Chapter 11
“People are coming from the direction of the village. They’re on horseback.”
At the words of the Mercenary who spotted them first, everyone stopped their chatter. In the distance, two figures could be seen approaching from the road leading to Kingdom’s End.
“That *backwater* shouldn’t have anyone coming or going, should it?”
Merchants rarely visit that village, perhaps only a few times a year, as the effort isn’t worth the meager profit.
“Call for Mr. Sorin.”
Mercenary Captain Beard commanded.
The one who hired them was Sorin, a Magistrate Official dispatched from Boneyard.
“It’s a Knight and a Squire. Or perhaps a Servant.”
When Sorin, who was on horseback, arrived, Beard reported.
“Are you sure it’s a Knight? My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
Sorin was over fifty. Despite his meticulous self-care keeping his back straight, he couldn’t prevent his eyesight from deteriorating.
“I saw light reflect off his chest for a moment. And his physique is imposing.”
A sturdy man in metal armor, on horseback. And the intuition of a Mercenary who’d spent twenty years in the trade signaled danger.
“Most importantly, they’re advancing without any hesitation, even after seeing us.”
In a world fraught with danger, it’s standard practice to stop and be wary when encountering strangers from outside.
Yet, those two approached a group of Mercenaries four times their number without a moment’s pause. It meant they didn’t perceive them as a threat at all.
“This is definitely a Knight.”
The strongest killing machine humanity had created in this era.
“What was that village called again? Kingdom Road?”
“Kingdom’s End. The name’s grand, but it’s just a *backwater*. I went there once, and the beer was like dishwater.”
“Then why would a Knight emerge from a place like that?”
The Mercenaries muttered with uneasy expressions.
Knights were beings Mercenaries feared more than monsters. That’s because, in a Mercenary’s life, encountering a Knight as an enemy meant the highest chance of death.
If it’s a monster, you can at least run, but showing your back to a mounted Knight is practically begging for death.
If you’re in formation during a war and encounter an enemy Knight, there’s no solution. *Desertion in the Face of the Enemy* means *Summary Execution*.
And if you hold your formation, you’ll die by a lance, sword, mace, or horse’s hooves.
“What does the Knight look like? Is he quite old?”
Unlike the anxious Mercenaries, Sorin, on the contrary, looked pleased.
His mission was to deliver the city’s invitation to Sir Godfrey, who was living in seclusion in Kingdom’s End.
There couldn’t possibly be another Knight besides Sir Godfrey in such a *backwater*. It meant his mission would be much easier to complete.
“No, Sir. He seems very young.”
But things don’t always go as planned.
“Are you sure you didn’t see wrong?”
“Trust me, Sir. You can’t be a Mercenary Captain, no matter how good you are at fighting, if your eyesight is poor.”
Though it was a small Mercenary Band of eight, being its Captain meant he had keen observation skills and good intuition. Without them, he wouldn’t have survived.
“You’re right. My apologies.”
“No need to apologize, Sir.”
Sorin’s face fell with disappointment.
“Captain, they wouldn’t attack us, would they?”
“It’s hard enough to make money in the countryside; they wouldn’t suddenly turn into *Rogue Knights*, would they?”
“Don’t you worry, lads.”
Despite his Subordinates’ worries, Beard’s face remained calm. He had something to rely on.
“We are officially carrying out a mission for Boneyard City. No one with any sense would dare act rashly.”
“That’s right, Sir.”
Beard agreed with the confident Sorin.
“If he’s a Knight from that village, he surely won’t have a fief or a *Liege Lord*.”
A Knight was certainly a fearsome presence, but this wasn’t his territory, and the difference in backing was too great.
Unless he was truly desperate, he wouldn’t attack them while they were carrying out the city’s orders right in Boneyard’s front yard.
* * *
While Sorin and the Mercenaries suspected Eugene of being a *Rogue Knight*, Eugene’s side likewise suspected them of being a band of *Bandits*.
However, their attitudes were diametrically opposed. Eugene approached the Mercenaries with a calm mind.
He had already fought a *Monster Boar*, his *Master* Godfrey, and Marcus’s party. He had an objective understanding of his own strength.
A handful of Mercenaries, watching him with eyes mixed equally with wariness and fear? He didn’t consider them a threat at all.
“I am Sorin, dispatched by Boneyard City to Kingdom’s End. These are the Beard Mercenary Band, escorting me.”
“I am Eugene Meyer. This is my *Squire*, Homi. What a coincidence. We were on our way to Boneyard.”
Eugene smiled as he introduced them.
It was a brief conversation, but Sorin immediately became convinced that Eugene was a *Noble Knight*.
He articulated specific consonants clearly, without slurring the ends of his words. He also used formal vocabulary that *Commoners* wouldn’t. It was the kind of language, like *Earth’s* Posh English, that could only be used by someone who had received an education.
Add to that his fearless confidence, excellent equipment, and superior warhorse. This was an aura that only someone who had lived as a *Noble Knight* could cultivate.
*Meanwhile, the Mercenaries’ eyes were drawn to the *Heavy Crossbow* Homi was carrying.*
In the Beard Mercenary Band, the only one carrying a ranged weapon was Owl, a former *Hunter*, and even his was a shortbow with weak draw weight.
In contrast, the *Heavy Crossbow* carried by that *Squire* looked powerful enough to take down a boar with a single shot. It would easily pierce their flimsy *Wooden Shields* and cripple their arms.
“We’ve rested enough, so we’ll be departing. However, Sir Knight, I recommend you prepare to make camp here.”
Sorin said cautiously.
“Could you tell me why? There’s still time before sunset.”
“Towards Kingdom’s End from here, suitable *Campsites* appear frequently. However, beyond this point, there won’t be any for half a day’s travel. You might have to spend the night in an unfavorable location.”
In travel, the selection of a *Campsite* is extremely important.
Even setting aside the presence of a water source, factors like visibility for guarding against surprise attacks, ease of securing a retreat, and shelter from sudden rain are crucial.
Depending on where one sleeps, it could lead to anything from a minor cold to a matter of life and death. Moreover, even a cold is no trivial adversary in this world.
“Thank you for the advice. This is my first time traveling in this direction. I’ve lived in Kingdom’s End for a long time, you see.”
“I see. It’s truly a peaceful village, isn’t it? And the people are simple-hearted.”
Sorin’s eyes gleamed, and Eugene didn’t miss it.
“If you have any questions about the village, feel free to ask. There should be a give and take, after all.”
The Mercenaries felt a liking for this Knight who treated them so amiably. They felt foolish for having worried he might be a *Rogue Knight* just moments ago, but they didn’t let their guard down.
“Do you happen to know Sir Godfrey? I heard he was living in seclusion at the *Monastery* there.”
“I know him well. But I’m curious as to why you’re looking for him.”
Eugene subtly prepared to move at any moment. The one among them who was uniquely armed with a bow was his first target.
“Boneyard wishes to invite him. This is an official invitation from the city.”
Sorin pulled a rolled-up parchment from his tunic. It was an official document bearing the seal of Boneyard’s *Executor*.
Both sides simultaneously relaxed their guard.
Eugene relaxed because he had confirmed they were not enemies, and the Mercenaries because they now knew the true purpose of their mission.
They had been quite worried, having been told not to ask any questions in exchange for high pay, but it turned out to be just delivering a letter. Such a request was always welcome.
“I regret to say, but I recommend you turn back here. Even if you go to the trouble of reaching the village, you won’t find him.”
“I was certain he was there just a few months ago. Has something happened?”
“He left a short while ago. It seems you’ve missed each other, given that you haven’t encountered him.”
“Oh, dear!”
“Even if you had met him, he would have refused the invitation. He’s embarked on a pilgrimage and wouldn’t want to get involved with worldly affairs.”
Though disappointed, Sorin nodded with relief.
Failing the mission was bitter, but thanks to this Knight, he now had a justifiable excuse.
“You seem to know Sir Godfrey well. May I ask what your relationship is?”
“I am a *Knight by Appointment* to him. I am his *Direct Disciple*, having inherited his *Swordsmanship* and even his armor.”
Eugene thumped his chest plate with his fist.
“Oh! So you are his honorable *Successor*! This works out perfectly. This must be *Divine Guidance*. Would you please read this?”
Sorin extended the invitation.
“But I am not my *Master*.”
“As his *Direct Disciple*, you are more than qualified. The city will welcome you with open arms.”
It was an era where news traveled very slowly. It was common to arrive at a destination only to find the person one intended to invite, or the item one sought, was no longer there.
For such situations, designating a secondary target was essential when sending an *Envoy*.
Godfrey’s *Direct Disciple* certainly fell within that category, and then some.
“In that case.”
As Eugene nodded, Homi received the invitation. She knelt on one knee before Eugene and presented it with both hands.
*He can read.*
Sorin was convinced that the Knight’s claim was true.
Excellent equipment and physique, a *Noble*-like aura, having lived long in Kingdom’s End, and even the refinement of being able to read. This was a combination of traits impossible for anyone who wasn’t Sir Godfrey’s *Disciple*.
“Hmm.”
After reading the invitation, Eugene fell into thought. About eighty percent of the content was ceremonial greetings and praise for Sir Godfrey’s honor and achievements, with the remaining twenty percent being the main point.
*We wish to invite a renowned Knight. We will treat you with the utmost care, so please do visit.*
In short, that was the gist of it. But it didn’t state why they wanted to extend the invitation.
Whether it was because they needed military strength, or if they wanted to uphold the city’s prestige before receiving an important guest.
“Is the city perhaps in a dangerous situation?”
Sorin took a deep breath before speaking.
“To be frank, it’s true that things have been unsettled recently. The *Gord Nobles* from the west, who have long coveted the city, have revealed their true colors.”
War had become little more than a continent-wide sport.
Marcus had come to secretly rescue Maria with a small force because his own *Noble House* was also in a *Quasi-War State* with a rival *Noble House*.
Boneyard, which had managed to avoid the ravages of war through its peripheral location and diplomatic efforts, had also reached its limit.
“So, if I accept the invitation, I might end up on the *Battlefield*?”
“That’s not the case, Sir!”
Sorin exclaimed, flustered.
“This invitation is solely for the purpose of hosting an excellent Knight and sharing, even a little, in his renown.”
Inviting and hosting a distinguished Knight was, in itself, a way to elevate the city’s standing.
A noble person eating and drinking for free in someone else’s home was both something to be grateful for and something to be thanked for.
“We might ask for your assistance if the city faces a crisis. However, I swear, whether to accept or decline is entirely your right as a Knight.”
Not receiving financial or equipment support as a sponsor, but simply staying as a guest. If that was all, then not providing anything in return wouldn’t be grounds for criticism.
Godfrey had often told stories of how he’d secured lodging and meals in various places that way, avoiding troublesome matters.
Eugene, who had been pondering carefully, looked at Homi.
*As you wish.*
She mouthed the words, and Eugene made his decision.
“Very well. I accept the invitation.”
“Thank you!”
Sorin’s face brightened. Now, instead of an excuse, he could report a completed mission.
The Mercenaries were also pleased. They wouldn’t have to bother going all the way to Kingdom’s End, and their pay would be the same if they turned back here.
Eugene felt the same. Receiving an official invitation from the city was much more convenient in many ways than blindly venturing into an unfamiliar outside world with no connections.
If he was asked for something easy, he could incur a debt from the city, and if it seemed life-threatening, he could simply decline.
“Then, I look forward to your company for the next few days on our return journey.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
“Beard, prepare the *Campsite*!”
The Mercenaries responded with a resounding cheer.
“Leave it to us, Sir!”
Everyone laughed and began setting up the *Campsite*.
Eugene, attended by Homi, removed his armor and leaned against a tree. The Mercenaries gathered branches and roasted potatoes.
“Sir Knight, how would you like to take your meal?”
Mercenary Captain Beard approached and asked. He was a man with a bushy beard, just like his name.
Eugene surmised that it wasn’t his real name. What parent would name their child Beard?
As Mercenaries were a profession full of various stories, it was common for them to hide their true names and start anew.
In such cases, they often used nicknames as their names, and it was an unwritten rule not to inquire about such a person’s private life.
-Even if you are a Knight and the other is a mere Mercenary, do not ask. It is a rule held as important among Mercenaries as the custom of hospitality.
It was one of the lessons Godfrey had taught him.
“If you haven’t prepared anything yourself, this is humble fare, but...”
Beard bowed, holding two warm potatoes.
“I’ll gladly eat them. Homi, we should offer something in return, shouldn’t we?”
Eugene, who had intended to treat them from the start, was brewing tea in a pot. It was made from a ground plant similar to yam, thick and intensely sweet.
“Oh, thank you!”
As Homi approached the Mercenaries with the pot, they all hastily pulled out their crude wooden bowls.
While warm broth might seem easy to make when sleeping outdoors, it was surprisingly precious. Mercenaries, for whom cold dew was a daily reality, never missed an opportunity to warm their insides with something hot.
“It’s so sweet!”
“Wow, it feels like it’s clearing my throat!”
“I’ll sleep soundly tonight.”
In a world where sweetness was already a rarity, steaming sweet broth during a *Campsite* meal was a true luxury!
The Mercenaries savored the feeling of their physical and mental fatigue melting away.
* * *
Night fell.
Naturally, the Mercenaries took full responsibility for the *Night Watch*. However, Homi contributed to the watch with the Beastfolk’s characteristic keen senses.
Was it early dawn? Homi, who had been sleeping, suddenly sprang up and growled towards a certain direction.
“Wh-what’s wrong, *Squire*?”
The *Rookie Mercenary* on guard duty asked, flustered. The *Veteran* Mercenary, on the other hand, shrewdly looked in the direction Homi was glaring.
Soon after, two pairs of yellow eyes appeared in the bushes about 80 meters away.
“Wolves!”
The *Veteran* Mercenary debated whether to wake the others. The creatures were hidden in the dense forest, merely blinking their eyes. There was still enough distance.
Homi stepped forward in front of him.
“Grrrrrr—”
She used a unique vocalization that carried far forward to warn them. A moment later, the yellow eyes vanished.
“Th-they left?”
Nod.
Homi, having answered the *Veteran* Mercenary, casually returned to her spot, curled up, and fell asleep. Her thick tail was held between her cute lips.
“See that? A *Squire* serving a great Knight can do things like that.”
The *Veteran* seized the opportunity to show off his knowledge. Mercenaries never passed up a chance to boast about even the smallest things to a *Rookie*.
“Wow, that’s truly amazing.”
Though it was mixed with absurd misunderstandings, the *Rookie*, knowing nothing, could only marvel.