Chapter 57

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Becoming a branch head was a complicated business, far from simple.

First, one had to enter into a contract with the guild, much like a vassalage agreement.

In an age of limited transportation and communication, a branch head enjoyed almost autonomous authority within the branch. When necessary, however, they were obligated to provide supplies and fighting strength for a joint response to problems facing the guild as a whole.

In return, the guild provided the branch head with initial establishment funds and was obligated to protect the branch. It was, in short, a mutual contract with obligations on both sides.

Second, the branch head had to establish local ties. That was the difficult part.

They first had to offer gifts and tribute to the local lord to obtain what amounted to a business license, then put down roots by cooperating with the existing local powers—or fighting them, if necessary.

The Beringen Guild had already reached a preliminary agreement with the Duke of Siegfringer, laying the broad groundwork. But in a feudal society, the branch still had to negotiate separately with the duke's vassals.

Once they had secured permission to operate, defeated rival organizations, and successfully established themselves, there were people to manage.

The branch head's clan, which signed the branch agreement with the Guild Master, was commonly called the "core clan." But a core clan alone was not enough to run a branch.

They had to recruit adventurers and manage them so that they completed their commissions properly without causing trouble.

Simply gathering capable, trustworthy people was no easy matter, and managing them well was extremely difficult. In fact, this was where all manner of complicated problems arose.

Sometimes people had to be expelled, coaxed and placated, or intimidated. Sometimes they even had to be eliminated.

Responsibility for all of this rested on Volka's shoulders. Ricard and his friends would have to help him get the branch firmly established and running smoothly.

"Simple, right? First, go to Count Reinhold and offer him your gifts. We've already signed an agreement with the duke, so he should accept you without any fuss."

There was nothing simple about it, but Sally called it simple. As it turned out, she was the Beringen Guild's Deputy Master.

Ricard and his companions sat across the table from her, staring at her with slightly dazed expressions. A mountain of plates had piled up in front of her.

"What? Never seen someone eat before?"

Sally accepted another plate from the server as she spoke. On it lay an entire boiled chicken. The server's expression was little different from those of Ricard and his friends.

"... No. It's just that you eat so much, yet you keep such a good figure," Delphi said.

"That's because I move around enough to burn it off. That bastard Dunkel hasn't budged since he became Master. He's lost his touch completely."

Grumbling, she began tearing strips from the chicken with her hands and eating them. Was this her third chicken alone? Was that even possible?

Ricard stared at her, looking rather dumbfounded, then gestured to Volka that they should leave.

"Uh, well, we'll be going now."

"All right, all right. Work's important, but there are still hostile guilds prowling around out there, so take care of yourselves."

"We will. You too, Sally."

Ricard and Volka left the inn carrying a chest each. The chests were not particularly large, but they were full of silver coins and quite heavy. This was the establishment money provided by the guild.

The two went to the inn's stable, laid a cloth over a donkey's back, loaded a chest on either side, and secured them tightly with rope.

Boribori stroked the donkey's head and fed it a carrot.

"Let's go, Magnoli."

Magnoli was the donkey's name, a variation on "magnolia."

Naturally, Boribori had named it without consulting anyone. Still, as the clan's first possession and the first entry on its inventory, it was special to the others too.

Boribori took the reins and gently led the way. Magnoli followed, its hooves clopping along.

The Viola clan left the small city bound for none other than Ehrenberg.

Ehrenberg had been the Ehrenberg Five's base and primary area of operation.

There was something symbolic about it. Since Ricard had slain them, it felt almost like spoils of war.

On the other hand, it was also the place closest to a hostile guild called Lutzerath. That made it something of a border territory—and the current front line.

Establishing themselves there was the Viola clan's task and duty. It was also a dream that the five of them, none yet twenty, would have to build with their own hands.

"Ah, so you are Red Cloak, the boy hero. Then would you be Boribori the Quarterer?"

The man spoke as he pressed his signet ring into red wax. His impressive mustache curled upward at both ends. This was Reinhold, count of a territory called Nordrhein, which included Ehrenberg.

"No, this is Boribori the Quarterer."

The count had addressed Volka, who corrected him by pointing at Boribori.

"Eh? This innocent-looking boy? That gives me the chills, somehow. To think he enjoys chopping people into pieces with that innocent face."

"I don't enjoy it..."

"At any rate, I accept your gifts. You may conduct business in Ehrenberg. I will not, however, protect you. What I mean is that I have accepted money from other guilds and issued them permits as well. You're free to stab one another as much as you like, but don't harm decent folk. I'll overlook a certain amount, but—no, you all understand. There's no need for me to elaborate."

One chest full of silver coins sat on the count's desk. Half their establishment funds had gone toward his gift.

There was no concept of bribery in this age. Offering gifts or tribute when seeking permission to do business was perfectly normal.

There was no fixed amount, however, and if the lord disliked you, all the money in the world would do no good. Fortunately, Count Reinhold was fairly easygoing.

Frankly, it was free money, and having a dependable adventurers' guild in his territory was convenient in many ways.

They helped maintain order, and he could commission them to handle troublesome matters. Mobilizing troops or hiring a mercenary company was a heavy burden for someone of a count's standing.

It was hardly cost-effective, either. One couldn't put on full armor and ride out on a warhorse just to kill a single fly.

Moreover, they required no particular supervision. Adventurers' guilds and noble lords had a symbiotic relationship, rather like crocodiles and the birds that cleaned their teeth.

"Still, having the Ehrenberg Five dealt with is like finally getting rid of a bad tooth. As a special favor to Red Cloak, I'll tell the mayor to find you a decent building. Is there anything else?"

Volka glanced at his friends before answering the count.

"No, nothing else."

"Good. May fortune favor you in battle. You may go."

With the all-important business permit in hand, Ricard and his companions left Count Reinhold's castle.

Built long ago and expanded and repaired over many years, it was quite magnificent. The castle in Ricard's hometown of Stormhertz could not compare.

Even a lord who lived in a castle like this found it difficult to mobilize an army. This was an age when lords had to take up arms and fight in person.

Magnoli the donkey walked toward Ehrenberg with a considerably lighter load.

Ehrenberg was a day's journey from the count's castle, so the party had to camp along the way. Here, having a donkey made an enormous difference.

Being able to carry more traveling equipment meant they could put up a fairly respectable shelter. They could also bring a cooking pot, a ladle, and dishes, allowing for a little more variety in their meals.

With spring drawing to a close, the weather was just right. Nights were still chilly, but compared with winter, they were positively balmy.

In the north, the grass grew short, but the trees were thick, straight, and tall. Most were varieties of fir.

Their shelter was not a proper tent, but it was enough to keep out the wind and rain. Once they draped the tough canvas over a branch, pulled the ropes taut, and drove in the stakes, there was ample room inside for all five.

They lit a fire in front of the shelter and fed the donkey dried bean stalks and the like. One of them washed the pot at the nearby river and fetched water, while others sliced fruit and vegetables to prepare the ingredients.

The five really did seem like a family. Ricard and Marie sat close together preparing their version of a feast, looking for all the world like a young married couple.

"Did I cut these too thick?"

Ricard was slicing a turnip. Usually, he ate whatever was at hand without much fuss. Now that he was actually trying to cook, he wasn't sure whether he was doing it right.

"Give it here. I'll do it."

Marie took the turnip from him and sliced it deftly with a sharp dagger, without resting it on a board or anything else. Then she dropped the pieces into the pot one after another.

Watching from beside her, Ricard thought she didn't really know what she was doing either. Her bangs kept falling over her eyes, though, so he reached out and tucked them behind her ear.

He had no idea that these casual, unthinking gestures made Marie's heart flutter.

Despite coming from a distinguished family, Marie never shied away from hard, unglamorous work. She seemed completely unconcerned about looking a little disheveled.

Her beauty never faded, whether her hair was tangled, her clothes shifted to expose a little flesh at her side, or her face was smudged and her clothes stained. If anything, it seemed to shine all the brighter.

To be honest, though, what they were cooking was a complete mishmash. They were essentially throwing in whatever they had and boiling it all together. Perhaps getting a balanced range of nutrients was the point.

In any case, they served themselves portions of the strange concoction, neither soup nor porridge. It tasted decent enough.

"So, what do we do now?"

Delphi blew on her mishmash of a meal, took a sip, and broached the subject.

"Meet the mayor and set up the branch first, I suppose?"

Volka answered as though wondering why she was asking something so obvious.

"No, that's not what I mean. That's just a matter of following the proper steps. I'm asking whether the enemy will leave us alone."

"... Right. That's a real headache."

On the Kaitz heights, their enemies had been clear. Their numbers were a problem, but they were plainly visible, so there had been no question about whom they needed to fight.

Here, it was different. They had no way of knowing when or where an attack might come, or how many would arrive.

"There's a way to deal with this."

Unexpectedly, Boribori sounded confident. When everyone looked at him, he grinned and called out,

"Riki-Riki, heeelp!"

Ricard laughed despite himself at the absurdity of it. And what was this Riki-Riki business?

"I don't have any particular solution either. The surest way would be to raze their bases. Whether it's Brabant or Lutzerath, we could storm their headquarters and kill everyone. That would settle things neatly. But since that's difficult, shouldn't we start by gathering information to find out who our enemies are and how they're moving?"

"Should we visit the thieves' guild?"

"That'll probably be difficult," Boribori said.

"Why?"

"We smashed them all last winter."

"Hmm..."

In truth, going from place to place wiping out every sort of criminal organization had been an incredible feat, but the Nameless had played an enormous part in it.

He was superb at leading a charge. So long as they kept his back covered, they could tear through most organizations with ease. Volka was the type to lead a charge too, but he was no match for the Nameless.

"First, we need to build up our strength with help from the locals. I hear Ehrenberg is famous for its stonemasons' guild. Why don't we visit them first?"

There were all manner of guilds in the world. A guild was an association of people in the same line of work, banded together to protect their interests.

Naturally, they formed and operated on a local basis, and generally wielded considerable influence within their area.

In this age, whether one was a merchant or anything else, one needed enough force to defend oneself. Guilds of merchants and craftsmen were not to be underestimated.

In particular, members of blacksmiths' and stonemasons' guilds often proved every bit as frightening as professional fighters, thanks to the sheer physical demands of their work.

"But no matter how many times you wipe out a thieves' guild, don't they eventually spring up again like poisonous mushrooms?" Delphi asked.

"That's true. But would they look kindly on us?"

Given what he had done the previous winter, Ricard was skeptical. He had no particular objection to joining forces with a thieves' guild if necessary, but getting involved with those people rarely led to anything good.

"Leave that to me. I think I have a rough idea of what to do."

Volka might not devise clever plans like Ricard, but he was better at handling people: coaxing, placating, persuading, intimidating, and threatening them.

Show strength to those who needed to see strength, soothe those who needed soothing, and slip money to those who liked money. Knowing which approach to use with whom was a skill in itself.

Get it wrong, and problems were bound to arise. But Volka had been good at this since his academy days. He had found jobs for students and stepped in to resolve their troubles, gaining plenty of experience along the way.

"Once we have a building for the branch, let's work in two teams. One stays to guard the branch while the other goes out. Volka and Delphi in one, and me, Bori, and Marie in the other."

"Sounds good. Still, five people really is a tight squeeze."

Volka had already finished his meal and was sucking his fingers clean as he spoke.

Every member of the Viola clan possessed tremendous fighting ability, but any undertaking required manpower.

One of a branch's important roles was to gather and lead capable, reliable adventurers.

With a number of clans gathered around the core clan, a branch could become the dominant power in its region, sometimes even surpassing guild headquarters.

But as Volka said, starting with just five people was a stretch.

Fortunately, Ricard and Boribori's reputations gave them something of a head start, as their earlier meeting with Count Reinhold had demonstrated.

Trying to establish a branch from nothing could drive a person mad in any number of ways. Not a single thing, from beginning to end, would go smoothly.

Perhaps Ehrenberg would become their second home. They had been born elsewhere, but they would have to commit themselves as though they meant to be buried here.

The most important part of establishing a branch was becoming part of the local community and sharing its joys and hardships.

If they failed to integrate, they would remain outsiders, and there were limits to what outsiders could accomplish.

A local community might seem insignificant, but at a crucial moment it could either hold them back or lend them strength.

Ricard wondered whether it might be humanity's fate to leave the land of one's birth and choose the land where one would be buried.

There was nothing wrong with living and dying where one was born. But he thought there was meaning in passing on to someone new the family love and care from neighbors that had nourished one's childhood.

They were all children who had been abandoned in one way or another. Such children had existed in the past, and they kept appearing in the present. What could be more meaningful than people like that gathering to give one another strength and support?

Human bonds could sometimes bring terrible suffering. Yet, as he had learned from the Nameless, in the end, only another person could save a person.

Ricard watched the stars shining in the night sky beyond the tangled forest branches. The stars were the same as ever, but the heart with which he watched them had changed.

Suddenly, he seemed to see himself years from now, older and tilling a field with his friends. Beside him, Marie was smiling.

Could he truly have such happiness? Unease cast a shadow over the vision. In the end, Marie was the brave one, and he was the coward.

He felt sorry, but he had decided not to apologize. So he kept his words to himself and simply sat close beside Marie, looking up at the stars with her.

Ricard was forever saying there was no need to get sentimental all the time. Perhaps, however, he was the most sentimental of them all.

His first friend, Chaldebert, had once told him he had the makings of a poet. Ironically, the only person who knew this sentimental side of Ricard was a friend from a hundred years ago.

A man born with a poet's gifts, walking the path of the sword. Perhaps he kept happiness at a distance because he feared the misery it might bring.

'I'm a coward, Marie. I'm sorry. Forgive me.' Ricard spoke the words inwardly as he felt a gentle weight settle on his shoulder.

The night deepened. The darker it grew, the brighter the stars shone.

But when the quiet night had lulled everything to sleep, Ricard, sleeping close beside his friends, suddenly woke to a distant, incongruous sound.

Volka, who was keeping watch, sat beside the fire with his head turned toward the source of the noise.

"You heard it too?"

At Ricard's question, Volka realized he was awake.

"That was swords clashing."

CLANG...

No sooner had Volka finished speaking than another metallic ring came from the distance.

"Wake the others. I'll take a look."

Ricard picked up his sword and rose.

"All right. Be careful."

Volka did not try to stop him by saying it was dangerous. After everything he had seen, he could hardly imagine anyone being a match for Ricard.

Without putting on his cloak or fastening his belt, Ricard walked toward the sound with only a sword in one hand. The fir forest had little undergrowth or brush to impede him, but it was difficult to see in the darkness.

The farther he walked into the dark forest, the clearer the signs of people became. He heard several people running and shouting. Death cries, too.

Ricard intended only to assess the situation from a distance, but someone suddenly came racing toward him.

He was about to draw his sword in a flash when he glimpsed the other's face in the faint moonlight and hesitated. To his astonishment, it was Ice.

Their bodies collided at an angle. They hit the ground with a thud and rolled once or twice before Ricard sprang up and caught hold of him.

In Ricard's arms, Ice gazed up at him with wildly trembling eyes. Without a word of recognition, his face crumpled as though he were about to burst into tears.

Ricard was too shocked to speak either. Whatever Ice had suffered, he was in an appalling state.

He was utterly gaunt, and his once-beautiful silver hair was dry and lifeless. He looked like a wounded deer pursued by hunters.

Ricard had only heard that Ice was performing feats as great as his own. He had never dreamed the boy would be in this condition.

Was this what it meant to be overwhelmed by conflicting emotions? In that brief moment, Ricard felt so many things.

The truth was that Ice had ended up this way because the guild had worked him mercilessly.

Dunkel had already passed judgment on Ice. He had driven him hard, assigning him nothing but dangerous missions, leaving him to either quit of his own accord or die. Despite his outstanding skill, Ice was little more than a disposable pawn to the guild.

Dunkel's words flashed through Ricard's mind.

["You're better off not getting close to him. One day, his path will diverge from the guild's—and yours. That bastard's obsessed with becoming a Sword Master for the Church."]

So what? If words like those could sway him, he would never have made friends in the first place. Nor had Ricard forgotten his promise.

"Even if you abandon me, I won't abandon you, Ice."

He spoke as though swearing an oath. Then he drew his sword and stood.

Only then, at the sight of the boy acting as steadfastly as ever, did Ice's tears of anguish begin to fall.