Translator: Willia

When spring comes, the swallows return, and around that time, violets bloom. That time was now. As the breeze swept over the field with a cool touch, the sunlight was warm as well.

However, the man and woman who bore violets embroidered on their chests had no leisure to enjoy the spring. It was because they stood at the boundary of life and death. With trembling hearts, the two drew their swords.

Do we really have to fight? We might die. This is absurd. Such thoughts seemed to clutch at the backs of their necks, whispering to them to run away.

No matter how much they looked back at Ricardt, Ricardt merely stood there watching, leaning calmly on his staff.

“Are you from a Clan? Where are you from?”

Among the people guarding the path, a man who seemed to be the leader spoke. He looked prematurely aged, with an unkempt beard, and his eyes had the characteristic white gleam of a criminal.

Perhaps they had been resting, as the front of his gambeson was left open, but that disheveled appearance only seemed to prove his wealth of combat experience.

At the question of where they were from, Kaspar and Julia looked ahead again. For some reason, their mouths wouldn’t open so easily, and their minds were filled only with a futile hope that maybe they could still turn back.

The wolf pack instinctively knew whether their prey was frightened or not. The members of the Ringvalt Sword Brotherhood noticed that the young man and woman were scared.

And they also knew that when the prey was afraid, the nape of the neck was what they had to aim for. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel✶fire.net

“W-we are……”

"Greenhorn bastard!"

As Kaspar tried to state their Clan, the opponent suddenly shouted. Startled, his body stiffened, and at that moment, the enemies rushed in with a roar.

They couldn't see the people, only a dozen or so glinting blades flickering before his eyes. Kaspar and Julia were horrified and stepped back without being able to swing their swords even once.

They must have trained and practiced to some extent, but none of it came to use. It might have been different in a one-on-one or against two or three, but with over ten enemies, they had no idea what to do.

If they blocked one side, the other would attack. They couldn’t crouch to avoid it either. In the end, the only answer was to run, but even that was already too late.

Then, suddenly, there was a sound like a flag fluttering in the wind. With the flapping sound, something swift passed in front of Kaspar and Julia, breaking through the enemy lines.

What they saw next was the opposing enemy leader without his head. Despite losing his head, he remained standing. Blood spurted from the severed area before his body belatedly collapsed like a crumbling structure.

In an instant, everyone froze. Rather than being surprised, they wore dazed expressions, not understanding what had just happened.

At that moment, Ricardt, who had broken through the enemies, spoke.

"I'll handle this side, so you two handle that side."

Then, with a strong swing of the staff he held, the neck of another enemy who had been standing idly was sent flying.

Although they were called a Brotherhood and were not mere sword wielders, even the slightest lapse in concentration resulted in a decapitated head.

At this point, the enemies’ hair stood on end. Regardless, Ricardt performed a high kick, then jabbed at someone’s throat with the end of his staff. With a single sweeping motion, three or four people collapsed.

Just moments ago, Kaspar and Julia had been retreating in fear, but the situation suddenly reversed, and now the enemies were the ones panicking. When they made eye contact with Ricardt, they couldn’t bear it and fled in a rush.

“Move!”

Ricardt shouted fiercely toward Kaspar and Julia.

The two finally came to their senses and chased after the fleeing enemies.

It looked ugly, the way they clung to their targets and killed them mercilessly, but this was a matter of life and death.

Kaspar grabbed the fallen opponent by the hair and stabbed his throat. Julia slashed the thigh of a fleeing enemy to bring him down, then gripped her sword in reverse and repeatedly stabbed his chest.

Then they ran frantically to catch the others who were escaping.

Some enemies resisted in the chaos, so their cloaks were torn and their gambesons slashed. Fortunately, they weren’t seriously wounded.

However, this was no swordsmanship at all. It was merely brute force, pulling, pushing, stabbing.

Because of that, they didn’t manage to kill them all, and three or four escaped to somewhere, the distance growing too far for pursuit.

“Huff, huff, huff, huff……”

Disheveled clothes and tangled hair. Kaspar breathed heavily as he looked down at the dead body, sword stained with blood still in hand.

“What are you gasping for? What did you even do?”

At the sound of Ricardt’s voice ringing in his ears, Kaspar flinched and turned to look at him.

“I told you to handle that side, but you let five of them get away. Do you think you can handle it if those bastards go report what just happened to their main force?”

Though Ricardt rebuked them, neither of the two could properly process what he was saying at the moment. It was probably because this was their first time fighting against a group, Kaspar and Julia still seemed completely dazed.

“Search the bodies and the outpost and take anything useful. I’ll give you one minute.”

Ricardt issued the order. But when the two of them only stood there in a daze, Ricardt began counting quietly.

“One, two, three, four...”

As soon as he started counting, the two snapped out of it and scrambled into motion. Kaspar ran to the outpost to search the inside, while Julia rifled through the corpses.

It wasn’t a pleasant task to dig through the belongings of a bleeding, fallen person. Especially not when it came to taking off rings, which wasn’t easy at all.

As she was wasting time trying to remove a ring, Ricardt snatched her sword and brought it down hard on the dead man's finger. The fingers scattered, severed instantly.

Startled, Julia flinched as Ricardt coldly tossed her sword in front of her.

“One minute is up.”

At that moment, Kaspar came running back from the outpost with an armful of miscellaneous junk. From the look on his face, his usual arrogance and youthful pride were completely gone, he looked half out of his mind.

“Throw away anything that’s not money or valuables. It'll slow us down if we carry it. Take the rest only when there's time to spare.”

When Ricardt said this, Kaspar spilled metal utensils and candlesticks onto the ground with a clatter.

Then the two stood there blankly, not knowing what to do next. Ricardt asked them,

"What will you do now?"

“Huh?”

“What are you going to do? Weren’t you here to save innocent people?”

“Well, maybe we could contact the Clan and ask for some support...”

"Then when will you complete your training? People like Volka or Bori will end up handling the actual tasks, while you lot just keep sparring with each other using practice swords. Is that it? Feeling good when you win, and swinging swords into the air when you lose? Then you act like you're talented or get discouraged, over that?”

"......I don't know. Please show us the way. Teacher."

When the word “teacher” finally came out of Kaspar’s mouth, Ricardt chuckled.

"Who's your teacher? Isn't Bori your teacher? Anyway, if the bastards who ran away report to the main force, they'll prepare. Then we can do one of two things. Either take people and quickly get out of here, or strike the enemy's heart before they can prepare."

This kind of situational judgment that came as naturally as breathing to Ricardt was hard to grasp for ordinary people, especially those with no experience.

In fact, this might be a more important ability for surviving in actual combat and achieving results than swordsmanship itself.

Ricardt repeated his first question.

“There’s no time. What are you going to do?”

Kaspar and Julia looked at each other. Though of different genders, it was as if they were looking in a mirror, the emotions they felt were the same. The helplessness and fear of not knowing what to do in the face of a sudden crisis.

They were disciples from the Clan who had been acknowledged for their talent and became direct students of a Sword Master. They had even believed there was no one among their peers capable of rivaling them.

Even when they came out on training, they hadn’t thought protecting themselves would be difficult. They believed that if they chose their opponents wisely, there would be little risk.

But now, faced with a real life-or-death “challenge,” they felt not only fear, but a strange sense of competitive spirit. Had they ever truly tested the limits of their own strength?

In the dangerous and difficult fight just now, none of their usual swordsmanship had come out. Their minds went blank, and all they managed were crude swings of the blade.

In the end, to overcome one’s limits, one had to first experience them. This was now the moment of choice.

Kaspar and Julia exchanged a silent conversation with their eyes. Should we do it? Let’s do it. I want to. That much was clearly communicated.

Kaspar fixed his gaze with determination and looked back at Ricardt. This time, I can do better.

“We will strike the enemy.”

"Good. But no matter who asks, speak confidently.”

“Ask about what?”

“When the opponent asked earlier, you got scared and couldn’t even say your Clan name.”

“...I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll proudly state it without hesitation.”

Kaspar answered with his head lowered, seemingly embarrassed.

“Let’s go.”

Ricardt, leaning on his staff, began walking in the direction the enemies had fled. It seemed they were headed toward the old castle once used by the local lord.

After walking for several hours, they arrived at sunset. Since it was a rural village, the castle wasn’t large, and its walls weren’t even stone but just a wooden palisade.

However, there was one problem, there were too many enemies. The castle was too small to contain them all, so the area outside the walls was swarming with all sorts of ruffians and mercenaries. There seemed to be at least several dozen of them.

Bonfires flickered here and there, and vulgar laughter from prostitutes and drunken shouting reached all the way to where Ricardt stood.

Kaspar, who had confidently declared that they should strike the enemy, now had second thoughts after seeing their numbers. A person’s resolve could change depending on the situation.

“Where do you think this Ringvalt guy would be?”

“...Probably inside the castle? But, I don’t think this is going to work.”

“The more people there are, the easier it is to lower their guard. And since there doesn’t seem to be any order among them, just walk in with your head held high. Then no one will suspect a thing.”

“What about when we leave?”

Julia asked with wide eyes.

“Don’t be intimidated by their numbers, look at them individually. Do they look like the kind of guys who’d risk their lives for revenge if their boss gets killed? Just declare confidently that you’ve dealt with Ringvalt and to clear the way. Of course, if there's a back door, you can quietly slip out depending on the situation.”

Ricardt didn’t seem to have much of a plan either. Besides, he said to look at their faces, but it was dark and hard to see.

Still, what he said wasn’t completely wrong. Discipline was practically nonexistent, they just seemed obsessed with drinking, partying, and sleeping.

“Like earlier today, when you show fear, your opponents will sense it instantly. Then even things that could go right will fall apart. But if you act shamelessly, things that normally wouldn’t work might just go your way. Got it?”

Kaspar and Julia couldn’t respond. But staying bound by common sense would never let them transcend it.

Ricardt, leaning on his staff, walked toward the castle. Passing through the noisy and bustling crowd, they reached the castle, and the gate was left wide open.

Unless a military force was attacking, it was more convenient to leave the gate open for comings and goings.

When they reached the narrow courtyard, some men were stationed there, and they stopped the trio upon seeing them.

“Never seen you before. Who are you guys?”

At that, Ricardt turned to Kaspar and Julia and said,

"Put strength in your stomach and shout with all your might."

“Huh? Shout what?”

"Didn't I say to proudly reveal who you are when asked?"

“R-right now? Here?”

“Then when? You want to keep disappointing me?”

But, this is just too much. Doing that right in the middle of enemy territory? That’s ridiculous. Kaspar looked like he was about to cry.

Surprisingly, Julia, with a “screw it, whatever” attitude, shouted out with spirited defiance.

“We’re from the Viola Clan!”

One of the men, who had been eyeing them suspiciously, frowned and stared them down.

Enemies nearby began gathering, murmuring, “What’s going on? Who are they?” There was a stir, likely because of the infamous reputation of the Viola Clan.

At that moment, someone emerged from the inner keep. He had short hair and was tall, but his eyes were sunken and his cheeks gaunt, likely from lack of sleep.

Yet his eyes were sharp and seemed to carry a glint of madness. Even without being told, it was obvious this man was Ringvalt.

“Why is the Viola Clan here?”

“W-well, that is...”

When the commander finally appeared before them, Julia was overwhelmed by his presence. Kaspar was also flustered, darting his eyes around. It was because they were completely surrounded. A thought crept into his mind: How did I even end up here?

Kaspar and Julia looked like small birds encircled by a pack of wolves. Ricardt, watching them, thought to himself that there was nothing more he could do.

It wasn’t perfect, but in another way, he felt proud that they had made it this far. It was still too soon for them to spread their wings and fly. Pushing them forward, this was as far as it went.

So, he stepped forward himself.

"I'm Ricky from Viola Clan. I heard you killed the former lord’s family here and are oppressing the people.”

“Ricky? Ricky... ah, I know. The Red Cloak. The one who was once famous as a genius swordsman, was that you? This isn’t the north, so what brings you here?”

“North or not, the fact that you committed serious crimes, do you admit it?”

“Well, why is your Clan meddling in someone else’s family affairs?”

“Family affairs?”

"That's right. Even if I'm a bastard, I inherited my father's blood. Killing brothers and nephews to claim titles is what nobles originally did, isn't it? Is there any reason I can't do it?"

“There’s no reason you can’t. But then, you should deal with the consequences yourself.”

“Consequences? Sounds like you’ll be the one dealing with them, not me. Did you think I’d be scared just because you’re from the Viola Clan?”

Ringvalt sneered as he spoke.

More swordsmen than before had now gathered, encircling Ricardt, Kaspar, and Julia. All of them twisted their faces into vicious scowls, glaring as if they meant to devour them.

Ricardt scoffed.

“You think gathering a bunch of morons around you keeps you safe? Even if it’s not me, your death is just a matter of time.”

“Hahaha... we all live and die eventually. So before I die, I’ll settle my grudges, fulfill my dreams. That’s what this is. And you? Did you achieve your dream, Ricky?”

Ringvalt spoke as if he had attained some grand understanding of life. But in truth, the one who was most uneasy was him. The dark circles hanging deep under his eyes from insomnia testified to that.

Ricardt let go of his staff. Then, slowly, he drew the sword at his waist.

As the blade slid free, flames erupted. In the dark of night, golden flames blazed. The firelight lit Ricardt’s face from below upward.

Ricardt, his eyes glinting, looked at Ringvalt and said,

"I see beyond what you call dreams."

Soon, golden lightning flashed across the darkness of night.

****

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