Chapter 45

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“There’s something called an escrow deposit. The commission is public, but the client’s identity isn’t. Not just anyone can post one—only people or organizations of considerable standing. You hear all sorts of rumors, but there’s no knowing for certain. Anyway, if you really have completed the commission, that deposit will be paid out.”

Dunkel sat in a chair at a small table in the room where Ricard had spent the night. Gentle white light filled the room.

Ricard and Boribori sat on the bed, listening. Boribori, however, was plainly thinking about something else. Ricard was the only one actually paying attention.

“So you need to verify it. Beyond the evidence we brought.”

Dunkel nodded at Ricard’s words. But there was a more serious issue than the commission at hand. He swallowed before speaking.

“Are you certain X the Nameless and Steiner the Mad Dog are dead?”

Instead of answering, Ricard picked up Steiner’s sword from the bed and drew it partway. Sunlight from the window brushed the blade, revealing a faint blue sheen.

He slid it back into its scabbard as he spoke.

“This is the sword Steiner used.”

“...”

The deaths of Erze and Reto had been shocking enough. What followed was even more so. Even now, it left Dunkel momentarily speechless.

Ricard’s extraordinary achievement was part of the reason for his grave demeanor, but there was another reason, too.

“Is the guild suddenly about to go under? What’s wrong?”

At Ricard’s question, Dunkel struggled to calm his still-pounding heart before answering.

“It’s a power vacuum. The Ehrenberg Five controlled the central north. Passing through was one thing, but adventurers’ guilds couldn’t simply set up branches and operate there as they pleased. Now that they’re gone, what do you think will happen?”

The Nameless had no particular territory. He had simply roamed the Empire, hunting wanted criminals and avenging himself.

The Ehrenberg Five, on the other hand, had maintained their own sphere of operations, including Siegfringer. That sphere now stood empty.

In other words, there was land with no master.

Of course, there were lords ruling those lands and criminal organizations operating in the shadows, but adventurers’ guilds were independent powers that straddled both the legitimate world and the underworld.

Securing an area of operations meant more than earning more money. It meant access to its logistics networks, manpower, and other resources.

And in an age when the roads connecting cities mattered above all else, a broad territory meant drastically reduced transport costs.

Acquiring new territory brought benefits on every front. More importantly, these were not one-time gains, but continuing ones.

“So the question is who takes it.”

Ricard understood at once, and Dunkel nodded again, his expression grave.

“You remember our trouble with those Rubens bastards. Something like that can be patched up and swept under the rug. Not this. We might commit our full strength—no, we have to. The summons has already gone out. Clan Masters, Clan Leaders, every adventurer of middle grade or above—they’re all gathering.”

A guild war might break out. No, it sounded almost certain.

How ironic that deaths could be glossed over, yet a dispute over vested interests would start a war.

“That means we have to be careful, but quick. Tell me where you did the job. The guild will verify the facts, then move. We have the information first, so we need to make the most of that head start. And naturally, this is top secret. Don’t tell anyone.”

Ricard was not one to go around boasting about his deeds, so he nodded at once. Still, his heart felt somewhat heavy.

The Guild Master and the other senior officers were probably racking their brains in a meeting by now. Should they strike at rival organizations first, seize the central north before anyone else, or launch a diversionary operation? And so on.

But was it really so important? Important enough to spill young people’s blood?

The question troubled him, but asking the Guild Master would not give him an answer. The Guild Master had duties to fulfill, and would be a fool not to act now.

Whether he had intended it or not, Ricard’s achievements over the winter were bringing turmoil in their wake.

What had begun as an effort to save the academy students from hunger now threatened to unleash the blades of war.

When did people die in the greatest numbers? Perhaps when the balance of power broke down and the landscape of competing powers shifted.

Because the future was at stake. Would they live in humiliation, cowed by superior force, or secure their authority by gaining the upper hand?

Fear of being wiped out for lack of power. The longing to gain power and survive. Whether to wage war was therefore not something words alone could settle.

Listening to the developing situation, Ricard felt he understood that.

“Reto’s and Erze’s bodies should be near Reto’s laboratory in Sidria, unless someone’s disturbed them since then. The others are in a ruined village called Lindvale. The nearest city is Rigenhafen. Head north from there and you’ll find it. But I can’t tell you where we buried the Nameless. That’s deeply personal. Please understand.”

The important thing was confirming the deaths of the Ehrenberg Five, so Dunkel readily nodded.

Confirmation was all it really amounted to. Seeing that the boys had Steiner’s sword and the Phantom Sword, Dunkel was already convinced that all five were dead.

“Um, but...”

Boribori, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. Given the circumstances, the atmosphere was solemn, but his expression suggested that this was lost on him.

“If all the skilled adventurers are being summoned, does that mean we can see Volka, Ice, and our other friends who graduated before us?”

The innocent question made Dunkel feel he could breathe again, and he smiled gently.

“They won’t stay in the city long. Once the higher-ups make their decision, they’ll be sent out. Well, if your paths happen to cross, you’ll see them. If not, you won’t. We have to move quickly. When this many people move, the other guilds will sense something’s up.”

“Is there anything you need me to do?” Ricard asked.

“No. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but... how should I put it? Right now, you’re someone to keep a close eye on. Both inside and outside the guild. Stay at the academy for the time being. For all practical purposes, you’re more than a student now. Do you know what that means?”

“Walking a knife’s edge, I suppose.”

Ricard spoke as he looked out the window. He remembered his previous life. A life spent walking a knife’s edge. Familiar, but unwelcome. Had nothing changed? He did not know.

“Yes... Well, get some rest. Don’t worry about anything else. And... I’m a little afraid of you now.”

It felt like an unnecessary addition. But it was honest, too. Still gazing out the window, Ricard merely gave a faint smile.

Dunkel could not decipher that smile. Killing a Sword Master at twelve? What would he be like as an adult? Could he improve even further? Was that possible? Perhaps Dunkel was witnessing the beginnings of a legendary hero.

For both Dunkel and the guild, figuring out how to handle Ricard was another serious headache. He was quite literally far beyond the bounds of common sense.

Dunkel left the room filled with clear white light.

As soon as he was gone, Boribori flopped onto his stomach on the bed, apparently tired of sitting. Swinging his legs back and forth in turn, he asked Ricard a question.

“What are you going to do when we get the deposit?”

“Not sure. What do you want to do?”

“How about buying clothes for everyone at the academy?”

“Hmm?”

“We’d all wear the same thing. The girls’ clothes would be a little different, of course. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Ricard briefly tried imagining all the students dressed alike. It was hard to picture without knowing what they would wear.

But Boribori was good at sewing, loved flowers, and seemed to have some ideas when it came to this sort of thing.

“Sure. Let’s do that.”

Ricard agreed easily, without much thought. Boribori grinned as though he were already enjoying himself, and Ricard smiled along with him.

The light in the room was clear, but far away, clouds of war were gathering. They could not smile with wholly untroubled hearts, yet sometimes the decisions made lightly were the ones that endured.

Ricard and Boribori took Marie around Beringen.

Just as Volka had once done for them, they explained the districts to the north, south, east, and west, what to watch out for, and where the important shops were.

They had her sell her armor and buy the clothes and other supplies she would need at the academy. The cloth merchant tilted his head at her surcoat, but paid quite well for it considering it was secondhand.

She could have bought a sword, too, but they decided she would keep Steiner’s for the time being.

“You can have it when you take first place. Until then, it’s a loan.”

“Doesn’t that mean I have to beat you, Riki?”

“I suppose it does. Anyway.”

“This seems like a pretty good sword, by the way. I know a bit about these things.”

“Being too good is a problem, too. There’s nowhere suitable to sell it.”

Honestly, the whole business of traveling to a major city and putting it up for auction sounded like a bother.

He had considered selling it through the guild, but under the circumstances, they did not seem to have the time to spare.

“Thanks. Can I name it?”

“Name what? What are you talking about?”

“The sword.”

“Only girls do that sort of thing.”

“... Huh?”

“Oh.”

Ricard immediately realized his blunder. Marie was a girl.

“Sorry.”

But she seemed entirely unbothered and gave him a playful smile.

“Well, I’m a girl, so that’s all right. I’ll call it Riki. Riki, the famed blade.”

“Ha ha...”

Feeling guilty, Ricard could only laugh awkwardly.

“What? Me too! I want to name mine, too.”

Boribori eagerly joined in as Ricard floundered.

“Doesn’t yours already have a name? The Phantom Sword?”

“No. That’s not my taste. What should I call it? Hmm... the Nameless Sword. That sounds good. Its name is that it has no name.”

“...”

Knowing what lay behind that name, Ricard could not make light of it. For a moment, he had nothing to say.

But Boribori was neither sad nor downcast. He was simply excited. As though wishing to keep the mood going, he turned to Ricard.

“You should name yours, too, Riki.”

“Not really my thing. I’m fine.”

“They say you should treat your sword like your best friend, or your dearest lover. Surely you could at least give it a name?”

Marie backed Boribori up. Ricard had no idea where she had heard that nonsense, but she could be rather rigid in her thinking.

“No. There’s no need to get sentimental about it. A sword is just a sword.”

“Sometimes you talk like a little old man, Riki.”

“I do?”

Ricard’s eyes widened at what sounded like a blunt attack. Boribori agreed, laughing his head off for some reason.

Perhaps because they had shared the hardships of sleeping outdoors, the three already seemed close after only a few days. Of course, that only worked if people had something in common, and these three did.

Their conversation never faltered. None of them hesitated to tease the others, and whoever was on the receiving end always laughed it off.

Boribori helped Marie choose her clothes, recommending a duelist’s outfit resembling riding attire. He probably intended to use it as a reference when buying clothes for the academy students later.

Marie was tall and made an excellent model. The slightly fitted clothes revealed a distinctly trained physique. Her firm thighs, slender ankles, and straight back suggested that she could swing a formidable sword.

It did not hold true for everyone, but sometimes a person’s everyday posture alone gave a rough measure of their ability. At least, Ricard could judge it that way.

They bought clothes for combat, training, and several everyday outfits. With the money from the armor, she had more than enough, so it was hardly an extravagance.

The three ate fresh chicken soup and bread at the guild building, then set out for the academy.

On the way, they followed a path through the fields. Nowhere seemed to compare with the wonderfully open, moisture-laden fields here. Even the flowers Boribori loved had begun to bloom, if only here and there.

Violets, daffodils, star bellflowers... Wait. Violets were one thing, but why did he know the others? Ricard wondered.

It was evening when they reached the academy after six hours of walking. The air was cold, but the great moon blooming above the distant fields had a gentle warmth to it.

With the stars overhead, they climbed the long stairway up the cliff, passed through the gate, and finally reached the academy.

In the courtyard, Ricard pointed out a building to Marie.

“That’s the girls’ dormitory. That one’s the boys’. Nobody’s here to greet us. Must be because it’s nighttime. The students on watch should be out soon. Anyway, I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. If you have any trouble, just tell us.”

“I will.”

Ricard smiled faintly and entered the inner keep with Boribori. But something about the atmosphere felt strange.

One of the students in the corridor spotted him and shouted in surprise.

“Riki!”

“It’s been a while. How have you been?”

It was only a casual greeting, but at the sound of his name, students poured out of the dormitory rooms and rushed over, practically clinging to him.

“Riki!”

“What’s gotten into you all?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“Not me. I knew Riki would survive.”

“Thanks to you, we didn’t lose many people.”

“Where did you go? What did you do?”

Ricard was bewildered. Had he really been this close to them?

Still, it was not an unpleasant feeling. He was glad they were doing well. In that sense, he had achieved what he set out to do. Pride shone through his awkward, sheepish smile.

But with everyone saying whatever came to mind, he had no idea how to answer.

And with all the students blocking his way, getting back to his room was proving difficult.

When he finally reached his room, however, he found something strange. Each room was supposed to house twenty people, yet only about ten were inside.

What had happened to the bunks? The upper sections of all ten beds had been dismantled.

The ten students inside looked at Ricard. At that, the students crowding around him abruptly fell silent and drew back. Something was wrong.

Ricard studied the ten students, then took the sword off his shoulder, handed it to whoever was nearest, and stepped inside.

“Where’s my bed? And who are you?”

“Are you Riki?”

One student answered. He was neatly turned out, and unlike the ordinary students, his clothes looked expensive.

“Who are you?” Ricard asked.

The student replied with a sneer.

“I am Karlich, fourth son of the proud House Rosten. A pleasure to meet you, but we’d like to rest in peace right now. Would you leave?”

A noble. They had said nobles would be coming; apparently they had enrolled during Ricard’s absence.

Ricard merely stared at Karlich with an expression that said, So what? Then he spoke.

“Have you had your initiation?”

“Pfft. We have no desire to participate in such a vulgar custom.”

“That’s too bad. You don’t get to decide whether you take part.”

“What?”

As Karlich frowned and demanded an explanation, light flashed before his eyes.

SMACK!

The tremendous slap sent Karlich sprawling sideways. The students sitting or reclining on their beds sprang up, and those leaning against the walls straightened.

Outside the room, every onlooker gasped. Striking a noble was a serious crime.

But Ricard’s initiation was far from over.

“We’re nowhere near done.”

He seized the fallen Karlich by the hair and slapped him across both cheeks again.

“You... Wait!”

SMACK! SLAP!

Two more slaps left Karlich half-conscious, his eyes unfocused. Blood mixed with saliva streamed from his torn mouth. Ricard kicked and stomped him.

THUD! THUD! WHUMP!

“Weakling. Next? Anyone else who hasn’t had their initiation?”

Ricard turned to the remaining noble students.

“Y-you, you...”

They were too shocked to do more than stammer. Ricard approached the nearest one and drove a low kick into him with all his strength.

WHUMP!

“Aagh!”

The student collapsed from that single blow, his mouth gaping. Then the beating began for him, too.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

“You scoundrel!”

Someone shouted, and they all rushed him at once. That only made the initiation quicker. Like a rampaging tiger, Ricard beat every last one of them.

THUD! CRACK! WHAM! WHUMP! THUD!

The sounds of the beating echoed through the quiet keep. The ordinary students all watched with bated breath.

At last, Karlich regained enough of his senses to speak, both cheeks swollen.

“Y-you scoundrel. Do you know who my father is? How dare you treat nobles like...”

Without a word, Ricard kicked him again as he struggled halfway to his feet.

THUD!

“Urgh!”

Then he grabbed Karlich by the hair and dragged him out. He opened the keep’s door and hurled him outside, then pointed at his wretched, crumpled form.

“Make sure you bring your father. Until you do, you’re not coming back in.”

“W-wait. Wait.”

SLAM!

Ricard shut the door without mercy.

Beaten black and blue and left outside in the bitter chill, Karlich feared for his life. Forgetting his status and everything else, he pounded on the door and begged.

“H-hey. Wait a moment. Hey.”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

There was no answer from inside.

Ricard returned to the room and addressed the remaining noble students.

“You took the beds apart, so you’re sleeping on the floor until you fix them. Do it yourselves or pay someone. Any complaints?”

“...”

None of the students groaning on the floor dared complain. If they so much as opened their mouths, they might end up like Karlich.

Before overwhelming violence, rank meant nothing. Everyone was equal.