Chapter 67

* * *

It was evening. The moon was half hidden behind clouds, as though wrapped in a cloak, making the night unusually dark.

The Beringen Guild building was quiet too. Even with so many people packed inside, a falling pin would have sounded loud.

The boys and girls ranged from about twelve to sixteen. They had grown at different rates; some looked very young, while others were practically full-grown adults. Every one of those varied students was looking at Ricard on the platform.

He calmly met their many gazes, slowly surveying them as though trying to look each student in the eye.

To the students, he was a living legend. Every report of his exploits in the outside world filled them with pride.

A genius among geniuses. A Hero of Siegfringer. The slayer of the Ehrenberg Five. One of the Nine Swords of the Empire. Red Cloak. The Tiger of Kaitz.

Countless epithets accompanied his incredible legend, and his fame was spreading beyond Beringen and the north to the entire Empire. Perhaps it was not just the students who took pride in him, but everyone living in Beringen and Siegfringer as well.

Swordsmanship alone would never have earned him such renown. His character lay at its foundation.

Ricard always led the attack and brought up the rear during a retreat. He took the most dangerous role, and even amid all that, he rescued the powerless.

There was no one else like him. Even the rare, truly noble knights-errant took payment for ridding people of villains. People praised them as admirable for doing even that much. Such were the times.

And now that great Ricard had said he was disappointed in them. The students were shocked. They wished he were joking.

They felt as though they would suffocate in the silence of their own making. Yet no one dared break it, because they believed the right to do so belonged to Ricard alone.

Whoever controlled the silence controlled the situation. At first, Ricard had felt pressured by the crowd's silence. Now he was the one in command.

Without hurrying, he looked at every student, one by one, from the right all the way to the left. At last, he spoke.

"... Is roaming around in a gang, intimidating innocent people and causing trouble what you call breaking your chains? Anyone care to answer?"

"..."

No one answered, so Ricard singled out a student he knew.

"You. You answer me. Is that breaking the chains of oppression? Harassing tavern maids, then gathering a mob to descend on anyone who objects—is that breaking the chains of oppression?"

"..."

Naturally, the boy could not answer. He lowered his head in apparent shame.

"Why aren't you answering? Then you. Give me an answer. Can't do it? Then how about you?"

Ricard pointed out students he knew, one after another. Once again, none could answer. Ignorant as they might be, they all honestly knew that behavior was wrong.

Silence fell again. Without intending to, Ricard was naturally varying the pace and intensity.

"I know you grew up mistreated. Some of you must have suffered cruelties at home that are hard even to put into words. You must have wondered why you had to suffer like that. Why they brought you into the world if that was how they were going to treat you. But I don't know either. Someone tell me. Does anyone know?"

Though he was not doing it deliberately, Ricard kept asking questions. Gradually, the students were drawn in, not simply looking up to him, but thinking for themselves.

And their hearts began to stir. These were children who had agonized more bitterly than anyone over why life was so painful and why they had ever been born.

But Ricard had not said those things merely to sympathize.

"That pain will follow you and torment you for the rest of your lives. But does that mean it's right to give in and do whatever you please? At least you have a choice. In every city, there are countless bastards picking pockets or begging on the streets. And all you can think to do is roam around in gangs, frightening innocent people? I'd be too ashamed to hold my head up."

Bastards were not born only to noble houses. In an age without effective contraception, countless illegitimate children were born across all classes and stations: the children of monks, of adulterous affairs, of flings with travelers, and so on.

Far from attending an academy, such children generally wandered the streets. Once they were old enough, they would join thieves' guilds or form criminal gangs of their own.

Yet, surprisingly, Ricard was not simply berating them. He was fundamentally different from Karlich, who did nothing but incite them. Point by point, he made them reflect on why they were in the wrong.

"No one in this world is perfect. That includes me. Anyone can make mistakes. But when you make one, you have to put it right. Isn't the resolve to put things right an expression of the free will God gave us? Only then does the path to salvation open. That's what I believe. Life always puts us at a crossroads. Deep down, you know it too. There's a right path and a wrong one. The right path is troublesome and hard. The wrong one is fun and easy. So which will you take?"

The earlier frenzy had vanished, replaced by a solemn mood. It was neither manufactured nor forced. They were simply feeling the sincerity of words born of an honest heart.

"If you find it hard to walk the right path, someone can be there to help. That's what a friend is. Someone who sets you straight when you've taken the wrong path. Someone who gives you strength when you're lonely and struggling, who believes in you and supports you. That's a friend. I think those are the friends you should find at the academy, and the kind of friend you should become."

The mood had grown beyond solemn, becoming almost reverent. Ricard's words were slowly seeping into the students' hearts, touching their consciences.

And ever so gently, he planted a seed of hope. Without grand language, just honest, plain words.

"Work honestly and train hard. Have fun when it's time to have fun, and step up to help people in need. Then, no matter how your families mistreated you, your own actions will have been noble. Just like the great heroes of old, that is purity of heart. That is courage. And that is how you fight without surrendering, how you break the chains of oppression and persecution. It's written on the academy gates, isn't it? Discipline shall set you free. It probably meant something different originally, but anyway, I believe in you. Because we're all students of Beringen Academy."

Ricard calmly finished and stepped down from the platform. Every gaze followed him.

For reasons they could not explain, the students felt their hearts soften, and tears spilled before they knew it. Perhaps what they had truly wanted to hear was not incitement, but words like these.

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP.

Someone began to applaud, and the applause spread quietly. This was not noisy clapping from people swept up in the mood. Each student was offering heartfelt praise and thanks.

Karlich was among them. He clapped with tears pouring down his face more freely than anyone else's. Watching him, it was impossible to tell whether the boy was innocent or calculating.

He was simply young too. Intelligent but inexperienced, he had become far too fixated on Ricard's words: everyone at the academy was an equal student.

"Riki! I had no idea!"

Sobbing as hard as the other students, Boribori threw himself into Ricard's arms. Marie came over and joined the embrace. She held him firmly. Tight.

"No idea about what?"

Ricard laughed in disbelief. They had hardly met just yesterday, yet Boribori and Marie seemed moved all over again. They too were children with deep emotional wounds. Wounds inflicted by parents in childhood tended to last a lifetime.

All the while, the heartfelt applause continued.

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP.

For some inexplicable reason, Karlich came up and hugged Ricard from behind as well, still in tears. Given the mood, even Ricard could not bring himself to tell him to get off just then.

All the students had needed was a decent adult. Someone to lead them down the right path.

They had wanted that more than anything, but had not known it themselves. They did not know what was wrong, where their anger came from, or how to ease their frustration and sense of injustice.

But the world was so harsh and cruel that decent adults were hard to find.

Fathers spent their days drinking, shouting, and beating them. Merchants cared for nothing but money. Nobles treated even their own children as tools to preserve their bloodlines and their families' power.

If some transcendent being had reincarnated Ricard, perhaps this was why.

Perhaps what was needed was not someone with monstrous swordsmanship, but someone who knew how to cherish people's hearts, give them strength, and guide them—gently at times, firmly at others.

Still, as Ricard himself had said, he was not perfect. He too needed salvation, and was making his way toward it.

"Everyone, hold on. Stop clapping for a moment."

After holding Boribori and Marie for a long while, Ricard addressed the students.

"Let's stop making speeches now. We'll leave just enough people here to look after the place and head back to the academy. It's night, but it won't be dangerous if we all go together."

There seemed to be at least fifty people present. If they stayed together, surely no robbers or bandits would attack.

Ricard went upstairs to collect his belongings, then led the students out of the guild building.

Walking at the head of the group, he felt as though he were bringing lost sheep home in the middle of the night.

Just then, the clouds moved aside to reveal the moon. Like the touch of a goddess, its gentle light illuminated the path before the students.

At last, Ricard returned to the academy. It was summer.

Situated atop a mountain, Beringen Academy did not suffer much from oppressive heat. A cool breeze always blew, and the well water was cold.

The problem was that even the professors had been scraped together for the war effort, leaving the academy with no actual adults.

Confined to the academy under those circumstances, they were practically cut off from the world.

Ricard had no choice but to keep the students occupied with various activities. Otherwise, there was no telling what they might do.

He kept Karlich particularly close. Talented as the boy was, he was also the most dangerous of the lot.

"Riki, Riki, look at this. I made a schedule!"

Wearing the uniform paid for with his own money, Ricard sat on a breezy knoll and took the schedule Karlich had drawn up.

Sleep, physical training, meals, writing, grass cutting—every hour was tightly scheduled.

It even detailed how the students would be divided up, who would lead them, and the rotations for gate duty and night watch.

"What about dividing everyone into classes? We might be able to manage them more efficiently that way. They could spur each other on too. What do you think?"

Ricard listened to Karlich's suggestions as he studied the schedule. This bastard really was unbelievably capable. It was frightening.

This felt like the crucial turning point. Raised right, he would benefit the world. Raised wrong, he would become a villain like no other.

"Sounds good. More importantly, we need to prepare for winter. That comes first."

"I know. That's why I've already started stocking the food stores."

"Have you? Impressive. Honestly, there's nothing for me to say when it comes to this sort of thing. You're the best at it."

"What are you talking about, Riki? There's no one in the world better than you! Not even me!"

Oh, for fuck's sake. The curse rose unbidden inside Ricard. Why did someone so talented have to be out of his mind? They said there was a fine line between genius and madness, but this was a bit much.

"Don't worship people. That includes me."

"W-why would you say that? Are you abandoning me?"

"Who's abandoning anyone? Stop saying strange things. Please. I'm begging you."

Someone with a healthy sense of self-worth might not understand, but no matter how intelligent a person was, low self-esteem tended to make them look to someone else for their sense of worth. And most of these children could hardly help having low self-esteem.

At their age, in particular, they needed an idol. For Karlich, Ricard was that idol: perfection in human form.

"But I think even your mistakes are part of your perfection."

"... Good grief. You scare me."

"Why? Me? Why? Don't be scared, Riki. I'll do better."

"It's not about doing better. You're trying too hard. You're a good, talented kid as you are. Try to have a little faith in yourself and relax."

"... How do I do that? I don't really know."

"Honestly, I don't really know either. Maybe it's something we each have to figure out for ourselves."

"Even that sounds wonderful. You know, Riki, I remember every single word you say."

"... I can't say anything around you, can I?"

Throughout his time at the academy, Karlich felt like Ricard's greatest assignment.

He was not a bad kid. He seemed a little lacking somewhere, yet was far too intelligent for that. He truly was an enigma.

"Riki!"

Boribori leaned out from the third floor and shouted. Ricard looked up at him, then turned to Karlich.

"I'm off. I'll leave this to you."

"Sure."

Ricard rose to go into the keep. And he did not forget to add one thing.

"I'm always grateful to you, Karli."

Ricard offered Karlich as much encouragement as he could. You're a good kid. You're a fine kid. You're very talented. Thank you.

Because the boy seemed to need it. He seemed to have endured enough bad things already.

And indeed, Ricard was the first person ever to say such things to Karlich. At home, he had been treated as nothing but a nuisance. A strange boy. A useless boy. A troublemaker.

Yet Ricard was the first person in his life to understand him, embrace him, acknowledge him, and forgive his mistakes. And on top of that, he was one of the current Nine Swords of the Empire? How could Karlich not idolize him?

In any case, Ricard went into the keep and climbed to the third floor. He sat with Boribori and Marie in an empty classroom and began work on his writing.

His goal was to finish it before graduation and leave it at the academy. Though who would be able to read it, written in ancient script as it was?

Marie corrected his swordsmanship manual and wrote a translation. She did not understand everything herself, but asking Ricard questions as she worked taught her things too, so helping him served both purposes.

And so time passed. It was a cool summer. As the heat gradually faded, the war ended.

Dunkel returned, and everyone in the Viola clan was safe. So were the children.

Ricard's graduation was approaching.