The Warrior’s Ballad

It was around noon when they arrived in Reinfurt city. Although it was still cold in the mornings and evenings, it was a perfect spring weather when the sun was fully out.

There was a line of people at the city gates, and for some reason those who weren’t allowed entry had set up tents near the city walls to live.

Traders did business with them, selling daily necessities and various goods. The outside of the city wall had become a living space in itself. Would the city eventually expand if they settled completely and started building structures?

In any case, the line moved faster than expected, and it was finally Ricardt’s group’s turn. Arno and the merchant verified their identities. It was then that they learned the merchant’s name was Kaufmann.

He dealt in dyes and pigments and seemed to run a small trading company. Considering he took his cart onto the mountain path despite knowing about the bandits, he didn’t seem very bright.

“You killed the Vilton brothers? Who are they?”

“The bandit leaders. Wanted criminals. This is the famous Boar Slayer of Stormhertz, young master Ricardt. He sliced open their bellies and cut their throats in an instant. I saw it. I tell you, I saw it with my own eyes.”

Arno chatted with the gate guard as if they were acquainted. However, despite Ricardt’s disapproval, rumors kept getting exaggerated and new nicknames were attached. Boar Slayer, really.

The guard stared at Ricardt. Blonde hair and hazel eyes. He looked quite scruffy from not being able to wash for a few days. To the guard, he seemed just like a kid.

So, the guard thought Arno might be boasting, but Kaufmann silently nodded, confirming it as true.

“He only recently started his knight training, but he’s naturally gifted.”

While Ricardt said nothing, Arno spoke proudly, as if it was his own achievement.

“What knight training? Isn’t it just running errands for the knights and maintaining their equipment?”

“What do you know?”

“Well, I don’t know. But we’ve both only heard stories. Anyway, welcome to Reinfurt, young master.”

The guard wasn’t overly polite but showed the necessary respect.

“Come to Handel’s later and I’ll tell you more. I killed four bandits myself.”

Hendel was the name of a tavern Arno often visited. The guard raised his eyebrows, not quite believing it.

“You? Well, alright. Move along now. I’ve got work to do. Next!”

The guard waved his arm broadly, calling the next person.

Once they passed through the shaded city gate, sunlight again shone on Ricardt, revealing the city’s neat buildings illuminating brightly.

The roofs were gray, navy, or red tiles, and the walls were plastered and neatly finished by professional masons. And generally, buildings were at least two stories high, clustered closely together.

Honestly, the city’s buildings looked better than the manor in Stormhertz where Ricardt grew up.

That was because Stormhertz’s manor was a kind of old castle built long ago. In fact, It was too small to be called a castle and too big to be an ordinary house, so it was simply called a manor.

The people in the streets looked busy and their appearance was certainly better than the country folk of Stormhertz.

Kaufmann told Ricardt to follow him as he would give him a cloak, then walked along the city wall.

He headed to a place where craftsmen gathered, the sound of iron being hammered resonated cheerfully, and tanners were seen working on leather. The smell of chemicals stung their noses.

Kaufmann stopped the cart in front of a fabric shop, greeted a few acquaintances, and went inside, then came out holding a neatly folded red cloak. He handed it to Ricardt.

“I’m afraid I must bid you farewell now, young master. Thanks to you, we arrived safely in the city. Please accept this. I made it a bit small because the material is expensive, but it seems fate has arranged it for you. Hahaha.”

The cloak was as vividly red as blood. It was an incredibly expensive item, made entirely of material that cost as much as its weight in gold.

Ricardt took off the cloak he was originally wearing and immediately put on the red cloak Kaufmann had given him. It had a hood and was a bit long, but once he fastened it with a clasp, it was manageable.

“What about me?”

Arno, who had been watching quietly from the side, asked Kaufmann. Kaufmann replied with a dissatisfied look, as if to say, “Who are you?”

“Didn’t you run away at first? Those who take the risk from the beginning are the ones who get everything. It’s the same in business and for those who achieve merit on the battlefield. If you want to settle accounts, get it from the young master.”

It sounded both reasonable and unreasonable at the same time. Arno closed his mouth at the suggestion of asking Ricardt for a reward.

“Let’s split it after we sell the heads.”

“No, it’s fine, young master. I was just kidding.”

“No, you did help me. But what’s going to happen to those people?”

Ricardt said, looking at the people unloading the goods from the cart.

“I’ve decided to hire them. I was planning to expand my business anyway, so I needed more people. We’ve been through life and death together, so it’s better than hiring complete strangers, isn’t it? They also need a place to stay in the city for a while, so it worked out for both of us.”

The people would likely be working dyeing cloth.

From what he heard on the way, the reason these people left their territory was due to excessive taxes.

Even after reducing their own food to pay the taxes, it wasn’t enough, so they borrowed grain, and the interest ballooned.

The funny thing was that the person who lent them the grain was the lord. The same lord who collected taxes also lent grain at high interest. The even funnier thing was that leaving the territory without the lord’s permission was a crime.

So were these people criminals, or victims of injustice? Ricardt just felt a sense of kinship with them.

But there was nothing more he could do for them. Their connection ended here.

At that moment, someone tugged at Ricardt’s clothes. Ricardt wasn’t surprised because he thought he knew who it was. He turned his head and saw that it was indeed Daisy.

“I’ll feed you and give you a place to sleep and do everything for you, so let’s live together. We’re husband and wife after all.”

Her voice was slightly tearful. Ricardt, feeling awkward, couldn’t say anything, but Arno, with fiery eyes, spoke up.

“This girl doesn’t know her place because the young master has been too kind. Hey, you filthy girl. At least wash up before saying something like that. Have some shame.”

“There’s no need to be so harsh……”

Ricardt said weakly. Arno’s tongue seemed sharper than the sword he wielded.

“No, young master. What did I say? If you’re too kind, they climb over you. Know your place, you girl. Stop clinging to the young master and get lost.”

Daisy’s face twisted as if she was about to burst into tears. But she didn’t cry in the end. She seemed to have some inner strength. However, she clung tightly to Ricardt’s new cloak.

Daisy’s mother, who was organizing the luggage, ran over and quickly pulled her daughter away.

“I’m sorry, my lord. The child still doesn’t understand……”

“It’s alright. I’m not upset.”

When Ricardt spoke kindly with a smile, Daisy’s mother showed an expression hard to describe with words. It looked like she was moved, yet couldn’t quite believe it.

“……You have such a kind heart…… And thank you. Oh, God of Judgement, please close your eyes to the young master.”

Daisy’s mother extended her hand and covered her eyes with the back of it. God of Judgment? What is that? Was it a deity worshipped by the peasants? At least, it was something he had never heard of in Stormhertz.

Anyway, hearing a sincere thank you from someone else felt rather strange. It was like his heart was softening.

“Take care. Daisy, and Mr. Kaufmann too. If we’re alive, we might meet again someday.”

Ricardt, leaving behind this brief encounter, followed Arno toward the Beringen Adventurers’ Guild. Only then did Daisy bury her face in her mother’s embrace and start sobbing.

Just as there are shadowy places where there is sunlight, so it was with Reinfurt city.

When they first passed through the city gate, the clean buildings and paved roads were impressive, but upon entering the alleyways and reaching the slums, he thought there couldn’t be a more miserable place.

The clogged sewers emitted a stench of mixed filth. It was a hell for humans and a paradise for rats.

However, one interesting point was that this area wasn’t entirely gloomy.

People drunk in broad daylight shouted boisterously, and the laughter of cheap prostitutes was lively, if you could call it that. It didn’t lessen the misery, but still.

“Is the Adventurers’ Guild really in a place like this…? Are we in the right place?”

Feeling they had taken a wrong turn, Ricardt asked Arno, who also looked uncertain and tilted his head.

“It’s my first time here too, but I heard it’s near a ghost tree. Just a moment, we’re almost there.”

Turning the corner, they saw a tree that seemed to have been dead for a long time. The thick trunk was twisted, looking as if it were a person screaming.

The area around ir was a vacant lot filled with garbage, and there were shabby buildings nearby where people were coming and going out of. Surely that couldn’t be it, he thought.

Arno, having been full of confidence after killing bandits, now felt deflated, like a balloon losing air. Because this was clearly a high-crime area.

It was common for people to be killed and their bodies thrown into the sewer, and no one cared, nor were the incidents usually reported.

“Let’s go and ask anyway.”

Still, thinking that nothing could happen in broad daylight, Arno approached the people at the entrance.

It was unclear if they were guarding the entrance or just hanging around out of boredom, but they were sitting on piles of broken wooden debris, rolling dice on a small table.

“Excuse me, may I ask you something? Is this the Beringen Adventurers’ Guild branch?”

At that, the people who had been intently watching the dice roll all turned their heads to look at Arno, and also at Ricardt standing behind him.

“Who are you?”

One of the men, with a scar on his eye, asked in a somewhat confrontational tone rather than simply answering.

“I’m a courier from the Imperial Guild Bureau. I have some business here.”

“Imperial? Guild Bureau? What’s that?”

“Huh?”

“I said, what the fuck is that?”

The man growled as if he were a rabid dog.

Arno, having only asked a question, was taken aback and scared by the sudden aggression and stared blankly, at a loss for words. They don’t know the Empire? What does that mean?

“Arno, step back.”

Ricardt spoke from behind then, his expression unchanged but his eyes were cold.

While Arno was caught in indecision, Ricardt loosened the strap of the basket he was carrying on his shoulder. He then took the basket and walked toward the people.

As the kid in the red cloak approached, the people looked at him as if wondering what this was all about.

Ricardt briefly stared at the man with the scar, then poured the contents of the basket onto the table littered with dice, copper coins, and gambling chips.

Thud. Clang.

The contents seemed quite heavy, making the coins jingle as they scattered across the table.

Until this moment, the people were starting to frown, ready to pounce at any moment, but when Ricardt swiftly uncovered the cloth wrapped around the objects, the situation completely changed.

“Eek!”

“Fuck! What the hell!”

Crash!

Including the man with the scar, the people jumped up or fell backward, trying to get away from the severed heads as quickly as possible.

“Guys! Come out!”

Someone shouted, and as if they had been waiting, men rushed out from inside the building. They naturally formed a circle around Arno and Ricardt.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“What’s this, what’s this?”

“What the fuck is this?”

The men who came out spotted the heads rolling on the table and widened their eyes. Arno, not knowing what to do in this situation, rolled his eyes like a frightened rabbit.

While everyone else was scared or confused, only Ricardt remained unfazed, speaking as if he was in control of the entire situation.

“These are the heads of the Vilton brothers. I’ve come to collect the bounty.”