Inhaling the early morning air, which carried a hint of the end of summer, filled my lungs and made me feel as if my insides had been meticulously cleansed.
With a devotional touch, I drew the “Sending Wolf” and took hold of the shield sent by Lady Agrippina.
A basic stance: my right side forward, using the shield to guard my upper body while concealing my sword in its blind spot. It was a fundamental yet supreme position, easy for defense and ready to launch an attack. A thrust from the shadow of the shield. A slash upward following a strike. With the shield lowered, I utilized the exposed opening to perform a horizontal sweep.
Though the directions of slashes might be infinite, the stance remains ever unchanged. The key lies in delivering appropriate slashes for each moment from a precise and steady posture. Moving my feet continuously, I repeated the basic stance and attacks in a ceaseless, dance-like rhythm.
In town work, there was plenty of physical exertion, but fortunately, I had not relied on my skills. Hence, I took the time in the morning to move my body so it wouldn’t grow lax.
Since it was early in the morning, the inner courtyard of the Cat’s Rest Inn was empty, and in exchange for not making noise, I was allowed to use it for training.
By the way, I have yet to receive instructions from Mr. Fidelio. You see, our styles differ greatly, so it seems neither of us would gain much from mere training.
I controlled my breathing, always conscious of maintaining a steady rhythm. My entire body and every movement were for attack and defense. Irregular breathing, fatigue, and extreme excitement were all impurities that would disrupt the trajectory of the sword.
I had to calm down. Like ice, like a tranquil lake’s surface.
Suddenly, while I was intensely swinging my sword, I felt someone’s gaze on my back.
It wasn’t an unpleasant gaze. I could sense their earnestness, but neither hostility nor malice. They were merely observing the level of my martial prowess.
From that observation alone, I could tell the observer was an accomplished practitioner.
My knees, shoulders, and elbows were being examined closely. A swordsman’s technique might involve deliberately drawing the opponent’s eyes away for intimidation, but these critical points are impossible to disguise. They are starting points for movement and reveal a significant amount of information.
However, there is also a way to use this knowledge as a feint, though it can become an endless contest akin to jamming radar.
After feeling satisfied with my sword swings, applause came from the owner of that gaze.
Looking back, I saw a bald giant leaning against the courtyard door. It was Henzell, who had introduced me to Mr. Fidelio, his menacing face now twisted into a mischievous grin.
“Good morning, Henzell.”
“Yo, you’re full of energy, ‘Golden Hair.'”
Upon greeting him after a long time, I received a strange nickname.
“Golden Hair? Isn’t that obvious just from looking? What does that even mean?”
“Aw, don’t you know? That’s you, young one. In the city, they’ve started calling you ‘Golden Hair Erich.'”
I was puzzled. The nickname wasn’t something made up by Henzell but rather one that had naturally spread among the common people.
“‘Golden Hair Erich’ and ‘Silent Margit.’ Adventurers are beginning to know these names. I’m not just aimlessly loitering in taverns, you know.”
However, I hadn’t realized that we had both acquired nicknames. We hadn’t done something particularly remarkable.
We had been consistently handling menial jobs, and twice, I joined the Lorans group for guard duty. Normally, the lower ranks can’t take higher jobs, but when someone of the appropriate rank invites you, you can join, so I helped out occasionally.
Still, all those tasks were simple, and there was nothing truly noteworthy.
“Doing honest work diligently is what spreads name the most. Building a reputation without causing problems is commendable. There’s no greater honor than when your name spreads without any connections.”
“Hmm… I don’t really feel it.”
“That’s from listening to too many adventure stories. The world isn’t as dramatic as poetry paints it to be.”
Henzell, his thick chest rumbling with laughter, had a grand set of travel gear strewn below his feet.
A backpack swollen from being overstuffed, two crude bags dangling from his shoulders, a heavy armor chest, and without a doubt, a large bundle wrapped in cloth.
All these were preparations for adventures that involved rough work, and the purpose for this visit was clear.
“Henzell, please refrain from laughing too loudly, it’s troubling.”
An imposingly silent Fidelio arrived at the entrance, his built frame belying his calm demeanor. He too wore well-worn but high-quality travel attire, and in his hand were his ready-for-adventure items. Behind him was the innkeeper carrying some baggage.
“Sorry, sorry, but bringing someone famous along is just fun!”
“You know, this enjoyment of yours is bad taste. I’ve been telling you to improve it.”
“Thanks, buddy. The sight of young ones shining is something, isn’t it? Have you started teaching him some moves yet?”
“Well, I’ve been quite busy. The preparations for this long journey were particularly laborious.”
Though his tone scolded, there was a friendly air between the two old friends. They weren’t awkward with each other; instead, they had accepted such quirks.
Goodness, the friendship between seasoned adventurers like these two. While the freshness of newly formed parties is delightful, it is the enduring trust built between those who have long accompanied each other that is truly remarkable.
“We’re setting off soon.”
After watching them for a while with longing, realizing I couldn’t enjoy the moment forever, I decided to move the conversation forward.
I had known it from the start. The day when Mr. Fidelio would leave for a distant adventure. That’s why I got up early on my day off, exercising in the courtyard so as not to miss the farewell.
“Yeah, I’ll be gone for a while, so you’ll be in charge of helping out.”
“Yes, enjoy your adventure fully! I’ll be eagerly waiting to hear stories that will inspire new legends.”
Expressing my expectations with pure enthusiasm, Fidelio looked rather awkward, yet Henzell heartily laughed and playfully tousled my hair. Well, it was more like roughing it up than petting, but the sensation, felt after a long time away, was oddly pleasant and comforting.
“He doesn’t like attention! But we’ll be back with the head of a giant trophy!”
“Hey, Henzell, stop embellishing stories to the poets. Most of the grandiose poems about me are your fault already!”
I guess, no matter the years lived, a fifty-year-old man still reveling in a head pat in print feels rather awkward.
They complained while elbowing each other, but their unrestrained excitement was unmistakable. If their feelings were to be rendered in sound, they would be filled with exuberance.
The landlady’s expression, smiling as if watching her own children, must have seen her husband off on many adventures.
My gaze shifted and I noticed Margit at the landlady’s feet. She also seemed to have been helping carry luggage, holding a large crude bag as if embracing it.
Tsk, she was awake and lending a hand without me noticing. If I had realized, I should have been helping, not exercising.
Her slight smile seemed to say, “You need more practice.”
Hmm, I’ve gained decent experience, should I focus on improving my presence detection skills… but if I lean too much into reaction skills, my attacks might suffer. Since I don’t plan to use magic for now, I want to enhance my combat abilities, yet negotiation skills also intrigue me. It’s a tough decision.
The farewell reached the back exit. The rest of the team was meeting at the gate. It would be pleasant to be introduced to adventure legends someday whose tales I hear directly from them.
“Take care, sir.”
“Yes, I’ll definitely return.”
The two pressed their bodies together and kissed each other’s cheeks. The landlady then pulled out a flintstone from her bosom, striking it several times to scatter sparks.
It was an exorcism ritual. Fire, a sacred element, is considered a fragment of the Sun God’s eldest son, the Fire God. Those sparks, believed to protect the journey, were meant to ward off evil.
The adventurers, carrying various hopes, left with a brilliance even greater than the rising dawn. I felt a strong desire: someday, I want to present a back like that to others. May this straightforward nickname be the first step toward that.
Always moving silently, the scout maiden, rarely noticed due to her “Silent” nature, despite usually working with her partner, found herself alone this time.
There was no particular reason. Her partner, a boy, had gone to the stables to tend to the horses. He often visited to ensure the work wasn’t neglected, but his small frame limited his contributions. In the quiet afternoon, the young spider woman enjoyed freedom.
Searching for something suitable for dinner, she meandered through the market, occasionally gazing at exotic jewelry set out in the open stalls.
Today, she found something relatively nice—a tear-shaped blue glass necklace. Originally a broken cup, it had been repurposed into jewelry, inexpensive but its hue, unseen in the Empire, was truly beautiful.
A silver coin was no easy sum for someone appearing as a child, but for the young woman with various side incomes, it was cheap.
Still, she didn’t buy it recklessly. She checked if it would stand the test of time, if it would break easily. If she noticed any minor scratches or flaws, she could point them out for a discount.
Viewing it under the sun, it shimmered with changing colors, complex lights that strikingly resembled the hopeful gleam in her partner’s eyes.
Drawn to the pale, translucent blue glow, the maiden decided to buy the necklace without haggling.
It would dress her neckline far better than the large wolf fangs she usually wore. More than anything, she adored the color.
Decorating her neck with the same color as the boy filled her with mild excitement. The young woman generously handed over her silver coin to the merchant and immediately adorned her neck, walking happily through the streets.
Though small, the web-like city pathways were as navigable to her as tree branches after practice. Two-legged pathways felt like wandering open fields compared to the complex tree network she was accustomed to traversing.
What to do now that she’d made a fine purchase? Perhaps buy a drink and snacks to visit her partner, who would likely be oil-covered in the stables.
A chill ran down her spine, signaling trouble.
It wasn’t the pure, clear hostility of an animal nor the cold steel-like presence of her partner. This was a sticky, malevolent intent, uniquely human.
The girl’s thoughts shifted instantly to those of a hunter, her trained body reacting with a hunter’s reflex.
Never underestimate the small-statured fly-catching spider woman. Within her petite frame lay explosive power, the ability to unleash immense strength for fleeting moments.
She grabbed the hand that rudely landed on her shoulder and twisted the fingers with all her might.
Ugly shrieks mixed with the terrible sounds of bones breaking and joints dislocated. Twisting further in synchronization with the hunter’s turn, she decided fingers wouldn’t suffice as the price of his offense, damaging the wrist and elbow joints as well.
The insolent assailant tried to pull away, but her grip was like a vice, unyielding to his human attempts to break free. After all, how could someone with weak human strength resist a hunter capable of gripping larger opponents while wielding a short blade?
In the movement, through his writhing pain, she observed him closely.
A dirty human man in tattered rags, his unkempt beard and protruding front teeth spoke of a common and unremarkable rogue who didn’t make much money. Whether a mere pickpocket or adventurer remained unclear but his dropped short knife suggested ill intent.
Knowing her maximum grip strength was unsustainable, lasting less than ten seconds, she let go upon confirming his appearance, grabbed the knife, and swiftly darted away.
“Hey! You damn brat, wait!”
“It hurts! It fricking hurts?! My hand?! Shit, it doesn’t work!?”
“Damn it! Wait there, boy! I’ll chase you!!”
Two men pursued her. Both similar to the previously repelled one, carrying bags and ropes in their hands, indicative of a group intending to abduct her.
This was bothersome.
Dealing with them was simple but she didn’t wish to combat multiple opponents in the city street.
The risk of injury far outweighed the benefits. No matter how many scuffed rogues she subdued, her fame wouldn’t rise. There would only be nuisance investigations. Overdoing it might even accelerate irrelevant grudges. Acting like a lunatic would only bring scolding, so it was wiser to use them for other advantages.
Slinking out of the crowd with two-legged sluggishness, her next move aimed at turning the situation positively.
“Help! Please help, soldier sir!”
She projected a voice so overly theatrical that it startled even herself, aimed at a guard who looked idle at the entrance to the market. Hearing the adorable cry of a child-like girl, the guards, who were lazy by nature but maintained professional ethos, rose with their clubs.
“Those men there! They have knives and are trying to harm me!”
“What!?”
“Wait, you! Stop!”
The villains hastily turned back to run while the guards sounded their whistles and pushed through the crowd. Even the most incompetent among them had the basic decency to rescue someone visibly in danger.
Sheltered by one of the guards checking on her safety, the hunter mulled over two thoughts.
First, this appearance was, in some ways, convenient. By crying and shedding tears, she could turn the situation to make the opponent look entirely at fault, quite manipulative. Had her partner witnessed this, his whole body would have trembled over the high social damage compensation.
Second, the conscientious guards couldn’t have been bribed this time around. If a large organization were to become enemies, which her partner spoke about, even these responsible guards might overlook things. Unfortunately or not, in Marsheim, no matter who was abducted or stabbed, or if unseen hands reached out, the guards would do nothing.
A silver coin carelessly dropped on the ground would always hold more value than lives or duties.
Annoyed as her pleasant afternoon had been interrupted, this taught her something useful.
She’d tell her partner immediately and revel in his excessive worry. As she thought of the decent reward for this, her deceitful tears would shine with newfound authenticity…
