Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

"Then I shall take my leave, as I need to prepare the necessary documents separately. The knightly order will probably send someone, but as for the adventurer training academy... I’m not sure whether it would be better to go through the Imperial Family or contact them directly. Still, I will do my utmost to find a good place—somewhere worthy of special consideration for our brave Young Master Rickart. Ha ha ha."

There were several adventurer training academies throughout the Empire. Most were sponsored by emperors, kings, or great nobles and operated by guilds.

It had not been long since the training of professional adventurers had been institutionalized, so each academy operated differently, and hardly any had established a fully developed system yet.

In any case, now that the two boys had made their decisions, all that remained were the formalities. Given the age they lived in, everything had to be handled in person.

"Travel safely. Please give the Count my regards."

"I shall never forget the kindness you have shown me. And I hope both young masters remain well. Ah, there is one last piece of advice I would like to give you. Never believe anything a merchant tells you, and do not associate with spellcasters at all."

"...Why?"

Vilter asked.

"Merchants are the sort who would sell their souls to a demon for money, while spellcasters look down on others and are so selfish that they possess no sense of guilt. Their entire way of thinking is different from ours. You would be better off having nothing to do with them."

Having offered that final warning, he put on a fur hat to keep the exposed skin of his head warm and left the manor.

Although no one had told them to do so, Vilter and Rickart climbed the watchtower to watch Doctor Reno depart. The bitter winter wind blew fiercely, but it did not make the boys shrink back.

By the time he reached the horizon, he was barely visible, yet he turned and waved his arm broadly in their direction. The two boys waved back just as vigorously.

If anything changed after his visit, it was that Vilter’s anxiety and irritation had transformed into excitement, anticipation, and a little fear.

Rickart, meanwhile, was personally curious to see how the world had changed over the past hundred years. Still, he was not nearly as excited as his older brother Vilter.

About a month later, the ground that had remained frozen all winter began to thaw. When the villagers spread manure across their fields, the entire estate filled with the stench of dung.

Cutting through that smell, an unfamiliar knight arrived on horseback. He wore chain mail and a white surcoat bearing the emblem of a flame.

A helmet, shield, spear, axe, and other equipment hung from his saddle. The scratches and wear on them made it clear that they were not mere decorations.

It was said that a single knight of the Order of the Flame could take on at least forty Salaman warriors. The man’s gaze and demeanor certainly seemed to prove it. It was almost as though an aura flowed from his shoulders.

Upon entering the courtyard, he swept his gaze across those assembled. There was something in his eyes alone that made people shrink back, and every member of the Stormherz household avoided his gaze.

He remained mounted until Abelich emerged from the manor, looking unmistakably like the lord of the estate. Only then did he dismount.

Then, in a manner that could be seen as either somewhat arrogant or impressively confident, he introduced himself.

"I am Edmunt, a senior knight of the Order of the Flame."

"I am Abelich, Lord of Stormherz. Does the Order of the Flame usually arrive without sending any prior notice?"

"Your family submitted a volunteer, and we accepted him. What further formalities are required? I did not come here as a guest, nor do I expect to be treated as one."

"Is it you? Are you the volunteer? You have useful eyes. But do not act so arrogantly. The order will not treat you like a pampered young master."

"Hmph. Take a look at yourself. Aren’t you the one behaving arrogantly in someone else’s home?"

"Who is the volunteer? Bring him here immediately. I will take him with me."

The man had barged in without warning and immediately announced that he would take Vilter away. It was both bewildering and absurd.

Everyone instinctively turned toward Vilter. He was staring blankly up at the knight from the Order of the Flame, looking as though he had suffered a terrible shock. His excitement and anticipation appeared to collapse in an instant, giving way to growing fear.

Then an unexpectedly young voice abruptly rang out.

"Who said anyone would treat you as a guest? This is Stormherz, not your knightly order. If you enter someone else’s territory, you should show its lord the proper respect."

Everyone turned in surprise.

It was Rickart.

The knight named Edmunt stared silently at Rickart, who was glaring at him, then gave a faint chuckle.

Everyone else had been overwhelmed by the unfamiliar knight’s presence and rendered speechless, yet Rickart, the smallest person there, was openly confronting him.

However, his cute face, mature manner of speaking, and youthful voice made his words lack force.

Strictly speaking, Rickart was not wrong. He had stepped forward because he disliked the knight’s apparent contempt for his father, his brother, and the people of his homeland.

"Ricky, that is enough. I apologize for my son’s rudeness. You have done nothing wrong, Edmunt. As you said, we submitted a volunteer, and the order merely accepted him. However, the volunteer is not Ricky. It is my second son, Vilter, standing here. I have something to give my son, so wait for a moment."

After restraining Rickart, Abelich went back inside the manor.

When Edmunt heard that Rickart was not the volunteer, however, he looked somewhat surprised. He had secretly taken a liking to the boy.

Perhaps it was his fierce determination or his combative temperament. Children with such qualities tended to endure well.

Life in any knightly order was difficult, but the Order of the Flame was among the harshest. No—it was unquestionably the most grueling order in the Empire, and for that reason it gathered the finest fighting force in the land.

Its members faced intense training, strict discipline, and countless battles in which their lives hung in the balance. No one with ordinary resolve or temperament could endure such a place.

And in most cases, failing to endure meant death. Once someone joined the order, they could neither quit nor run away. Desertion was a serious crime under military law.

Even after Abelich entered the manor, Rickart kept his mouth firmly shut and continued glaring angrily at Edmunt.

A ten-year-old’s glare could hardly intimidate a battle-hardened knight, yet Edmunt sensed a strange incongruity in the boy’s hazel eyes.

It was an instinctive warning of danger, the kind of intuition honed through real combat. Yet Edmunt himself thought that such a thing could not possibly be true.

In any case, when he looked at Vilter standing beside Rickart, he saw an expression of fear no different from that of any ordinary boy.

The interest that Rickart had briefly sparked in him rapidly faded.

"Have you ever served as a squire?"

Edmunt asked Vilter.

Vilter seemed too dazed to hear the question. Without taking his glaring eyes off Edmunt, Rickart poked his brother in the side.

"Ah! What? Huh?"

"He asked whether you’ve ever served as a squire," Rickart whispered.

"A-a squire? Well, I know how to maintain armor and weapons to some extent..."

"Have you ever fought in battle?"

If they were unlucky, nobles were sometimes forced to participate in battles as young as fourteen. Great heroes, meanwhile, often began distinguishing themselves in combat from a young age.

Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Vilter had no combat experience.

"N-no..."

"If you volunteered for the knightly order out of shallow romanticism, you would be wise to abandon your expectations. If your family made the decision regardless of your wishes, accepting it will make things easier for you. It is too late to withdraw now. From this point onward, there will be nothing but service and devotion to the Empire. Do not think too much. It will only eat away at your resolve. Simply endure in silence."

It sounded less like advice and more like a chilling warning.

Of course, life in the knightly order truly was brutal.

At that moment, Abelich emerged from the manor again. In his hands was a heater shield bearing the family crest.

The crest consisted of a red field quartered by white lines. It had been bestowed upon the family by the Emperor.

"Take this with you. I pray that this shield will protect you."

With a heavy heart, Vilter silently accepted the shield.

Edmunt watched without comment, then mounted his horse.

"Follow me. I shall be going, Lord Abelich."

With that, he turned his horse around and left the courtyard.

Vilter stood there flustered, looking back and forth between his family and Edmunt. Once he left, there was no telling when he would return.

Perhaps he would never return at all.

He felt that he should say something, but his lips would not move. What was he supposed to say? Shouldn’t he at least bid them farewell?

Meanwhile, Edmunt continued to move farther away, and Vilter had no choice but to follow. It was customary for the knight to ride while the squire walked.

It was difficult from the very beginning. After all, reaching the headquarters of the Order of the Flame would take at least a month on foot.

Rickart watched Vilter until he disappeared into the distance.

Vilter would run to catch up with Edmunt, then return to walking. All the while, he looked back countless times.

Eventually, he vanished beyond the horizon.

Even after Vilter left, nothing changed in Stormherz.

The people plowed the fields, sowed seeds, pulled weeds...

The older boys from the village who had played with Vilter since childhood tried not to show how much they missed him. Whenever someone brought him up, they would say,

"It’s not like he went there to die."

That was true.

He had not gone there to die.

It had also been his own choice. All they could do was believe that he would succeed. Perhaps by the time they met again, he would have become a gallant knight.

Rickart kept those feelings of loneliness and regret buried within his heart.

And now it was his turn.

He spent his days wandering around the estate with a young, untrained hunting dog.

He would sit in fields where fresh green shoots were beginning to emerge and watch the dog run around excitedly by itself. When it finally came over and lay beside him, he stroked its head and back.

Simply running through the fields no longer made him smile as it once had.

His daily routine consisted of returning home with the dog around sunset, eating with his family, washing himself, and going to sleep.

About a week after Vilter’s departure, Rickart returned in the evening after spending another day outside with the dog. Grout, dressed to go out and pacing around the courtyard, called to him.

"Ricky, you came at just the right time. I was about to look for you. Hurry to the study."

Rather than thinking that what he had been waiting for had finally arrived, Rickart merely accepted that whatever was meant to happen would happen. As always, he remained calm.

When he entered the study, he found someone sitting on the sofa.

The man was slender and looked remarkably agile. A leather satchel hung diagonally across his body from one shoulder.

He was completely different from Edmunt, the senior knight. The way he sat there staring blankly at Rickart carried no imposing presence whatsoever. He looked like an ordinary civilian.

He did not appear very old either—perhaps around the same age as Rickart’s eldest brother, Grout.

The man had been speaking with Abelich, but upon seeing Rickart enter, he said,

"Ah, I am a courier affiliated with the Imperial Guild Bureau. I came to deliver something. You are Young Master Rickart, correct?"

The Imperial Guild Bureau?

Did such an organization exist?

In any case, the courier took a cylinder made of sturdy leather from his satchel. When he removed the lid, he revealed a scroll sealed with wax and handed it to Rickart.

Rickart broke the seal and unrolled the scroll.

It was an academy acceptance letter.

An academy?

He had been admitted?

Written in elegant handwriting, most of the letter consisted of praise for the academy itself.

This academy carries on a long and venerable tradition, teaching ancient languages, survival skills, and various martial arts while fostering cooperation and encouraging growth through competition, and so on...

...We welcome Rickart’s admission and pray that fortune in battle shall favor House Kaldevern. Long live His Imperial Majesty. May the Empire endure forever.

—Beringen Academy

The border of the acceptance letter was elaborately decorated with gold leaf, and a combined seal bearing the emblems of both the Imperial Family and the academy had been stamped upon it.

Rickart handed the acceptance letter to his father so that he could read it as well, then spoke to the courier.

"I was told it was a place that trained professional adventurers."

"I’m not sure, Young Master. I’m only a courier, so I don’t know much about it. But many people don’t have a particularly favorable opinion of the word ’adventurer,’ do they? Calling it an academy makes it sound more prestigious... I don’t think many places openly use the word ’adventurer’ in their names."

"...In any case, it’s an academy sponsored by the Imperial Family?"

"That’s right. As far as I know, it is operated by a guild."

"An adventurers’ guild?"

"Ha ha... probably?"

"Which adventurers’ guild?"

"If it’s Beringen Academy, wouldn’t it be the Beringen Adventurers’ Guild?"

Beringen was the name of a region in the northeastern part of the Empire, though it was not as far north as Heiden.

In fact, most adventurer academies were located in the eastern part of the Empire.

That was because they were close to Fernland.

The ultimate objective of the adventurer academies was to send people to Fernland to search for ancient relics and Codices. Fernland served as a sort of base city, while the lands surrounding it remained largely unexplored.

Abelich silently read the acceptance letter before asking the courier,

"It says he must enroll by March fourteenth. Are you responsible for escorting him?"

"No, my lord. I am merely a courier. I can guide him as far as Rheinfort, but going all the way to Beringen would be difficult. I have my own work to attend to..."

In the case of the Order of the Flame, Senior Knight Edmunt had personally come to collect the volunteer.

Apparently, the academy operated differently.

It seemed that prospective students were expected to reach it on their own before the appointed date.

"The fourteenth... That does not leave us much time."

Abelich sank into thought.

As lord of the territory, he could not leave the estate carelessly. The same was true of Grout, his heir.

He could send someone else with Rickart, but it was currently the busy farming season, when every available pair of hands was needed.

The territory was not particularly prosperous, so the absence of even one worker made a significant difference.

In truth, the main family had paid all the expenses for both Vilter’s induction into the knightly order and Rickart’s admission to the academy.

Nor could Abelich send just anyone.

It had to be someone capable of protecting Rickart to some extent, and everyone who met that requirement was currently occupied.

"There is a branch of the Beringen Guild in Rheinfort. Alternatively, he could follow another courier traveling in that direction. However, given the length of the journey, the fee would be somewhat..."

The courier was saying that although he would not take Rickart there himself, he could arrange something in exchange for a little money.

Abelich did not entirely trust the commoner before him. On the other hand, the man belonged to the Imperial Guild Bureau, which made him somewhat reliable.

"I’ll be fine, Father. I’ll follow this courier tomorrow. Whether it’s Billy or me, we both have to leave home. All you can do is pray for our good fortune."

Rickart spoke resolutely.

Abelich had nothing to say in response.

However one chose to dress it up, he was ultimately sending away every son except his eldest legitimate heir in order to secure the line of succession.

The main family had taken an interest and even covered the expenses, while Abelich himself had done what he could. Asking them for more would be shameless.

It was time for both Abelich and Rickart to steel their hearts.

Abelich opened a drawer in his study desk. From it, he removed something wrapped in several layers of cloth and handed it to Rickart.

"This was specially commissioned from the main family’s military forge, not the smithy here. Take it."

Just as he had given Vilter a shield, it seemed he had something for Rickart as well.

Rickart accepted it and unwrapped the cloth.

Inside was a dagger.

"It was forged by melting down the spearhead you used to kill the boar. Fortune favors those who act, not those who merely talk. I hope the good fortune that blessed you that day will continue to follow you."

Rickart drew the dagger.

It was somewhat broader and longer than an ordinary dagger.

He returned it to its sheath and began wrapping it in the cloth again. A smile spread across his lips as he spoke.

"It wasn’t luck, Father."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. I’ll put it to good use."

Without explaining further, Rickart tucked the dagger securely inside his clothes.

Early the following morning, Rickart ate his fill and left home with the courier.

It was still so early that most people had not yet awakened.

His father watched his departing son through a window.

It would have been a lie to say that Rickart felt no regret. However, he tried to preserve the people and things he cherished and missed only within his heart.

And so, unlike Vilter, he did not look back even once.

On a road one chose to walk of one’s own accord, there was no horizon upon which to disappear.