Chapter 22

Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Several items were essential when undertaking difficult outdoor work such as warfare or hunting. Gloves were one of them, and sturdy shoes were another.

When someone lifted heavy objects or handled rough materials without gloves, scraped hands and torn fingernails were common occurrences.

Sturdy footwear was equally important because few situations in the field were more troublesome than finding a hole in one’s shoe. There was nowhere to obtain a replacement at a moment’s notice.

Therefore, shoes made from tough leather, with soles capable of enduring rough terrain, were essential.

A coat or cloak was also important in case one had to sleep outdoors.

As for food, they were not leaving to fight an actual war, so they probably needed to pack only a small amount for their personal needs.

Volka gave this lengthy explanation before the assembled students.

However, everyone already knew these things and reacted indifferently. Volka’s expression consequently became deflated.

"...Oh, a dagger is essential too. It comes in handy for all sorts of things. Ricky, you already have one, so you’re fine... Is there anything else I should mention?"

A dagger was not merely a weapon. It was also a useful tool in everyday life, and having one made an enormous difference.

Rickart listened quietly while wearing his newly purchased gloves and boots.

It occurred to him that the necessary equipment had not changed much over the past hundred years.

In truth, Rickart probably knew more about these matters than Volka did. When examined objectively, Volka was still inexperienced.

Nevertheless, Volka was their leader.

No matter how close they were as friends, Rickart believed that Volka’s position and authority should be respected in an official setting. Therefore, he did not carelessly interrupt, add to, or interfere with Volka’s explanation.

Fourteen students were participating in the commission.

There were Rickart, Volka, Morty, four female students Rickart did not know, two unfamiliar male students, and the five members of Ice’s group.

Just as the Adventurers’ Guild consisted of numerous clans, the students naturally divided themselves into three groups.

Rickart, Volka, and Morty formed one group.

The four female students and two male students formed another.

Ice and his companions constituted the third.

On the surface, however, they were one team dispatched by the Academy.

"So what exactly is the commission?"

One of the unfamiliar male students asked Volka with a sullen expression.

He had previously been one of the students who collected tribute, but he now kept a low profile.

The students generally accepted the results of a contest without complaint, so there had been no particular trouble or resistance.

After all, no one needed to be taught that their life was precious.

"As I told you before, we’re simply going to cut off some deserters’ heads. Apparently, a hell of a lot of them deserted. We’re only supporting the main force, though, so we must first rendezvous with the Jagd Clan. The meeting point is our guild’s safe house on the outskirts of Griffinswald. Does anyone know where Griffinswald is?"

Two or three students raised their hands.

Volka had not asked because he did not know. He explained for the benefit of those who were unfamiliar with the place.

"It isn’t particularly far from here. It’s about two days southeast on foot. We could arrive in a day if we made a forced march, but we still have a week before the rendezvous date, so we have plenty of time. I think we should leave tomorrow or the day after. Does anyone have another suggestion?"

Volka undoubtedly possessed leadership ability.

There were many forms of leadership, and Volka seemed inclined to actively listen to the opinions of those under his command.

He gathered their opinions, established a goal everyone could accept, and encouraged the members to follow voluntarily.

It was a good form of leadership.

Of course, intimidation and coercion were also forms of leadership.

However, no one offered any particular opinions. They were still somewhat uncomfortable around one another.

Volka looked at Ice.

"Ice, don’t you have anything to say?"

Ice simply shook his head.

The female students gazed at him as though they were dreaming. He truly was handsome to an almost unreal degree.

The four students who accompanied him were also remarkably beautiful boys.

Ice remained silent as usual, but Rickart spoke to him.

"There’s something I’ve been wondering. How did you become number one in the first place?"

Because the current number-one student was asking the question, the atmosphere became strange despite Rickart’s innocent intentions.

The two of them had never directly fought each other.

Ice silently looked at Rickart before answering.

"It just happened."

"By the way, you’re incredibly handsome. Are you descended from elves or something?"

"I don’t know."

He kept giving one-word answers.

"Do you dislike talking to me?"

Ice turned his head and closed his mouth, clearly indicating that he did not wish to continue the conversation.

There was nothing Rickart could do if Ice did not want to talk. He was not particularly offended, but the situation was still uncomfortable for another reason.

Rickart had spoken to him because they were about to undertake something resembling a military operation, and he believed they needed to develop at least some degree of camaraderie.

They wielded weapons for a living, and their lives would be at stake. They needed to trust one another in all manner of emergencies.

When such situations arose, there was no time to consider every detail and make careful decisions.

They needed to trust one another enough to charge together—or to flee together.

However, Rickart shared no connection with Ice’s group beyond the fact that they attended the same Academy. He had no way of knowing whether they could be trusted.

If he knew in advance that they were untrustworthy, he could at least remain vigilant.

But Ice and his companions were completely unreadable.

Volka appeared to understand why Rickart had deliberately attempted to start a conversation. After silently studying Ice and his companions, he spoke.

"They’ll take care of themselves. Then we’ll leave tomorrow."

Once the decision had been made, Ice and his companions left without looking back.

The other students also departed.

Rickart, Volka, and Morty were left alone.

The three walked around the city and purchased everything they might need, including potions, medicinal herbs, bandages, and travel rations.

They had to buy everything with their own money, and Rickart paid most of the expenses.

By the time they finished, he had almost no money left.

***

The following day, Rickart left the Academy and headed toward a place called Griffinswald.

Morty carried their supplies. His pack was large enough to cover his broad back, while his weapons were a one-handed axe and a shield.

His helmet and round shield were tied securely to the pack.

Since they might have to camp outdoors, every student wore a cloak. The cloaks concealed their bodies, preventing others from assessing the condition of their equipment.

All five members of Ice’s group wore pitch-black cloaks.

They looked like some order of death knights from a fairy tale.

The other students’ cloaks were also dark brown or similarly subdued colors. Rickart alone stood out in vivid red.

Although the weather was fairly warm, the students wore thick coats because those coats served as substitutes for armor.

Weapons, armor, and horses could become unimaginably expensive.

Metal armor was still beyond their wildest dreams, and helmets were nearly as expensive as armor. Although a helmet required less iron, producing one demanded highly advanced forging techniques.

Consequently, most people who were neither knights nor wealthy mercenaries wore gambesons—padded outer garments commonly used both in daily life and in battle.

Morty was the only student who possessed a helmet.

He had not purchased it with his own money. The blacksmiths at the forge had given it to him as a gift, wishing him good fortune in battle.

In any event, the Academy students set out reasonably well prepared to support the adventurers.

Volka walked at the front as the leader of the reinforcements. The other students occupied the middle, while Ice’s group followed at the rear.

They had not deliberately decided upon this formation. It had simply happened naturally.

Rickart did not take the road he had previously traveled with Sandy. Instead, they followed a route extending southeast.

The road he had traveled with Sandy had been a major thoroughfare, so it had been relatively secure.

The southeastern road, however, looked ominous from the beginning.

Old bones lay in the grass beside it.

They did not appear to belong to an animal. One looked very much like a human shinbone.

Rickart had once again entered a world where death was always close at hand.

Nevertheless, perhaps because the Academy had selected only the higher-ranked students, no one appeared frightened.

They merely continued walking in silence.

They had departed in the morning, and around noon the road entered a forest.

Birdsong filled the peaceful surroundings.

At least, the forest appeared peaceful on the surface.

Beringen itself stood in a frontier region, so this was not a place where one could safely lower their guard. If they were unlucky, monsters could appear.

Everyone remained reasonably vigilant as they walked.

Fortunately, nothing happened before sunset.

When night fell, the group stopped at a suitable campsite that appeared to be frequently used by travelers.

They lit three fires, and the three groups of students sat separately with some distance between them.

They felt like companions and complete strangers at the same time.

Using the dagger with which he had broken several swords and killed people, Rickart sliced some ham and cheese to eat.

Then he called out to the female students.

"Hey. You there."

The girls turned toward Rickart but did not answer.

"Do you have rankings too?"

"No," one of them replied.

"Then what do you have?"

"Classes. It’s somewhat complicated, but broadly speaking, we have maids, handmaidens, ladies, and princesses. Those at handmaiden rank or below only serve the others and don’t receive separate training. Only the ladies and princesses train."

It was utterly childish.

They were nothing more than illegitimate daughters or commoners, yet they called themselves ladies and princesses.

Rickart did not particularly care, however.

"Then are you girls princesses or ladies?"

"There are no princesses among us."

"Did they remain at the Academy?"

"No. They died while participating in a commission like this one. If we return alive, we’ll probably become princesses."

The girls were ruthless too.

In that case, they must have been without a princess for some time.

Among the male students, the rankings automatically advanced whenever a higher position became vacant. Apparently, the female students operated differently.

"What do you get if you become a princess?"

"You get to feel better than everyone else, I suppose. Unlike your dormitory, ours is divided into five rooms. You can think of a princess as the highest-ranking girl in each room. She can do whatever she wants in the dormitory. She becomes the only good girl, the prettiest girl, the strongest girl—things like that."

"...That’s ridiculous."

Volka muttered while cutting a roasted potato into pieces with his knife.

Volka had once dated a female student, so he already knew about their system. Yet even after hearing it again, he still found it absurd.

"Do the maids and handmaidens spend their entire time serving the others until they graduate?"

"If they’re lucky, they can continue serving them after graduation."

"...You consider that lucky?"

"Yes. How else are they supposed to make a living? They’re ugly and have no useful abilities. We were all abandoned by our families anyway, so they don’t have anywhere to return to."

"Right... I suppose that’s true."

It was a bitter reality.

Rickart felt sorry for them, but he did not believe there was anything he could do.

Teaching them swordsmanship wouldn’t necessarily make them good at it, and it’s not as though I can marry every one of them and support them for the rest of their lives.

"By the way, aren’t you interested in girls? Is it because you’re still young? How old are you?"

One of the female students asked.

"Eleven."

"Then you’re just about old enough to start understanding that sort of thing."

"Unfortunately, I don’t believe in love."

The girls’ eyes widened at Rickart’s words. Then they burst into laughter.

"Neither do we!"

Rickart smiled awkwardly.

"Hahaha..."

"Don’t talk to those bitches. They’re way too aggressive. No matter how good you are at fighting, Ricky, they might devour you before you even realize it."

"Right... I’ll be careful."

Rickart gave another awkward laugh at Volka’s warning.

He wasn’t offended. Still, hadn’t Volka himself dated a female student before?

Then again, the girls certainly did seem rather aggressive. Girls who trained with swords and practiced fighting could hardly be expected to be perfectly ordinary.

Even the boys traveling with them looked somewhat intimidated.

In terms of appearance, however, the female students were exceptionally pretty.

There was a popular saying that illegitimate children tended to be handsome or beautiful. After all, if someone was going to have an affair, they would choose an attractive man or woman rather than just anyone.

The saying appeared to contain at least some truth. Many illegitimate daughters of noble families had high-class courtesans for mothers.

"Shouldn’t we decide who’ll stand watch?"

Morty asked.

"There are plenty of us, so how about choosing six people? Two from each group," Rickart suggested.

Volka nodded and readily agreed. Ice’s group and the other students raised no particular objections.

Thus, they decided that two members from each of the three groups would stand watch.

Standing guard over someone meant protecting and trusting them. Even if it was only in this small way, they seemed to be gradually growing closer.

The group spent the night there and departed early the following morning for the rendezvous point.

Perhaps because their first day had passed without incident, everyone appeared slightly more relaxed.

Rickart carried the oversized sword over one shoulder and followed Volka.

However, even after walking from the previous day until that afternoon, the forest road showed no sign of ending.

That was because Griffinswald itself was a village situated within the forest.

Just as Rickart began thinking that they should soon encounter locals such as herbalists or hunters, something caught his attention.

At first glance, it was merely a bush swaying in the wind. But to Rickart, something about its movement seemed unnatural.

"Volka."

Rickart called to him and indicated the suspicious spot with his chin.

Volka looked in that direction, and the other students soon followed his gaze.

There was nothing visibly strange about it, yet perhaps because Rickart had singled it out, it somehow began to look dangerous.

The procession had come to a stop without anyone noticing. Everyone vigilantly surveyed their surroundings.

Then someone suddenly burst from the exact spot Rickart had indicated and hurled a spear.

Whizz!

At the same time, people who had been hiding on the opposite side of the road emerged all at once.

Rustle! Rustle! Rustlerustlerustle!

From the sound of grass being disturbed alone, there were clearly more than one or two of them.

It was an ambush.

The one fortunate aspect of the situation was that the attackers were not monsters.

But whether they were monsters or humans, their murderous intentions were unmistakable.

"Who the hell are you?!"

The startled students panicked.

Even students considered among the Academy’s strongest could not immediately draw their weapons after being unexpectedly thrust into real combat.

They simply froze in shock and confusion, unsure what to do.

"Aaah!"

A girl screamed.

From that moment onward, the students fought desperately against the unidentified attackers.

They forgot almost everything they had learned and resorted primarily to brute force. Still, the fact that they did not run away was at least worthy of praise.

Of course, praise did not matter at the moment.

Survival came first.

One of the attackers rapidly approached Rickart and thrust his sword at him.

Rickart instinctively twisted aside, pulled the sword from his shoulder, and drove its pommel upward into the man’s chin.

Crunch!

The man’s head snapped back before he collapsed facedown onto the ground.

Without even sparing him a glance, Rickart drew his sword and threw the scabbard aside.

He then rushed toward the girl who had briefly spoken with him the previous night.

She had somehow managed to block the attacks directed at her, but she had fallen onto her backside and was now in danger.

An attacker raised his sword overhead and prepared to bring it down.

The only thing the girl could do was hold her own sword up like a stick in an attempt to block it. At that angle, she would never withstand the force of the descending blade. Her head would be split apart.

Whoosh!

Clang!

Rickart intervened at precisely the right moment and knocked the sword aside.

Then he gripped the ricasso at the base of his blade and used the sword like a short spear, instantly driving it through the attacker’s abdomen.

When he pulled the sword free, blood gushed from the man’s stomach. The attacker’s eyes widened before he dropped heavily to his knees.

"Fuuuck..."

Blood coated Rickart’s blade.

He shouted angrily at the girl.

"Get up!"

This was no time to speak gently.

The frantic clash of blades rang out from every direction.

Rickart rapidly swept his gaze across the battlefield and assessed the enemy’s numbers in an instant.

There were more than thirty.

Far too many.

"Volka!"

There were so many attackers, all tangled together in the melee, that Rickart could not see Volka properly.

But then he heard a shout proving that Volka was still alive.

"Ricky!"

Rickart charged blindly toward the voice.

Once the fighting descended into a chaotic melee, the attackers also struggled to coordinate their movements.

As Rickart observed them amid the confusion, he realized that these men were definitely not ordinary bandits.

Whatever their identity, the students needed to regroup.

They could not continue fighting like this. If they did, the enemy’s superior numbers would overwhelm and kill them all.

Instead of focusing on killing his opponents, Rickart stabbed and slashed wherever necessary to open a path.

Screams erupted around him, and people shouted names he did not recognize.

He reached Volka’s position within moments.

Volka’s face was flushed, and the sword in his hand was not his own. That sword had already bent.

Morty had lost his weapon. He held his shield in both hands and used his massive body to slam into the attackers and shove them away.

However, blood was pouring from Morty’s side.

He had been struck by the spear thrown at the beginning of the ambush.

"This way!"

Rickart shouted.

Instinctively, he sought to break through the enemy’s weakest point.

The attackers naturally moved to stop him.

Rickart abruptly halted, waited for the perfect moment, and swung his sword in a wide horizontal arc.

Whoosh!

Clang! Craaash!

With the sound of air being cleaved apart, three weapons shattered like dried reeds.

The attackers flinched and froze, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Rickart seized the momentum and charged at them, forcing them to retreat in alarm.

Using that opening, he created an escape route for Volka and Morty.

"Over here!"

Volka and Morty were disoriented from fighting so desperately. They simply followed the sound of Rickart’s voice and moved without thinking.

The other students rushed after them.

Rickart remained behind, fending off the enemy’s pursuit. Only after driving them back did he follow the students.

They ran frantically off the road and into the forest.

It quickly became difficult to tell where they were, but fortunately, Rickart managed to reach the place where Volka and Morty had taken cover.

Several other students who had escaped were already there.

The girls’ hair was wildly disheveled, and the boys looked utterly dazed.

Two of the five members of Ice’s group were missing.

Only nine people remained out of the original fourteen.

Unlike his usual composed self, Ice’s appearance was disordered. His pupils were dilated, and he was breathing heavily.

Morty leaned against a wall, gasping for breath.

He forced himself to remove the pack from his back.

"T-Take it with you."

Ignoring him, Rickart sat down and drew his dagger. He sliced Morty’s clothes open and exposed the injury.

Morty must have pulled the spear out in the middle of the chaos because the spearhead was gone.

However, its backward-facing barbs had torn the wound wide open. Blood was gushing from it.

Rickart pressed his hand over the wound.

His hand was instantly drenched in blood.

"A potion. Take out a potion."

Rickart addressed the surrounding students.

However, one of them was trembling so violently that he could not even retrieve a potion from the pack.

"I said get it out! Hurry, you bastard!"

Rickart whipped around and roared with the ferocity of a wild beast.

It was a habit from his previous life. His nerves inevitably became razor-sharp during emergencies.

Volka was also trembling, but he could no longer stand watching. He snatched the pack away, took out a potion, and handed it to Rickart.

Rickart first poured water from a canteen over the wound to clean it.

Then he opened the potion and poured it generously over the injury. He made Morty drink whatever remained.

The potion cost an entire gold coin, but Rickart used every drop without hesitation.

He then took out a needle and stitched the wound closed. Afterward, he spread ointment over it so thickly that he nearly emptied the entire container, then wrapped it in as much bandage as he could.

Everyone else was struggling merely to keep themselves alive.

Rickart, however, had opened their escape route, remained behind to block the pursuit, and now treated the wounded—all by himself.

Once the first aid was complete, Rickart caught his breath and examined Morty.

Morty had already lost so much blood that further combat appeared impossible.

A potion was merely an emergency treatment. It did not suddenly restore someone to perfect health.

"Gasp, gasp, gasp..."

"Morty, it’s done. You’re going to live. That’s good, isn’t it? Stay conscious."

"Gasp, gasp... Ha. Hahaha..."

Morty laughed weakly, his face pale.

He would survive if he remained still and properly recuperated.

The problem was the enemy.

Before they even had time to worry whether the other five students were alive or dead, the attackers began approaching their position.

Then Ice abruptly prepared to leave.

Rickart’s eyes widened.

"Where are you going?"

"To complete the commission."

"Are you insane?"

Rickart frowned at him as though wondering what kind of lunatic he was dealing with.

For the first time, he displayed open hostility toward Ice.

Ice silently looked at Rickart.

Then he simply left.

The other students hesitated in confusion before following him.

"Sorry."

The girl Rickart had saved apologized as she departed.

Was he supposed to be grateful that she had at least said that much?

Like hell he was.

He had not rescued her to receive her gratitude, but he certainly had not done it to receive an apology either.

Still, Rickart could not exactly demand that they risk their lives fighting to protect an injured student.

With a dumbfounded expression, he watched them disappear into the forest.

Volka also stared in disbelief at the students abandoning them.

"Those fucking bastards..."