Chapter 86

Chapter 86

***

It was like a light cutting through the darkness. Such was the blade of a Sword Master. As if slicing off a piece of the night, a purple flash gleamed vividly, neither too bright nor too dim.

"Ohhh..."

Rickart, who was camping out for the first time in a long while, sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Marie by the campfire and marveled at her sword.

To be honest, his admiration wasn't because it was particularly grand, but simply because it was fascinating to witness. As the first Sword Master in his previous life, he himself had produced golden flames from his blade, but seeing someone close to him become a Sword Master was a novel experience.

Marie sheepishly withdrew the light and sheathed her sword.

"How does it feel?" Rickart asked.

"I'm not sure. It's just... why didn't I know about this until now? That's the feeling. It's as if I was born with an extra limb I didn't know about, and I've only just realized it."

"So even though you've become a Sword Master, you don't actually know how it happened?"

"No."

"Then it's just a very sharp sword."

"Yes, exactly. That's what I think too."

Rickart and Marie seemed to treat being a Sword Master as something trivial. But conversely, perhaps the people of the world overvalued it.

A Sword Master also felt hunger and fatigue, was made of flesh and bone, could be wounded by a blade, and could die just like anyone else.

Nevertheless, there were two reasons why people held them in such high regard.

First, in an era where the quality of iron was inconsistent, swords were difficult to use on the battlefield. It was common for a sword to break after just one or two swings, so they were mostly used as secondary weapons.

In such an environment, if someone held a sword that could slice through armor and shields like cheese, that alone was an incredible ability.

The second reason was that someone had set a monumenal precedent—the first Sword Master, Ricky.

People who had experienced Ricky vaguely thought: 'Ah, once you become a Sword Master, you can defeat the Emperor's elite army single-handedly and become invincible.'

But if someone were to travel back in time and ask that Ricky how he was so strong, he might answer like this:

"In my opinion, the important thing is knowing how to use yourself as a chess piece. If you can read the overall board of the battle and deploy yourself appropriately, you can wield great power even if you aren't a Sword Master. But what if a Sword Master does that? By then, they're practically an army unto themselves."

"That sounds like you're saying it's only the beginning, even after becoming a Sword Master," Rickart said to Marie.

"First, what is the goal? Second, how will you win? Third, how will you fight? It sounds obvious, but I've hardly seen anyone who actually takes this to heart and executes it. Except for Caldebert."

"Huh?"

Marie was puzzled by the name. In truth, it wasn't the first time she had heard it, but she hadn't realized that the 'Caldebert' Rickart mentioned was the legendary knight from over a hundred years ago.

"Ah, just someone I know. Anyway, everything starts from these three principles. First, what is our goal?"

"To kill Lucky Lucignan."

"And after that?"

"How to win? Hmm, shouldn't we just cut his head off?"

"Now, now, that's not it. You have to think about the opponent. First, this guy is an outsider. Even if he's gathered troops, there won't be many, and their discipline will be terrible. Moreover, do you think those following him are loyal?"

Rickart spoke like a teacher. When it came to swordsmanship, he often spoke in vague terms that were hard to understand, but now he was perfectly clear.

So Marie listened intently, fully immersed.

"No."

"Then we don't necessarily have to fight all the troops he's gathered. Those who gather easily, scatter easily."

"So then how?"

"That's the second question: how to win. Always keep this in mind: start with observation. No matter how many opponents there are or how strong they are, you must observe first. You should obtain as much information as possible, quickly and accurately. This is something that improves with practice."

At Rickart's detailed explanation, Marie stared blankly at her fiancé.

"What?"

"...How do you know all this, Professor?"

"I wonder."

"Anyway, how is your chest?"

"The same. It hurts when I take a deep breath."

"Shouldn't we go see that Doctor Reno?"

"Visiting the main house is a bit..."

"Why?"

"It's just uncomfortable. And he's not a doctor; he's a scholar. It would be better to ask a real doctor later."

Marie stared at Rickart once more. This time, her gaze was different. Rickart could read what she was thinking from her expression.

Marie still wanted to go see Doctor Reno. But would this stubborn man listen if she said so? And bringing it up now might lead to an argument.

Marie knew this, and Rickart knew it too. A peculiar silence followed.

"Alright. Let's stop by for a bit after our task is finished," Marie said with a grin.

"Your father said so, after all. I'm not the one forcing you."

"Yeah, yeah."

Rickart nodded in agreement.

He wondered if she wasn't worried about his health. And they were going to kill a man who scammed and threatened noble lords.

Beyond being reckless, it was quite remarkable. How could he be like this? But Marie liked that about Rickart.

While an ordinary person would have made a fuss or become discouraged and despondent, he simply acted with equanimity.

She felt that because of this, even misfortune could not truly trouble him.

Marie naturally nestled into Rickart's embrace and said the opposite of what she was feeling.

"Fool."

"Suddenly?"

"Fool."

"Yeah, well, I suppose I might be."

Rickart pulled her closer. It was a cold autumn night, but as they sat by the fire and held each other, they didn't have time to feel the chill.

Since Lucignan had been making threats and scamming people everywhere, finding him wasn't difficult.

They were on the road heading north from the Caldebern fief toward Reinfurt, but it wasn't the road Rickart had taken with Arno three years ago. Back then, they had used side paths; now, they were on a road used frequently by travelers.

Right at a crossroads, there was something that looked like a checkpoint. Two mercenaries stood leaning on halberds, and Rickart surveyed the surroundings before speaking to Marie.

"Let's head up there."

Rickart climbed a mountain path overgrown with brush. From a suitable height, he could see the checkpoint and the temporary outpost behind it.

He surveyed the scene for about ten seconds before asking Marie, like a master teaching a disciple.

"What do you see?"

"Hmm, there are only... seven or eight men. I could handle them by myself."

"Now, now, you mustn't always rely on your skill with a blade and try to fight blindly. Look more closely."

"Hmm... their appearance is clean, they're wearing colorful clothes, they're well-armed, and... is that man the leader?"

Since Marie hadn't experienced actual combat, it was understandable she didn't know. Rickart pointed things out and explained them one by one.

"The colorful clothes mean they're mercenaries. It means they have some combat ability when gathered in numbers. Mercenaries love to dress up, but the moment they enter battle, they look like beggars in an instant. In other words, if they look like beggars but their weapons are well-maintained, they're dangerous. But those guys?"

"Their appearance is excessively clean."

"Right. That means they don't really want to fight. They're just staying by Lucignan's side to make a quick buck and then leave. Understand?"

This was knowledge that could only be gained through vast real-life experience.

Rickart asked another question. "And what else?"

"Can't you just tell me?"

"Think about it, Marie."

"But I don't know..."

"Seven or eight adult men—their daily food consumption is not small. Do you think they're farming there? From what I see, they bring a small amount of food and work in shifts. There's a city nearby, after all. To begin with, it's absurd that those few people could threaten noble lords."

"Now that you mention it, that's true."

"It's harvest season, a time when surplus food is sold and trade is active. If they block the road and extort tolls there, they can make a tidy sum. But do you know? Mercenaries don't just chase money."

"Really? Then what do they chase?"

"Money is the biggest reason, but they're very sensitive to the political standing of the person they follow. What I mean is, even if they fight, they want to make sure there are no repercussions. They can't afford to become rebels. Once you're a rebel, it doesn't just end with you withdrawing from the war. They'll hunt you down to the end and execute you brutally."

Marie just listened, thinking, 'Hmm, I see.' She couldn't yet grasp how to use that information.

"Let's become constables," Rickart said.

"Huh?"

"We'll be official constables dispatched from the Imperial Palace. Then, naturally, this fellow Lucignan becomes a fraud. Daring to impersonate an Imperial official? What is the punishment for that?"

"Forging Imperial documents or impersonating an official results in being drawn and quartered."

Even if it wasn't for the Imperial family, blindly impersonating an official carried the penalty of having one's limbs torn off. Marie had seen such cases occasionally when she was young.

"But will they believe us?"

"We can just show them your sword."

"What?"

"A Sword Master, the glowing blade... let's say Marie is the new Imperial Champion. And I am her guard."

"Uh..."

Marie had no sense of authority or superiority, but she wasn't sure if a Sword Master's blade should be used for such a thing. But well, since Ricky wanted to do it.

"There's no need to draw my sword to kill a guy like that. Let's go."

Rickart headed back down the mountain path. With the sword at his waist, he walked confidently toward the fake checkpoint.

The mercenaries, who had been leaning idly on their halberds, looked at them.

They spoke abruptly. "The toll is half of what you have."

It was an absurd statement. As expected, they were acting like highwaymen.

Rickart intentionally glared and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"How dare you! Do you know who I am!? I am a constable dispatched by His Majesty the Emperor! So it is you who are disturbing the peace in this area!"

As Rickart shouted, the mercenaries blinked. They didn't lower their guard immediately, but carefully appraised their appearance.

"I heard the Emperor was dead..."

"Insolence! How dare you! When the late Emperor passes, it is only natural for the Crown Prince to ascend the throne! Do you dare speak of His Majesty's passing so lightly!? This will not do! Champion!"

Rickart shouted with confidence, unaware that the Crown Prince had been killed by Bellator. Of course, no one here knew that fact either.

Marie still had her doubts, but for now, she drew her sword and let it emit its light.

The mercenaries' eyes widened. A Sword Master. She must be an Imperial Champion. But wasn't she a young woman? How could this be?

"The crime of insulting His Majesty! The crime of following an impostor! Champion! Slay these traitors!"

"W-wait! We didn't know!"

"Wait! Wait! We don't know anything! Truly!"

"W-we thought he was the real constable! We were just hired! We have no intention of rebelling against the Imperial family!"

At Rickart's roar, the mercenaries immediately dropped their weapons and knelt, bowing low. 'Ah, the taste of power is indeed sweet.'

When Marie actually moved to cut them down, Rickart quickly grabbed her sleeve and shook his head. 'Don't actually kill them.'

Rickart frowned, pretending to consider, and then spoke.

"Hmm... very well. Since the new Emperor has only recently ascended, it would be inauspicious to spill too much blood needlessly."

"Of course! Of course! God would want the blood of a virgin or a lamb as an offering! Not filthy wretches like us!"

Rickart didn't know what kind of nonsense that was, but he intended to take them to Lucignan.

"However, I cannot leave the fraud alone. You shall guide me to him. I must capture him and have him drawn and quartered. And clear away this crude mess."

"Yes, sir! As you command!"

Thinking they had been spared from death, the mercenaries jumped up and cleared away the temporary outpost and the checkpoint blocking the road, almost as if they were destroying them.

Then, with weapons in hand, they led Rickart and Marie to the city. They seemed to have some experience guarding high nobles or wealthy individuals, as they formed a proper formation—front, back, left, and right.

With a rigid posture and a spirited stride they didn't usually show, they escorted the Imperial constable. There was no need to go this far, but Rickart felt himself walking with a bit more pride.

As they entered the city in this manner, every passerby stared. It was obvious they were high-ranking individuals.

The other mercenaries had been scattered throughout the city, harassing local women or enjoying themselves, but when they saw their comrades escorting someone with such an aura, a sense of foreboding overcame them.

They sensed that something was terribly wrong. Since mercenaries were sensitive to matters of life and death, their intuition in such cases was exceptionally sharp.

So they either sobered up instantly or let go of the local women they had been pestering. Then they either hid or tagged along, pretending to be part of the escort.

The mercenary with the halberd reached the largest tavern in the city and opened the door for Rickart. A waft of perfume and alcohol hit Rickart's face.

When Rickart went inside, he saw a man who was literally spending money like water, intoxicated with gambling and women. At a glance, he knew: 'That guy must be Lucignan.'

"Ignorance doesn't care about social status, I'm telling you! The problem with people is they assume they know everything about nobles. In reality, they're flimsy and foolish. Idiots."

Perhaps because his scams had gone well and he thought himself someone important, he was boasting loudly.

But the people around Lucignan stiffened in surprise upon seeing Rickart and the mercenaries.

"When I was in the west, I must have had at least ten noble ladies, you know? But then..."

Lucignan was the last to realize the atmosphere was strange. He slowly turned his head, following the people's gaze.

There, he found a young man with a sword, a lady, and the mercenaries he had hired, all staring intently at him.

Rickart offered a slight smile. He walked slowly toward the man, pulled over a chair, sat down, and spoke.

"Ah... Lucignan. Are nobles really that easy to deal with? I'd like to hear more."

"Uh... who are you?"

"The Imperial constable."

"...I heard the Emperor was dead."

"Yes, that's true. But his death is one thing, and your death will be another. Although, I might show you mercy depending on how you behave."

The tavern fell as silent as if a mouse had died. Lucignan looked around once more. From the grim expressions of the mercenaries, he realized things had gone wrong and they had already turned against him. He hadn't expected the noble lords to respond so quickly. 'They shouldn't have the capability.'

He had thought that by the time the lords gathered an army, he would have fled with the money. And Lucignan was proficient in such things.

But at this point, just as things were going well, he hadn't expected such a rapid response. The Emperor had only just died, and already a constable had been dispatched?

Lucignan looked at Rickart again and asked, "Wh-what...?"

"The mastermind, and the money."

"Ma-mastermind? There's no such thing. And the money..."

"Is it precious to you? Then die."

"No, no! Wait! The money is... it's in the vault of the goldsmith's guild in Reinfurt. Let's go there first..."

Rickart could tell by looking at the man's eyes that he was lying. There was no money. He had spent it all on his debauchery.

Rickart considered for a moment, then nodded as if he understood.

"Very well. I will wait here, so go and bring the money. If you try to flee, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth."

"Of course! Of course! I will surely return with the money!"

Thinking he had been spared, Lucignan stood up hurriedly. He then left the tavern, leaving behind a painful silence.

Rickart spoke to the mercenaries. "Capture that man, draw and quarter him, and then behead him. Hang the pieces of his flesh before each city gate and send the head to Stormhearts. Then you shall be pardoned."

As soon as he finished speaking, the mercenaries rushed outside. Rickart scanned the leftover food on the table, picked up a goblet, and took a sip of the expensive wine.

Then, he spoke leisurely to the tavern owner. "Refund the remainder."

"Pardon?"

"There's clearly food left."

"Ah... yes. Of course."

"And since I didn't stay the night, return the room fee as well."

The tavern owner didn't just give a refund; he brought all the money Lucignan had paid today. It was as much as ten gold coins. Entertainment expenses tended to flow away like water once you started spending.

Rickart also gathered the money that had been messily spread across the tables for gambling.

The people simply watched the Imperial constable with bated breath. They only hoped he would take the money and everything else and leave quickly.

Around that time, screams were heard from outside.

"Why! Why! I told you I'd bring the money! Wait! I, I... Aaaaah!"

Rickart listened to the screams of Lucignan's death and ate the remaining food.

Finding it unpalatable, he slammed a chicken bone onto the table and stood up. The people who had been watching in bated breath flinched in surprise.

Stepping outside, he saw the mercenaries hanging Lucignan's mangled remains on poles.

"We will deliver the head in a sack of salt," one of the mercenaries said as he approached. Clearly, they had done this sort of thing before; they were professional.

Mercenaries might have a thuggish side, but they were also professionals. They did their jobs thoroughly. It was just that they were expensive and difficult to manage.

Rickart stopped by the Imperial Guild Office and sent the money he had extorted from the tavern owner back home. It was a small amount, but enough to compensate for the damages and then some.

Then, he and Marie quietly left the city and headed toward the main house. To see Doctor Reno.

"You really killed him without even drawing your sword?" Marie said. She had been worried about Rickart's health, but this was like blowing your nose without using your hands.

"People who think they're clever often understand others well but don't really know themselves. That guy said the nobles were flimsy, but in the end, he didn't realize he was flimsy himself. The world must have looked easy to him. But that's when your luck runs out."

"You really know everything, Professor."

"This is just the beginning, my disciple. Keep practicing."

He spoke half-jokingly, but it was true. If Marie, a Sword Master, learned Rickart's strategy, tactics, combat knowledge, and skills, she might truly become as invincible as the original Ricky.

The Sword Masters who had fallen to Rickart, and the ones currently in existence, had not yet escaped the limits of a simple swordsman.

To be reborn as a true weapon of war, there was no other way than to go through countless battle experiences. The problem, however, was that one might die while gaining that experience.

Therefore, the knowledge shared by an experienced warrior was more precious than gold.

But Marie simply offered a playful grin. "I don't want to."

"Huh?"

"Ricky, you do everything for me."

Marie joked with a laugh, and Rickart laughed too. "A truly troublesome disciple."

In a way, Bellator was also a disciple of Rickart, but he was entirely different from Marie. Because he had followed Rickart's teachings and hadn't missed the opportunity of a lifetime, committing a bold and magnificent murder.

One was an excellent disciple, and the other was an unfaithful one. But which was right, no one could say. Whether to follow the teachings faithfully or to simply play and joke around.

In truth, if one carefully examined what Rickart was teaching, they were chilling and horrifying things. Of course, how they would be handled depended on the one learning them.

As they walked along the road together, Marie playfully bumped her shoulder against Rickart's. She was indeed a discourteous disciple, clinging to him like that.