Chapter 59

The north consisted mostly of plains, though raised patches of terrain protruded here and there. Mount Ern—and therefore Ernberg—was one such place.

It was far too low to be called a mountain and was closer to a small hill. The city spread outward around it, surrounded by sturdy walls.

The city was not particularly large, but a broad river curved around its western side before flowing south.

It was called the Main River, and it flowed past the Imperial Capital of Nibelungen, through Rheinfort, and beyond. Merchant ships came and went from the docks.

The hill had been artificially carved into terraces, with buildings erected at intervals along them. Perhaps because the city was famous for its Masons’ Guild, every building appeared exceptionally sturdy.

A peculiar building stood halfway up the hill. It looked as though two separate buildings had been joined together crosswise.

The first floor was built from irregularly shaped stones that fit together perfectly rather than square bricks. The second and third floors featured exposed timber framing with neatly applied plaster.

Its tiled roof formed a steep triangle when viewed from the side, and two chimneys rose from it. The ground floor had a rear entrance, a side entrance, and a main entrance with an exterior porch.

A well and a single apple tree stood in the backyard, while even a small stable had been built beside the building.

A donkey was currently inside the stable, leisurely chewing its fodder as it watched people laboriously carry heavy objects.

Apparently, alternating between work and rest was the same for humans and animals alike.

The objects people carried on their backs or lifted together included beds, tables, chairs, and wooden barrels.

“It’s leaning too far to the left. No, now it’s too high. Just a little... Yeah, that’s it. I think it’s right now.”

Rickart spoke while looking upward.

Volka stood on a chair, stretching out his arms in an uncomfortable posture to support something.

It was a signboard.

Carved upon it was an eagle holding a violet in its beak. It was the emblem of the Beringen Adventurers’ Guild’s Ernberg Branch. The violet naturally represented the Viola Clan, its Core Clan.

“Fuuuck... I told you we should just hang it from chains...”

“You were the one who said you hated the way it would creak whenever the wind blew.”

Despite his swearing, Volka completed the job properly. He hammered flat iron nails into the wall, securing the signboard to the building.

Hoping that everything would go well from now on, he used far more nails than necessary and fastened it firmly in place.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

After confirming that the signboard had been properly secured, Rickart entered the building.

The first things he saw were Marie and Boribori carrying extremely heavy beds upstairs on their backs, one each. The hired laborers stared at them in disbelief.

Because the two could manipulate mana, using Mana Drive made them far stronger than ordinary people.

Delphy was relentlessly scrubbing the already-cleaned floor with a pig-bristle mop.

“Ricky, all the beds are inside. Can you arrange the tables?”

“Yeah.”

Rickart moved the heavy tables with a scraping sound.

He positioned four tables roughly in the spacious central area and placed a shorter table beside the fireplace.

After arranging the chairs, he poured a little lamp oil into the fireplace and struck a flint until it caught fire.

It was best to keep a fire burning because it made the interior feel cozy. The scent of burning wood brushed past his nose, bringing an inexplicable sense of comfort.

Rickart surveyed the interior. It seemed they had mostly finished removing the dust and putting everything in order, so he simply sat beside the fireplace.

Before long, Ice came walking downstairs with his sleeves rolled up. Marie and Boribori followed him.

“Delphy, take a break. You’re going to wear away the floor.”

“If we’re going to do it, we should do it properly. Once people start coming, we’ll be too busy.”

Delphy spoke with a smile. This place was now practically their home, so she did not seem to notice her exhaustion.

There was not a single corner of the building, not even the smallest detail, that they had left untouched.

Someday, all of this would probably become a treasured memory.

Ice had regained the luster in his hair and put on a little weight, recovering his health to some extent.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, but he had never possessed an especially hulking build. He looked somewhat thin, but otherwise he seemed fine.

Apparently, manipulating mana did not prevent exhaustion entirely. Boribori and Marie tilted their stiff necks from side to side, then began massaging each other’s shoulders.

Volka entered last after paying the laborers. He dropped heavily into a chair at the table, tipped his head backward, and complained dramatically.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted. Let’s close up for the day and rest.”

“We’re not running a shop, Volka.”

This was not a place that sold alcohol and food or provided lodging to ordinary people. It accepted commissions, assigned missions, and supplied adventurers with shelter and provisions.

“I don’t care.”

“By the way, who’s going to cook? We’ll need to prepare food when people come, won’t we?”

“Couldn’t we just throw whatever we have into a pot, add water, and boil it?”

“I think we should hire an employee too.”

“Do we have any money? How much is left?”

Rickart, Boribori, and Marie threw out questions at random, making it difficult for Volka to tell who was saying what.

“Not a single coin. We’re paupers now.”

Volka answered without lifting his head from the backrest.

They truly had no money left because they had spent everything on the gift for the count, the building, beds, tables, food, and various other supplies.

“Then how do we pay the bounty if someone brings us the head of a wanted criminal?” Boribori asked.

Even if someone did not belong to the Beringen Guild, they were obligated to pay them for capturing a wanted criminal alive or bringing back their head.

“Oh, right.”

As though the thought had only just occurred to him, Volka rose and went to his room on the first floor. He rummaged through his bag, emerged with a bundle of documents, and plastered them all over the wall.

Portraits of wanted criminals, each looking deeply suspicious in a different way, now hung upon the wall. Their bounties ranged from as much as fifty gold to as little as five silver.

Once he had posted them all, Volka turned toward his friends.

“We’ll have to start earning money now.”

“Why don’t we capture these people ourselves?”

“We can’t travel far.”

Boribori made the suggestion, but Rickart shook his head.

Killing them would not be difficult, but tracking them down would take time.

“I’ll do it alone,” Ice said.

He had merely listened to the others until now, and it seemed he felt compelled to help somehow.

“There’s no need. We should land a major commission. We’ve graduated from hunting small fry like these.”

Rickart shook his head again.

His words might have sounded arrogant, but that was not his intention. They lacked time and could not travel far, so it would be best to earn a large sum nearby.

“A major commission?”

“Yeah. I mean privately submitted commissions from wealthy people. After we killed the Ernberg Five, we bought clothes for every Academy student and still had some money left over.”

Those clothes were made from fabric dyed with lapis lazuli. They had not all been completed yet, but the bounty had been large enough to make clothes for roughly two hundred children and still leave money to spare.

“The Ernberg Five were a little...”

Surprisingly, Boribori hesitated with a visibly uneasy expression.

By now, Boribori had accumulated a fair amount of combat experience. Looking back with the benefit of that experience, killing the Ernberg Five had practically been a miracle.

By sheer luck, the five had split into groups of two and three, allowing them to kill the first two separately. Then the Nameless Man had taken the lead, killed another, and unsettled the remaining two. That was the only reason they had achieved such a result.

What would have happened if their situations had been reversed?

If they had been defending this place and the Ernberg Five had attacked with their full strength, could they have survived?

The five had obvious weaknesses, but their strengths were monstrous.

It was difficult even to imagine how formidable they would have been if all five had gathered and fought properly while cooperating with one another.

A toad-like woman whom blades could not penetrate, a giant of a man, a necromancer, and even a Sword Master. He had never personally seen the Ghost Sword, but there was no doubt that he was equally formidable.

Even if time were turned back, Boribori would still choose to fight them. But in their current situation, merely recalling them was dreadful enough to make him shudder.

“It doesn’t have to be anything that extreme. There are plenty of wealthy people around. Let’s visit the other guilds first and introduce ourselves. There’s no rule saying we have to sit around waiting for work to come to us, right? We can approach them first and ask whether they have any work. And in my opinion, we need to gain control of the docks. Or at least understand how they operate.”

Rickart had immediately identified the heart of the matter. Anyone could see that Ernberg was a city sustained by trade. Listening to Rickart speak felt as though a hazy view were gradually becoming clear.

Volka figured that they were hardly going to starve to death. Things would work themselves out somehow.

Rickart and his friends freely discussed their plans for the future. While they were talking, someone entered the building.

“Excuse me.”

The members of the Viola Clan stopped talking and turned toward him.

He was a young man wearing a hat adorned with a hawk’s tail feather. His tunic was decorated with tasteful embroidery, a loose cloak-like garment hung from his shoulders, and his boots were spotless.

He cleared his throat, then spoke in a resonant voice.

“Ahem, ahem. Greetings, brave adventurers. My name is Harrison, and I am a resident guest of the Ernberg Merchants’ Association. I am a lover of literature and poetry, and I travel the world seeking diverse tales to transform into song. At times, I wander beneath the heavens with the sky as my roof and the bare earth as my bed, but does romance not arise from hardship? While gazing at the stars by night and the clouds by day in search of poetic inspiration, I heard that the young hero known as the Red Cloak had arrived here. Thus, I have taken the liberty of paying you a visit. If you would grant our association the honor of inviting the hero to a banquet, I would be profoundly moved.”

Rickart and his friends stared blankly at him for a while.

An awkward silence stretched between them.

What had he said his name was?

Oh, right. Harrison.

Was it even possible to stretch such an insignificant message out for so long? If nothing else, that was a talent in its own right.

It took them a moment to sort through everything he had said and remember his name and purpose.

In any case, Rickart immediately accepted. They had already been planning to visit various organizations.

“All right. I’ll come.”

“How refreshingly decisive. Might you be the young hero in question?”

“That’s right. I’m Ricky—the Red Cloak. Ricky of the Viola Clan, Beringen Adventurers’ Guild.”

When Rickart introduced himself, Harrison, the self-proclaimed bard, studied him closely. He seemed careful to keep his gaze from becoming impolite.

Once he had finished observing Rickart, he approached with dignified steps and extended something he had taken from inside his clothes. Even while presenting it, he bowed at the waist and drew one foot backward, behaving with excessive formality.

It was an envelope.

Rickart broke the red wax seal and examined its contents. It was simply an invitation filled with phrases such as “To the esteemed so-and-so” and other formalities.

It seemed that the banquet had not been organized especially for Rickart. Such gatherings were apparently held all the time, and they had merely invited him out of curiosity because someone reasonably famous had arrived.

“I’ve received it. You may go now, Harrison.”

“It has been an honor to meet you. It would be an even greater honor if you allowed our many other distinguished guests the privilege of beholding the hero’s countenance.”

After exchanging final courtesies, Harrison turned and departed.

“Are people normally that formal?”

Volka subtly asked Rickart. Now that he knew Rickart was a noble, he was essentially asking whether Rickart was accustomed to such behavior.

“I’ve only heard about it. I’ve never actually seen anything like that either. What about you, Marie?”

“Me? W-Why are you asking me?”

“Have you ever seen that kind of etiquette?”

“How would I know...?”

Marie tried hard to feign ignorance, but except for Delphy and Ice, everyone had already noticed the truth to some extent.

“Do you want to come with me tonight?”

“Where?”

“To the banquet.”

“I don’t have a dress.”

“So what? You’re pretty.”

“D-Do you think so?”

“Yeah. Let’s go. Volka and Delphy can guard this place, while Ice and Boribori look around the docks. That divides everyone perfectly.”

Boribori’s eyes widened as he looked at Ice beside him. Ice turned to look at Boribori as well.

There was a considerable difference in their heights. Even while sitting, Boribori had to look up at him.

Boribori grinned, and Ice gave a faint smile in return.

Watching Ice, Marie found herself wanting to spar with him.

That was because Ice had held first place at the Academy before Rickart, and Rickart had once compared Marie to him.

However, she could not challenge him now. She decided that she would mention it later when the opportunity arose.

In any case, Boribori and Ice left the building first. Delphy took Marie out and scraped together what little money they had left to buy her a dress.

It was merely a simple blue dress of the sort a country girl might wear, but after being altered on the spot to fit her body, it looked neat and rather becoming.

Rickart simply put on the cleanest spare clothes he owned, fastened a single dagger around his waist for protection, and left the building.

“We’re heading out.”

“All right. Have fun. You don’t need to act too submissively around them. You know that, right?”

“I couldn’t do that even if I tried.”

Rickart answered with a smile before walking through the nighttime streets with Marie.

Only faint light escaped through the buildings’ windows, leaving the city dark in the evening.

Rickart was walking slightly ahead when Marie approached and took his hand.

He was momentarily surprised, but then he sensed her delicate courage in the faint trembling of her hand.

A pang of guilt crossed his heart.

Rickart squeezed her hand once before relaxing his grip. That was how he conveyed his feelings without words.

There was no need to be embarrassed.

She did not need to be nervous.

As they continued walking hand in hand, they began swinging their joined hands back and forth. It revived something childlike within them, bringing smiles naturally to their faces.

They looked like nothing more than a boy and girl delighted by the nighttime streets.

Rickart and Marie descended the hill and headed toward the river.

A mansion stood some distance from the docks. Even from afar, they could see bright light pouring from its windows.

When they arrived, they found several carriages parked in a courtyard illuminated by bonfires. These were not wagons used to transport cargo, but carriages meant for passengers.

They were extremely expensive because crafting wheel axles required far more sophisticated expertise than most people realized.

“Do you know how to drink?” Rickart asked Marie.

“No.”

“Neither do I. But wouldn’t it be strange if we talked about nothing but business?”

“I don’t know. Who’s hosting the banquet?”

“No idea. Since it’s the Merchants’ Association, probably some merchant noble. Won’t we find out once we go inside?”

Marie smiled at the hopelessly unprepared Rickart. Perhaps he was doing it deliberately, since all he needed to do was look at the invitation.

“Idiot.”

Rickart merely laughed as well.

In truth, neither of them needed to worry much because they were both members of the true hereditary nobility. Their bloodlines were fundamentally different from those of merchant nobles.

If one traced the first person’s genealogy far enough, it led back to royalty, and he was the descendant of a hero.

The other carried the blood of the reigning Emperor. Even if she was an illegitimate child who had been formally recognized, she was still his daughter.

Someone was inspecting invitations at the mansion’s entrance.

When Rickart showed him the invitation, the man tilted his head and looked back and forth between Rickart and the document.

“I’m younger than you expected, aren’t I?”

“Pardon?”

“May we enter?”

“Ah... Yes.”

For some reason, the gatekeeper responded with evident reluctance.

Rickart entered the mansion with Marie.

Hundreds of candles brightly illuminated everything from the central hall to the corridors.

Candles made from beeswax were not cheap, so the display alone demonstrated tremendous wealth.

Drawn by the sounds of lutes, flutes, laughter, and conversation, they followed the corridor until they reached another enormous chamber resembling a central hall.

Some guests sat while others remained standing, creating a relaxed atmosphere in which everyone freely enjoyed the banquet.

Unexpectedly, however, there were no fully grown adults present. Every guest was roughly Rickart’s age.

Rickart was growing taller by the day. He was now in the upper range of one hundred and sixty centimeters, making him tall and sturdily built compared to others his age.

Marie was about the same height as Rickart, so when such a striking boy and girl entered the banquet hall together, they naturally attracted attention.

There were around thirty guests. It was not as noisy as a marketplace, but the room was still lively and crowded.

Yet the moment the two newcomers entered, everyone fell silent as though they had planned it in advance.

Their eyes remained fixed upon Rickart and Marie.

It did not take long for the two to realize instinctively why everyone was staring.

Their clothing was far too different.

The other guests wore garments lavishly embroidered by master artisans with gold and silver thread, along with ornaments that glittered with precious stones.

By comparison, Rickart and Marie’s clothes were not merely plain but downright shabby. With nothing adorning their necks, ears, or fingers, they looked utterly unembellished.

Before long, openly contemptuous gazes turned toward them, and whispers arose throughout the hall.

They could understand some of them.

“What filthy, lowborn beggars...”