Chapter 67

It was evening. The moon was half-hidden behind the clouds as though draped in a cloak, making the night exceptionally dark.

The Beringen guild building was silent as well. Despite the number of people packed inside, it seemed even the sound of a needle dropping would have echoed loudly.

The boys and girls ranged from twelve to sixteen years old. Their physical development varied greatly; some looked remarkably young, while others were virtually indistinguishable from fully grown adults.

Every one of those diverse students was looking at Rickart on the platform.

Rickart calmly endured their countless gazes and slowly surveyed the room, as though trying to meet the eyes of every student individually.

To them, he was a living legend. Whenever news of his exploits reached them from the outside world, it filled them with pride.

The greatest of geniuses. The Warrior of Siegfringer. The man who defeated the Five of Ernberg. One of the Nine Swords of the Empire. The Red Cloak. The Tiger of Kaitz.

The unbelievable legend had accumulated countless epithets, and his fame was spreading beyond Beringen and the north to the entire empire.

Perhaps it was not only the students who took pride in him, but everyone living in Beringen and Siegfringer as well.

Skill with a sword alone would not have earned him such renown. His character formed its foundation.

Rickart always led the way when attacking and guarded the rear during retreats. He assumed the most dangerous roles and rescued the helpless even in the midst of battle.

There was no one else like him in the world. Even the rare and exceptionally noble wandering knights still accepted money to vanquish villains. In this era, even that was enough to earn people’s admiration and praise.

Yet the great Rickart had just said that he was disappointed in them.

The students were shocked. They desperately hoped it was a joke.

They felt as though they might suffocate within the silence they had created. Yet no one dared to break it.

That was because they believed Rickart alone possessed the right to break the silence at that moment.

The one who controlled the silence controlled the situation. At first, Rickart had felt pressured by the crowd’s silence. Now, he was the one wielding it.

Without rushing, Rickart looked at every student, one by one, sweeping his gaze from the far right to the far left. Only then did he finally speak.

“...You roam around in gangs, intimidate innocent people, and cause trouble. Is that what it means to break your chains? Would anyone like to answer?”

No one responded, so Rickart pointed to a student he knew.

“You. Answer me. Is that how you break the chains of oppression? You harass a tavern waitress, and when someone objects, you gather a mob and descend upon them? Is that what breaking the chains of oppression means?”

There was no possible answer. The student he had singled out lowered his head in shame.

“Why aren’t you answering? Then you—answer me. You can’t? Then how about you?”

Rickart pointed to each of the students he knew in turn. Once again, no one could answer. They might have been ignorant, but deep down, they all knew that such behavior was wrong.

Silence returned. Rickart had not intended it, but he was naturally controlling the rhythm of his speech.

“I know that you grew up being persecuted. Some of you probably suffered unspeakably cruel things within your own families. You must have wondered why you had to suffer so much, or why they even gave birth to you if this was how they intended to treat you. But I don’t know the answer either. Can someone tell me? Does anyone know?”

Rickart did not mean to do it deliberately, but he kept posing questions. The students gradually became engrossed, no longer merely looking up to him but thinking about his words for themselves.

Their hearts were moved.

After all, these children had suffered more bitterly than anyone while wondering why life had to be so painful and why they had been born at all.

But Rickart had not spoken merely to sympathize with them.

“You know that pain? It’ll follow you for the rest of your lives and keep tormenting you. But does that mean you should surrender to it and live however you please? At least you have a choice. Go to any city, and you’ll find countless illegitimate illegitimate children begging or picking pockets in the streets. Yet all you can think to do is roam around in gangs and frighten innocent people? If I were you, I’d be too ashamed to hold my head up.”

Illegitimate children were not born solely to noble families. In an age without effective contraception, countless illegitimate children were born across every class and social rank—the children of monks, adulterous affairs, fleeting encounters with travelers, and much more.

Such children could never dream of attending an academy. They usually wandered the streets instead. Once they grew old enough, they joined thieves’ guilds or formed criminal organizations of their own.

Yet surprisingly, Rickart was not simply berating the students. He was fundamentally different from Karlich, who did nothing but stir them up. Point by point, Rickart made them reflect upon their own behavior and recognize why it had been wrong.

“No human being is perfect. That includes me. Anyone can make a mistake. But when you make one, you have to correct it. Perhaps the decision to set things right is the expression of the free will bestowed upon us by God. Only then does the path to salvation open. At least, that’s what I believe. Life is always a crossroads. Deep down, you already know that there is a right path and a wrong one. The right path is troublesome and difficult. The wrong one is enjoyable and easy. So which path will you choose?”

The earlier frenzy had completely vanished, replaced by a solemn atmosphere. It had not been manufactured, nor had anyone forced the students into it. Rickart’s sincere words, born from a pure heart, were simply reaching them.

“If walking the right path is difficult, the person beside you can help. That’s what a friend is. Someone who pulls you back when you stray onto the wrong path—that’s a friend. Someone who supports you when you’re lonely and struggling, someone who trusts and stands by you—that’s a friend. I think that’s what you should gain from attending the Academy, and that’s the kind of friend you should become.”

The mood had grown beyond solemn, almost reverent. Rickart’s words were gradually seeping into the students’ hearts and touching what remained of their consciences.

And ever so gently, they planted a seed called hope.

There were no grandiose expressions, only honest and straightforward words.

“Work honestly and train hard. Play when it’s time to play, and step forward to help people in need. Then no matter how much your families persecuted you, you will have acted nobly of your own will. Just as the great heroes of the past did. That is what it means to possess a pure heart. That is courage. That is how you fight without submitting, and how you break the chains of oppression and persecution. It’s written on the Academy gate, isn’t it? ‘Discipline shall set you free.’ I’m sure it was originally meant differently, but anyway—I believe in all of you. Because we are all students of Beringen Academy.”

Rickart calmly concluded his speech and stepped down from the platform. Every gaze followed him.

The students’ hearts inexplicably softened, and tears began falling before they even realized it. Perhaps what they had truly wanted to hear was not provocative rhetoric but words like these.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

Someone began applauding, and the applause spread gently throughout the room. This was not the deafening applause of people carried away by the mood. Each student was offering sincere admiration and gratitude.

Karlich was among them. He applauded while shedding more tears than anyone else. Looking at him, it was impossible to tell whether the boy was innocent or cunning.

In the end, he was simply young. He was intelligent but inexperienced, and he had become excessively fixated on Rickart’s declaration that everyone at the Academy was an equal student.

“Ricky! I never understood any of that!”

Boribori was also crying his eyes out like the other students as he threw himself into Rickart’s arms. Marie approached and joined the embrace, squeezing him tightly.

Very tightly.

“What do you mean, you never understood?”

Rickart laughed incredulously. It was not as though Boribori and Marie had only known him for a day or two, yet both seemed newly moved by his words. They, too, were children with deep emotional wounds.

The wounds inflicted by one’s parents in childhood tended to last a lifetime.

The sincere applause continued around them.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

Then, for reasons Rickart could not understand, Karlich also came up behind him, weeping as he wrapped his arms around him. Even Rickart could not bring himself to tell him to let go amid the atmosphere.

The students had simply needed a proper adult—someone who could guide them toward the right path.

They had wanted that more desperately than anything, yet they had not even understood the desire themselves. They did not know what was wrong, where their resentment originated, or how to relieve their frustration and sense of injustice.

But the world was so harsh and vicious that finding a proper adult was nearly impossible.

Fathers drank every day, shouted, and beat their children. Merchants cared about nothing but money, while nobles treated even their own children as tools for preserving their bloodlines and their families’ power.

If some transcendent being had caused Rickart to be reincarnated, perhaps this was the reason.

Rickart examined the timetable while listening to Karlich’s explanation.

This bastard really was extraordinarily capable. It was almost frightening.

Karlich seemed to be standing at a decisive crossroads. If he grew up properly, he would become someone who benefited the world. If he went astray, he might become a villain unlike any the world had ever seen.

“This seems fine. More importantly, we need to prepare for winter. That’s the most important thing.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve already started stockpiling food in the warehouses.”

“I see. That’s impressive. Honestly, I have no right to criticize you when it comes to things like this. You’re the best at them.”

“What are you talking about?! Ricky! There’s no one in the world more outstanding than you! Not even me!”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

A curse naturally rose within Rickart.

Why did this brilliant talent have to be out of his mind? People said that only a thin line separated genius from madness, but surely this was going too far.

“Don’t worship people. That includes me.”

“W-Why would you say that? Are you abandoning me?”

“What do you mean, abandoning you? Stop saying strange things. Please, I’m begging you.”

People with healthy self-esteem might find it difficult to understand, but when someone lacked self-esteem, no amount of intelligence could prevent them from making another person the foundation of their self-worth. Most of the Academy’s children inevitably had low self-esteem.

Children of this age were especially prone to needing an idol. To Karlich, Rickart was that idol—the embodiment of human perfection.

“But I believe even your mistakes are part of your perfection.”

“...Good grief. You frighten me.”

“Why? Me? Why? Don’t be afraid, Ricky. I’ll do better.”

“It isn’t about whether you do well. You’re trying too hard. You’re already a remarkable and talented person. Trust yourself a little and learn to relax.”

“...How do I do that? I don’t really know.”

“Honestly, neither do I. I suppose it’s something each person ultimately has to contemplate for themselves.”

“Even that sounds profound. You know I remember every single thing you say, Ricky?”

“...Now I’m afraid to say anything at all.”

During his time at the Academy, Karlich felt like the greatest challenge Rickart had ever been given.

The boy was not bad, but something about him seemed deficient. Yet he was far too intelligent to simply be lacking. He was truly impossible to understand.

“Ricky!”

Boribori leaned out from the third floor and shouted. Rickart looked up at him, then turned to Karlich.

“I’m going. I’ll leave things to you.”

Rickart rose and headed into the inner keep. Before leaving, however, he did not forget to add,

“I’m always grateful to you, Kalli.”

Rickart tried to say as many kind things to Karlich as possible.

You’re a good person. You’re remarkable. You’re exceptionally talented. Thank you.

He said such things because Karlich seemed to need to hear them. The boy had already experienced more than enough cruelty.

In fact, Rickart was the first person in Karlich’s life to speak to him that way. His family had always treated him as a troublesome burden.

A strange boy. A useless boy. A boy who did nothing but cause trouble.

Rickart, however, was the first person in Karlich’s life to understand him, embrace him, acknowledge him, and forgive him when he made mistakes.

And Rickart was also one of the active Nine Swords of the Empire.

Karlich could hardly help but idolize him.

In any case, Rickart entered the inner keep and climbed to the third floor. He joined Boribori and Marie in an empty classroom and began writing.

His goal was to finish the work before graduating and leave it behind at the Academy, though he wondered who would be able to understand a book written in the ancient script.

Marie proofread Rickart’s swordsmanship manual and prepared a translated version. She did not understand everything herself, but helping gave her the opportunity to learn by asking Rickart questions along the way.

And so time passed.

It was a pleasantly cool summer.

As the heat gradually began to subside, the war ended.

Dunkel returned, and every member of the Viola Clan was safe.

So were the children.

Rickart’s graduation was approaching.