Chapter 69

His palm stung. There was a faint bloodstain on the bandage, but it had not spread any further.

Rickart thought about Marie. Yet no matter how much he thought about her, he could not make sense of his feelings. Was it pity? Sympathy? Guilt? Concern? Love? He did not know.

Would he find the answer if he spent enough time thinking it over? All Rickart knew was that he truly understood nothing about love.

Love could be painful, tormenting, joyful, or miserable.

It was more mercurial than flame and far hotter. Loving someone was no different from thrusting one’s entire heart into a fire. That was why Rickart could not understand it.

The sound of someone ravenously devouring food broke Rickart from his thoughts. He raised his head and looked at the person seated across the table.

He had seen Sally eat once before, but it was less like a meal and more like a massacre.

Boribori and Delphy stared blankly at her, their expressions asking what kind of person ate like this.

She was quite beautiful, yet the sight of her cramming food into her mouth with both cheeks puffed out like a squirrel’s was rather bizarre. She looked as though she had been possessed by the ghost of someone who had starved to death. The strangest part was that despite eating like a pig, she still had a slender figure.

At any rate, Sally continued eating frantically for quite some time. Then she drained a bowl of cold soup in one go, let out a thunderous belch, and slouched back in her chair.

“Buuuuurp! Whew, that hit the spot.”

“…”

“Hmm, so where were we?”

“You said you became the new Guild Master.”

Delphy answered. Rickart tilted his head and asked,

“What happened to Dunkel? Did he die?”

“Yeah, that’s right. I killed that worthless bastard. And now I’m the Guild Master.”

That was not actually true. It was merely a mischievous joke. However, because she said it without the slightest hint of a smile, it was not particularly funny.

It seemed they had installed Sally as a figurehead of sorts because Dunkel’s identity had been exposed during the war.

Rickart could figure out that much without being told.

“Then is there nothing else we need to do?”

“No, there is. Everyone who graduates from the Academy has to accept their first commission from the Guild. You could call it your first and last test. Anyway, we use it to roughly determine your rank. But the two of you already have ranks, so let’s see.”

Rickart and Boribori were already high-ranking adventurers. Their ranks had only been provisional while they were students, but now that they had graduated, they were officially high-ranking adventurers.

Sally pulled a stack of cards from inside her clothes. With practiced hands, she rapidly flicked through them one by one, then selected three in the blink of an eye.

She pushed the empty plates and bowls aside and placed the three cards facedown on the table.

“One is easy, one is hard, and the last one is dangerous. Which do you want?”

“What’s the easy one?”

Rickart asked.

“I can’t give you the details until you accept the commission. That’s why the cards are facedown.”

“How hard is the hard one?”

“I know how skilled you are. But this one isn’t about swinging a sword. It’s more like hard physical labor. You’ll have to do the work yourself, so it’ll be exhausting.”

“And the dangerous one?”

“A slim chance of success. Certain death if you fail.”

Rickart turned to Boribori and silently asked for his opinion.

“Let’s choose the easy one.”

Boribori said.

“All right.”

But Sally shook her head.

“No. That’s not how it works. You each have to choose one. You won’t be doing it together. You can receive help from other people or your clan, but since the two of you graduated together, you can’t work together this time. It’s supposed to be a test, remember?”

Rickart immediately picked up the easy card and handed it to Boribori, then chose the dangerous one for himself without hesitation.

“Uh, um…”

Boribori looked a little flustered, but Rickart had already turned over the card.

The moment Rickart finished reading it, Sally swiftly snatched the card away and burned it over the candle flame. She left Boribori’s card alone because his assignment was merely to escort a merchant caravan.

“What’s the reward?”

Rickart asked calmly.

“They said they’d pay in goods rather than money.”

“What is it?”

“Illiya’s Holy Oil.”

Rickart and Boribori looked at each other at the same time. They had spoken about it at the Academy earlier that day—the tale of a warrior who had been unable to walk from birth until the age of thirty.

“Sounds like bullshit.”

“Try saying that to the Count’s face.”

“Does such a thing really exist?”

“I don’t know either.”

It was difficult to believe that an object found only in legends truly existed.

“Hmm. Do I have to go alone?”

“One trustworthy companion should be fine, I suppose. In any case, tell as few people as possible. I trust you to handle it properly. But do you realize how dangerous this is?”

“You told me to choose.”

“That’s true, but you’re far too calm about it. You don’t seem to understand how serious this is. You should’ve just chosen the hard one.”

Sally had told him that the chance of success was slim and that failure meant certain death, but she had never expected Rickart to actually choose it.

Perhaps it was confidence born of his tremendous skill, or maybe he simply had nerves of steel. He did not seem arrogant.

“If you feel that way, you should’ve just given us easy assignments.”

“But that wouldn’t be any fun.”

“That’s true.”

Rickart was exceptional in both skill and courage. However, Sally was hardly a sensible person herself.

Perhaps it was because she was not Dunkel, but Sally honestly seemed hopelessly reckless—the sort of person who did things simply because she found them interesting.

In practical terms, the Guild almost never accepted special-class commissions. The “special-class” designation effectively meant that the Guild had given up trying to classify the difficulty, and such commissions were therefore often left untouched.

Simply put, a special-class commission was something beyond human capabilities.

“In that case, I don’t have to begin immediately, do I?”

“No. Discuss it carefully with your clan leader first. Giving up the commission is also an option. Just contact me. If you really decide to carry it out, I’ll provide you with an advance.”

Whatever the case, Rickart belonged to a clan. An adventurer’s movements were for the clan to decide, and the Guild could not order them around. It was much like the feudal system.

The only exception was the first commission after graduating from the Academy, which the Guild was permitted to assign directly. Normally, the Guild would pass the commission to the clan leader, who would then assign it to someone or discuss the matter with the clan before making a decision.

After exchanging some casual words with Sally, Rickart rose from his seat.

“We’ll be going.”

“Congratulations.”

“For what?”

“For becoming adventurers. Just surviving the Academy is an impressive achievement.”

Sally was probably thinking of the Academy from her own time, when violence ran rampant, students eventually took their own lives, and they were assigned dangerous missions.

But the Academy had been different in Sally’s time, when Rickart had first enrolled, and now.

Rickart smiled faintly and shook his head.

“It’s different now than it was in the past.”

“Hmm?”

“We’ll be going. I’m sure we’ll see Dunkel again someday.”

Rickart left the Beringen Guild building with his friends. They then went to visit Molti and Lara, who had given up becoming adventurers and chosen to start a family instead.

The two had genuinely wonderful news to share. They had had a baby.

Their baby came as something of a shock to Rickart. It was hard to believe. He simply found it fascinating and astonishing.

Despite their modest circumstances, Molti and Lara seemed happy. The neighboring Nord settlers had also fully recognized and accepted them as part of their community.

The five of them sat together in the cozy little house and reminisced about the past. Time flew by, and evening arrived before they knew it.

With no other choice, Rickart, Boribori, and Delphy headed back to the Guild building to spend the night.

Before leaving, Rickart quietly gazed down at the baby sleeping soundly in its cradle. He still could not believe it. The baby’s very existence felt like a miracle.

Marie suddenly came to mind, but he forced himself to look away.

When he lay down to sleep in the Guild building, he strangely remained awake for a long time. He tried to soothe the inexplicable anguish in his heart, but there was nowhere for him to escape.

It would pass. It would pass eventually.

Nothing of note happened on the journey to Ernberg. They simply walked at a slow, leisurely pace, enjoying the brown and golden colors of autumn.

When they arrived at the Ernberg branch, everyone greeted them with smiles. It had only been three or four months since they had last seen one another, but in such a perilous world, simply reuniting safely was cause for joy.

“Volka, you’ve really become a proper branch chief.”

Rickart laughed as he spoke. Volka did seem to have gained some weight. After becoming a branch chief, he spent more time sitting behind a desk than working in the field.

It was only natural that he would put on weight when he was no longer exercising.

Whenever work came in, his usual job was to assign it to adventurers and make sure the accounts were accurate.

“He reminds me of the Torveil branch chief.”

Boribori added. Alter, the Torveil branch chief, had issued various instructions while they were pursuing the deserters. He had looked more like an ordinary neighborhood man than an adventurer.

Volka had not gone quite that far yet, but it seemed his body was gradually heading in that direction.

“Heh-heh. Honestly, it was only troublesome at first. I don’t know why more people don’t do this when it’s so nice.”

Apparently having no pride whatsoever, Volka merely grinned. Perhaps they should simply be glad that he looked so happy.

“Good grief. If you’ve got nothing to do, get up and carry some barrels or something.”

The industrious Delphy began working as soon as they arrived, without even taking a break. She unpacked the luggage, rolled up her sleeves, and started wiping down the tables, cups, and utensils.

As she worked, she introduced the children the branch had employed. The children were all busy drawing water, carrying laundry, or performing other chores, so they did not come over to greet Rickart and Boribori. They merely stared blankly at them from a distance as they walked about.

“Let me tell you who they are. That one is Locke, that one is Remy, and that one is Rona. Elga must have gone somewhere for a moment.”

Looking at them closely, they all seemed to be around ten years old.

“What about Benny?”

“He’s still too young.”

“Those children look young too.”

“They’re still over ten.”

“What about Ice?”

“His belly’s starting to stick out like mine.”

Volka said.

“What?”

“I’m joking. He’s probably in my room doing the accounts. That’s all he does, but his belly still hasn’t grown like mine. Go unpack your things first. Wife! Bring us some booze!”

Volka shouted the last part toward Delphy. Had the two of them gotten married?

Only a few months had passed, but it seemed Rickart would need some time to adjust.

Rickart unpacked his belongings in the room he shared with Boribori, then came back out and knocked on Volka’s door. When he opened it and looked inside, Ice really was sitting at the desk doing the accounts.

“Huh?”

Ice’s eyes widened. Somehow, it seemed that his expressions were becoming more varied as time passed.

“We’re back. Come on out. Let’s talk for a while.”

At Rickart’s invitation, Ice smiled faintly and rose from his seat.

There were many other adventurers at the branch, but Rickart’s Viola Clan was its core clan. In other words, they were effectively the owners of the building—or, in feudal terms, the ruling family of Ernberg.

When Rickart, Boribori, Volka, and Ice settled down in front of the fireplace, Delphy brought over four wooden mugs filled with alcohol at once.

“I’m deducting the cost of this from your commission rewards, all right?”

“Seriously?”

Boribori’s eyes widened. He had thought the drinks were free, only for Delphy to say she would deduct their cost from the rewards. Delphy merely raised her eyebrows enigmatically before immediately walking away again.

“Hey, I’m buying, so don’t worry and drink.”

Volka said.

“So we do have to pay for it.”

“Nothing in this world is free. Being a branch chief inevitably turns you into a miser.”

“Have many adventurers gathered here?”

“A fair number. Most of them are drifters, but a few are still pretty useful. At this rate, I might even become a Clan Master.”

A Clan Master was someone who commanded several clans. Of course, holding the title did not mean that the subordinate clans would necessarily obey. It depended entirely on the Clan Master’s personal ability.

“The more clans you command, the bigger your belly will probably get.”

“Heh-heh. I don’t care if my belly gets bigger.”

Volka still seemed to be working diligently rather than becoming lazy, but he truly appeared satisfied with his current life.

“By the way, didn’t you receive your ‘first’ commissions?”

Ice asked after taking a sip of alcohol.

“Yeah. Mine is fine, but there seems to be a problem with Ricky’s. Sally gave him the commission, then told him not to do it.”

Boribori pointed at Rickart beside him. The moment Volka heard Sally’s name, he scowled.

“That gluttonous hag is still acting as Guild Master? Damn it, there goes the taste of my drink.”

“What’s wrong?”

“That woman doesn’t think at all. Last time, she assigned the same job to another branch as well. We nearly ended up in a sword fight. Why the hell is she making such a mess after we went to all the trouble of winning the war? Why did Mr. Dunkel have to put that woman in charge before going into hiding?”

“So what’s the commission?”

Ice asked.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you, so keep it to yourselves. It’s a special-class commission. I have to kill a high vampire.”

As soon as Rickart spoke, Volka froze with his mug tilted toward his mouth. He did not spit out the alcohol; it simply dribbled down the side of his lips. At the words “special-class,” Ice’s expression gradually vanished, returning to the blank look he had worn in the past.