Chapter 100

Chapter 100: Chapter 100

For a human to bear the heart of a god was much like suffering from an illness.

It brought with it an immense sorrow for the world.

And so, to recover, Rickart withdrew from worldly affairs and spent his time tending sheep with Marie . He fell asleep looking at her each night, and when he opened his eyes every morning, she was there.

In truth, they were merely passing the time.

They did what needed to be done, walked hand in hand through the fields, and watched the sun set.

That was all.

They lived without purpose or regret, simply savoring each passing moment.

Whenever travelers crossed their path, they offered them food and shelter in the barn. If those travelers were wicked rather than decent, Rickart killed them.

That was their only contact with the outside world.

Then their uninvited guests arrived.

"I asked you to keep it a secret..."

Rickart spoke to Bremen while herding the sheep into the barn.

There were only a few of them—four or five fully grown sheep and three or four lambs.

He placed the lambs and their mothers in separate enclosures.

Sheep possessed surprisingly little maternal affection, so it was better not to keep the lambs with their mothers except when they needed to nurse.

After putting the sheep in the barn, Rickart turned toward Bremen.

At eighteen years old, Rickart had grown into a proper adult by anyone’s standards.

He appeared to stand over 180 centimeters tall. His frame had fully developed, giving him broad shoulders. The forearms exposed by his rolled-up sleeves were not grotesquely thick, but they radiated formidable strength.

"I’m sorry," Bremen said. "But surely you couldn’t expect us to stand still and let bandits slaughter us."

"That’s true."

Rickart looked toward the barn.

The wounded and several others were inside. Everyone else had erected tents and was sitting outside.

Judging by their luggage, they were not planning to leave after only a day or two.

They would have to wait for the wounded to recover.

Marie emerged from the barn after administering first aid.

She wore a practical blue dress, and a white cloth covered her hair. Covering her hair indicated that she was married.

She approached while wiping her hands on the stained apron she habitually wore. Even though she had washed them, the blood had not completely disappeared.

Marie was tall herself, standing only slightly shorter than Rickart.

"How is he?"

"Half and half."

Rickart asked, and Marie answered.

It was an exceptionally dry exchange.

By "half and half," she meant that the man had an equal chance of living or dying.

Marie rested her elbows on the barn fence and stood at an angle as she questioned Bremen.

There was something more rugged and tenacious about her manner than there had been in the past.

"Has it been about half a year? What happened to the people who traveled with you last time?"

"They all died."

"Were they attacked by bandits?"

"No."

"Then what happened?"

"They killed one another. Discord visits the strong and the weak alike."

Both Rickart and Marie knew how vicious the world could be, but hearing such a thing directly still left them feeling unpleasant.

"Where did you say you were taking those people?" Rickart asked.

"The Eastern Frontier."

"...The Frontier? Don’t you mean the Eastern Expedition Territory?"

Rickart tilted his head, failing to understand at first.

They had barely spoken during their first encounter, so only now did Rickart learn where Bremen had been leading those people.

"The expedition departed a hundred years ago, didn’t it? It is a frontier now. A refuge for the exhausted and weary, a place of salvation, and their final hope."

"That place? I find that difficult to believe."

In Rickart’s memories, the Eastern Expedition Territory had been such a hellish place that it should never have existed in this world.

And now it was supposed to be a place of salvation and final hope?

He found it difficult to believe.

Part of him was curious, while another part wondered how such a thing could possibly have happened.

"Whether you believe it or not, more people are heading there every day. And most of them die along the way."

"...Have you ever been there, sir?"

"No."

"Then isn’t it a swindle?"

Rickart had always been somewhat direct, but now he spoke with exceptional bluntness.

"Because every group I led died before reaching Rotweil. Have you heard of the Giants’ Gate? You must cross it to reach the Frontier. If my party remains intact until then, I, too, will finally reach the Eastern Frontier."

Rickart knew Rotweil well.

During his days as an Academy student, he had reached the city after passing through Griffinswald.

There had been a man named Alter there, if he remembered correctly—the branch leader of the Beringen Guild.

Rickart had accepted a commission to pursue deserters and had been left deeply troubled after meeting them.

A tremendously tall mountain range ran from north to south, separating the unknown lands from the Empire.

Even though it had been summer, the wind blowing down from the mountains had been cold.

"In any case, I hope you’ll allow us to impose upon you for a while. I’ll speak with the others and see if we can give you one of the calves in return."

They had no money to spare, so Bremen apparently intended to compensate Rickart in whatever way he could.

Rickart, of course, was not the sort of person who would demand payment for something like this.

"There’s no need. It isn’t inconvenient or difficult. Right, Marie ?"

Marie nodded several times.

Watching the young couple left Bremen with a strange feeling.

How could he describe it?

They seemed almost like beings who had stepped beyond the realm of ordinary humanity.

This couple helped people with calm indifference.

They also killed people with the same calm indifference.

They were not ordinary.

Above all else, Rickart’s extraordinary skill could not possibly be considered normal.

He had severed a man’s head with a wooden staff.

Before even discussing whether his skill was great or poor, one had to question whether such a feat was possible at all.

That was why Bremen was curious about the young man’s past.

"May I ask you something? What did you do before becoming a shepherd?"

The young couple grinned simultaneously.

Their smiles contained countless meanings.

All their suffering and hardship could now be replaced by that single smile.

Of course, their lives had not contained only hardship.

If they had, they probably would never have made it this far.

"Who can say? Since ancient times, many heroes have begun as shepherds. Most people don’t realize it, but this work is more demanding than it looks. It naturally builds your stamina and fighting ability."

That was true.

If sheep were left to graze in a single place, they would eat even the roots and leave the land barren. Shepherds therefore had to keep them constantly moving.

A shepherd spent the entire day crossing mountains and fields. If he encountered wolves or bandits, he needed enough strength to survive, even if he could not defeat them.

He could break through his enemies and run to the village to warn everyone—or deal with them alone.

In Rickart’s previous life, the village had been too far away, so he had usually dealt with such threats himself.

Armed with a single staff.

Perhaps that was when he had first grown accustomed to fighting alone.

Above all, shepherding demanded a strong sense of responsibility.

After all, it would have been easy for a shepherd to steal several lambs if he chose to do so.

When Rickart answered evasively, Bremen smiled awkwardly.

"Ha-ha... Is that so? Yes, I suppose it is. I have heard such stories myself."

"In any case, I won’t take your money. Stay as long as you need. If you help with a few chores while you’re here, that will be enough."

There were plenty of tasks with which the travelers could help, such as repairing and reinforcing the barn or drawing water.

Rickart had been roaming the fields for several days and had only just returned, so he went into the cottage to rest.

In a sense, Bremen’s party had been remarkably fortunate.

They had encountered Rickart precisely when they needed him, despite the vastness of the fields.

When one stopped to consider it, the world contained many miracles.

As Rickart and Marie trudged toward the cottage, the travelers watched them.

They seemed uncomfortable and awkward because they knew they were uninvited guests and possessed almost nothing with which to repay the couple.

Rickart smiled to show them that it was all right.

Near the cottage, he removed his shirt and washed himself with water scooped from a rain barrel.

His firm muscles glistened beneath the sunlight.

When he entered the cottage afterward, Marie was removing the cloth from her head.

She turned toward him while straightening her slightly disheveled hair.

Even after spending years living as a countryman’s wife, her beauty remained dazzling.

If there was one eternal truth in Rickart’s life, it was that Marie was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Rickart took her face in his hands and kissed her.

After taking care of what needed to be done, Rickart reconsidered their current circumstances with his characteristic objectivity.

More precisely, the words Eastern Frontier continued to trouble him.

The hellish days he had spent there naturally resurfaced in his mind, but the memories no longer caused him pain.

He merely felt a certain melancholy when he remembered his first friend, Kaldevert.

If there was one thing he regretted now, it was that he had not remained at Kaldevert’s side a little longer.

Perhaps no matter how thoroughly one withdrew from worldly affairs, a human being could never truly separate himself from the world.

Rickart had never withdrawn because he was disgusted or disillusioned with it in the first place.

Perhaps he had simply exhausted himself by running ceaselessly forward without ever looking back.

The heart of a god?

Rickart did not particularly want to bind himself to such a grandiose concept.

Four years.

If he had been suffering from some illness, four years was more than enough time to recover.

Now, he found himself wondering whether he had truly been ill at all.

Leisurely tending sheep and feeling Marie ’s skin against his own had been excellent medicine.

Nothing could have been better for calming both his body and mind.

But now, his thoughts continually drifted toward the distant east.

That place had once been covered in fire, steel, blood, and death.

And now it offered people their final hope?

How in the world had it changed?

After sleeping deeply through the morning—not even a mere nap—Rickart awoke in the afternoon.

When he stepped out of the cottage, he was greeted by a blue sky, warm sunlight, and a cool breeze.

Such scenery was pleasant once or twice, but after seeing it every day, it ceased to inspire much feeling.

Two cows grazed peacefully in the field. The young calves remained close to them.

The children played by climbing onto the cows’ backs or stroking the calves.

The older children took turns looking after the wounded man and helped Marie move various things.

Hearing wood splitting with a series of sharp cracks, Rickart turned toward the sound.

A man with an axe was chopping firewood.

He appeared to be trying to repay the couple, if only through his labor, for giving them a place to stay.

These were not bad people.

They seemed simple and honest.

Of course, considering they had abandoned their homes to travel to such a distant land, the stories buried within their hearts were probably dark.

Bremen’s party now had only three adult men because the three young thugs had been captured by the bandits.

One of those three men had been wounded and was hovering between life and death.

Of Bremen and Hartmann, Bremen was already an old man.

In reality, Hartmann was the only person capable of fulfilling the role expected of an able-bodied man.

Rickart did not need to hear their personal circumstances to understand how vulnerable this group was.

Almost everyone he could see was either a woman or a child.

Sensing someone behind him, Rickart turned around.

A boy of about eight or nine stood there hesitantly, hiding both hands behind his back.

"Do you need something?"

"N-No. That’s not it. This..."

The boy shyly revealed what he had been hiding.

It was a flower crown decorated with red, yellow, and white spring blossoms.

Rickart suddenly remembered Boribori and his love of flowers, and a smile naturally appeared on his face.

Did he still like them?

"I’m sorry. I don’t have anything else to give you..."

"What are you talking about? This is a wonderful gift."

Rickart accepted the flower crown and placed it on his head.

It fit surprisingly well. The boy must have observed the size of Rickart’s head from a distance.

When Rickart readily accepted the gift, some of the boy’s tension faded, and he seemed relieved.

"What’s your name?"

"Roy."

"I’m Ricky. It’s nice to meet you. You can stay here and make yourself comfortable for as long as you like, so there’s no need to worry about what I think."

"Thank you."

Growing bashful again, Roy hurried back to his father.

Hartmann had been watching while chopping firewood. When his son returned, he tucked the boy against his side and inclined his head slightly toward Rickart.

Rickart returned the gesture.

Then he went to the barn, released the sheep, and walked into the fields with his staff.

By the time he returned that evening, the wounded man had died.

He had left behind three daughters and one son.

Yet his children did not cry before their father’s grave.

It was not because they felt no grief.

They lived in an age so familiar with death that they spent their lives expecting and accepting it.

The children of this era understood that death was never far away.

Moreover, their father had already been wounded, so his passing was not entirely unexpected.

Above all, their fear and anxiety over how they would survive from now on overwhelmed even their grief.

The following day, Bremen’s party took down their tents and prepared to depart.

They did not beg Rickart for further kindness.

They merely thanked him for everything he had already done and resumed their journey.

Rickart and Marie stood together, calmly watching them leave.

They would probably die.

Before discord even had an opportunity to divide them, they would likely be slaughtered by some sudden act of violence.

Marie spoke.

"Want to follow them?"

"...Yeah. Let’s do that."

No great resolution was required to bring their four years as shepherds to an end.

Just as they had abruptly withdrawn from worldly affairs, they would now simply step back into the world.

Rickart and Marie entered the cottage, tore up the wooden floorboards, and retrieved the equipment they had buried long ago.

The Holy Sword—or perhaps the Demonic Sword.

Rickart’s sword was wrapped in cloth.

He had not looked at it since using it that one time. The hilt and guard had rusted and deteriorated until they were completely unusable.

He would have to visit a smithy and replace them.

The blade itself, however, gleamed with unbelievable sharpness despite not having been maintained even once, as though enchanted by magic.

Marie had managed to put together a convincing traveling outfit.

Rickart, however, had grown so much that his old clothes no longer fit.

The only things from his former equipment that he could still take were his sword and red cloak.

A red cloak over shabby shepherd’s clothes looked terribly mismatched, but there was nothing he could do about it.

After gathering everything they needed, the young couple went to the barn and simply released the sheep into the fields.

They could easily have taken the animals to a nearby village or city and sold them.

They chose not to.

Rickart merely watched the sheep wander into the field.

Looking at him, Marie said,

"You look like some kind of mage dressed like that, Ricky."

Ridiculous though it sounded, she had a point.

With shabby clothing, a red cloak, a sword in one hand, and a staff in the other, he looked rather comical.

At some point, Marie had even retrieved the flower crown and placed it on Rickart’s head.

His appearance became even more ridiculous, and Marie burst into laughter by herself.

Rickart laughed as well.

"Let’s go."

Leaning upon his staff, Rickart set out with Marie toward the people embarking upon their long journey.

His red cloak fluttered in the wind.

Chapter 20 – The Shepherd with a Sword. End.

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