Episode 172
Ripple Fun.
A city in the North named so because laughter spreads like ripples.
Three years ago.
The North suffered devastating damage from the war with the orcs.
However, as if that meant nothing, it was quickly restored and became even more prosperous.
This was because of a single existence.
Callius von Zerban.
He who was infamous for committing atrocities that made him second to none as a scoundrel.
Cast out by his family and hushed by the religious order, he appeared one day and quelled the disaster of the North.
The war hero of the North.
To the Northerners, he was a source of pride, and to the children, an idol; so much so that a statue was even erected in his honor for fighting majestically against the Orc Warlord.
That was not all.
Heading to the capital of Carpe, he became an Earl, weeded out the corrupt nobles, and protected the Queen by fending off the Empire's surprise attack—an attack so heinous that chewing them to death wouldn't be satisfying—becoming the hero who saved the nation.
Callius, who had once been stuck in the lands of the North, had now soared high into the sky and always occupied a corner of their hearts.
Thus, even in Ripple Fun, for a while, the verses sung by wandering bards always contained the story of Callius.
Of course, the citizens of Ripple Fun threw silver coins at the bards, who always brought new stories, asking them to unravel their story bundles.
Thus, the wandering bards wove the new news into a song and sang.
"Ah-! He finally embarked on the path of pilgrimage! But the Empire watched him with eyes like wildcats!"
"These rotten bastards."
"But he did not let go of his sword! Before his sword, the Empire's spears were shattered."
"That's right!"
"You bet! Lord Callius isn't someone who goes down easily! Even my daughter got kicked by him!"
"Ah- but crisis struck again. While walking the path of salvation in the middle of the Empire, a dragon came to him!"
Ripple Fun was always filled with laughter like this, but in the current situation, such amiable atmosphere could not be found.
Bernard swallowed a groan at the sight of residents forcing money into the bards' hands, begging them to sing his song.
"Tsk tsk."
Originally, the worse the situation, the more people want to find something else to escape reality or feel vicarious satisfaction.
Even if it's content they've always heard, they hire bards again to sing.
Even if just for a moment.
To forget this situation even a little.
Rattle, clatter.
The knights of the North stationed in Ripple Fun.
And all sorts of mercenaries set up tents near the village.
This place, a little away from the Sunken Forest.
Because the movements of particularly bizarre magical beasts were frequently witnessed here.
The one-armed knight Bernard, who came out of the village.
The only Paladin of the North and the person who became the Bishop of the Northern Branch.
He gathered many Northern knights and pilgrims.
Even mercenaries, and stationed them here.
"Is this it."
"Yes! Right here in this part..."
"Hmm..."
A strange light flickered in Bernard's eyes as he examined the remains of the magical beasts that appeared on the outskirts of the village.
The wrinkles around his eyes increased, and he looked much older and thinner than before. However, he had become an old man whose eyes were instead full of divine energy.
"It's thread."
Strange threads were wrapped around the necks and ankles of the magical beasts.
"Yes. Originally, it's not yet time for the wheel to turn. Furthermore, I've heard many say that the tracks of the magical beasts are quite peculiar, so I suspect it might be someone's doing."
"Thread... The group that serves the God of Thread is too broad, so it's not something that can be easily judged."
Thread is used everywhere and by anyone.
Thus, thread itself becomes a weapon, and together with other things, it becomes an instrument.
They all serve the same god, but they are divided into several factions and show bizarre behaviors.
"But since thread has appeared. It seems those guys, the followers of the Old God, can control not only trolls but also magical beasts."
Not all magical beasts are like that.
It seemed they were brainwashing and controlling only the leader with the thread.
But that alone was enough to intentionally invade the village or harm the residents of the North.
Unlike the magical beasts that are scattered all over the place,
Northerners are not all capable of fighting.
"It will be quite a tough fight. Jack. Do you remember?"
"Are you talking about three years ago?"
"Yes. Three years ago. I'm talking about the war I fought with that scoundrel."
Three years ago.
It was a continuous series of hardships.
When they crossed a mountain, another huge mountain struck them, and there were many incidents and accidents erupting from both inside and outside.
"I remember. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the battlefield back then made me who I am."
"I feel like this wind will also become a storm like that time and strike us."
"..."
Bernard put his one hand behind his back and looked at the distant sky.
The piercing wind of the North was sharp today as well, cold enough to gnaw at the bones.
As it always had been.
"Just as life gets a bit better, He brings down trials again, our God."
Trolls, of all things.
Why are remnants of the old age threatening the present age now?
The heavens are heartless.
What did the North do wrong?
"What we did to deserve this."
As he clicked his tongue then.
"Damn it! I said no!!"
A sharp voice of a boy echoed around the tent.
"I'll go check."
"No need, let's go together."
Accompanying Jack to the source.
A blonde mercenary boy was struggling with another mercenary.
"You thieving bastard! You probably stole this anyway! I said give me the sword because it's wasted on you, so why the hell are you throwing a fit!"
"It's mine! It's a sword gifted to me by my benefactor! You don't just take it and run your mouth, you pig bastard!"
They were fighting over a single sword.
The North was originally a place where many mercenaries came because of the magical beasts.
Thus, many mercenaries were hired for this operation as well.
'He's young.'
But that blonde boy was quite young.
He only looked about the same age as Emily, but his exposed throat and the calluses on his hands showed that he had survived countless battles in his own way.
"Who are they?"
"Yes, they are members of the Red Wolf Mercenary Corps. The boy soldier's name is Chris. And the one over there is Dalf."
The boy Chris and the mercenary Dalf.
Bernard watched them for a moment.
The struggle over the sword soon turned into a fistfight.
As befitting someone called a pig, Dalf was large and had tremendous strength.
However, Chris was still young and had a somewhat small stature, but he was nimble, and as befitting someone called a thieving bastard, his hand movements were quite good.
"He got caught."
"Hmm."
But even so, he's still a kid.
Fifteen? Maybe about sixteen?
Once caught by Dalf, he was beaten up and choked.
Both Bernard and Jack thought the fight was over, but.
"Yield! Yield!"
"F-u... c-k... Argh!"
Smack!
He suddenly broke free with a headbutt, and right after blinding him, he kicked Dalf in the groin.
"Gwaaargh!"
"Puhaha! That's a pig bastard if I ever saw one!"
After that, it was one-sided violence.
Unlike his young face, Chris kicked, kicked, and kicked Dalf's groin again.
Most of the spectators watching with amusement were men, and they couldn't help but squeeze their eyes shut.
Soon, the victorious Chris held his sword dearly to his chest and declared.
"If anyone else covets my sword, I'll crush both of your marbles just like this bastard's, so know that!"
And Chris leisurely disappeared.
Bernard watched Chris and recalled the scoundrel he had seen six years ago.
So he called him to a stop and asked.
From that boy's mouth, beneath the smile of the burning rose, the story naturally flowed of a pilgrim who had annihilated a hundred Imperial soldiers with a single strike.
Saying he received this sword from him.
From him whose name he didn't even know.
He heard the boy's resolve to convey that he now knew that the strongest thing in the world was the sword.
When he patted the boy's shoulder with his one remaining hand, the boy asked.
Why he only had one arm.
So the old man answered.
"To the hero, along with my unfulfilled dream..."
I entrusted it.
He answered so.
Each recalling a different person.
They prepared to face the war.
* * *
Picking.
Callius, picking his ears, suddenly looked around.
"Philo, how many did you catch?"
"I got twenty-four. Old man?"
"Haha! You're still far behind! I got thirty!"
"Tch. Serena?"
"I got forty-four."
"Ugh..."
Having arrived in the North, they were competing over the number of magical beasts and bandits they each caught.
It was quite a leisurely time.
Even though the landscape unfolding before them was far from peaceful.
The corpses of fallen bandits.
And the magical beasts that appeared with them.
The rather strange thing was that the bandits and magical beasts fought together.
Their strength exceeded that of ordinary bandits, and they overpowered the magical beasts; moreover, their corpses, bizarrely ferocious, had iron stakes or iron spikes embedded in them.
As if.
As if they were being controlled by someone.
"What is it?"
"My ear is itching. Serena."
Callius called Serena and pointed to a spot in the forest.
Serena immediately followed his call, took out an arrow, nocked it on the bowstring, and shot.
Thwack-!
"What? Why all of a sudden?"
"Wait and see. If Callis told her to shoot, there's a reason for it."
And then.
-Ugh!
The sound of something falling into the bushes with a small groan made the elf Serena's ears twitch.
"I got him."
"Bring him."
They thought it might be a remnant controlling the magical beasts, but
It didn't seem quite like that.
"Kuk, kill me!"
"He's young?"
"He's a complete kid?"
"Looking at his clothes, he's really a kid."
He was wrapped in warm fur and such, but his camouflage was thorough.
'Is it an artifact?'
The camouflage coat he wore was an artifact, and when it was taken off, he was wearing quite luxurious clothing underneath. But he was bleeding from an arrow stuck in his thigh.
"Isn't this a uniform?"
On the uniform that looked familiar, the royal crest was engraved on the chest.
"A cadet from the Royal Academy?"
"..."
Judging by his outfit and complexion, his role seemed to be a scout.
If he had seen Callius's hair, he might have let his guard down, but he was still wearing his robe over his head. From the cadet's perspective, Callius leading other races around wouldn't look very benevolent.
'Did they come out for practical training against the Northern magical beasts? They're being put through quite a rough ride.'
It probably meant they were also aware of the approaching war.
Otherwise, they wouldn't have sent Academy cadets to the North for real combat training.
"I have a question."
Honestly, whether it's the Academy or how they're conducting their training isn't the part I'm interested in.
However.
Just one thing.
"Is Emily also here?"
In this space where danger is approaching.
If his daughter is mixed up in the battlefield again.
He would very much dislike it.
"...Emily?"
Saint Aily repeated the question at the strangely similar name.
The eyes of the Academy cadet who received the question widened for a moment, then he firmly shut his mouth.
With just that reaction.
Callius could guess.
'She's here.'
Because if he's an Academy cadet, there's no way he wouldn't know Emily.
If Emily is around here.
"We might have to put off going to the fortress for a bit."
Trolls weren't that much of a threat to Callius.
However, that was limited to him and the saints, not the others.
The shield knight Pupi who is with them.
The elf Serena, the dwarf Aldu.
Even the dragon-human Philo alone would have a hard time dealing with a troll.
At that time.
The biggest reason Callius thought of hunting the troll was the presence or absence of holy water.
If the Callius of that time didn't have holy water, he wouldn't have even thought of catching the troll and would have just run away.
Trolls are powerful beings comparable to Masters to that extent.
But now that they have come out to the surface.
With Emily in the North, Callius was worried.
For some unknown reason, around that child.
"A battlefield always seems to linger."