Chapter 45

Chapter 45: Chapter 45

"There’s something called an escrowed reward. There’s a commission, but no one knows who the client is. It isn’t something just anyone can arrange, either. Only fairly reputable individuals or organizations can do it. All sorts of rumors circulate, but there’s no way to know for certain. So, if you really did complete the commission, the escrowed reward will be paid to you."

Dunkel spoke while sitting in a chair before a small table in the room where Rickart had spent the night. The room was filled with a soothing white light.

Rickart and Boribori sat on the bed, listening to him. Boribori, however, plainly had her mind elsewhere. Rickart was the only one properly listening.

"So you need to verify it, even with the evidence."

Dunkel nodded at Rickart’s words.

But there was currently a far more serious issue than the commission. Dunkel swallowed dryly before speaking.

"Are you certain that Nameless Man X and Mad Dog Steiner are dead?"

Instead of answering, Rickart slightly drew Steiner’s sword, which had been lying on the bed, and showed it to him. As sunlight streaming through the window brushed across the blade, it gleamed with a faint blue sheen.

Rickart slid it back into its scabbard and said,

"This is the sword Steiner used."

The fact that Rickart had killed Erze and Reto had already been shocking, but what followed was even more astonishing. Even now, Dunkel found himself momentarily at a loss for words.

The reason he was taking this so seriously was partly because Rickart had accomplished something incredible, but there was actually another reason.

"Why are you acting like the guild is suddenly about to collapse?"

At Rickart’s question, Dunkel managed to calm his still-pounding heart and replied,

"It’s a power vacuum. The Ernberg Five operated throughout the central north. Passing through their territory was one thing, but the Adventurers’ Guild couldn’t establish branches and operate there freely. Now that they’re gone, what do you think is going to happen?"

Nameless Man had no particular territory of his own. He had merely roamed throughout the empire, hunting wanted criminals or avenging grievances.

The Ernberg Five, on the other hand, had an established sphere of activity that included Siegfringer. And now that entire region had been left vacant.

In other words, there was now a land without a master.

Of course, the region had lords who ruled it and criminal organizations that operated in the shadows, but the Adventurers’ Guild was an independent power spanning both the legitimate world and the underworld.

Securing a sphere of activity meant more than simply earning more money. It meant gaining access to the region’s logistics, manpower, and other resources.

And in an age when the roads connecting one city to another were more important than anything else, controlling a larger territory also meant being able to reduce transportation costs dramatically.

Securing a new sphere of activity would bring benefits in every respect. More importantly, those benefits would not be temporary, but sustainable.

"So the question is who will claim it."

Rickart immediately understood what Dunkel meant, and Dunkel nodded gravely once again.

"You may remember that we had a conflict with those Rubens bastards before. Something like that can be settled quietly and swept under the rug. But this is different. It’s the sort of matter where we might deploy our full strength—no, where we have no choice but to do so. The summons has already gone out. Not just the Guild Master, but the clan masters and every adventurer of intermediate rank or higher are gathering."

It meant a guild war might break out.

No—it seemed almost certain.

It was ironic. People’s deaths could be brushed aside easily enough, but the moment vested interests were involved, war erupted.

"That’s why we need to proceed cautiously but quickly. Tell me where it happened. The guild will verify the facts and then make its move. Since we learned about this first, we need to make the most of the time we have. And naturally, this is classified information of the highest order. Don’t mention it to anyone."

Rickart was not the sort to boast about what he had done, so he nodded immediately. Still, his heart felt somewhat heavy.

The Guild Master and the rest of the guild’s upper ranks were probably holding discussions intense enough to make their heads split by now. Should they launch a surprise attack against hostile organizations first? Should they seize the central north before anyone else? Should they conduct a diversionary operation? And so on.

But was it truly that important?

Important enough to spill the blood of young people?

The question occurred to him, but asking the Guild Master would not provide an answer. The Guild Master had duties he was obligated to fulfill as the master of the guild, and failing to act now would make him a fool.

Whether Rickart had intended it or not, what he had accomplished over the winter was beginning to cause tremendous upheaval.

What he had done to save the Academy students from starvation now threatened to summon a storm of blades.

When did the most people die?

Perhaps it was when the balance of power broke down and the political landscape began to shift.

Because the future was at stake—the choice between living in humiliation after being overwhelmed by another’s power or securing the upper hand and consolidating one’s own authority.

The fear of disappearing through powerlessness and the desire to survive by acquiring power.

That was why the question of whether to wage war could not be resolved through persuasion alone.

As Rickart listened to what was happening, that was what he felt.

"Reto and Erze’s bodies should be near Reto’s laboratory in Sidria, assuming no one has disturbed them in the meantime. The others are in a ruined village called Lindvale. The closest city is Riegenhafen. Head north from there, and you’ll find it. But I can’t tell you where I buried Nameless Man. That’s deeply personal, so please understand."

Since the most important matter was confirming the deaths of the Ernberg Five, Dunkel readily nodded.

The verification of their deaths was precisely that—a mere formality. Considering that Rickart possessed both Steiner’s sword and the Phantom Sword, Dunkel was already convinced that all five members of the Ernberg Five were dead.

"Um..."

Boribori, who had been sitting quietly until then, finally spoke. The atmosphere was serious given the circumstances, but judging from her expression, she did not seem to understand that.

"If all the skilled adventurers are being summoned, does that mean we’ll get to see Volka, Ice, and the others who graduated before us?"

Her innocent question made Dunkel feel as though his obstructed breathing had finally cleared, and he smiled gently.

"They won’t remain in the city for long. Once those above make their decision, they’ll be deployed to the field. Well, if your paths happen to cross, you might see them. Otherwise, you won’t. We need to move quickly. If that many people start moving, the other guilds will realize something unusual is happening."

"Is there anything I need to do separately?"

Rickart asked.

"No. It isn’t that I don’t trust you, but... how should I put it? At present, you’re a person of particular interest, both inside and outside the guild. Stay at the Academy for the time being. You’ve effectively moved beyond the status of a mere student now. Do you understand what that means?"

"It means I’m walking on the edge of a blade."

Rickart spoke while looking out the window.

He was reminded of his previous life—a life spent walking on the edge of a blade. It was familiar, but not welcome.

Had nothing changed?

He did not know.

"Yes... Now get some rest. Don’t think about anything else. And... I’m a little afraid of you now."

It felt as though Dunkel had unnecessarily added something that did not need to be said. But it was also the truth.

Still looking out the window, Rickart merely smiled faintly.

Dunkel could not tell what that smile meant.

He had killed a Sword Master at the age of twelve. What would he become when he reached adulthood? Was he going to grow even stronger? Was that even possible?

Perhaps Dunkel was witnessing the beginning of a legendary hero with his own eyes.

For both Dunkel and the guild, figuring out how they were supposed to handle Rickart had become yet another serious concern.

He was, quite literally, far beyond the bounds of common sense.

Dunkel left the room filled with clear white light.

The moment he was gone, Boribori, apparently uncomfortable from sitting still, flopped onto her stomach on the bed. Swinging her crossed legs back and forth, she asked Rickart,

"What are you going to do when you receive the escrowed reward?"

"I don’t know. What do you want to do?"

"How about buying clothes for every student at the Academy?"

"Hm?"

"We could all wear the same clothes. Of course, the girls’ clothes would be a little different. Wouldn’t that be fun?"

Rickart briefly imagined all the students wearing identical clothes. He could not picture it very clearly, since he had no idea what they would be wearing.

But when it came to things like sewing or an appreciation for flowers, Boribori seemed to have ideas of his own.

"Sure. Let’s do that."

Rickart agreed lightly without giving it much thought.

Boribori beamed, already delighted by the idea. Seeing him smile made Rickart smile as well.

The light in the room was clear and bright, but the clouds of war were gathering in the distance. They could not continue smiling so innocently forever, but sometimes the lightest decisions were the ones that remained with people the longest.

Rickart and Boribori took Marie around Beringen.

Just as Volka had once done for them, they showed her the districts divided among the four cardinal directions, explained what she needed to be careful of, and pointed out the major shops.

They sold her armor and bought the clothing and other supplies she would need for life at the Academy. The cloth merchant tilted his head when they sold the surcoat, but it fetched a fairly good price for something secondhand.

They could have bought a sword as well, but Marie decided to keep Steiner’s sword for the time being.

"I’ll give it to you once you take first place. Until then, I’m only lending it to you."

"Doesn’t that mean she has to defeat you, Ricky?"

"I suppose it does. Anyway."

"By the way, this seems like a pretty good sword. I know a little about these things."

"It’s a problem if it’s too good. There’s nowhere suitable to sell it."

Truthfully, the whole process seemed rather bothersome—traveling to a large city, putting it up for auction, and everything else that entailed.

Rickart had considered selling it through the guild, but given the current situation, the guild did not appear to have the capacity to deal with something like that.

"Thanks. Can I give it a name?"

"What kind of name? Name what?"

"The sword."

"Only girls do stupid things like that."

"...What?"

"Ah."

Rickart immediately realized that he had misspoken.

Marie was a girl.

"Sorry."

Marie did not seem bothered in the slightest, however, and gave him a playful grin.

"Then it doesn’t matter, since I’m a girl. I’ll name it Ricky. The famed sword Ricky."

"Haha..."

Feeling apologetic, Rickart could only laugh awkwardly.

"What? Me too! I want to name something too."

While Rickart was looking troubled, Boribori excitedly joined in.

"But that already has a name, doesn’t it? The Phantom Sword."

"No. That’s not to my taste. What should I call it? Hmm... the Nameless Sword. The Nameless Sword sounds good. Its name is that it has no name."

Rickart knew the story behind it, so he could not joke about it lightly. For a moment, he had nothing to say.

But Boribori was neither gloomy nor dejected. He was simply excited. As if hoping to keep that excitement going, Boribori said to Rickart,

"You should name yours too, Ricky."

"I’m not interested. It’s fine."

"They say you should treat your sword like your best friend and your spear like your most beloved lover. Wouldn’t it be all right to at least give it a name?"

Marie supported Boribori’s suggestion. Rickart had no idea where she had heard something like that, but Marie had a somewhat rigid side to her.

"No. There’s no need to get sentimental about it. A sword is just a sword."

"You know, Ricky, sometimes you talk like an old man trapped in a child’s body."

"Me?"

Rickart’s eyes widened at Marie’s blunt criticism. Boribori found it hilarious and burst into laughter, repeatedly agreeing with her.

Perhaps because the three of them had shared hardships and slept outdoors together, they already seemed to have grown close after only a few days. Of course, that was only possible when people had something in common, and the three of them apparently did.

Their conversation never stopped, and none of them hesitated to tease the others. Whenever one of them became the target, they simply laughed it off.

Boribori got involved when Marie bought clothes and recommended an outfit resembling a rider’s dueling attire. He probably intended to use it as a reference when they later bought clothes for the Academy students.

Marie was tall, which made her an excellent model. Once she put on clothes that fit a little more closely, her well-trained figure became clearly visible. Judging by her firm thighs, slender ankles, and straight waist, she looked capable of wielding a formidable sword.

It was not true in every case, but one could roughly gauge someone’s skill merely by observing their ordinary posture.

At least, Rickart could.

They bought several sets of clothing for combat, training, and everyday wear. Since they had sold the armor, they had more than enough money, so it was hardly an excessive expense.

The three ate fresh chicken soup and bread at the guild building before departing for the Academy.

On the way, they followed a path through the fields. No other place seemed able to rival the refreshing sight of those vast, moisture-laden fields. The flowers Boribori liked were also blooming here and there.

Violets, daffodils, bellflowers...

Wait. Violets are one thing, but why do I know the names of the others?

Rickart wondered.

By the time they reached the Academy after six hours of walking, evening had arrived. Although the air was cold, the enormous moon blooming above the distant fields gave off a gentle feeling.

With the stars overhead, they climbed the long staircase carved into the cliff, passed through the castle gate, and finally reached the Academy.

In the courtyard, Rickart pointed toward one of the buildings and said to Marie,

"That’s the girls’ dormitory. That one is for the boys. I suppose no one came to greet us because it’s nighttime. The students assigned to guard duty should be coming out soon. Anyway, I guess I’ll see you again tomorrow."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"There’s no need to thank me. If you have any trouble, tell me anytime."

"Okay."

Rickart smiled faintly and entered the inner castle with Boribori.

But something about the atmosphere felt strangely off.

One of the students walking through the corridor spotted Rickart, jumped in surprise, and shouted,

"Ricky!"

"It’s been a while. Have you been well?"

Rickart merely greeted him casually, but at the sound of Ricky’s name, students suddenly came pouring out of the dormitory. They rushed at Rickart as though trying to swarm him.

"What’s gotten into all of you?"

"I thought you were dead."

"I didn’t. I knew someone like Ricky would survive."

"Thanks to you, a lot of the students didn’t die."

"Where did you go? What were you doing?"

Rickart was bewildered enough to wonder whether he had always been this close to the other students.

Still, it did not feel bad.

He was glad they were doing well. With this, he had achieved what he had set out to do. Pride showed through his awkward, embarrassed smile.

However, everyone was saying whatever they wanted at once, so he had no idea how to respond.

With the students blocking his path, Rickart also had some difficulty returning to his room.

When he finally arrived, however, he saw something strange.

Twenty students were supposed to stay in each room, but only around ten were inside.

Moreover, the upper sections of all ten bunk beds had been dismantled and removed.

The ten students inside stared at Rickart. At the same time, the students surrounding him abruptly fell silent and backed away.

Something was clearly wrong.

Rickart silently studied the ten students. He then removed the sword slung over his shoulder, handed it to someone nearby, and entered the room.

"Where’s my bed? And who are you people?"

"Are you Ricky?"

One of the students answered. His overall appearance was neat, and unlike an ordinary student, his clothes looked expensive.

"Who are you?"

Rickart asked.

The student curled his lips into a sneer before replying,

"I am Karlich, the fourth son of the proud House of Rosten. It’s nice to meet you, but we’d like to rest in peace right now. Would you leave?"

He was a noble.

Rickart had heard that nobles were coming. It seemed they had enrolled while he was away.

Rickart merely stared at Karlich with an expression that asked what he expected him to do about it.

Then he spoke.

"Have you gone through your initiation?"

"Hah. We have no desire to participate in such a vulgar ritual."

"That’s unfortunate. Whether you participate isn’t your decision."

Karlich frowned and was about to ask what Rickart meant when something flashed before his eyes.

Slap!

The devastating slap sent Karlich crashing sideways onto the floor.

The students who had been sitting or half reclining on their beds leaped to their feet, while those leaning against the walls pushed themselves away from them.

Every student watching from outside the room gasped.

He had struck a noble.

That was a serious crime.

But Rickart’s initiation ceremony was not over.

"We’re nowhere near finished."

He grabbed the fallen Karlich by the hair and slapped him across both cheeks.

"You... Wait!"

Slap! Smack!

After taking two more slaps, Karlich was half unconscious, his eyes unfocused. Blood mixed with saliva streamed from his torn mouth.

Rickart kicked and stomped on him.

Thud! Thud! Crunch!

"You’re pathetic. Who’s next? Is there anyone else who hasn’t gone through the initiation?"

Rickart asked as he looked around at the remaining noble students.

"Y-You... You..."

The other noble students were so shocked that they could only stammer.

Rickart approached the nearest one and delivered a full-force low kick.

Thud!

"Agh!"

The student’s mouth fell open as he collapsed from that single blow.

Rickart proceeded to beat him as well.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

"You insolent bastard!"

Someone shouted.

Then they all rushed at Rickart together, but that merely shortened the initiation ceremony.

Like a rampaging tiger, Rickart beat every last one of them down.

Thud! Crack! Smack! Thump! Thud!

The sound of students being beaten echoed throughout the silent inner castle.

The ordinary students watched with bated breath.

At that moment, Karlich finally regained his senses. With both cheeks swollen, he spoke.

"Y-You bastard. Do you know who my father is? How dare you treat a noble like—"

Rickart said nothing.

He simply kicked the half-risen Karlich again.

Thud!

"Agh!"

Then Rickart grabbed him by the hair and dragged him outside. He opened the door of the inner castle, hurled Karlich out, and pointed at his wretched, crumpled body.

"Make sure you bring your father. You’re not allowed back inside until then."

"W-Wait. Wait!"

Bang!

Rickart mercilessly shut the inner castle door.

After being beaten senseless and left outside, Karlich felt that the bitter cold was threatening his life. Forgetting all about his status, he pounded on the door and pleaded.

"H-Hey. Wait. Hey!"

Bang. Bang. Bang.

But no one inside responded.

Rickart returned to the room and addressed the remaining noble students.

"You dismantled the beds, so until you restore them—whether you do it yourselves or pay someone else—you’ll sleep on the floor. Anyone have a problem with that?"

The students sprawled across the floor, groaning in pain, were unable to voice any objections.

If they so much as opened their mouths, they might end up like Karlich.

Before overwhelming violence, status meant nothing.

Everyone was equal.

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