Ricard had been sitting shoulder to shoulder with Marie when the sight of her sword drew an exclamation from him.

Honestly, it was sheer fascination rather than awe. In his previous life, he had been the first Sword Master and conjured golden flames from his own blade. Still, after all this time, having someone so close to him become a Sword Master was a wonder.

Looking bashful, Marie extinguished the light and returned her sword to its sheath.

"How does it feel?"

"I'm not sure. Just... why didn't I know about this before? That's how it feels. Like I was born with an extra limb and only just realized it was there."

"So even though you've become a Sword Master, you don't know how it happens?"

"No."

"Then it's just a sharp sword."

"Yes, exactly. That's what I think, too."

Ricard and Marie seemed to think little of being a Sword Master. But looked at another way, perhaps everyone else made too much of it.

Sword Masters got hungry and tired. They were made of flesh and bone, could be wounded by blades, and could die like anyone else.

There were two reasons people nevertheless thought so highly of them.

First, in an age when the quality of iron varied, swords were difficult to use on the battlefield. They really did break after a swing or two all the time, so they were mostly used as secondary weapons.

In those circumstances, being the only person with a sword that sliced through armor and shields like cheese was already an absurd advantage.

The second reason was someone who had set a monstrous precedent: Riki, the first Sword Master.

People who had experienced Riki's might came away with a vague notion. Ah, so becoming a Sword Master made you invincible, capable of defeating the Emperor's elite troops single-handedly.

But if someone traveled back in time and asked that Riki why he was so strong, he might have answered like this.

"I think it's important to know how to use yourself as a piece on the board. If you can read the battle as a whole and deploy yourself properly, couldn't you achieve remarkable results even without being a Sword Master? And if a Sword Master does that? At that point, you're practically an army unto yourself."

"That makes it sound like becoming a Sword Master is only the beginning."

"First: what's your objective? Second: how will you win? Third: how will you fight? It might sound obvious, but I've hardly ever seen anyone really internalize those questions and put them into practice. Other than Chaldebert."

"Huh?"

The unfamiliar name puzzled Marie. It wasn't so much that she had never heard it before; it simply never occurred to her that Ricard meant the heroic knight from over a hundred years ago.

"Oh, someone I know. Anyway, those three principles are where you start. First, what's our objective?"

"To kill Luisinant the Lucky."

"And next?"

"How will we win? Hmm. Cut his head off?"

"No, no. You have to think about your opponent. For starters, he's an outsider. Even if he's raised a force, he won't have many men, and their discipline will be awful. Besides, do you think his followers are loyal?"

Ricard sounded like a teacher. His explanations of swordsmanship were so vague and abstract that they were difficult to follow, but this was perfectly understandable.

Marie was listening intently.

"No."

"Then we probably don't need to fight every man he's gathered. Men who come together easily scatter just as easily."

"So what do we do?"

"That's the second question. How will we win? Always remember: observe first. Whatever it is. However many opponents there are, however strong they are, start by observing. Gather as much information as you can, quickly and accurately. You'll get better with practice."

At his detailed explanation, Marie stared at her betrothed.

"What?"

"... How do you know all this, Professor?"

"I wonder."

"Anyway, how's your chest?"

"The same. It hurts when I breathe deeply."

"Are you sure you don't need to see that Doctor Reno?"

"I'd rather not visit the main house."

"Why?"

"It's just awkward. Besides, he's not a physician. He's a scholar with a doctorate. I'd be better off asking a physician later."

Marie stared at Ricard again, but this time it was different. He could read her thoughts on her face.

She still wanted him to see Doctor Reno. But would this stubborn fool listen if she said so? Bringing it up now might turn into an argument.

Marie knew it, and so did Ricard. An odd silence ensued.

"All right. We'll stop by briefly once we're done."

Marie grinned.

"Your father told you to. I'm not forcing you."

"Yes, yes."

Ricard nodded his acknowledgment.

Still, wasn't he worried about being in such poor health? Especially when he was on his way to kill a man who made a habit of swindling and threatening noble lords.

It went beyond recklessness; it was downright astonishing. How could he be like this? Yet Marie loved that about him.

Where an ordinary person would make a fuss, grow despondent, and despair, he simply carried on, unruffled.

That was why she thought even misfortune couldn't torment him.

Marie nestled naturally into his arms and said the opposite of the happiness she felt.

"Idiot."

"Where did that come from?"

"Idiot."

"Well, yes. I suppose I could be."

Ricard put his arms around her, too. It was a cold autumn, but with the fire warming them and their bodies pressed together, neither had a chance to feel the chill.

Luisinant had been threatening and swindling people all over the area, so finding him was easy.

They were on the road leading out of the County of Kaldebern and up to Rheinfurt. It wasn't the road Ricard had taken with Arno three years ago. They had used a side road then; this was a well-traveled route.

Something resembling a checkpoint stood brazenly at a crossroads, guarded by two mercenaries leaning on their halberds. After surveying the surroundings, Ricard said to Marie,

"Let's go up there."

He climbed a mountain path overgrown with branches. Once they were high enough, he could see the checkpoint and what looked like a makeshift guard post behind it.

He scanned it for about ten seconds, then questioned Marie like a master instructing his pupil.

"What do you see?"

"Hmm, there are only... seven or eight of them? I could handle them myself."

"Now, now. You can't keep blindly picking fights just because you're good with a sword. Look closer."

"Hmm... They're neatly dressed, their clothes are colorful, they're well armed, and... is that man the leader?"

Marie had never experienced a real battle, so her ignorance was understandable. Ricard pointed things out one by one.

"The bright colors mean they're mercenaries. That means they're a decent fighting force in numbers. Mercenaries like dressing up, but once they start fighting, they look like beggars in no time. So if they look like beggars but their weapons are well maintained? They're dangerous. But these men?"

"They're far too neat."

"Exactly. They don't particularly want to fight. They're just leeching off Luisinant, hoping to make a quick fortune and leave. Understand?"

This was knowledge only an extraordinary amount of practical experience could provide.

Ricard asked another question.

"What else?"

"Can't you just tell me?"

"Think, Marie."

"I don't know. What do you want me to do...?"

"Seven or eight grown men eat quite a lot in a day. It's not as if they're going to farm out here. My guess is they bring a little food and work in shifts, since there's a city nearby. Besides, threatening lords with so few men wouldn't make sense in the first place."

"Now that you mention it, you're right."

"It's harvest season. People sell their surplus food, and there's plenty of trade. Blocking the road and extorting tolls could earn them a tidy sum. But did you know mercenaries don't just follow money?"

"Really? What do they follow, then?"

"Money is the biggest reason, but they're very sensitive to the political standing of whoever they serve. What I mean is, even if they fight, they want no repercussions afterward. They can't afford to become rebels, can they? Once you're a rebel, you can't simply wash your hands of the war. They'll hunt you down to the bitter end and execute you brutally."

Marie understood only enough to think, Hmm, well, I see. She couldn't imagine how to put that knowledge to use.

"Let's become sheriffs."

"Huh?"

"Official sheriffs dispatched by the imperial household. That automatically makes Luisinant an impostor. How dare he impersonate an imperial sheriff? What's the punishment for that?"

"Forging imperial documents or impersonating an official is punishable by being torn apart by horses."

Even when the imperial household wasn't involved, falsely claiming someone else's authority could earn you a sentence of having your limbs torn off. Marie had occasionally witnessed such cases as a child.

"But will they believe us?"

"We can just show them your sword."

"Huh?"

"The Sword Master thing. The glow. Let's say you're the new Emperor's champion, serving as my bodyguard."

"Uh..."

Marie had no particular sense of authority or superiority, but she wasn't sure a Sword Master's blade ought to be used for something like this. Still, if Riki wanted to...

"I don't even need to draw my sword to kill scum like him. Let's go."

Ricard descended the mountain path again, then strode boldly toward the fake checkpoint with his sword at his waist.

The mercenaries, lounging with their halberds against their shoulders, looked over.

They spoke without preamble.

"The toll is half of what you've got."

What utter nonsense. Just as expected, this was nothing but highway robbery.

Ricard made a show of glaring and bellowed at them.

"Insolent scoundrels! Do you know who I am? I am a sheriff dispatched by the Emperor! So you are the rabble disturbing the peace in this region!"

The mercenaries blinked at his shouting. Rather than immediately becoming deferential, they examined his appearance carefully.

"I heard the Emperor was dead..."

"How dare you, wretch! When His Late Majesty passes away, the Crown Prince naturally ascends the throne! You dare speak so lightly of His Majesty's passing? This will not do! Champion!"

Ricard shouted confidently, unaware that the Crown Prince had died at Bellator's hands. Of course, no one present knew that.

Marie still wondered whether this was right, but she drew her sword and made it shine.

Only then did the mercenaries' eyes widen. A Sword Master. She had to be the Emperor's champion. But a young woman? What was going on?

"For insulting His Majesty the Emperor! For following a man who impersonated me! Champion, behead these traitors!"

"W-wait! We didn't recognize you!"

"Wait! Please wait! We didn't know! We swear!"

"W-we thought he really was a sheriff! We were only hired! We have no intention of rebelling against the imperial household!"

At Ricard's thunderous command, the mercenaries immediately dropped their weapons, fell to their knees, and bowed their heads. Ah, so power really did taste sweet.

But when Marie actually moved to behead them, Ricard hurriedly tugged her sleeve and shook his head. Don't actually kill them.

He frowned, pretending to deliberate, then spoke.

"Hmm... Very well. His Majesty the new Emperor has only recently ascended the throne. Needless bloodshed would be inauspicious."

"O-of course! God would want the blood of virgins or sheep as an offering! Not filthy wretches like us!"

Ricard had no idea what kind of bullshit that was, but in any case, he intended to have them take him to Luisinant.

"But I cannot leave the impostor unpunished. You will lead me to him. We must capture him and tear him limb from limb. And clear away these shoddy contraptions."

"Yes, sir! At your command!"

Apparently feeling they had escaped death, the mercenaries sprang energetically to their feet and cleared away the makeshift guard post and the checkpoint blocking the road, practically demolishing them.

Then they took up their weapons and led Ricard and Marie toward the city. They must have escorted wealthy people or high-ranking nobles before, because they formed a proper formation around them, front, back, and sides.

With an uncharacteristically crisp, spirited bearing, they guarded the Emperor's sheriff. There was no need to go this far, but Ricard found himself holding his head a little higher, too.

Everyone they passed stared when they entered the city that way. He looked like someone important at a glance.

The remaining mercenaries were scattered around the city, harassing local women or indulging themselves. Seeing their comrades suddenly escort someone with such grave formality gave them an uneasy feeling.

They sensed something was fucked. Mercenaries were sensitive to matters of life and death, and their instincts for this sort of thing were uncanny.

They instantly sobered up or released the local women they were tormenting. Then they either hid or casually joined the formation, pretending to be part of the escort.

A halberd-bearing mercenary opened the door for Ricard when they reached the city's largest tavern. The scents of face powder and alcohol washed over his face.

Inside, Ricard saw a man spending money like water, intoxicated with gambling and women. One look was enough to tell him that this had to be Luisinant.

"I'm telling you, stupidity doesn't care about rank! The trouble with people is that they assume nobles know everything. In reality, they're careless fools. Fucking idiots."

Having pulled off a string of successful swindles, he evidently thought he was somebody now, loudly holding forth as though he knew everything.

But the people around him caught sight of Ricard and the mercenaries, and their faces froze in shock.

"Back when I was out west! I must've fucked ten noble ladies, at least. But, uh..."

Luisinant was the last to notice something was wrong. Following everyone's gazes, he slowly turned his head.

There stood a young man wearing a sword, a woman, and the mercenaries in his employ, all staring straight at him.

Ricard gave him a faint smile. Then he approached slowly, pulled up a chair beside him, and sat down.

"Ah... Luisinant. Were nobles such easy prey? I'd love to hear more."

"Uh... Who...?"

"The Emperor's sheriff."

"... But the Emperor should be dead..."

"Yes, that's right. He's dead, and you're going to die, too. But depending on how you behave, I might let you off."

The tavern was deathly silent. Luisinant looked around once more. From the mercenaries' grim faces, he could tell something had gone wrong and they had already turned on him. The nobles couldn't possibly have responded this quickly. They didn't have the means.

By the time the lords mustered troops to deal with him, he only had to take the money and run. And Luisinant was very good at that.

He had never expected such a swift response just when things were starting to go well. The Emperor had barely died, and already they had dispatched a sheriff?

Luisinant looked back at Ricard.

"W-what would..."

"Your backer. And the money."

"B-backer? I have no such person. And the money..."

"Can't bear to part with it? Then die."

"N-no! Wait! The money is, uh, in the vault at the Rheinfurt Goldsmiths' Guild. If we could just go there..."

One look into his eyes told Ricard he was lying. There was no money. He had spent it all on his pleasures.

Ricard considered what to do for a moment, then nodded as though accepting the explanation.

"Very well. I'll wait here. Go and fetch the money. If you flee, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth."

"Of course! Of course! I'll get the money and return without fail!"

Thinking himself saved, Luisinant scrambled to his feet and left the tavern's agonizing silence behind.

Ricard spoke to the mercenaries.

"Catch that man who just left. Tear him limb from limb, then cut off his head. Hang the torn pieces of flesh at the city gates, one at each, and send his head to Stormhertz. Do that, and you will be pardoned."

The mercenaries rushed outside before he had even finished speaking. Ricard surveyed the half-eaten meal, picked up a cup, and took a sip of expensive liquor.

Then he looked at the tavern keeper and spoke leisurely.

"I'd like a refund for what's left."

"Pardon?"

"It hasn't all been eaten, has it?"

"Ah... Well, yes. Certainly."

"And he left without sleeping with anyone, so refund the fee for the women, too."

Rather than calculate a refund, the tavern keeper brought out every coin Luisinant had paid that day. It amounted to a full ten gold coins. Money spent on pleasure did have a way of slipping away like water.

Ricard also collected all the gambling money strewn across the table.

Everyone watched the Emperor's sheriff in hushed silence. They simply wanted him to take the money, or whatever else he wanted, and leave.

Around then, a scream rang out from outside.

"Why! Why! I told you I'd get the money! Wait! I, I, aaaaaagh!"

Listening to Luisinant's dying screams, Ricard helped himself to the remaining food.

Then, apparently finding it unpalatable, he flung a chicken bone onto the table with a sharp smack and rose. The people watching in silence flinched.

Outside, the mercenaries were hanging Luisinant's torn body on poles.

"We'll deliver the head in a sack of salt."

One of them approached to tell him. Professional indeed; clearly, this wasn't their first time doing such work.

Mercenaries might be thugs, but they were also professionals. When they put their minds to something, they did it thoroughly. They were simply expensive and difficult to handle.

Ricard stopped at the Imperial Guild Bureau and sent the money he had just squeezed out of the tavern back home. It wasn't much, but it was more than enough to cover the loss.

Then he and Marie quietly left the city and headed for the main house to see Doctor Reno.

"You really killed him without even drawing your sword."

Marie had been a little worried because Ricard was in poor health, but he had gotten the job done without lifting a finger.

"Clever men often understand other people well but don't understand themselves. He called the nobles careless, but in the end, he didn't realize he was careless, too. The world must have looked easy to him. But keep that up, and your luck runs out."

"There really is nothing you don't know, Professor."

"This is only the beginning, my pupil. Apply yourself."

He was half joking, but it was true. If Marie, already a Sword Master, learned Ricard's strategy, tactics, combat knowledge, abilities, and techniques, she might truly become as invincible as Riki had been in his previous life.

Both the Sword Masters Ricard had defeated and those still alive remained trapped within the limitations of mere swordsmen.

To become a true weapon of war, there was no substitute for countless battles. The trouble was that you could die while accumulating that experience.

Knowledge passed down by someone who had survived it was therefore worth more than gold.

But Marie merely smiled and teased him.

"What if I don't want to?"

"Hmm?"

"You do everything for me, Riki."

Her smiling joke made Ricard laugh, too.

"What a hopeless pupil."

Bellator could also be called Ricard's pupil, but he was very different from Marie. Following Ricard's teachings, he had seized the opportunity of a lifetime and committed a bold, masterful murder.

One was an excellent pupil, the other an idle one. Yet it was impossible to say which was right: faithfully following the lessons or simply fooling around.

Examined closely, the things Ricard taught were chilling and horrifying. Of course, how to use them was up to the student.

As they walked along together, Marie kept playfully bumping him with her shoulder. Pestering him like that—what an ill-mannered pupil she was.

Part 17 – Back in My Homeland. End.