Chapter 24

“What do we do?” someone asked. It was already dark, all the more so here in the forest.

Then, without warning, Ricard strode alone toward the moonlit cabin.

“R-Riki.”

Volka called after him, but he paid no heed.

Ricard opened the cabin door without taking any particular precautions. The interior was a shambles, but nothing seemed to have been taken. Whoever had come here had come solely to kill.

He picked up a lantern lying on the floor, lit it, and looked around. Aside from the mess, there were no bodies inside, and it seemed fit enough to spend a night in.

He went back outside and examined the bodies scattered around the cabin. All had been stripped of their equipment, their limbs bent or sprawled at random. There were twelve in all.

Holding the lantern close to the bodies, he examined them carefully, trying to estimate the causes and times of death, however roughly.

They had not died from a single stab or slash to a vital spot. They had been hacked apart, which meant they had put up a fight.

Flies buzzed around the corpses, but there were only eggs, no maggots yet. There were no signs of birds or animals eating their eyes or lips, so it seemed only a day or two had passed.

Putting together a rough sequence of events, Ricard figured this had happened before his own ambush. A day or two earlier.

Perhaps, while killing the adventurers here, the attackers had learned that reinforcements were coming from the academy and lain in wait to ambush them. The route they would take was obvious enough.

For now, he settled on that tentative conclusion. If so, the enemy must have been exhausted as well.

The students merely watched him anxiously, not daring to approach. Ricard turned to them.

“From the look of things, this was over a few days ago. No need to be so scared. We should be able to spend a night here.”

Was that so? Even if he was right, how could he be so calm?

Still, the students gradually began to recognize and accept their situation. They were fucked, yes, but they couldn't stand around like this forever.

“Let's put Molty in a bed and do what we can for the bodies. Then we'll arrange a watch and... have ourselves a meeting, I suppose. Go inside and check your equipment.”

Ricard gave his orders calmly. The students followed them without a word.

They gathered the bodies together, laid them out neatly, and covered them with cloth. They couldn't dig graves; right now, conserving their strength meant staying alive.

After roughly tidying up outside, Ricard entered the cabin. A single lantern on the table illuminated its dark interior.

As a guild hideout, the cabin was spacious enough to accommodate all nine of them with room to spare.

Ricard settled among the students and drew his sword, carefully examining the blade for damage in the faint light. He gave it a thorough wipe with a cloth, then took camellia oil from his pack and wiped it down again, oiling it.

As he rubbed the blade clean, he felt eyes on him. Looking up, he found everyone staring.

“What? What is it?”

“... Nothing. Just wondering if you had anything else to say,” Volka replied.

“Get some sleep, even if it's just a little. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Rest while you can.”

“Still, is it safe to stay here?”

“You saw the bodies outside, right? They aren't crawling with maggots yet. Their eyes and lips are intact too, so it's only been a day or two. Do you really think the people who killed them are different from the ones who ambushed us? I don't. Which means they must be pretty worn out too. They won't have the strength to make another move. Besides, I killed the one who looked like their leader, so there won't be anyone to give orders until a new commander arrives. That's why we can stay here for a night. Of course, there's no telling what might happen, so let's make sure we keep a proper watch.”

The words flowed from Ricard like water, leaving the students looking somewhat dazed. How did he know all that? His grasp of the situation was beyond belief.

Volka blinked several times before speaking.

“... Riki, have you been through something like this before?”

“Let's say I have.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Ricard sighed inwardly and changed the subject.

“Has everyone checked their equipment? Take care of it while you can. Dried blood could stick your blade to the inside of its scabbard. Be thorough about it, before that happens.”

Everyone hurried to take out their weapons and inspect them. Watching them, Ricard thought they really were still children.

On the other hand, they deserved praise for putting up a fight instead of immediately running when they were ambushed. The fact that they hadn't completely lost their heads reminded him that they hadn't reached the upper ranks for nothing.

“Anyway, what do we do now?” Volka asked, examining a sword that wasn't his own.

After a moment's thought, Ricard offered his opinion.

“Two options. One is to head straight back to the academy tomorrow. The other is to stop at the village first. That way, we can find out what's going on, decide whether to fight the enemy, and then decide whether to continue the commission. Wouldn't that be best?”

Plans always went awry, but they were still necessary. Without a plan, there was no way to decide a course of action.

When a plan fell apart in actual combat, you had to make a new one as circumstances changed.

Ricard's reasoning was sound. In the end, they had to choose one of the two options: turn back or press on.

Volka turned to the students for their opinions.

“Hands up if you want to go back.”

Excluding Molty, three of the eight raised their hands: the two girls and one boy.

“Hands up if you want to go to the village.”

This time, Ice and his two friends raised their hands. Three against three. Neither Ricard nor Volka had voted.

“What about you, Riki?”

Once again, every eye turned to Ricard. In a situation like this, their trust in him was almost absolute.

Even in the army, the soldiers knew best whether their commander was someone worth following. Right now, the students wanted Ricard to lead them.

“Tracking down deserters isn't something you finish quickly. That means the deadline for the commission won't be short. We should have time. And there are nine of us right now. That's hardly a small number, as I see it. Apart from Molty, nobody's really injured. As long as we aren't caught by surprise like today, if we seize an opportunity and strike first, we can beat them. Molty should be able to move around reasonably well after two days' rest, and fight from the third day onward. So, in short, don't chicken out. You fought well today.”

As they listened to Ricard, it felt as though a haze was lifting from their eyes. Bewildered and overwhelmed, the students had let fear get the better of them. But looking at things calmly, one by one, they began to think that perhaps their situation wasn't so bad.

“The road back will be more dangerous. It'll be easier for the enemy to focus their efforts there. They won't start a sword fight in the village, so let's head there as soon as it's light tomorrow. If we run into them there, all the better. We'll find out who we're dealing with. Once we know that, we'll make sure we get revenge. However long it takes.”

“Revenge?”

“Our friends died, remember?”

“Oh...”

“I know we aren't particularly close. It'll be hard to fight while trusting each other with our lives. I won't ask that much. But let's promise that if any one of us dies at the enemy's hands, we'll avenge them without fail.”

The word revenge stirred a strange feeling in the students. There was something grim and desperate in the very word.

It wasn't positive, but it wasn't negative either. Revenge had a peculiar power to bind people together in trust, whether they wished it or not. And it offered a curious sense of security.

Revenge was also a noble's right and duty. If their house was insulted or unjustly harmed, nobles had to take revenge, no matter how many years it took or what means they had to use.

That was how they acquired and maintained their privileges, and one of the reasons harmony was so difficult in feudal society. Almost every noble house was bound to others by debts of gratitude or grudges.

Nor was revenge limited to the nobility. Criminal groups also used it to maintain solidarity.

In short, Ricard had made the suggestion because he felt these nine people had to pull together before they could accomplish anything.

What was the point of traveling together if they kept acting like strangers, each looking out only for themselves?

“I'll go first.”

Ricard picked up a wooden bowl lying on the floor. Drawing his dagger, he slashed his palm and squeezed blood into it. There wasn't much.

Without a word of explanation, every student in the cabin understood what he was doing. The practice was somewhat pagan and barbaric, but folk beliefs had been passed down since ancient times.

Ricard handed the dagger to Volka, who confidently cut his own palm and squeezed blood into the bowl. Hadn't he cut a little too deep?

At any rate, one by one, they used the same dagger and added their blood to the bowl. When Ice's turn came, he sat still for a moment, holding the dagger and bowl.

Then, without a word, he cut his palm. Once all eight had contributed, there was quite a bit of blood.

Ricard dipped a finger into the blood, dabbed it on his forehead and over his heart, then drew a line across his throat.

“Huh? Aren't we supposed to drink it?” Volka asked.

“Why would we drink this foul stuff? Isn't this how they do it in the north?”

“You're from the north, Riki? Didn't you say you came from the south?”

“Where I'm from, we draw a cross on our faces.”

Apparently, the manner of swearing an oath differed from region to region. Ricard, Volka, and the others regarded one another with some puzzlement. In the end, they all followed Ricard's example, dabbing blood on their foreheads and over their hearts, then drawing a line across their throats.

“From this moment until the commission ends, should even one among us meet an unjust death, fall as an innocent sacrifice, or perish by an enemy's weapon, each of us swears to kill the one responsible without fail. Whoever breaks this oath shall suffer God's punishment and fall into hell upon death.”

In a way, it was childish. But the sight of actual blood and the performance of a ritual, however simple, inevitably lent things a solemn gravity. The darkness around them only deepened the atmosphere.

As Ricard swore on their behalf, the students finally felt a bond form between them. It might not be especially strong, but it was as red as blood.

The night wore on. The students slept poorly, but it was better than staying awake until dawn.

By morning, Molty had regained consciousness. With help, he could more or less walk.

“Did something happen to you lot?”

Seeing that everyone had a bandage around one hand, Molty asked in bewilderment.

“We swore an oath. An oath of vengeance. Even if we can't protect each other, we'll make sure we avenge each other. And from now on, we're going to avenge the ones who died. Whoever the enemy is.”

At Ricard's words, Molty looked around at the students. They hadn't changed much from usual, but there was a seriousness in the air that was hard to explain. A kind of resolve, perhaps.

“Then you can't leave me out.”

Despite having already collapsed from blood loss, Molty cut his own palm and joined the oath.

With all nine sworn, the reinforcements from Beringen Academy set out for Griffinswald. They did not flee. Come what may, they had resolved to fight to the end.

In the early morning light, Ricard walked at the head of the group. The students naturally fell in behind the youngest among them.

A violet on his chest, a red cloak wrapped around him, a longsword slung over his shoulder. That boy was their leader.

Like the leader of a pack of wild dogs.