Chapter 27

Chapter 27: Chapter 27

It looked like a structure built by giants.

It was so immense that it was nearly impossible to believe human hands had constructed it. Even when viewed from afar, its grandeur felt as though it were looming directly overhead.

Not far from Torvail, nestled between deep ravines, stood a colossal gateway.

It was called the Giant’s Gate.

No one knew who had built it, when it had been constructed, or for what purpose.

That gateway was the entrance to Fernland, the territory of the Eastern Expedition.

It looked exactly as it had over a hundred years ago.

Rickart had left the city and come some distance beyond its outskirts. He stood there gazing endlessly at the gate.

Memories from that time returned to him, along with all the emotions contained within them.

Fear, worry, anxiety—and resignation.

The gate was firmly sealed, as though an enormous demon capable of destroying the world had been imprisoned beyond it.

"Wow, this really feels amazing. I can’t stop touching it."

Volka spoke while running his hand through Rickart’s fluffy blond hair.

Rickart’s skin had quickly recovered, but his hair remained unchanged. It seemed that he would have to live with it like this for a while.

Rickart initially paid little attention to Volka’s teasing. But when everyone else began reaching for his hair as well, he rapidly waved his hands above his head as though swatting away flies.

Volka and the other students snickered. Molti smiled contentedly, while Ice merely watched in silence.

"What did Uncle Alter say?"

Rickart turned toward Volka as he asked.

Alter was both a clan master and the head of the Torvail branch of the Beringen Adventurers’ Guild.

Unlike the Reinfurt branch, which rented space inside the Thieves’ Guild’s building, Torvail possessed a proper branch building of its own.

Then again, that should have been normal. Why did it seem so surprising?

"He just keeps saying the same thing. Something about the higher-ups, and that we should wait for now."

Rickart’s group had only been dispatched to assist with the assignment. The adventurers themselves were responsible for carrying it out, while the students were merely supposed to support them.

But after everything that had happened on the way, the guild needed to determine its response.

Would they abandon the assignment and go to war? Would they end the matter here? And if they did end it, what sort of agreement would have to be reached?

It had already been a week since the students arrived.

In short, everything was currently on hold.

Of course, that had allowed them to enjoy something resembling an unexpected vacation.

Warm bathwater, fresh food, and cool, exotic scenery.

"Hey! You lot!"

Someone called from behind them.

They turned and saw a guild member beckoning them over. The academy students, who had been scattered across the field, gathered together and approached him.

"Come back to the branch. The branch chief has something to tell you."

"What does he want to tell us? Are we finally going to carry out the assignment?"

Volka asked, but the guild adventurer merely shrugged.

"How should I know? Instructions from above are divided into things they tell everyone and things they keep confidential."

Rickart figured they would find out once they heard it for themselves.

Rickart and his companions returned to the city and entered a slightly crooked cylindrical building that looked like the sort of place a witch might inhabit.

It was a cozy building with a single attic on the second floor—the kind of place that seemed perfectly suited to an old woman living alone.

Scrolls had been crammed haphazardly into the bookshelves, while bundles of various herbs hung from the ceiling to dry. A faint fire burned quietly in the hearth without so much as a crackle.

The man seated behind the desk crooked a finger at the students when he saw them.

That man was Alter, the branch chief.

He was so fat that one had to wonder how he had ever become an adventurer.

Rickart and the other eight students approached him.

Alter silently stared at Rickart for a moment.

Rickart was tall for his age, and his limbs looked reasonably sturdy, but his face still unmistakably belonged to a child.

More importantly, there was that curly hair...

"I just can’t get used to it, no matter how many times I look."

"To what?"

"Never mind."

Alter leaned back and continued.

"People have been calling Lorenz an idiot, but he was famous for being cunning. Even we found him difficult to deal with. Well, whatever. Our guild master met with their guild master for negotiations. Apparently, the Rubens Guild first demanded the death of one of our own clan masters in exchange."

When someone said simply "the master," they meant the guild master.

"That doesn’t make any sense."

"No, it doesn’t. Naturally, our master refused. Then they demanded that we hand over the person who killed Lorenz."

Rickart was the one who had killed Lorenz.

The students behind him exchanged alarmed looks.

"And?"

"The master told me to give you this on the spot."

Alter opened a drawer and held out a golden cloak pin.

It was engraved with a laurel wreath symbolizing the Emperor and an eagle holding a snake in its beak—the symbol of Beringen.

"What is this?"

"It signifies a high-ranking adventurer. I’m too embarrassed to wear mine, but don’t sell it. That doesn’t mean you’re officially an adventurer yet, mind you—not until you graduate and complete your contracted term. Still, it belongs to you now."

Rickart was not yet an adventurer, but this meant the guild would effectively regard him as a high-ranking one.

The qualification remained provisional because Rickart could still decide not to become an adventurer.

"And these are for the rest of you."

Alter reached into the drawer again and spread a row of silver cloak pins across the desk.

They also bore the laurel wreath and eagle, but the eagle was not holding a snake in its beak. These pins represented the intermediate rank.

It was an unprecedented promotion.

They had not even laid eyes on the deserters they had originally been sent to pursue.

It was also a deliberate provocation made in front of the rival guild.

Their guild master might not have used those exact words, but his message had been unmistakable:

You want us to hand over the boy who killed Lorenz? Go fuck yourselves. That will never happen.

Rickart quietly examined the golden pin in his hand before asking, "Does this mean we’re at war?"

Alter shook his head.

"Large-scale wars don’t break out very often. There may be minor skirmishes and bloodshed from time to time, but nothing more. The Rubens Guild deliberately started something serious this time, but they probably never imagined they’d lose a clan master to academy students."

Alter continued.

"In the end, we reached an agreement. They’ll return our prisoners without demanding ransom. They’ve already suffered heavy losses, so we didn’t push for anything beyond that."

The negotiations had concluded largely in Beringen’s favor.

For the time being, Rickart’s group would be able to carry out its assignment without worrying about further attacks from the Rubens Guild.

Of course, the Rubens Guild might lose its mind and disregard the agreement. But doing so would give the other guilds grounds to attack them for breaking the accord.

Unless something exceptional happened, Rickart’s party was unlikely to be ambushed again.

"I always planned to tear that bastard Lorenz apart myself one day, but having his head cut off and his body burned isn’t a bad ending. Kekeke. And to be perfectly honest, it felt damn satisfying. At least it did to me. The people at the other branches probably feel the same way."

Alter pointed at Rickart.

"But that means you need to be especially careful. The Rubens bastards will be waiting for an opportunity to get you. Wear a hood when you’re outside. Cover up that golden broccoli you call hair."

"I didn’t make it look like this on purpose."

Rickart touched his tightly curled hair.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you lot need to start working now. I would’ve liked to let you rest for a few more days, but time is everything when you’re pursuing fugitives. Divide yourselves into three teams. Then follow the adventurers I assign to you."

Rickart and the others looked at one another.

It was time for them to separate.

A fleeting sense of reluctance seemed to pass among them.

"Can’t we do it by ourselves?" Volka asked.

"Don’t get cocky. Fighting and working are two different things. Stop complaining, go with the professionals, and learn from them."

Alter tossed several purses onto the table.

"This is your advance payment. Students normally don’t receive one, but I’m giving it to you because I find you little brats adorable. I took it out of my own wages for now, understand?"

Volka immediately snatched up the purses.

"You’ll see one another again when the work is over and you return to the academy. If anything dangerous happens, use our people as shields. Just don’t die. Now get going. Wait at the inn."

Alter waved his hand, shooing them out.

He seemed embarrassed by what he had just said.

A smile unconsciously appeared on Rickart’s lips.

What an adorable old man.

Rickart and the students left the witch-like building and looked at one another again.

"Are we splitting into our original groups?" one of the female students asked.

No one readily answered.

Then Molti offered a suggestion.

"How about mixing the groups?"

"What?"

"Let’s mix everyone up. What do you think?"

He meant that instead of keeping their original three groups, they should rearrange themselves into three new teams.

"I mean... I’m fine with that," Volka said evasively.

Unexpectedly, Ice was the first to make his choice.

"I’m going with Ricky."

Everyone stared at him with wide eyes.

"What? You said we should mix the groups. I choose Ricky."

"Good. Then I choose Lara."

Molti, who had first proposed rearranging the teams, immediately pointed to one of the girls as though he had been waiting for the opportunity.

Lara’s eyes widened. She needlessly lowered her head slightly and began glancing around.

Rickart wondered what was happening.

Then Volka hurriedly selected the remaining girl.

"I choose Delphy."

"What? We don’t get the right to refuse?"

Unlike Lara, Delphy scowled.

"No," Ice declared flatly.

Who put you in charge?

In any case, after those who wanted specific companions had chosen them, the remaining students divided themselves among the groups.

They formed three teams of three.

As it happened, there were exactly nine of them, so the numbers worked out perfectly.

Rickart separated from Volka and Molti, his original companions. He formed a team with Ice and a male student who had previously traveled with the girls.

The boy’s name was Fallen.

Fallen appeared somewhat intimidated.

That was understandable, considering that he had to travel with Ice and Rickart. He felt as though he had been trapped between two monsters.

Weren’t they ranked first and second in the academy?

Rickart and Ice paid him no particular attention, but Fallen fidgeted nervously before attempting to strike up a conversation.

"You two have it good. You can choose whichever girl you want."

Rickart and Ice both turned toward him.

They stared silently at his face without saying anything.

Fallen began sweating, wondering whether he had said something wrong.

In truth, Rickart and Ice simply had no idea how to respond.

***

As they waited inside the inn, the Beringen Academy students chatted noisily among themselves.

They seemed relaxed.

Their fear of new experiences and unknown places appeared to have lessened considerably.

The students teased one another and laughed. They threw their heads back and roared with amusement.

Things that would once have provoked sharp reactions could now simply be laughed off.

After enduring genuine hardship, people often realized that the things to which they had once reacted so sensitively were not particularly important.

Adversity and suffering could sometimes frustrate people and drive them to despair. But those who overcame such trials inevitably became stronger and more composed.

People called that growth.

Perhaps the students had taken one step closer to becoming adults.

Sword fights, blood, battles, and the deaths of companions might surround their lives. But that did not mean they always had to remain gloomy or submit to such things.

Rickart liked this feeling.

He enjoyed watching these boys and girls grow.

That left him wondering about himself, but he soon decided that it did not really matter.

He did not know whether that war a century ago had truly been necessary, but he found sights like this deeply gratifying.

There had been no academies back then.

For a moment, he wondered what his life might have been like if an academy had existed in those days.

Even if he had still possessed no family, what if he had at least had friends like these?

In the end, it was Rickart himself who had guided these students through their growth.

That filled him with immense pride.

It felt like something worth risking his life for.

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