Chapter 138

Chapter 138

***

The Benicio Merchant Guild poured their heart and soul into crafting Rickart's equipment in order to pay even a little less in the remainder.

For Rickart, it was good because they made it nicely, for the blacksmith, it was good because he could show off his skills to his heart's content without worrying about production costs, and for the guild's perspective, it was good because they could reduce the remainder, so it was good for everyone.

To Rickart, it was fascinating that despite pursuing each other's interests, they didn't collide and everyone could feel good together.

On the other hand, he felt he had caught a glimpse of the secret to how peace was maintained in Tyzis. So it could be like this too.

Rickart couldn't say he hadn't had a tendency to look down on pursuing personal interests all this while; because the foundation of his identity was heavily influenced by his father, he considered acting honorably important even if he wasn't a knight.

However, although they said they crafted it as fast as possible since time is money, it took more than a week.

Regardless, having all the gear crafted and putting them on, this thought occurred to him. I didn't want it to be this flashy though.

Of course, while staying true to functionality, it was engraved everywhere as if the artisan's craftsmanship was alive.

Overall, the armor took the shape of a mix between the Ancient style and the Northern Viking style.

On the shoulders, the God of Thunder with his stiff beard standing straight glared as if enraged, on the arm guards, eagles with spread wings, and on the shin guards, lightning bolts were engraved meaning to run fast.

The lower body was a belt armor, so multiple layers of dangling leather straps were attached to the belt, and iron pieces with runic letters engraved on them were attached; the letters symbolized things like bravery, strength, and luck in war respectively.

The helmet was a nose-guard helmet with an open ear form, and it had stiff red tassels rising upwards attached to it, like the helmets of Ancient Imperial people.

With all of these gold-plated, they glittered brightly catching the sunlight, and the cape and the surcoat were also a flashy red.

It was a good thing he covered it with the surcoat at least; if he hadn't, it would have been hard to carry his face around.

Besides that, gathering a tunic made of the finest quality silk, comfortable and sturdy leather shoes, and horse gear protecting only up to the head and chest of the horse with iron plates, he was able to receive 80 gold coins as the remainder.

How much would it have been had he taken all this solely in money, a thought crossed his mind, but regardless it was a satisfactory result for everyone.

As the transaction was smoothly accomplished and the contract finalized, the merchant smiled across his entire face and said.

"If you had said so earlier I would have given you a slight discount though. Hahaha."

He bantered casually on a topic where the trade was already completely over. Knowing it was just a sound meant to be pleasing to hear, Rickart brushed it off.

"News from Adelorn will require waiting a few days it seems. As I hurriedly checked with headquarters, it seems the Invincible Grantz is gathering an alliance. Since the Princess Consort is so benevolent she has deep trust, and starting with the Black Sword heroes are assisting her, so you probably don't need to worry for the time being."

Because the Benicio Merchant Guild originally rooted from war merchants, they seemed to find out news concerning wars relatively quickly in their own way. By the way, Princess Consort he says, it was practically putting gold paint on Rickart's face.

"Right now our transaction was smoothly accomplished so we concluded with smiles, but I hope we don't meet as enemies."

Rickart spoke calmly with a warning tone. For no other reason than because war merchants tended to stick to the side that makes money whichever it is, they could also stick to the enemy's side.

"Would there be an alternative. Please remember that it is exactly our Benicio Merchant Guild that can supply the best goods the quickest whenever you just call us. With the Prince's fame resounding even to the Holy City and the desert, picking a side is not difficult for us."

To them, the main agent of war was always the most magnificent customer. So contrary to the gaze wondering what kind of bastard this was when they first met, the merchant right now let his eyes shine brightly as if he might even kiss Rickart.

Of course Rickart didn't believe all this kind of sugarcoating verbatim.

Nevertheless, the past trade wasn't too bad, and because a war merchant was annoying yet always a necessary existence, he didn't say anything. There was nothing bad about cultivating the relationship well.

"Seeing the merchant guild still surviving and prospering thus far, you must have chosen sides well all this time. Try answering honestly like when we first met. Do you think I'll win, or do you think I'll lose?"

Then the merchant smiled slyly and said like this.

"Humans merely do all that they can do, and the result is what God decides."

The merchant subtly dodged the answer. But it wasn't a wrong statement either. So Rickart ended up chuckling.

"I will go. It was a good trade."

"It is Paolo. Contact our merchant guild anytime and give my name, and I will run right over."

Perhaps because he was a potential big customer, the Benicio merchant named Paolo actively appealed to him.

Indeed, merchants often served as a monarch's personal secretary or treasurer. Whether for the merchant guild, or for himself, looking good to Rickart was never bad.

"Just wish me luck in war."

"I have been wishing you that from the beginning."

Rickart shook his head and mounted his horse.

By the way, mounted on the completely red horse while donning flashy armor and a red surcoat and cape, he looked like the most honorable person in Tyzis where wealth was precisely honor.

Hashim, already wearing a turban and dressed like a Salaman noble, was waiting on a horse.

Rickart pulled the spare horses, passed the ancient triumphal arch, and left Tyzis.

Tyzis was a place where heterogeneous people from one another coexisted. He merely thought it was an impossible thing, but Rickart saw hope there.

Hope that everyone could get along well, that is.

Leaving Tyzis and riding straight west along the coast while switching horses, he could reach the End of the World in two days without overworking that much.

An ocean spread out with not a single island, where krakens and dragons lived and where it was said they ate people.

However, turning his gaze to the north, far away, another continent was visible even with his eyes. It was truly the End of the World.

At the very ends of both straits, bizarre-looking mountains soared high. One side was a vertical cliff while the other side was shaped as if cut cleanly with a slanted knife. Exactly like a lump of cheese.

People called these the two pillars supporting the world. Both weren't that big a mountain though.

Anyway, the two opposing ends of the continents naturally had developed cities.

Since the Sinatria land had no overwhelming powerhouse, and was split into various factions where large and small wars never ceased constantly, there were many people doing business targeting them.

In other words, one side was the consumption region and one side was the supply region.

Because there were always many people wanting to cross the strait, Rickart also got on a ship with Hashim and crossed the strait instantly.

At last, he set foot on the land he was born on. Looking behind, the lands he had passed through all this while could be seen on the opposite side. He pointlessly felt odd.

Somehow, it was that kind of feeling, where it's so close yet even if you stretch your hand you can never reach it forever.

"Let's follow the coastline. The inland is hot and dry and the terrain is high, but the coastline is cool and good for running horses."

Hashim said. He seemed to guess that somehow the end of the journey was approaching.

Actually, from the moment he obtained the crystal flower, his journey to regain lost memories was practically over anyway. Yet the crystal flower remained inside the glass bottle just as before.

He seemed to have many thoughts in mind, but Rickart didn't particularly ask. If there was one thing he learned from him there would be various things, but one clear thing was that a mage wasn't that repulsive.

"Let's go."

Rickart said.

It was the point exactly twenty days had passed since departing Adelorn. The sun was warm and the breeze was refreshing. The End of the World was like that.

Sinatria's eastern beach was truly the most beautiful beach in the world. Pure white fine sand was laid out, and the seawater was emerald colored.

However, while riding straight up north, he encountered people traveling south carrying packed baggage compactly. They were none other than refugees fleeing war.

Most looked similar to Tyzistans, and there were also Franken people. With eyes full of fear, they looked up at Rickart clad in an excessively flashy armament.

The stark contrast between the two was to the point it looked like different species rather than exactly the same humans.

The beautiful waves crashing onto the beach were exactly like comforting hands, yet they couldn't reach the people.

Rickart hung his helmet and lance on the saddle, and merely watched them with his face revealed.

The refugees, gathered in small groups, headed south as if snapping continuously, but no matter how far north he went, they were endlessly seen. Exactly like flowing tears.

Rickart locked eyes with an innocent baby held in its mother's embrace. Thinking of the future that would unfold before that baby, he couldn't smile for it without a thought.

Meanwhile, while in the midst of riding north, he encountered a group of people riding horses.

They were scanning through the refugees, and indeed they were exactly looking for pretty women or people carrying things worth snatching.

Seeing Rickart from afar, they stopped their horses. And they seemed to scan him closely, tilting their heads this way and that.

A few stayed still in their spots, and one person rode over this way. He was someone wearing a somewhat longish helmet upwards, dressed in chainmail armor with Salaman-style cloth padded over it.

He looked back and forth between Rickart and Hashim before saying this.

"Who are you, sir, and where are you from?"

"I am Rickart from Stormhearts. As we are waging a war in Adelorn, I have come to request the support of the Flame Knights."

As always, Rickart's honest words were hard for the other party to believe readily. Indeed, because Adelorn and Sinatria were exactly at the opposite ends of the Empire.

People who didn't know wouldn't even know where Adelorn was, or had never even heard of it to begin with.

"A knight of the Empire?"

"I am not a knight but it's safe to see me as such."

"Is that so? It seems anyone can impersonate a knight in the Empire of the Franken people? Regardless, you're riding a good horse. It's my first time seeing a horse this bright red. Is it okay if we take it for a ride?"

It seemed they were gradually probing him. Rickart knew this kind of probing behavior well. Seeing if this bastard was an easy guy to mess with, or not. Whether he was merely flashy on the outside, or also had substance.

Rickart took a breath through his nose once and said.

"If you're thinking of probing, drop it. Who are you by the way?"

"We are knights of Valensha. We serve the Amir. I mean, you are an outsider in this land, is what this means. Do you understand?"

"So?"

"What do you mean so. Can't you see my comrades standing behind me? It seems you don't understand what someone is saying."

"The one who doesn't understand what someone is saying is you. If you mean to test me you must risk your life, otherwise get lost."

Rickart glared chillingly and warned. Then he smiled slyly and said this.

"We will see when we fight."

At the same time, he sent a hand signal toward his comrades in the back. Then he turned his horse's head first and opened some distance from Rickart.

As several horses moved busily from near and far, clip-clop, clip-clop sounds started being heard confusingly. And they drew their weapons.

Swung things like spears and curved swords, and ropes with weights attached to the end in circles.

As the situation unfolded, Rickart also grabbed his lance and dashed forward forcefully. Hashim stuck to their side to protect the people from horses, and the people on their evacuation journey stopped their steps and watched.

Three Salaman knights came galloping toward Rickart, and the bastard who had been probing changed direction from the flank and came galloping back.

But they realized too late that the speed of the red horse was too fast. Fighting atop a horse requires timing like life itself, but their initiative was snatched.

Rickart crouched his upper body forward on the red horse charging like a laser, pulled the lance tight to his body, and aimed it forward.

It was an exceptionally fine horse anyway, but as Rickart slightly lifted his buttocks off the saddle and held steadfastly firm with his thigh strength, there was absolutely no waver on the tip of the lance.

Clatter! Clatter! Clatter! Clatter!

"Aaghh!"

Thwack!

In the blink of an eye, the chest of the person at the far left was pierced by the lance and he flew backwards. The horse, having lost its master, kept running forward.

As the startled remaining two looked back, unbelievably, a blade gleamed right before the eyes of one person. Rickart had changed his direction in that instant and stuck close behind.

Crunch!

His head was split alongside the helmet, and the person who was holding the rope with the weight was panic-stricken and let go of the rope in his hand, flailing his arms. Being so startled he couldn't even defend himself properly.

Rickart's sword, having split a head, without losing power, sliced through the body and struck his head. In other words, he killed two people with a single slash of his blade.

Thwack!

The headless body kept running forward while still riding the horse, and the severed head fell to the ground and rolled messily.

The knight who initially picked a fight with Rickart and came galloping from the flank saw that sight, got utterly shocked, and hurriedly pulled his reins.

There should be limits to good skill, and because he hadn't even dreamed he'd be at this level, this situation occurred.

Moreover, there is something people riding horses always subconsciously let their guard down about, and that is thinking they can live anytime if they run away. Because they are riding a horse.

However, before he could run far, Rickart sheathed his sword perfectly back into the scabbard with practiced hand movements, ran to the person who died with a lance pierced through his chest, pulled out the lance, and forcefully threw it.

The lance drew a low parabolic arc, stretched out almost in a straight line, and pierced exactly into the back of the bastard who had just turned his back trying to escape.

Thwack!

"Aagg!"

Due to the power loaded on the lance, his body folded forward as he face-planted, falling off the horse miserably.

Having dispatched four Salaman knights in the blink of an eye, Rickart's breath didn't even get rough. He merely looked around the somewhat messy scene with leisure.

The quick-witted Hashim was bringing the two horses that ran after losing their masters after sorting them out.

Turning back to the refugees, everyone was looking at Rickart blankly with their mouths gaping open foolishly.

Hashim said to Rickart.

"In difficult times, dung flies buzz around, you know."

"I know. Very well."

Rickart approached the person who died with a lance lodged in his back, and pulled the lance out again. Being a well-made lance there were no bent parts, and the spearhead remained sharp. Although blood flowed, he could just wipe it off.

Leaving the scene unattended, Rickart packed only the two horses and headed north along the coastline again.

However, the refugees started to tag along behind. At first, only the people who witnessed that astonishing sight followed, but later as people gathered to follow, there were people who followed aimlessly.

In difficult times dung flies might buzz around, but a hero invariably gets born as well.

And the people were able to recognize a hero better than anyone else. Because in the dark night, the stars shone exceptionally bright anyway.