Chapter 125

Chapter 125

***

How strong can one person become. What can they achieve, and how much can they bear.

That was a question destiny tossed only to special people. To those so very special they numbered only a few in the entirety of human history.

Rickart splashed his body into the valley stream. A thick bloody color spread in the clear valley water and washed away with the flow.

After submerging himself up to the top of his head for quite a long time, he soared back up, looking neat.

Rickart splashed water onto his face, swept his hair back, and roughly scrubbed his body with his hands. Finally he swept his hair back once more and came out of the water.

A few Adelorn soldiers wearing swords on their waists and leaning on spears expressionlessly stared at the naked Rickart.

Without any special training, a body simply tempered by life looked solid and tough. It looked perfect for performing battles, not a cultivated body but one adapted to the harsh wilderness.

When a soldier brought a large towel, Rickart took it and dried his body. Then wearing a thin white shirt and pants, he fastened a belt, put on socks for nobles, and wore boots.

Because his not entirely dried hair was still swept all the way back, his straight forehead and sharp bridge of his nose stood out exceptionally more.

Sunlight fell on his head making his blond hair sparkle. His pupils momentarily gave off a blue or green hue, then seemed brownish too.

Including Rickart and the soldiers around him, the burly adult men maintained their silence. Only the sound of a woodpecker pecking wood from somewhere far away, and the chirping of birds could be heard.

Was he thinking for a moment, or enjoying the sunlight. Rickart seemed to be looking somewhere beyond the forest.

To such Rickart, a ranger crunched forward and spoke.

"The residents of a village called Gespell request an audience."

Rickart didn't answer and seemed to ponder quietly with his head bowed, then followed the ranger.

Then a soldier handed over Rickart's sword, and Rickart took the sword, held it in his left hand, and walked.

The place the ranger guided him to was a narrow clearing, where four or five commoners filled with terror were kneeling.

They were busy looking back at the soldiers surrounding them with wide eyes. Because they knew that those armed men could kill them all if they set their minds to it.

The people flinched at even the trivial, small movements of the soldiers. That's how anxious and terrified they seemed.

Then as Rickart appeared, they were greatly startled and bowed their heads as if burying their faces in the ground.

Rickart looked at these naked and starving people for a moment before speaking. His voice was weighty yet clear.

"Raise your heads. And tell me what is the matter."

Then the people slowly raised their heads while reading the room. One man swallowed dry saliva several times before speaking.

"M-M-My lord, mercenaries, bandits came, killed people and s-stole our property. S-Stole sheep too, stole cows too, pigs too, and...... my wife and daughter too......"

While speaking, the man whimpered and his expression contorted. Choked with emotion, he couldn't continue. Rickart didn't rush him and merely waited. He didn't offer hasty consolation either.

"For a moment, for a moment, I went out to the field to let the cow graze and came back, but t-that, my wife's pelvis was all shattered, and my daughter is ten years old, but, that......"

Stories so terrible it was hard to bear listening to them flowed from the man's mouth. Not just that man, but the stories of the people who came to see Rickart were all similar.

Having their property stolen and the foundation of their lives ruined was at least, at least better. What they couldn't endure was because of what happened to their families, and themselves.

Among the people who came to meet Rickart, there was also a woman who barely survived after suffering terrible abuse. She had several unhealed knife scars on her face.

It was actually better when the mercenaries were grouped as 5,000. When Rickart smashed them, the scattered mercenaries committed cruel acts here and there.

If it were land guarded by a lord it would be a different story, but there were many people in the world who didn't receive a lord's protection.

There were slash-and-burn farmers, or those not registered in the ledgers in the first place, or even if they were, those in remote areas where a lord's influence couldn't reach.

Since it was near the border, there were many such villages. The mercenaries went to such places, plundered at random, killed, and committed acts even worse than that.

The reason they did such things was because they grew addicted to cruel and terrible stimulation. The civil war in Adelorn had been going on for 4 years. How much had they plundered during that time.

When they became so addicted to plundering that it solidified as their life, the truth was it was hard for such humans to return to normal. That's why Rickart didn't hire the mercenaries who were under Grantz.

Partially because those bastards were bad guys, but also because soldiers addicted to plundering wouldn't be satisfied with other rewards and only cared about the sacrificial food, so their combat power dropped as well.

Not all mercenaries were bad people. Some people earned enough money and returned to their hometowns, and some met lovers on the battlefield, started a family, and settled there.

Whether it was a pitiful or sad thing, the mercenaries under the 'Invincible' Grantz were far from that.

Because, to maintain his own power, Grantz continuously allowed pillaging.

There were also types of pillaging. One was a kind of scorched-earth tactic, swiftly massacring, destroying, and taking everything, and the other was a sort of festival to relieve stress.

Which is relatively better, and which is worse was a meaningless question. And strictly distinguishing the two was difficult as well.

Rickart knew all these terrible tragedies all too well. He understood it deep in his bones better than anyone else. The darkest sides of human nature.

Right now, he was merely raising his head in that deep darkness and looking at the light.

Rickart quietly listened to everything the people said, and asked like this.

"What do you want from me?"

Then the man spoke as a representative. He mumbled his mouth as if swallowing tears before speaking.

"Justice......"

It was an expected answer. Because the people who came to meet Rickart weren't the first.

Those plundered by mercenaries wanted neither money nor food. Without exception, they all wanted revenge, justice.

"Understood. I promise. I will catch the culprits and definitely tear them apart. Through that, I hope peace dwells even a little in you and the dead."

And he gave instructions to the ranger.

"Tell Lester to track the mercenaries. Have him grasp the numbers first, if there are many enemies don't snipe them, return and inform Herbert. Then annihilate them with a pincer movement. Capture a few bastards, drag them before these people, and tear their limbs apart to kill them."

"Yes."

The ranger answered bluntly and disappeared into the forest again.

Rickart looked back once at those consumed by sorrow, pain, hatred, and despair, then turned and walked away without offering any words.

Behind his back, voices saying thank you, thank you, my lord, settled on his shoulders like sad petals.

Sunlight squeezed through the chaotically tangled branches and fell in straight lines onto the forest. Passing those rays of light, Rickart reached a forest path, where a horse was tied.

The soldiers who were guarding the horse and waiting looked back at Rickart.

There, Rickart formally equipped his travel gear. He wore his tunic, put on his gambeson and cape.

Some food and first-aid medicine were strapped to the saddle, and a blanket was tied behind the saddle. Rickart wore his sword on his waist and mounted the horse.

And looking back at the soldiers, he said.

"Please tell Marie I'll be back shortly."

"Understood."

After saying that, Rickart spurred the horse and rode off.

The place Rickart was currently heading to was Beringen, the capital of the Beringen Margraviate. He was going to meet Karlish, who served as the principal there, where the academy was located.

Because Rickart himself thought the previous event was an incomplete victory. Since his original initial goal was to kill them all.

Because he couldn't kill them all, he thought the terrible chaos like now was brought about.

Therefore, Rickart needed more money, more food, and more troops. The power to completely put an end to this war.

Exiting the forest, the familiar plains unfolded. A lake could be seen far away, and a village could be seen too. And a red flag clearly visible even from afar fluttered in the village.

That wasn't hung by Rickart, but by the villagers.

Like an amulet to ward off ghosts, it was meant to inform wicked mercenaries or bandits. A warning that if they committed wicked deeds here, justice would be realized by the Red Prince.

Dililgently riding along the road for about a day, resting and riding repeatedly, Rickart reached the fork leading to Torveil and Beringen around early evening.

He had been to both places. One side was where the academy was located, and the other was heading toward the Eastern Frontier.

And, it was also the path he had passed with his friends in the past while returning to the academy after completing the deserter quest.

Memories of the past naturally came to mind, but he had no leisure to soak in sentiments. Because the edge of the western sky was being dyed purple like gentian flowers.

Rickart headed to the abandoned house where he had stayed with his friends 7 or 8 years ago. Heading there, the faces of his old friends flickered before his eyes.

And the memory naturally led to the deserter who had miserably ended his own life. Unlike the great shock he received back then, now he felt just calm.

Had he grown, or had he become dull. He couldn't tell.

Arriving at the abandoned house, he tied the reins under the eaves and untied the blanket. And after drawing water from the well with a bucket, he first slightly checked the smell and taste, then fed plenty to the horse.

He brought out a carrot from the saddle to feed it, let it graze on grass, and stroked its mane and neck for a long time.

"You've worked hard."

Rickart consoled the horse that had struggled all day, and entered the abandoned house carrying some snacks and the blanket.

There was no one inside, merely pitch-black darkness, cobwebs nesting in corners, thick silence, and past memories piled with dust.

He lit a fire and soaked his hardened travel rations pickled with honey, salt, and various things in water before eating. After that, he sat leaning against the wall, covered himself with the blanket, and closed his eyes.

Then a friend called loneliness, whom he had forgotten for a long time, visited. He asked like this. Friend, are you happy now?

Rickart smiled quietly and merely asked back. What does it look like to you? There was no answer returned.

His consciousness briefly blurred, and upon opening his eyes, the morning sunlight welcomed him. It had been a long time since the campfire had gone black and cold, and the area around his mouth was cold, but it was fine.

Rickart went outside while chewing jerky. He fed water to the horse again, fed it a carrot, rolled up the blanket, tied it behind the saddle, and mounted.

After turning the reins to set the direction, he set out on the road. The refreshing fields, the wind brushing the grass, and the colorful spring flowers Bori liked entered his eyes.

Departing in the morning, he arrived at Beringen around noon. The familiar scenery unfolded before his eyes. Students walking around wearing dark blue uniforms could also be seen.

From atop his horse, Rickart closely observed them from afar. Seeing bright smiles blooming, it didn't seem they were spending a depressing academy life like in the past.

Although Rickart himself was the one who provided the soil for those smiles to bloom, he didn't think he achieved it himself. He didn't even recognize it. He merely considered it fortunate. The chicken coop was now just a memory too.

In the end, it was just similar work. Whether it was fighting a war now, or struggling to make the academy a better place in the past.

Rickart first headed to the place where the Adventurers' Guild headquarters used to be. But now there was no Adventurers' Guild, merely a tavern frequently visited by students.

Rickart asked the female students passing by nearby. The students were wearing swords on their waists in attire similar to Marie's in the past. Dueling gambesons, short capes, and long boots.

"Hey there, students. What happened to the Adventurers' Guild?"

"......Pardon? Me? I don't really know? Was there such a thing?"

"......"

Only a few years had passed, but how could they not know.

But as long as graduates are produced every year and new students enter, much time wasn't needed. Just two years was enough to forget something.

Rickart felt bewildered by something somewhat familiar yet changed.

The female students giggled amongst themselves. Since they were at an age where they laughed just seeing a falling leaf, there was no special meaning.

"Were you an adventurer?"

A female student asked carrying a smile.

"I was."

"Do you have a clan?"

"Well, I guess I'm still affiliated with the Viola Clan for now."

Although he hadn't parted with Bolka very pleasantly, it didn't mean he was expelled from or left the clan. Roy's family was expelled, and Rickart merely followed them.

But at Rickart's answer, the expressions of the female student and her friends suddenly hardened. And they instantly revealed hostility.

"Hey, mister. Is provoking like this trendy these days?"

"......What is?"

"Hmph, get off your horse first. You seem to be a formal swordsman, but don't think we'll be scared by that."

What are they talking about? Rickart was puzzled, not understanding the context. Is the relationship between the academy and the Viola Clan bad?

"Calm down first. I didn't come to cause any harm or trouble. I just came to meet Karli, Karlish. Since I heard he's the principal here."

"We'll see about that. Senior! Senior!"

One of the female students shouted toward the inside of the tavern. And as she yelled something about the Viola Clan, students poured out from inside. Everyone was holding swords at their waists or in one hand. Though not drawn, they were poised to draw them at any moment.

Male and female students surrounded Rickart. Rickart was so dumbfounded he lost his words. He didn't want to draw his sword against students.

But there was one female student coming out of the tavern belatedly. She had cute facial features with brown bobbed hair.

With a straight posture and relaxed demeanor she looked at the students, then raised her chin and looked up at Rickart. However, the moment her eyes met Rickart's, her expression froze solid.

"Huh?"

Rickart widened his eyes at the face he felt he had seen somewhere. Then the female student blinked her eyes repeatedly, smiled awkwardly, and said.

"Ahaha, ha...... Hello? Long time no see."

Her teeth revealed while smiling had an upper tooth made of gold. She was none other than Regina, who had been slapped by Marie in Ernberg.

Had she turned over a new leaf? Or was she harboring a grudge? Her impression looked much better than back then though.