Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Rickart decided to spend the night at an inn recommended by Sandy. He could hear rats scurrying through the ceiling and walls, but it had been the same in Stormherz, so it did not bother him.

After washing with cold water, laundering his clothes, and slipping beneath the fresh bedding, all the exhaustion accumulated from walking and sleeping outdoors seemed to strike him at once.

He was at an age when he should be running, eating, and sleeping a great deal as he grew. Without tossing or turning even once, Rickart fell asleep almost instantly.

It felt as though he had merely blinked, but when someone woke him, the first light of dawn was already streaming through the window.

"Ricky. Ricky."

Rickart pushed himself upright and turned to find Sandy beside him. She was already fully prepared to depart.

"Do we have to leave already?"

"No. We have plenty of time. You can get ready slowly."

"Wait a moment."

Rickart rubbed his swollen eyes, climbed out of bed in his underwear, and began rummaging through his bag for money. He needed to pay her for serving as his guide.

"You don’t have to pay me."

"Why?"

"How could I take money from my adorable young junior?"

"Still..."

"I already had business at headquarters, so let’s simply say we’re traveling together. How does that sound? Now, raise your arms."

Sandy had brought the clothes she had dried by the fire overnight and began helping him dress.

They had even been ironed, making Rickart wonder why she was doing so much for him.

"I had a younger brother about your age."

As though she had read his thoughts, Sandy briefly explained why she was treating him so kindly. She did not offer a long and elaborate story.

That was all she said.

After putting on his shirt, Rickart stared up at her for a moment before smiling gently.

"Thank you, Sandy. Your heart is as beautiful as your face."

Sandy’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but they soon returned to normal. A smile spread across her lips as well.

"When you grow up, you’re going to make a lot of women cry."

She even helped him put on his shoes. They had been thoroughly dried beside the fire overnight and no longer smelled at all. When he slipped his feet inside, they felt pleasantly warm.

"Check carefully to make sure you haven’t lost anything. We’ll eat and leave immediately afterward."

"Okay."

Rickart slung his bag over his shoulder and collected his dagger.

The bag contained only his letter of admission, provisions for the journey, spare underwear, and traveling money.

When he left the room and descended the stairs, he found the ground floor dark and deserted. No one was around at such an early hour, but stew bubbled inside a large iron cauldron suspended over the hearth.

Unidentifiable chunks floated in a dark-red broth.

It was known as perpetual stew.

Whatever ingredients happened to be available were continuously thrown into the pot, while water or alcohol was added whenever necessary. Since the fire was never extinguished, it had earned the name perpetual stew.

Sandy ladled out two bowls and brought them to the table. There were no spoons, so they had to drink it directly from the bowl or eat the chunks with their hands.

Rickart took a sip.

It was sour and vaguely nauseating, yet somehow still edible. Its taste was impossible to describe.

One thing was certain: it possessed a strangely addictive quality, as though someone had mixed in magical powder.

Holding the bowl in both hands, Rickart blew on the stew and drank. Then a question occurred to him.

"About the henhouse. Do the girls live there with the boys?"

"No. The girls are housed separately. There are around eighty of them. Why? Are you interested?"

"That isn’t what I meant. Fighting with swords and things like that seems unsuitable for women. They’re generally weaker."

"Oh, that? It isn’t a problem because of Mana Drive. Women can learn Mana Drive as well, and once they do, the difference in physical strength almost disappears."

"Mana Drive?"

"It originated from something called the Codex. I suppose you could call it a method of using the mana within our bodies to enhance our physical abilities and weapons. Anyway, it’s different from a mage’s magic. It’s more physical... Sorry. I don’t really understand it myself. They never explained it to us in much detail."

"So you learned it too?"

"Yes. But not everyone can. First, you have to sense mana. Some children begin sensing it naturally after suffering long enough in the henhouse. Others possess enough innate talent to sense it almost immediately. And some couldn’t sense it even if they died and came back to life. Sensing mana isn’t the end of it either. Increasing the amount of mana you possess and purifying it until it contains no impurities are entirely different matters."

"I’ve never heard of anything like that. It sounds like magic."

Rickart could not fully understand what Sandy was saying.

They claimed they were trying to imitate the person he had been a hundred years ago, yet they were practicing something he himself had never done. He did not know what to make of it.

"If mages learn by exercising their brains, you could say that we learn by exercising our bodies."

"Then what do you usually do in the henhouse to master it?"

"Nothing unusual. Flexibility exercises, endurance training, swordsmanship lessons, unarmed combat, and meditation. Oh, and you have to make a separate donation for every class."

"A donation?"

"You’re free to choose which lessons you attend. You don’t have to attend any of them. But if you don’t, you won’t be able to compete with everyone else. The donations are supposedly optional too, but if you don’t pay, they make your life miserable. That’s why the children try to earn money however they can in their free time. Some end up abandoning the academy and going into whatever work they found, while others can’t endure it and leave. That sort of thing."

In truth, it was not only adventurer academies that operated that way. Academies devoted to scholarly pursuits used a similar system.

There was no fixed tuition. Instead, students voluntarily paid the professors whose lectures they attended.

There were no formal academic years either. There were simply certain assignments and requirements to complete as one accumulated experience.

Rickart listened closely, forming a rough picture of how the academy operated.

By the time Sandy finished explaining, the stew had cooled enough to eat properly.

Rickart was halfway through his bowl when Sandy finished hers.

"I’m not sure how I feel about it," she said. "I’d rather die than go through it again, but as Bletter said, I don’t think those years were meaningless."

"I understand. When people overcome hardship and adversity together, they can become closer than siblings who share the same blood."

"...What kind of life have you actually lived?"

"Haha. It’s only something I heard."

Rickart thought about the fellow soldiers who had died in his previous life.

He could no longer remember every one of them individually, but comrades-in-arms undeniably shared a special bond.

They trusted that the others were prepared to sacrifice their lives for them—and that they would do the same in return. They had smiled as they promised never to thank one another for saving their lives and never to grieve if one of them died.

Ricky had lost more people bound to him by that relationship than anyone else.

Each time one of them died, it had felt as though something inside him died as well.

His memories left Rickart feeling inexplicably gloomy. Without properly chewing the chunks in his stew, he gulped them down one after another as though swallowing tears.

"You really are strange."

"Hmm?"

"You look like a sheltered young nobleman who has never suffered a day in his life, yet you cut off the Bilton brothers’ heads. And now, for some reason, you look pitiful. You truly are going to make a lot of women cry."

"Will you cry too, Sandy?"

Sandy burst into laughter at Rickart’s joke, and he laughed along with her.

"You’re still a child. Ask me again in about ten years, and I’ll consider it."

"You might have to wait in line by then."

Sandy laughed even harder than before.

He truly was a peculiar young nobleman. He possessed neither the arrogance typical of aristocrats nor the timidity common to children. Instead, there was an easy confidence about him.

"Are you finished? Shall we go?"

"Yes."

They rose from their seats.

Outside, the world was still steeped in deep blue. The dawn air was somewhat cold, but pleasantly refreshing.

Unlike the narrow side roads they had followed on the way to Rheinfort, the route to Beringen was a major highway. They occasionally passed travelers, migrants, and merchants.

Most of them were armed or accompanied by hired guards, but the number of people using the road suggested that it was comparatively safe.

Perhaps four or five hours had passed since they left the city.

The world, which had initially been entirely dark blue, gradually recovered its individual colors—green shoots, pink flowers, a blue sky, and white clouds.

Unlike Arno, Sandy was exceptionally considerate.

Even though it was unnecessary, she frequently stopped to rest for Rickart’s sake.

She frequently stroked his hair, teased him more and more, and sat closer to him whenever they rested.

Rickart decided that traveling with someone like this was not bad at all.

In fact, he liked it.

He was curious about Sandy’s younger brother, but he did not ask. He did not want to ruin her mood.

They eventually reached a fork in the road. A heavy stone marker, roughly knee-high, stood beside the path to the right. The name Beringen had been carved into it.

"If we walk slowly, it will take three days to reach Beringen. If we hurry, we can arrive within two. There are still four days until the fourteenth, so what would you like to do?"

"Let’s take our time."

Sandy smiled happily at his answer.

Their steps were slow but light.

Before long, the paved road ended. A broad dirt track stretched into the forest, and the two continued along it beneath the trees.

Around the time the sun reached its zenith, they arrived at an isolated cabin with a turning waterwheel.

"This is Valtz’s Tavern," Sandy explained. "His family has run it for three generations. Ordinary novices can’t cause trouble here. Valtz has connections everywhere, and he’s a good fighter himself."

"Then shall we eat here before continuing?"

"Sure."

"I’ll pay. For the lady."

"Oh, please. I told you not to do that."

Rickart displayed the textbook etiquette of the nobility. However, he knew that Sandy disliked such behavior, so he had said it as a joke.

Sandy was not particularly fond of aristocratic customs.

The reason she liked Rickart was precisely because, despite being a noble, he did not act like one.

They entered Valtz’s Tavern.

Several customers were already inside. They wore light armor and all gave off the impression of being adventurers.

However, adventurers did not all know one another. Even those belonging to the same guild were strangers if they came from different branches or clans.

If they belonged to opposing guilds, they might even try to kill one another without warning. Meeting fellow adventurers was therefore not necessarily a welcome occasion.

Valtz’s Tavern was a special establishment that functioned as a kind of neutral ground.

Sandy walked directly over to Valtz and ordered food with practiced familiarity. There was no fixed menu; meals were prepared from whatever ingredients happened to be available, so there was nothing to choose from.

Fortunately, it was not perpetual stew.

They were served simple corn soup and smoked meat.

The two sat at a table and enjoyed an inconsequential but pleasant conversation. Sandy told Rickart about absurd and amusing incidents from her academy days, while he listened and reacted at the appropriate moments.

Before their food arrived, two men entered the tavern.

They surveyed the room and spotted Sandy.

Sandy saw them as well. She flinched, quickly turned her head away, and hurriedly pulled up her hood.

Rickart did not know why she had reacted that way, but she clearly did not want them to see her face.

Unfortunately, it appeared to be too late.

The two men approached their table, and one of them grinned lewdly.

"Well, look who it is. Isn’t that Sandy, the whore of Beringen? You see her too, don’t you?"

"Yeah. I didn’t know she liked them this young, though. How did you manage to service all those old bastards?"

Sandy could not say a word.

Rickart was too dumbfounded to respond.

"Let’s go."

Sandy abruptly rose from her seat and left the tavern without waiting for the food they had ordered.

Rickart followed her outside.

She was already striding quickly down the road. Rickart jogged until he caught up, but when he resumed walking beside her, Sandy increased her pace as though trying to leave him behind.

He was forced to alternate between running and walking.

Then Sandy suddenly stopped. Without turning to look at Rickart, she spoke from beneath her hood.

"It’s true."

"What is?"

"What they said. It’s true. I wasn’t skilled enough to reach the upper rank. Not all my memories of the academy were good ones."

Rickart silently studied her back before answering.

"So what?"

"What?"

"Did you think I would consider you filthy?"

"..."

"You don’t know what true filth is."

Sandy turned toward him.

Tears of humiliation and shame had gathered in her eyes.

"Let’s go. I’ll share what my sister-in-law made for me. It’s supposed to be delicious."

This time, Rickart walked ahead first.

Sandy stood there in a daze for a moment before following the boy.

The trees cast the forest into shadow, but it was still midday, so the surroundings were not dark. They continued along the woodland path, where shafts of sunlight filtered between the branches.

After they had walked in silence for some time, they spotted someone leaning against a tree farther ahead.

It was the man who had called Sandy a whore.

As if he had used magic, he had somehow reached this point first and was waiting for them.

When Rickart looked behind them, he saw the man’s companion blocking the path there.

"What are you doing?"

Sandy’s voice was openly hostile.

The man responded with the same leering grin as before.

"We attended the same academy. Why don’t you offer an old classmate some service?"

"You lunatic."

"Those old men were acceptable, but someone young like me isn’t? And now it turns out you prefer children?"

"It isn’t like that. He’s a new academy student."

"Oh, is that right? You aren’t sleeping with him and then seducing him into entering that henhouse? Do they give you a reward for recruiting children who don’t know any better?"

"I told you, it isn’t like that. Move. Our clan won’t let this pass."

"And what are those weak fuckers going to do if they don’t let it pass?"

This was clearly more than a malicious prank.

Sandy drew the sword and whip fastened at either side of her waist. Then she spoke quietly to Rickart.

"Run, no matter what happens. Get back to that tavern somehow and ask them to contact our people in Rheinfort."

"I’ll protect you, whatever happens. Don’t panic. Just run and don’t look back."

At that moment, the two adventurers began approaching from the front and rear. They drew their weapons as well.

"What the fuck are you whispering about? Do you think we’ll let him escape?"

The man in front advanced slowly before sweeping the sword in his hand sideways.

The bushes beside him were severed in a perfectly straight line.

At the same time, he surged forward like the wind, moving so quickly that an ordinary person would have struggled to follow him with their eyes.

Sandy immediately lashed out with her whip, but he ducked beneath it in that brief instant and closed the distance even faster.

Sandy swung the sword in her other hand.

The man retreated with surprising ease.

In truth, he had withdrawn merely to draw her attention.

The real attack came from behind, where his companion reached for Rickart.

Apparently, they intended to take him hostage and threaten Sandy. Their objective had never been to injure her in the first place.

The man behind Rickart stretched out a hand to seize him.

Rickart twisted aside.

At the same moment, the man felt a sharp pain in his wrist. Blood poured from the wound.

"Argh! Fuck!"

The man recoiled in surprise.

A dagger had already appeared in Rickart’s hand.

The adventurer facing Sandy was equally startled. This time, he swung his sword directly at Rickart with lightning speed.

Having already sensed the difference in their abilities, Sandy had retreated slightly to the side. When she saw the sword hurtling toward Rickart, her eyes widened in horror.

"No!"

Her scream echoed through the forest.

Yet what followed was completely different from the tragedy she had imagined.

Holding his dagger in a reverse grip, Rickart brought it down against the sword swinging toward him.

Clang!

Metal rang out as the adventurer’s sword snapped.

The loss of the blade threw the man off balance, making his body lurch sideways.

As the broken portion of the sword grazed Rickart’s hair and spun through the air, Rickart used that brief opening to put his entire weight behind a kick to the man’s calf, as though swinging a club.

There was a heavy crack.

The man’s knee buckled sideways, and he collapsed completely.

Perhaps because his body had been thoroughly trained, he reflexively attempted to rise despite the numbness paralyzing his left leg and the shock that had emptied his mind.

He could not.

The sharp point of Rickart’s dagger was already beneath his chin.

"Don’t move."

The icy warning fell upon him.

With his upper body only slightly raised, the man looked up at Rickart. The boy’s expression seemed to radiate a deathly chill.

His companion stood frozen in indecision, blood flowing from his wrist. His face showed utter astonishment, as though he could not comprehend what had just happened.

A heavy silence followed.

Then Rickart spoke coldly once more.

"Isn’t this what you wanted?"

"W-What?"

"You simply didn’t expect to be the one getting beaten. But this is the situation you wanted, isn’t it?"

He was saying that the man had started the confrontation, drawn his weapon, attacked them, and created this situation himself.

"Wh-What are you...?"

"You said you were trying to become like me, so I’ll give you some advice. No matter how fast you are, it means nothing if you don’t understand where to apply your strength. Mana or whatever you call it is useless without that. Do you understand?"

"And from now on, whether you want to or not, you’ll learn to watch your mouth."

Rickart thrust the dagger through the flesh beneath the man’s chin.

The blade pierced all the way through his tongue before Rickart pulled it free.

"Aaagh! Gurg—! Cough! Gah!"

The man began screaming, only to choke and cough as blood flowed into his throat.

Rickart wiped his dagger on the front of the man’s clothes, rose, and returned it to his waist.

"Let’s go."

Sandy was so shocked that she remained frozen in place.

Rickart took her by the wrist and led her away.

Perhaps the sun had briefly disappeared behind the clouds, for the shadows beneath the trees seemed to deepen.

Chapter 3 — The Shadow of a Hundred Years Ago — End