Chapter 135 - On the Day the Cuckoo Calls (1)

Joseph's office was lit by gentle sunlight.

The office Alicia had specially provided for Joseph was not quite as fine as the mayor's office in Soara, but it was still more than splendid enough.

"So you went all the way out front with only ten men and caused a provocation..."

Yet what echoed through that splendid room was not cheerful conversation, but only the sound of fingers tapping against the desk.

Jager, standing beside him with an expressionless face that still somehow showed his discomfort, was probably a bonus.

"According to the scouts' report, you came close enough to practically crash into them?"

"..."

At the question, Vlad merely rolled his eyes this way and that.

The truth was, it had not been just short of crashing into them, but practically the same as crashing into them.

He had not drawn his sword, but he had kicked a few men and come back, so it was a provocation that could all but be called an engagement.

"I'm sorry."

Joseph hated lies.

Recalling the precious lesson he had learned back when he had been the praying Rhimann, Vlad quickly assumed a posture as if it were the very model of repentance.

Standing politely with his hands clasped behind his back and his head slightly lowered, he looked to anyone's eyes like someone who had done this more than once or twice.

"... Enough."

Seeing Vlad say only that he had done wrong, without even trying to make excuses, Joseph no longer even sighed.

"You must have done it because you thought it was worth doing."

From the first time they met, Joseph had thought him a difficult fellow to handle, but in truth, that judgment had been a little wrong.

A man like Vlad was the kind who shone not when he was controlled, but when he was left alone.

"I only hope your provocation was something you did through cool-headed judgment."

Joseph decided to respect the individuality that had bloomed.

It was something done not out of deficiency or wrongheadedness, but by his own judgment, so now it had to be judged by the result.

Because the knight named Vlad had sufficiently proven through this operation that he had become a full-fledged knight.

"But remember this. A knight's thoughts must be grave, and his steps must be heavy."

"I will keep that in mind."

Still, Joseph wished he would be a little more cautious.

Because from now on, now that his name was known, the traces of every result he brought about would be engraved like footprints and follow behind him.

Until the day you stop. Endlessly.

"Rest well. You would do well to conserve your strength."

"Understood."

Joseph had told him to conserve his strength in preparation for the coming war.

Contrary to what he had expected, Vlad was a little flustered that he had not received much of a scolding.

"What are you doing? He told you to leave."

"... Yes."

Jager, however, was still glaring at Vlad with his head tilted crookedly.

With a chilling look that seemed to tell him to look forward to later.

Unlike Joseph, it seemed Jager still found it hard to let Vlad off easily.

CREAK!

Watching Vlad leave with a disciplined posture, keeping his guard up until the very end, Vordan, who had been sitting in a guest chair and drinking tea, could not help but snort.

"That fellow is still impossible to pin down."

What he did was unmistakably that of a ruffian, yet his outward appearance was that of an elegant knight.

Vordan had never seen a knight with such distinctly different sides.

"It seems they have been mixed together in an astonishing way."

"... He may bounce all over the place, but he is a color Bayezid needs."

A knight who had grown on his own, not one who had been manufactured.

Joseph had wanted such a knight, and Vlad had answered his expectations splendidly.

"A color even my elder brother would covet."

Joseph picked up Vlad's report from the desk, quietly walked to the window, and looked outside.

The soldiers seemed excited somehow.

They were probably happily talking about the provocation Vlad had carried out today.

"How many knights of Bayezid would do that mad thing because they wanted to?"

Seeing the garrison bustling with life for the first time in a long while, Joseph smiled faintly.

One shabby flag stood in the corner of the office.

The eagle of Gaidar, together with Ishtvan's sword, had become a fine trophy and was turning into yet another ornament.

* * *

"Sir Vlad."

"Oh. Stefan."

People were packed tightly into the small manor.

Since one could not walk even a few steps without seeing a familiar face, Vlad and Stefan's meeting was only natural.

"You're not hurt anywhere, are you?"

"You said what I was going to say first."

"Not like there's much else to say."

Stefan, the mercenary captain, naturally fell in beside Vlad and spoke to him.

"Where are you going?"

"To see my horse."

"Ah, that one."

"I have to go check on him at least once a day. His temper is such shit."

Stefan quietly nodded at Vlad's words.

A horse whose abilities were outstanding, but whose temper was filthy.

Even watching from the side, the creature had not been easy to deal with, so Stefan could readily picture Noir.

"Shall we take care of the small things for you? We can at least feed him."

"I'd be grateful if you did."

He would be grateful if they did, but he did not know whether they would be able to.

Unless it was someone like Got, there was no stable hand who could cling to that fellow.

"I've already gone and requested an extension of the contract from Sir Vordan, so don't stick too close to me."

"... Hahaha. That was not quite what I meant."

Vlad knew why Stefan stuck close to him.

Mercenaries were people who chased glittering gold coins.

However, because everyone knew the value of gold coins, noise always arose at the stage of giving and receiving in this world.

"We simply wish to work with you even one more time, Sir Vlad."

"At least wet your lips before you lie."

In that sense, Joseph Bayezid was clearly an excellent employer.

He was neither a swindler like the Count of Vitskaya in Tanobo, nor poor like Baron Dalmatia of Dobrechiti.

"This way. I heard the location of the stables has changed from before."

Stefan guided Vlad familiarly and found the way.

Having arrived in Deirmar ahead of time following Marcus, Stefan had quickly learned the layout of the manor in the meantime.

Stefan knew well that each and every one of these small preparations raised his evaluation.

"This should be the place. But it seems there is already someone here."

"Hmm."

A black horse occupied a wide space by itself, clearly different from the other horses at a glance.

However, beside Noir, there was already a small shadow stuck close to him, though Vlad had not given permission.

It was a child with familiar green hair.

"What are you doing here?"

"..."

Looking at Vlad as he entered the stable, Charles was wearing a truly subtle expression.

It seemed like she was glad to see him, but from another angle, it also seemed like she was uncomfortable.

"How much does a horse like this cost?"

"Why? If you had the money, would you buy one?"

Taking the brush brought by the stable hand he had called, Vlad brushed Noir's coat without even looking at Charles beside him.

Noir had been on edge from the unfamiliar voyage, but at Vlad's care, felt for the first time in a while, he began rumbling like a dog.

"There are things you can't buy no matter how much money you pay. He's one of those."

"..."

It was a question that might have seemed rude, depending on how one looked at it, but she probably had not truly meant that she wanted to buy him.

She must have simply said it because she had nothing else to say.

Seeing the suffocating awkwardness between Vlad and Charles, Stefan quickly left the stable and gave them space.

"Is that woman all right? The one who was hit by the arrow."

"Ah."

Inside the stable, where only two people remained now.

Seeing Charles stubbornly refuse to leave even though he had given her a hint, Vlad realized the child had nowhere proper to go.

Because the look of someone unwelcome anywhere was all too familiar to Vlad.

"Marta is all right. She's gotten much better."

"Why don't you go nurse her, then?"

"They said she needs to rest. So I can't disturb her."

The woman named Marta was not the mother who had given birth to Charles, but the nurse who had raised her.

Since he had saved the only person she could emotionally rely on, it was understandable that Charles would hover near Vlad.

"The cloak. I'll return it to you."

"... Keep it for the time being. It only gets in the way during battle anyway."

Thinking of the woman who had been growing cold while holding the child in her arms, Vlad thought it was fortunate that she was safe.

She had no connection to him at all, but there was still a familiar image that came to mind from her.

Vlad hoped his cloak would help her even a little more.

"... This."

"What's that?"

The girl disguised as a boy handed Vlad a small necklace, as if she had agonized over it for a long time.

"I was taught that a token of sincerity must always be given seriously. Because Ravnoma must do so."

"..."

The brownish necklace Charles held out.

The necklace, which seemed to be made not of gold or silver but of brass, shone smoothly, as if it had been carefully polished even amid all that chaos.

"Why are you giving this to me?"

"Because you saved Marta. And me, too."

Charles remembered Vlad, who had offered himself as bait to save the group.

She also knew that if not for Vlad's sacrifice, she would likely be rolling cold across the wasteland by now.

The debt of having one's life saved was heavy, so Charles had resolved that even if she could not do it right now, she would at least make a promise.

"I don't have anything I can give you right now. But later, I will..."

"Put it away."

Throwing the brush he had been holding into a bucket, Vlad this time examined Noir's hooves and spoke bluntly.

"That's a keepsake, or a family heirloom, or something like that, right? I've decided I'm never taking anything like that again."

"..."

At a glance, it was an object that seemed to have a story behind it.

Leaving aside whether it was valuable or not, Vlad had decided that he would no longer readily accept such things.

The reason he was still avoiding Alicia here and there stemmed from that as well.

"And..."

Having finished checking even the hooves, Vlad placed a hand on Noir's sturdy flank and gave a small laugh.

They were nothing remarkable, yet when he tried to say them, a strange emotion filled him all the way to the edge of his chest.

To think the day would come when I would teach these words to someone else.

The ways of the world truly could not be known.

"... A knight must accept only rightful payment."

Words that could not help but be heavy because he had always carried them in his heart.

A knight must accept only rightful payment.

There had been someone who said that to a boy from the back alleys who had been nothing.

Through him, Vlad had confirmed the substance of his vague dream, and even now, chasing after him, he was looking up at the distant sky.

The arrow the boy had shot toward the blue moon was still flying toward the sky even now.

"I have already received rightful payment for this mission. So I won't accept payment from you."

"..."

Only now did Charles see Vlad turn toward her, and at the strange weight flowing from him, she shut her mouth.

A knight speaking of qualifications, and a girl who still did not even have the qualification to cry out that she was Ravnoma.

Charles naturally clenched the necklace she had held out once more.

For some reason, she felt vexed.

"... Still, I will definitely repay you later."

From a false knight to a boy of the back alleys.

And then again, to a girl who had nothing to give.

The knight's oath, carrying a strange resonance, continued to be passed on to someone like that.

* * *

"We will arrive in two days."

"Understood, Godin."

Deirmar was now close enough to see if one narrowed one's eyes.

There had been interference and obstruction enough to make him grind his teeth, but Sigmund had succeeded in bringing the main force without any serious trouble.

The fact that there were few deserters despite the rapid march showed Sigmund's outstanding command.

"We're a month late, but this much is still within expectations."

Sigmund's fierce smile was turned toward the north.

The place where his target and his purpose lay.

Looking at the black soil beneath his feet growing glossier and glossier, Sigmund could feel with his whole body that he was arriving at the place he had wanted.

"..."

Not the bleak wind of the West, but the fresh scent of summer.

Godin, too, quietly closed his eyes like Sigmund and felt the wind of Deirmar drawing near.

'That's right.'

Birdsong drifted faintly from far away.

Among them, Godin picked out the birdsong that struck his ears most clearly, and with a faint smile, opened the eyes he had closed.

'Cuckoos should call in summer.'

The sound of a cuckoo.

There had been the sound of a cuckoo on a winter day, announcing the beginning of a tenacious bond.

It had gone awry, but since they had merely brushed past each other, he had thought they would never meet again. Yet in the end, fate had turned and turned, and brought them face to face once more in this place.

"There are many things we need to go and retrieve. And some things we need to sever completely."

"That is correct, Count Gaidar."

The lord and the knight, thinking of the same thing, nodded at the same time.

The five-thousand-strong army of the western allied army.

Now they were taking their first step into the territory of Deirmar.