Chapter 43

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Ricard and Boribori stared at the girl when she said she was heading to Beringen Academy. Technically, that made her their junior. Not that seniority mattered much, but still.

It was early evening, with a faint trace of sunlight still lingering in the deep-blue sky. Across the campfire, Ricard asked,

"Why there?"

"Because I need to enroll. And..."

Ricard and Boribori waited as the girl half buried her face between her knees.

"I have to be the best there."

"... Why?"

"Well, otherwise there's no point..."

"No point to what?"

"Just... any of it..."

It seemed there were circumstances she couldn't talk about, so Ricard and Boribori didn't press her.

"Well, that's lucky. We're going there too. Beringen Academy," Boribori said.

The girl lifted her face from between her knees, her already large eyes widening.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Are you enrolling too?"

"No. We enrolled about a year ago."

"... What do you mean?"

"It's an adventurer academy. We can take commissions sometimes. We're on our way back from a job."

Ricard said it as though it were nothing, but they were returning after wiping out the entire notorious Ehrenberg Five—including no less than one of the Nine Swords of the Empire.

"Oh... Wasn't it dangerous?"

"Of course. But what can you do? If you want to be an adventurer, you have to live with one foot in the grave."

"W-well... I suppose so..."

"Why? Doesn't sound so appealing now?"

"No. Maybe that's actually better."

"Your family must have treated you pretty badly too," Ricard said.

Apart from himself, he'd never met a student who had grown up properly loved as someone's child.

"Something like that... But still, I want to achieve something on my own. Adventurers seem a little freer than knights. I think the danger is the price of that freedom."

"That's an optimistic way to look at it. But you're right. We aren't bound by oaths. Still, you have to establish principles of your own that matter just as much as an oath. Otherwise, it's not freedom. It's just doing whatever you please."

"..."

His mature words left the girl momentarily speechless. They came as something of a shock.

"... Then what are your principles?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm at the academy. I'm figuring them out one at a time."

After a moment of thought, the girl spoke again.

"Anyway, that means we all belong to the same academy, right?"

They had only just met, but that fact alone seemed to ease her wariness and put her somewhat at ease. No, quite a lot at ease.

"What's your name?" Ricard asked.

"Oh, um... Marie. And you?"

"..."

Marie gave her name first, then asked Ricard and Boribori for theirs. But for some reason, both boys were looking at her skeptically.

"Wh-what? What's wrong?"

"You're a noble, aren't you?" Boribori asked outright.

Marie flinched in surprise.

"Uh, n-n-no. I'm not."

It was an utterly unconvincing lie.

Ricard had always been uncannily perceptive, while Boribori had a hunch because Ricard had pulled the same thing on him before. In truth, they hardly needed any perception at all. It was that obvious.

Besides, constantly traveling with Ricard had taught Boribori quite a lot just by watching. Observation was one of those things.

He pressed her. "Custom-made armor? Your family must be rich."

"Uh, um, w-well, b-but not everyone with money is a noble."

Marie was visibly flustered. Since she clearly didn't want to say, neither boy pushed her any further. And hadn't Ricard concealed his own noble birth first?

"All right. I'm sure you have your reasons. But belonging to the same academy means it doesn't matter whether you're noble or anything else. We're all students. So don't take offense."

"I'm not offended. And I won't be."

"So you are a noble."

"N-no. That's not what I meant."

"Riki."

"Huh?"

"And I'm Boribori."

"Huh?"

"I know. My name's strange. But Bori Swordsmanship is going to be great."

"..."

To Marie, they seemed a little odd. At least she couldn't sense any ill intent. Still, they were odd.

But there was a great deal wrapped up in that oddness. Young as they were, the boys seemed unafraid of the world, despite being around her own age.

That was quietly impressive, and somehow it gave her courage. How could they be so at ease?

"Anyway, you'll have to work really hard if you want to rank first," Boribori said.

"Huh? Oh, well, I'm pretty confident with a sword. Maybe I can't do it right away, but I'll get to first place."

"Sure, sure. Give it your best shot."

Ricard poked the fire with a stick, sounding uninterested.

Ricard currently held first place at Beringen Academy, and he was good enough to kill one of the Nine Swords of the Empire. For someone at a student's level, reaching the top was effectively impossible.

His past encounter with his eldest brother made it clear that while Ricard might refuse to fight, he would never lose on purpose.

"By the way, isn't it a bit early in the year for a swim?" Boribori asked Marie, referring to her floundering in the river.

"I just... wanted to get away for a bit..."

"You'll get yourself killed doing that," Ricard warned.

It wasn't an expression of concern. It was a real warning.

"Sorry..."

"You don't need to apologize to us. Anyway, let's eat something and get to sleep early so we can set off early tomorrow."

"... Thank you."

Ricard and Boribori decided to eat the heavier provisions first to lighten their packs.

Potatoes and sweet potatoes roasted over the fire, with little bites of salted meat to season the meal, made a surprisingly tasty treat. Marie didn't seem to be a picky eater either.

After the meal, Ricard took off his cloak and draped it over Marie. She grew strangely fidgety, her gaze darting about.

"Th-thank—"

"Save it for once in a while."

"Huh?"

"Saying thank you and sorry. Say them once in a while. Too often, and they lose their weight."

"Okay..."

Ricard then shared Boribori's cloak, leaning against the wall and resting as they watched the campfire.

By now the sky was black, and the stars were singing silently.

Marie still hadn't fully relaxed and thought she would have trouble sleeping. Besides, sleeping outdoors was uncomfortable in itself.

But when body and mind are exhausted and the stomach is full, sleep comes before one knows it.

The crackle of the fire sounded like a lullaby.

Before dawn the next morning, Ricard ground out the cooled remains of the fire beneath his foot. Then he spoke to Marie, who stood awkwardly in his borrowed clothes, his red cloak still wrapped around her.

"Your gambeson's not dry yet, so I think I'd better wear the armor."

A gambeson was a thick coat worn beneath armor. It offered some protection on its own, making it a popular garment.

But its cotton stuffing meant that even beside a fire, it was difficult to dry all the way through in a single night.

"Oh, all right."

"You carry the helmet and gambeson."

"Okay."

Ricard put on Marie's chain mail. After adjusting the belt to his waist, he handed her a sword.

"And here. Use this for now."

It was Steiner's sword. Marie had lost hers and had only its scabbard left.

Judging by that scabbard, her usual sword would have been about the same size as Steiner's.

"You'd be better off carrying it over your shoulder like me, rather than at your waist."

"Okay."

There was nothing wrong with wearing it at her waist, but the uneven weight would tire her out quickly on a long walk.

Unless custom-made, combat equipment was generally built for adult men, so carrying it in a way that suited one's body mattered. Marie's armor was custom-made, but her sword was not.

Ricard explained everything, right down to the smallest detail. He didn't know how skilled she was with a sword, but her fieldcraft seemed lacking.

Fieldcraft encompassed the ability to sleep and eat outdoors, walk and run, and adapt to and overcome any conditions, rain or snow. It required physical stamina as well as mental fortitude.

Swordsmanship mattered, of course, but in real combat, fieldcraft mattered more. All too many people were killed because fatigue and hardship kept them from using their skills properly.

Sound judgment, decisiveness, concentration, tactical understanding, courage, and patience were also necessary for an excellent fighter.

Ricard's strength lay not only in his transcendent swordsmanship, but in his unmatched mastery of all these qualities.

With preparations complete, they were about to set off when Ricard gave Marie one last instruction.

"Put your hood up."

"Huh?"

"Don't want you attracting pests."

Marie grew flustered, thinking he meant she smelled. But that wasn't it.

"You're pretty."

She froze at his words. No one had ever told her she was pretty so directly.

She had heard insincere, roundabout compliments and all manner of flowery praise, but never this.

Her face grew hot. Fortunately, it was still dark before dawn.

"Oh, uh..."

Marie pulled up her hood, trying to act as though nothing had happened.

"Let's go," Ricard said casually, starting off.

And so the three headed toward Beringen Academy.

As they followed the road across the fields, the sun slowly rose. In the dawn light, the fields were the color of the sea. Then sunlight spread across them like a carpet, revealing greenery wet with melted snow.

Ricard and Boribori walked along, occasionally trading jokes and teasing each other.

Boribori said the armor suited Ricard and suggested becoming a knight rather than an adventurer. He ought to start practicing riding, even now.

In truth, it was their horses that made knights frightening. No matter how well a person learned to use mana, a full-on collision with a galloping horse would shatter their bones and kill them.

Their mobility also made them far more useful in real battle than ordinary swordsmen. A knight was effectively a war chariot that could break an enemy formation.

But mounted combat wasn't something one could learn in a year or two. It was an advanced fighting skill that required at least ten years of training, if not a lifetime.

The drawback was the expense. Buying a horse was costly enough, but its upkeep was no small matter either. One had to pour money into it.

Marie felt a little left out, but the boys weren't deliberately excluding her, and little by little they grew closer. This was actually more comfortable for her than being fussed over.

For all their apparent casualness, both boys looked after her. Just as the Nameless had.

When Boribori imitated her attempt at sounding like a grown man, Marie flusteredly told him to stop, and Ricard laughed aloud.

Their steps were lighter than when they had left the academy. Marie, too, felt her fear of the unknown easing.

When one was young, nothing was more frightening than arriving somewhere unfamiliar, alone and knowing no one.

The three took plenty of breaks along the way, until it almost felt like they had gone on a picnic.

Eventually, Marie relaxed enough to burst into hearty laughter herself. Laughing so freely, she was dazzlingly beautiful—enough to make one overlook her ill-suited clothes and rather shabby appearance entirely.

They also noticed something they hadn't before: her slightly prominent front teeth gave her a charming, rabbitlike look.

But the two innocent boys treated Marie as herself rather than dwelling on her appearance. Free of her stifling, cage-like life and its formalities, she was simply enjoying herself.

Anxiety and excitement were separated by the thinnest of lines. Thanks to the boys, she could feel anticipation and excitement rather than fear.

But as sunset approached and darkness began to settle over the world, their lighthearted enjoyment seemed to fade with the bright sunlight.

Ricard and Boribori had already calculated the distance, and reached a roadside tavern and inn at just the right time.

Its name was Anna's Loss. This was where they had first met the Nameless after leaving the academy that winter.

Something seemed to well up inside them, while a weight pressed down on their chests. Not enough to show outwardly, though.

Yet Marie distinctly sensed that subtle change, and fell silent with them.

An unwelcome stench greeted them when they opened the tavern door. The grim, filthy-looking patrons turned to stare at Ricard's party.

Ricard simply strode up to the bartender he had briefly spoken with a month and a half or two months earlier.

The bartender failed to recognize them at first, but then remembrance dawned on his face.

"Oh? You two."

"It's been a while. We'd like a meal and a room."

"Uh... Where are you coming from, anyway?"

"The north."

"The north? Oh, right. Didn't you say you were taking a commission back then?"

"They're dead."

"Huh?"

"The Ehrenberg Five. They're all dead."

"..."

It was impossible to believe—and still harder to believe these two boys had done it. The bartender could only stare in bewilderment. To him, it sounded like a joke that wasn't even funny.

Just then, someone called out toward Ricard.

"Hey, look here. What's a little knight doing in a place like this?"

No one could have mistaken Ricard's build for a knight's. Armor made to fit a body that hadn't finished growing did look a little ridiculous.

Ignoring the man, Ricard addressed the bartender.

"Do you have a room or not?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, we do, but things are a bit different here now. What I mean is..."

The bartender never finished. The man who had called to Ricard had risen and approached.

"I asked what you're doing here, little knight."

Ricard turned to look at him. He was tall and broad-faced. Mere teasing or a practical joke would have been fine, but this didn't look likely to end there.

"Bori, lend me your sword."

Ricard unslung his own sword and handed it to Boribori.

"Sure."

By now they understood each other without lengthy explanations. Ricard was borrowing Boribori's sword because space was limited.

Boribori took Ricard's sword and handed him the Phantom Sword's blade. Then he caught Marie by the arm and pulled her behind him.

Still hooded, Marie looked around, confused and vaguely frightened. The foul-smelling room, the menacing faces—she had never been anywhere like this before.

Holding the Phantom Sword's weapon in one hand, Ricard said,

"Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you really want."

"What?"

"If you want my equipment, just come and get it. Be a man instead of looking for an excuse to start a fight."

"... Hah!"

The man let out a breath of disbelief. He glanced back and signaled to someone, and the people at two tables rose together.

The bartender promptly moved well out of the way. Unlike two months ago, this place was no longer neutral ground. Territory changed hands frequently in the underworld.

The Arisen Brotherhood was gone, replaced by a new ruling power. The rules of the streets had changed with it.

The man turned back to Ricard.

"Fine. I'll be a man about it. Hand over everything you've got. Money, equipment, all of it."

"Then take it, if you can."

As he spoke, Ricard drew the Phantom Sword's blade in a flash.

The companions behind the man thought Ricard had done something, but they hadn't seen exactly what.

A moment later, the man's head slowly tipped on his thick neck, then dropped to one side.

At the same time, Ricard pushed the still-standing body with his foot. The corpse toppled backward, spraying blood over its companions.

Whether thanks to the quality of the sword or the skill of its wielder, not a drop of blood stained the Phantom Sword's blade.

Ricard spoke.

"Next."