Chapter 104

Chapter 104: Chapter 104

"These two are Bori’s disciples."

Rickart gestured with his thumb toward the boy and girl standing behind him.

Marie had been standing with one hand resting on her sword hilt and her weight shifted onto one leg, regarding the strangers with a cold gaze. At Rickart’s words, her eyes widened.

Bellator also looked surprised, while the others naturally had no idea what they were talking about.

"Bori has disciples?"

"Didn’t I tell you?"

"No, but is he even capable of teaching someone?"

"Wouldn’t Bori be perfectly capable...?"

"No, no. That isn’t what I meant."

There appeared to be a slight misunderstanding between Rickart and Marie .

Marie had merely meant that Bori’s swordsmanship was so unusual that it wasn’t the kind of technique another person could learn.

In any case, that wasn’t important right now.

Rickart turned toward the boy and girl and introduced Marie .

"This is my wife, Marie . This is our senior, Bellator. He graduated from Beringen Academy and used to be an adventurer in the same guild as me. This is our guide, Bremen, and..."

Since he was already introducing Marie , Rickart went on to introduce everyone else as well: the Hartmann family, Dalia and her son, and the four siblings.

The boy and girl remained silent for a long moment, almost as though they were shy around strangers. Eventually, they gave their names.

"...Kaspar."

"I’m Yulia. But are you really that Ricky?"

"You don’t believe me? I believe you when you say you’re Bori’s disciples."

Rickart smiled as he answered.

The boy named Kaspar averted his gaze.

"We’ll find out by watching you."

So he was still doubtful.

Rickart didn’t mind.

"Has Bori ever spoken about me?"

When Rickart asked, Yulia glanced at Kaspar before answering. Though they tried not to show it, the two of them also seemed bewildered by the situation.

"He said there are no geniuses in the world—except Ricky."

"Is that all?"

"Our master rarely talks to us about personal matters."

"Didn’t he say anything about me?"

Marie joined the conversation.

She seemed fascinated by the idea that her friend was training disciples and apparently expected to hear something interesting.

"He said that of all of you, you wielded the most masculine sword..."

"What?"

Marie looked baffled by the unexpected assessment.

Rickart, however, could guess what Bori had meant.

Bori possessed a unique style of swordsmanship found nowhere else. Ice’s sword was characterized by movements so precise they seemed measured with a ruler. Marie , meanwhile, was exceptionally direct and sometimes even explosive.

In short, her style overwhelmed opponents with strength and speed rather than subtle variations.

Its foundation lay in the Kelbron family’s swordsmanship, established by Hellauman.

Compared with the other three, whose swordsmanship lacked any proper lineage, Marie ’s was the only one with clear and established roots.

"Still, this is fascinating. Bori is training disciples. Perhaps we should have taken disciples too."

"Marie , didn’t you say I had no talent for teaching?"

"I could teach them. You could help me."

"Shouldn’t we raise our own children first? Has Bori gotten married?"

Rickart looked toward Kaspar and Yulia as he asked.

They shook their heads.

"Does he have any other disciples besides you?"

"There are many disciples in the clan, but our master has only four direct disciples. We’re two of them. Only those with the talent to become Sword Masters can become his direct disciples."

The Viola Clan divided its students into what amounted to different ranks: novices, apprentices, trainees, and direct disciples.

The boy and girl before them had been recognized as exceptionally talented and were personally trained by Bori, a current Sword Master.

"But don’t you need to learn ancient script to master Bori’s swordsmanship? Studying that is incredibly boring."

"Ancient script?"

"Yes. You know how he writes letters with his sword."

"I don’t know what you mean. We’ve never seen him do that. Our master has simply reached the ultimate realm of the sword. He always says he was the least skilled of the Four Swords, but we believe he’s merely being modest."

They had never seen it?

Unable to understand, Rickart and Marie looked at each other.

Whenever they thought of Bori, the first thing that came to mind was his swordsmanship, which resembled writing characters. Yet his own disciples claimed they had never seen it.

There seemed to be a difference between how the people who had fought beside him perceived him and how his students did.

Or perhaps he had never shown the children his true swordsmanship.

"In any case, it’s good to meet you. This brings back memories. Bori and I once agreed that we would each raise a disciple, have them duel, and wager on the winner. Unfortunately, I don’t have any disciples. No one could understand my explanations."

"I keep telling you, Ricky. You simply have no talent for teaching..."

"No. I’m certain I explained everything quite simply."

"Excuse me for interrupting your conversation, but what are we supposed to do now?"

When the four appeared to be settling into idle conversation, Bremen cautiously stepped forward.

The important matter was deciding whether they should continue down this road.

According to Kaspar and Yulia, however, every available route was currently dangerous.

"First, let’s hear a proper explanation of the situation. We already know the eastern road is dangerous because of the war."

Rickart’s suggestion was reasonable. They needed to understand the situation before they could devise any countermeasures.

Kaspar and Yulia stared at the strangely assorted group before speaking.

"The Ringwald Sword Brotherhood currently controls this region. Their leader was supposedly once the master of an Adventurers’ Guild, though we aren’t certain. In any case, he claimed to possess the right to inherit Rotheim and murdered the lord’s entire family. Since then, he has raised taxes and strictly enforced his own territorial laws, supposedly to restore discipline. Anyone who drinks, fails to pay their taxes on time, refuses to demonstrate loyalty to the lord, or otherwise behaves suspiciously is executed without exception."

Yulia looked toward the distant hanging tree.

It appeared to be the result of those territorial laws being strictly enforced.

Of course, it was absurd for someone who wasn’t even the lawful lord to create and enforce territorial laws.

While everyone else regarded the hanging tree with fear, Rickart saw through to Ringwald’s hysterical anxiety.

The man was afraid.

His position was unstable, and he feared that someone might do to him exactly what he had done to the previous lord.

"Then the toll must be outrageously high too."

Marie asked the question, and Yulia silently nodded.

For all practical purposes, the road was closed.

One might have thought they could simply cross the open fields instead of following the road. However, mountains surrounded the territory’s borders, forcing travelers to pass through a canyon where they would inevitably be discovered.

The group’s expressions turned grave.

The east had become a living hell after years of warfare. Here, even suspicious behavior was punishable by death, so they could assume they would be killed the moment they were spotted.

They didn’t have enough money to remain in Wertheim for a while and set out again later.

Would they have to find work there?

Everyone’s face darkened with anxiety.

Marie would follow whatever course Rickart chose, while Kaspar and Yulia watched him as if the matter had now become his responsibility.

"Why does everyone look so gloomy?"

Rickart addressed the migrants.

"This is better than being attacked without warning. Now that we know about the danger, we can act accordingly. Let’s establish a campsite first."

With that, he immediately started toward the village.

Bremen hurriedly called after him in alarm.

They had just been told that suspicious people were executed without mercy, yet Rickart was openly approaching the village.

"H-Hold on. Where are you going?"

"To the village over there."

"Wouldn’t we be in danger if someone saw us?"

"If they’ve slaughtered this many people, there should be empty houses. The territorial border would actually be more dangerous. This Ringwald fellow is terrified, so he’ll have patrols constantly watching for outside forces."

His reasoning was sound, but he had reached his decision so quickly that everyone was left momentarily speechless.

They followed Rickart while wondering whether this was truly the right choice.

When they reached the village, they found that it did indeed contain many empty houses.

The inhabitants were so emaciated from starvation that they neither showed surprise nor fear upon seeing Rickart’s group.

They merely stared with hollow, lifeless eyes.

It was a wretched sight.

There was no one to protect these innocent civilians.

It seemed that Ringwald had never possessed any sense of responsibility or duty as a lord. Naturally, he had no understanding of economics either.

He had likely been blinded by the title itself, which must have glittered in his eyes like a jewel.

He was someone who had committed the deed first without knowing what to do afterward.

Having spent his life earning his bread with a sword, there was no reason he would know how to govern people.

Rickart walked through the modest village before choosing a house with a neglected vegetable garden.

When he looked inside, it was completely empty.

"Don’t unload everything. We should remain ready to leave at any moment. If something happens, Marie and Senior Bellator will protect everyone."

He intended to use the house as a kind of fortress.

It would be difficult to protect the group while fighting in an open field. That was why he had suggested entering the village.

"The two of you will come with me to the territorial border. If things go well, we might settle this today and continue on our way."

In an instant, Rickart assigned everyone a role.

Then he planted his staff on the ground and simply walked away.

He proceeded without the slightest hesitation, as though the problem truly were that simple.

Rickart headed toward the territorial border with Kaspar and Yulia.

He didn’t bother concealing himself. He simply walked down the road in plain sight. The boy and girl followed him, still looking thoroughly bewildered.

"So, how many good people have you saved?"

Rickart abruptly asked without looking back.

"I don’t know... Maybe three or four?"

"Not all bandits are alike. Unlike in the past, many of them now have good equipment and know how to fight reasonably well. If there are too many, there’s nothing we can do."

Rickart hadn’t criticized them for saving so few, yet Kaspar spoke as though making excuses.

"I suppose so. Many of the adventurers who once hunted wanted criminals and completed commissions must have become bandits by now. Anyway, is this some sort of warrior’s pilgrimage? Did Bori order you to do it?"

"Our master said we could never become Sword Masters by doing nothing but practicing with our swords. We need actual combat experience."

"He’s right."

"But did you really teach our master?"

"That was a lie."

"What?"

"I only taught him a little at the beginning. After that, he figured everything out on his own. What makes Bori exceptional is his unbreakable spirit. Looking back, he had every reason to become bitter, but he never did."

Rickart recalled how Bori had been bullied when the academy was still little more than a chicken coop.

He had every reason to harbor resentment. After becoming strong enough, he could easily have tried to take revenge.

But Bori never had.

Despite living in such a harsh and unforgiving world, he had known how to see only the world’s brighter side and the goodness within people.

"Why are the two of you learning the sword?"

"...I don’t know. Because we’re good at it? Because we can become even better?"

"All right. Work hard, then. You should do what you’re good at."

Rickart spoke as though he had little interest.

Kaspar and Yulia, however, couldn’t help being interested in him.

Their deeply respected master occasionally claimed that this man was vastly superior to him.

Yet Rickart remained strangely shrouded in mystery.

The faint reputation passed from mouth to mouth was admittedly impressive.

He had supposedly killed a clan master at an early age and executed a notorious Sword Master.

Ricky the Severer.

The Tiger of Kaitz.

Beringen Academy’s genius swordsman.

The Red Cloak.

But it was difficult to imagine him being stronger than their master, who now ranked among the mightiest people in the Empire.

That was why they were curious—desperately curious.

After all, the boy and girl had also chosen to follow the path of the sword.

At the same time, they remained doubtful.

Was he truly the man from those stories?

Could he be an impostor?

Could he possibly be that powerful?

"To be honest, I find it a little frustrating."

Kaspar suddenly revealed what was on his mind.

"What do you mean?"

"I’ve been called a genius ever since I first picked up a sword at the age of seven. I changed my way of thinking after meeting our master. But I can’t agree that there are no geniuses in the world besides you, Lord Ricky."

Rickart had been walking slightly ahead, but he turned toward Kaspar.

Their eyes met.

Rickart stared at him with that distinctive gaze of his, as though he could see straight into another person’s heart.

Ice had once said that this penetrating gaze was practically cheating.

Kaspar was wrapped in the youthful arrogance and stubbornness common to boys his age.

Rickart saw through not only that stubborn shell, but also the substance concealed beneath it.

He turned around again and continued walking.

"I think I understand why Bori said that. He’s too kind to say anything cruel."

Although Rickart hadn’t seen Bori in four years, he understood how his friend must have felt when speaking those words to his disciple.

They had traveled together and shared every hardship in the wilderness for years. They had experienced countless things together.

It wasn’t difficult for Rickart to imagine what Bori had been thinking.

In an instant, memories flashed through his mind—the frigid winters, refreshing springs, sweltering summers, and cool autumns he had spent with Bori.

Kaspar knew nothing about those bygone days, however. He frowned and asked,

"What do you mean?"

"How you practice swordsmanship is your own concern. But if you want to become a Sword Master, you’ll eventually have to confront yourself. Marie , Ice, and Bori all seem to have become Sword Masters by overcoming themselves. At least, that’s how I see it. Each of them had something that bound them."

Rickart continued.

"So, Kaspar, why can’t you let go of being called a genius?"

"...I don’t understand what you mean."

"’Genius’ is merely a word. It has no real meaning. Your refusal to let go of it is nothing but vanity, isn’t it? Look deeper, and you’ll find a sense of superiority—the pleasure of believing yourself better than others. Do you enjoy their admiring and jealous gazes so much that you can’t bear to relinquish them? That’s what I’m asking."

Kaspar’s face flushed at Rickart’s incisive criticism.

He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t force the words from his mouth.

Their conversation ended there.

The three continued along the road in silence.

The territorial border was farther away than expected. By the time they nearly reached it, it was already late afternoon.

Considering the time required to travel back and forth, passing through the territory before nightfall seemed unlikely.

As expected, armed men guarded the road.

They appeared to be stationed in a structure resembling an outpost, and there were more of them than Rickart had anticipated—perhaps fifteen in total.

Kaspar and Yulia were about to conceal themselves and observe the guards when Rickart continued walking forward, casually leaning on his staff.

"W-Wait. Hold on!"

If Rickart truly surpassed their master, killing fifteen swordsmen shouldn’t have been difficult for him.

Even so, watching him walk straight toward them without a plan was bound to be alarming.

Rickart stopped a short distance ahead and looked back.

"Aren’t you on a warrior’s pilgrimage?"

"What?"

"If you can’t even deal with a group of petty thugs like them, when exactly do you intend to train?"

Rickart clicked his tongue as though they were pathetic.

"Don’t tell me you wear swords at your waists without being prepared to die. You’re all style and no substance. Tsk, tsk, tsk..."

"But the numbers should at least be somewhat even. Or we could launch a surprise attack..."

"It seems Bori has been coddling you. You’re both old enough to know better. What extraordinary geniuses you are. Good grief."

Rickart sharply turned his head away in apparent displeasure and continued toward the roadblock alone.

Provoked by his words, Kaspar followed him.

"K-Kaspar."

Yulia hurried after Kaspar in confusion.

The guards had been chatting among themselves, but when they saw three sword-bearing figures approaching from a distance, they drew their weapons. Several men went inside the outpost to alert the others.

Rickart walked up to them with complete indifference.

"How much is the toll?"

One of the men, who had already drawn his sword to create an intimidating atmosphere, answered,

"One gold coin per person."

"If you’re going to gorge yourselves, you should at least charge an amount people can pay. How do you expect to make money like that?"

"What did you say?"

"These two can no longer tolerate your wicked deeds. Your days of murdering innocent nobles and tormenting the people end today. Prepare to die."

With that, Rickart stepped backward.

Kaspar and Yulia, who had been following behind him, suddenly found themselves standing in front.

Wait. What?

We never said that.

"Bori and I handled everything ourselves when we were younger than you. Go on. Kill them all. That’s what training is. Let me see the swordsmanship of these so-called geniuses. Surely you didn’t earn that title by prancing around with toys and calling it sparring."

Kaspar and Yulia stood dumbfounded, not having even drawn their swords yet.

More guards emerged from the outpost with weapons in hand, apparently wondering what the commotion was about.

Rickart genuinely intended to stand behind them with his staff and watch.

More than a dozen cold blades gleamed in the light.

By conventional standards, the idea of two people fighting more than ten opponents was absurd.

Rickart, however, believed it was far more absurd to speak of the sword without ever standing at the boundary between life and death.

How could anyone claim to follow the path of the sword while fighting only when the odds favored them?

Victory or defeat.

Life or death.

Rickart believed that the will that flashed amid such uncertainty was the very foundation of being a swordsman.

It had been true in the past as well: Rickart and Bori held different philosophies about the sword.

That was especially true when it came to teaching.

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