Chapter 109 - People Who Don't Know Each Other (3)

Vlad opened the pouch he had received from the Count and counted the gold coins inside one by one.

The money he received from the Count totaled 20 gold.

"This is an awkward amount."

Sparkling gold coins were welcoming him, but Vlad was only furrowing his brows.

If he considered it solely as payment for escorting the carriage, it was certainly a large sum, but when factoring in the price of his life, it was far too little.

It seemed the Count of Vitskaya intended to substitute the missing amount with resentment.

"Got."

"Yeah?"

Got reflexively caught the coins flying toward him.

"Your pay."

"O-Ooh."

Three sparkling gold coins.

Seeing an income that an ordinary tenant farmer would have to work hard for a whole year to earn, Got stamped his feet in excitement.

"What is this! Are you going to keep paying me three gold from now on?"

"If I have the money."

"Sweet!"

Got thought to himself as he bit into a gold coin.

It was definitely the right choice to follow him.

No matter how capable someone was, serving them would be exhausting if they were stingy with their coin purse.

But the knight right here didn't spare any expense when it came to taking care of his subordinates.

Just like how back-alley bosses magnanimously threw their money around.

"And this is for expenses."

"Another one!"

Another gold coin flew over along with those nonchalant words.

Got's expression looked incredibly happy as he watched the gold coin fly his way.

"Pay for the inn with that."

"Of course."

"And pay for the guy in the room next door, too."

"Of course, I should pay for the guy in the room next door too. Wait, huh?"

Got had been completely swept up in excitement over the sparkling gold coins, but he couldn't help frowning at what he just heard.

"Why the next room? Don't tell me we're traveling with that guy from now on?"

Vlad wasn't the only one who had been attacked by the man in the gray hood on the stone bridge.

Even now, Got's deeply bruised cheekbone continued to remind him of the pain from that day.

"The three gold I gave you includes the price for doing exactly as you're told."

"... Does that guy even have a horse to keep up with us?"

Vlad simply silenced Got's complaints with the gold coins and stood up from his seat.

"Where are you going?"

"To Stefan."

If you used someone, you had to pay the price.

Furthermore, since the Thorn Tree Mercenaries had lost favor with the Count of Vitskaya by following Vlad, he had to compensate them for that as well.

"Those guys didn't run away. That alone makes them worth knowing."

Got nodded as he listened to Vlad's words.

As two people who had once been involved in the mercenary industry, they knew very well just how precious it was to find mercenaries who would hold their ground until the end.

"I'm heading out."

"See you later, Captain."

Leaving behind only a brief farewell, Vlad fastened his cloak and stepped out into the cold.

Watching Vlad's back as he opened the inn's door, Got scratched his chin.

"... He's finally starting to look the part."

During their first meeting, Vlad had merely seemed like a fierce boy ignorant of the ways of the world, but the back of the figure stepping outside now clearly belonged to a knight with true presence.

It was the same winter as back then, but the shoulders of the Vlad stepping outside had somehow grown broader.

* * *

The tail end of a cold winter.

Although it wasn't quite like the North, this place at the edge of the central region was just as freezing.

"I heard you received a lot of money, so why is this all there is for dinner?"

The man in the gray hood clicked his tongue as he stirred the pot Got had boiled.

"Don't you need to eat meat to have any strength? A knight shouldn't skimp on food."

Got stuck his lips out in a pout, watching the man criticize the stew he had worked hard to cook.

The only reason he didn't say anything was because he was well aware of the skill of the person in front of him.

"The prices in Tanobo are insane."

"Even if they're expensive, still."

"I ran out of money because I had to buy a horse for a certain someone."

"... Then I suppose it can't be helped."

Upon hearing Vlad's words, the man in the gray hood quietly grabbed the ladle he was stirring with and transferred the stew to a bowl.

Those who wandered the lowest places had to know how to be grateful for even the smallest of sponsorships.

"You're saying you don't know who your master is?"

"If I knew, I would have told you earlier. Your sword was practically at my throat back then."

The man in the gray hood stared intently at Vlad over the bowl he was holding, but there wasn't a single waver in the young knight's eyes.

To an almost impudent degree.

"I kept telling you. I'm looking for him too."

"Hmm."

It wasn't the complete truth, but Vlad's claim that he was looking for his master was not a lie.

If he had answered with a lie, even a Vlad who had survived the back alleys through sheer cunning wouldn't have been able to fool the man in front of him.

Because this man was an expert at seeing through truths and lies.

"Imperial Swordsmanship must never be leaked to the outside..."

The man in the gray hood knitted his brows as if he had a headache upon hearing Vlad's words, then picked up his spoon.

"But is the swordsmanship I use really the same one used by the Imperial Knights?"

"To be exact, it is the Imperial Swordsmanship. The secret of the one-strike sure-kill is passed down only to a select few, even within the Imperial Knights."

The man in the gray hood spoke.

Those born with imperial blood.

Or a few of their closest knights—they were the only ones who could inherit such swordsmanship.

Vlad couldn't help but be flustered at the fact that he had been using such incredible swordsmanship all this time.

"Then I shouldn't be using it, right?"

"Is your father by any chance the Emperor?"

"I don't think so."

"Then it could become a problem."

He couldn't use it because he was unauthorized.

The secret of the one-strike sure-kill belonged strictly to the imperial family.

To be exact, it was the swordsmanship of the Founding King and the only Swordmaster, Frausen, so if the imperial family ever found out about this, they wouldn't sit idly by.

"The people of the North wouldn't have recognized it, but as you head closer to the central region, there will be people who do. If you aren't careful, you could be dragged away for the crime of insulting the imperial family."

"... Then what should I do?"

When such a massive charge popped out of the man's mouth, Vlad's voice grew quieter without him realizing.

Having never even thought about the word 'imperial family' in his entire life, Vlad couldn't help but feel burdened by the current situation.

"It's not like there is no way around it."

The man in the gray hood looked at Vlad with a faint smile.

"First off, when I observed your swordsmanship, the secret of the one-strike sure-kill you use seems to have been leaked quite a long time ago."

Upon facing a strike that drew out everything, the man in the gray hood had clearly recognized Vlad's swordsmanship.

Vlad's swordsmanship was undeniably Imperial Swordsmanship, but it had differences from the one currently in use.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because what you use is much closer to the original form."

Holding the ladle, the man began to gently stir the pot of stew.

"If this bland stew represents the secret of the one-strike sure-kill you are currently using."

The sausages meant for tomorrow were sliced and tossed into the stew.

The fragrant scent of meat and the spreading drops of oil began to deepen the flavor of the boiling stew.

"This is the secret of the one-strike sure-kill currently used by the imperial family."

Time flows, and all things with form are bound to change.

It had been 300 years since the empire was established, so it was only natural that the Imperial Swordsmanship had continually evolved in step with that long passage of time.

"It's become a bit more delicious than before."

"..."

Vlad stared at the stew with its floating chunks of meat.

He felt like he understood a little of what the man in the gray hood was trying to say.

"... Then."

"The secret of the one-strike sure-kill stems from unpredictability."

The man said, transferring the sausages to his own bowl.

"And unpredictability is born not from refined rules, but from unfathomable ideas."

Having finally scooped out all the floating meat chunks, the man looked at Vlad and smiled.

"Now, try adding your own ingredients into it. Enough that even the people of the imperial family would tilt their heads if they saw it."

Even if it started from the same roots, bloom your own flower.

Because the secret of the one-strike sure-kill is a swordsmanship that pursues exactly that.

"Do you think you can do it?"

A knight of the North who uses Imperial Swordsmanship.

A young knight whose very existence was practically the definition of unpredictability.

Looking at such a Vlad, a truly subtle smile settled on the former Imperial Enforcer Commander's face.

* * *

"Wait... how did you come to be here?"

An office filled with elven ornaments.

The Count of Vitskaya was rushing around in a fluster to welcome the suddenly arrived guest.

"Did you not request for me to come?"

"Well, yes. But still."

He had indeed asked him to come, but he hadn't received a reply saying he would.

That was why the Count couldn't help but panic upon seeing the knight in front of him.

Captain of the Dragon Killer Knights, Mircea.

Because he was a noble knight whom no one could easily invite.

"Perhaps a cup of tea—"

"... Elven tea does not suit my tastes."

Blond hair and blue eyes.

Looking at Mircea, who was glaring sharply at him, the Count of Vitskaya naturally ended up thinking of the drifter from the North who had left this city a few days ago.

"Yes! Yes, of course. Naturally, it's not a tea fit to be offered to someone as distinguished as yourself."

However, even if it was the same blue, the depth was different.

Catching on to Mircea's sharp rejection, the Count quickly began to boil a fresh pot of water.

"Is the Epsilon being manufactured well? I received a report that there was an unidentified attacker."

"It has been resolved. It was resolved very well!"

The count waiting on him, and the duke's son sitting in the seat of honor as if he were the master.

This sight, where the host and the guest seemed reversed, was certainly no mere illusion.

Because the current appearance of the two made the relationship between Vitskaya and Dragulia abundantly clear.

"How?"

A sensation that felt like it was piercing right through his brow.

Meeting Mircea's chilling gaze, the Count felt as though the very inside of his head was freezing over.

"Did you not say it was an expert impossible to eliminate with just the knights stationed here?"

"I d-did indeed say that."

The Count moistened his lips with his tongue and answered, forcefully wiping the tense expression from his face.

"There was a knight who came from the North. He was a young punk, but his skills were good."

"... From the North?"

Mircea's eyebrows twitched as he listened to the Count's report.

"Yes. It was a guy named Vlad, but he was at least somewhat decent with a sword."

Having newly brewed some black tea, the Count carefully continued speaking as he poured the tea into a cup.

"Still, as expected of a northern bastard, he dared to not know his place and acted insolently."

"..."

"As I thought, lowly bloodlines are bound to show themselves anywhere. Where else would the blood of barbarians go?"

With those words, the Count smiled and looked at Mircea.

The face of the man lifting his teacup and taking in the scent of the black tea looked peaceful.

'As expected, the tea ceremony skills I learned from the elves are enough to satisfy even a noble from the capital...'

SHATTER!

The sound of something breaking.

It was merely the sound of a teacup shattering, but the Count jumped in shock, his eyes flying wide open.

The red tea leaking from the broken teacup ominously soaked the table.

"Did it really look that way to you?"

A heavy silence descended upon the office in an instant.

The crack that started from the teacup was spreading into the very air of the office.

"... Pardon?"

"A bloodline bound to show itself anywhere."

The Count found himself grabbing his own trembling hand before he realized it.

His realization was slow, but his instincts had already caught on.

The rattling sound of the teacups and plates clattering together was deafeningly loud.

"I am asking if that bloodline you recognized truly looked lowly to you."

At the question ringing in his ears, the Count of Vitskaya gulped hard and raised his head.

The blue eyes staring down at him.

Within them lay a ferocious aura that even the blue blood of a noble would find unbearable to withstand.