Chapter 116

Chapter 116

***

The rain fell drizzling. Plants and the earth got wet, and hearts seemed to get wet as well.

Rickart and the group took shelter from the rain in the forest. Under a wide rock jutting out long like an eaves, they lit a fire in a slightly hollowed area.

When it rains, moisture could cause things like potatoes and carrots to sprout, so vegetables had to be eaten quickly. So they roasted and ate whatever they could.

Elia and Becca sewed quietly, Rickart and his friends maintained their swords quietly, Bremen stared at the rain quietly, and Roy simply remained quiet.

Regrettably, they were no longer the Hartmann family. The only man in the family was Roy.

A somewhat heavy silence flowed, but Hartmann's wife and children didn't drown in sorrow. While it was partly due to their strong nature, truthfully it was because they couldn't afford to do so.

Life continues on, and reality is harsh.

That being said, his death was not without meaning. Because it impacted and left something behind for everyone who knew him, in one way or another.

The sound of falling rain, and the sound of the crackling campfire filled his empty spot.

Then suddenly Elia, who was sewing, spoke up.

"It was when I was fifteen. Waking up one morning, an unnamed flower was placed on my windowsill. Deep red petals with yellow stamens. When I asked my mother, she told me it was a camellia."

Speaking as if reminiscing past memories, everyone turned their ears to her words.

"That cold winter, without skipping a single day, every morning, a camellia was placed on my windowsill. I decided to stay awake all night wondering who brought the flowers, but always failed. Whenever I woke up, just as always, a camellia was placed on my windowsill."

"Did your father place it there?"

With sparkling eyes, Becca asked. But the answer was unexpected.

"No. When Mom was young, she was quite popular with the local men. It wasn't just one person who placed the camellias. Think of it as a village tradition to convey their feelings."

"......What is that."

"But the only one who didn't give me flowers was your father. That's why my curiosity was piqued. The one to first express feelings was me. When the camellia fell and bore fruit, I pressed oil. I gave it to your father."

"Is it a trend for girls to express their feelings recently? She also clung to him. She probably got dumped multiple times, right?"

Suddenly Bori said. Then Marie's face turned beet red and she glared at Bori as if wanting to kill him.

"Why are you bringing that up now?"

"No, well, listening to the story just reminded me of it......"

Too embarrassed, Marie looked ready to attack Bori as if to tear him apart. Rickart hurriedly stopped her.

"But still, the Master treats you well now, doesn't he? Right?"

Elia said to Marie. Though the journey leading up to it might have been arduous, after they got together, Rickart cherished and loved Marie from the bottom of his heart.

That was entirely visible when watching beside them while traveling together. On the outside they seemed like friend-like spouses, but looking deeply inside, deep affection could be felt.

Elia directed her words towards Roy again.

"Your father gave me everything. Dedicated everything, and on the day bandits attacked the village, he protected me instead of his family. So I was happy suffering all sorts of hardships as long as I was with him. The greatest man. And naturally, the greatest woman sticks by the greatest man. I want you, Roy, to become the greatest man."

Perhaps it was slightly teasing to call herself the greatest woman, but Elia smiled and shrugged her eyebrows when she said that part.

Was she trying to show a bright appearance to her child despite herself being covered in sorrow, or did she bury her sorrow in her heart and regain her positive energy?

"Defending the friend who framed you, even if it wasn't a wise choice, Mom doesn't resent you. The path to right beliefs is originally difficult. I always support you. No matter what happens, I'm on our son's side. Because later, Roy will become the greatest man like your father, a wonderful man like your Master."

Whether she was the greatest woman wasn't certain, but it seemed she was the greatest mother.

Roy didn't cry. He simply seemed to be contemplating something with his head bowed, or perhaps resolving himself.

"Thank you, Mother."

The boy who lost his father seemed to have undergone a shift in his atmosphere. He seemed to have many thoughts, resembling his somewhat taciturn father.

Rain fell. Hearts got wet. But it definitely wasn't miserable. The living people embraced their remaining lives while reminiscing the dead.

After the rain stopped, the group set off again. The Eastern Frontier was now a single goal. If there was no salvation there, they seemed full of determination to create salvation with their own hands.

The heavy burden his father carried was now carried by Roy. Though overwhelming for a 10-year-old child, he stubbornly refused Rickart's offers to carry it and carried his baggage himself.

What Rickart could do was resting frequently, and pondering how to teach him axe techniques from now on.

Roy wanted an axe over a sword. Not only to carry on his father's will, but because he surprisingly showed an incredible talent for it.

An axe is a sort of everyday practical tool, thus familiar to many people's hands, but utilizing it in actual combat was never an easy weapon.

Naturally so, because its striking point was very limited, making misses potentially fatal.

However, Roy handled the axe exceptionally well. Accurate strikes were one thing, but utilizing pulling, snapping, and centrifugal force even while missing was smooth and felt natural.

The explosive destructive power unleashed occasionally was something even an adult couldn't ignore, let alone a child.

If it were another master, encountering a disciple who chose a weapon besides the sword, they might have stopped them, scolded them, or given up teaching them. But Rickart was different.

As in Bori's case too, Rickart was quick to grasp the essence even regarding things he couldn't personally relate to.

Actually, Bori's early swordsmanship resembling writing letters was so bizarre that any ordinary master would have obviously prohibited it.

However, Rickart actively encouraged it, and helped Bori find his own path. Roy's case was somewhat similar.

An axe or a sword, ultimately isn't the final goal opposing enemies and killing them? Just as swords have pros and cons, the axe operates on the same principle.

Anyway, if one reaches the pinnacle, do they become an Axe Master instead of a Sword Master? Had there been such a case before?

"Turning past that peak is the road to Adelibari. Getting supplies there, and walking about a week is Torveil. It's the gateway heading to the Eastern Frontier. Whether we'll go all the way to Torveil at once or split the journey, let's decide once we reach Adelibari. Might as well gauge the surrounding vibes too."

While Rickart was lost in various thoughts, Bremen said pointing towards a peak far away.

More a gorge than a peak, anyway, it was an uphill path from where they were.

Beside the mountain path lay an imposing rock formation flat on top and rising vertically. From how the land was formed, something differed slightly from other regions of the Empire. Though the Pacina region was naturally like that anyway.

However, it was when they almost made it entirely out of the forest. Near the bushes, hearing some rustling they thought it might be some wild animal, yet surprisingly, brushing through the bushes emerged a green-skinned dwarf.

Standing only about an adult's pelvis high, with sharp teeth, pointy ears, and blood-red eyes. It was a goblin.

Encountering a goblin, the group was closer to utterly absurdly bewildered rather than surprised. Breaking from the scale of the ordinary beasts, in other words looking literally like a monster, they stared as if thinking 'what is this?'.

"Kieeeek!"

Rather, the one who was surprised was the goblin, letting out an unpleasant screech and hurriedly fleeing into the forest. Being in a rush, it ran on all fours.

"Did you just see that?"

Bori looked back at his friends and asked. Even though anyone with eyes would have clearly seen it, he seemed intent on sharing his surprise.

"Wandering goblins are frequently spotted around. Nothing much we should worry about."

Bremen said as if to relieve their worries.

But Rickart felt somewhat different. Before it became the Eastern Frontier, when it was the Eastern 'Expeditionary Zone', he had seen monsters frequently. So he knew monster behavior to some extent.

Babarians had even tamed trolls to mobilize in combat. However, 'taming' didn't mean luring with food or beating them up at that level.

Catching young trolls, driving thick iron nails into their bodies, hammering iron masks onto their faces, or chopping off their arms to attach iron chains—only through something beyond prolonged torture could humans barely command trolls.

Anyway, running into a goblin was seriously fishy in Rickart's eyes.

"No, when one or two show up, they must be eradicated. Like ants or cockroaches. Once they form a pack and start settling down in one place, they can't be touched later on."

Looking at individual goblins, they truly weren't much. Less threatening than wolves, barely fitting the title 'monster'.

However, digging holes and forming packs, and eventually establishing their own kingdom, from then on it was impossible for humans to subjugate them using any method.

Because they mostly settled in forests they possessed geographical advantages, and could produce and handle crude but fatal weapons and poisons, making them extremely dangerous.

In short, once they established roots, that land became a place humans could never use anymore.

"However, there's nothing we can do about it right now. The world is so chaotic, perhaps that's why such things are twisting themselves in."

Bremen said with a self-deprecating tone.

Though bitter, his words were true. In times like these, who would spend their own money and field their own troops to hunt down monsters. Everyone's busy just protecting themselves.

"A larger price will be paid later, won't it."

Rickart said. And walked silently.

Laboriously reaching the ridge, a great spectacle unfolded before their eyes. Across the northwest and southwest respectively stretched continuous parallel mountain ranges, framing plain lands in between. It looked exactly like a road fashioned by the gods.

The plain between the mountain ranges wasn't very narrow, and numerous streams cascading from the mountains merged into a thick river, vigorously pressing forward.

Moreover, because of the rain the previous day, the un-dried moisture caught the sunlight and sparkled, filling the entire world. It was a sight so beautiful it made one dizzy.

However, while nature presented an incredible spectacle, looking deeply inside, it was bleak. Because on nearly every peak of the mountain range lay mountain strongholds. Far away, there were already three flags visible to the eye.

Put another way, it meant each peak had different owners, meaning the so-called 'tolls' would have to be paid respectively.

"They are men who used to be soldiers for Adelorn border lords. There's some I have ties with, so let's try heading over to them first."

Bremen said.

The plains stretching as refreshingly as the gods' road was exactly the border zone of the Adelorn Kingdom.

Adelorn had been in a civil war state for a few years starting with the peasant uprisings, and according to rumors going around, more than half the kingdom's population had perished.

Since there were no separate statistics, knowing the exact scale of damages was impossible, but seeing everyone calling it a hell among men, it didn't seem like an exaggeration.

If refugees were included, one even had to doubt if any people remained in the kingdom.

Mercenaries from all over the Empire gathered, devoid of decent strategies or tactics, facing a lack of figures with leadership capable of leading people. Simply killing, being killed, and plundering under the Empire's indifference resulted in reaching this state.

It was now to the point where there was nothing left to loot even if they wanted to. They had stripped everything right down to digging up graves to take gold teeth and rings.

Regardless, the group followed Bremen across. Forgoing comfortable roads, they walked along the ridges first. Because comfortable roads were naturally dangerous.

Walking along the ridge, they arrived at a mountain stronghold where a flag depicting a wolf's shape on a black background fluttered. A makeshift checkpoint blocked the path, and spearmen guarded it closely.

As the group approached, they didn't vigilantly stand on guard but merely watched quietly from above the wooden palisade.

Bremen stepped forward and spoke.

"20 years ago, I served in the Crown Mercenaries! I participated in the Battle of Lacona and have come to meet an old comrade, so open the path!"

Then one soldier who had been blankly looking at the group from the wooden palisade went somewhere.

Before long, a veteran soldier covered in deep wrinkles climbed up the palisade, examined the group, and exactly recognized Bremen.

He gave a wide smile and said.

"Hey, Bremen my man, here, running your mouth about mercenaries could get you killed. Hey, open the gates."

At a single word from the veteran, the gates opened, and the group entered the stronghold, momentarily questioning if this was right.

Inside, however, things were considerably well-ordered. For something hastily thrown together by human hands, its tactical layout was quite excellent.

Though military discipline wasn't strictly enforced, their eyes alone set them apart from common mountain bandits.

Bremen and the veteran soldier hugged each other laughing, exchanging a few rough pleasantries.

"Still acting as a guide?"

"I told you. Now I don't know what else I can do to make a living besides it."

"We said we'd take you in."

"Fighting battles at this age is a joke. I'd only be dragging the young soldiers down."

"It's hardly battles. Extracting tolls or driving outsiders away is everything."

Still appearing reluctant, Bremen shook his head with an awkward smile. The veteran soldier also stopped urging him further.

"Anyway, did you pass through Pacina coming here?"

"I did."

"By any chance, did you hear the rumors? They say the Lector Mercenaries got beaten terribly by three Sword Masters. Is it true? Heard anything about that?"

The Lector Mercenaries were precisely the people the Rubens Clan had hired. Surprisingly, however, rumors regarding the mercenaries getting crushed spread wider than the annihilation of the Rubens Clan.

The destruction of the Rubens Clan remained almost a mysterious incident, but the defeat of the mercenaries had many survivors and was a truly startling event.

According to common sense, three people solely fighting a mercenary company made zero sense. Shouldn't Sword Masters be capable of such things? Yes, but a swordsman's fight and a real battle had different natures.

Like how a mighty shark holds no power on land, depending on the type of battle, battlefield situation, and environment, how much efficiency could be utilized drastically varied.

Roughly 4 years ago, among the two Sword Masters dispatched by the Empire, one died to an arrow, while the other ran away without even participating in the battle.

Thus everyone knew Sword Masters were amazing, but there were many skeptical viewpoints regarding whether they actually proved useful in real combat.

Ultimately a battle is a fight between groups and organizations, using every conceivable method in order to win.

Not a fair duel between swords, but depending on castle walls, bows, crossbows, spears, knights, exploiting diverse weaponry and troop classes, combined with utilizing all sorts of petty tactics; that was battle.

Most of all, amid tremendous battlefield noise and a chaotic war zone, achieving much individually by relying purely on swordsmanship was extremely tough.

If used tactically wrong, no matter the Sword Master, they were merely a slightly capable fighting infantryman.

Hearing the old comrade's words, Bremen looked around at Rickart, Marie, and Bori. Then the veteran soldier's eyes naturally headed towards Rickart's side as well.

No one spoke. Following a brief moment of silence, the veteran soldier let out a snicker and said.

"Hey, what a lie."

It was a phrase carrying two meanings. Whether only three people truly defeating the Lector Mercenaries was true after all, or if it indeed happened and the people standing right here were the protagonists.

Greeting him would have been nice, yet the silence continued persistently.

"Hey, I said, don't lie to me."

Rickart, Marie, and Bori said absolutely nothing, yet were continuously framed as liars.