CHAPTER 67

A city surrounded by a fortress wall. Sturma.

Peter Bayezid, the owner of the place, was stroking his chin as he looked at the impressive armor laid out in front of him.

"According to the report from Lord Josef, Sir Larmund has arrived in Shoara. It seems he's showing interest in the squire there."

"I see."

Peter nodded his head, recalling the time when Knight Larmund first returned to Sturma.

Larmund, a knight of the former head of the family, was a difficult man to deal with, no matter how confident Peter was.

When such a person saw the condition of the squire here, Peter could only sigh, leaving him with a bitter aftertaste.

"Should I consider it a relief, or should I just lament that this is all I can do?"

Lagmus remained silent as he watched Peter's eyes become increasingly sharper.

The Bayezid family was known not only for producing knights but also for nurturing promising squires.

Larmund had worked his way up from a squire to a knight at that time, so seeing the level of the squires now must have felt as if Bayezid's old self had collapsed.

The Bayezid he had seen would not have been like this.

"Times have changed, haven't they?"

"Even though times have changed, there are some things that should not change."

It wouldn't have been more than an old man's tantrum, but Lagmus's sharp advice certainly struck a chord with Peter.

"It seems I've been neglecting the promising talents in the north."

While the quality of the knights had improved due to expanding recruitment from outside, the level of the squires was decreasing.

This meant that the colors of Bayezid were fading, and it was surely something Peter needed to think about.

"….."

The armor glittered in the sunlight.

Peter, lost in thought, found his gaze involuntarily drawn to it.

It was armor sent from the Northern Parish of San Rogino.

The brief letter accompanying the armor bore the circumstances of its sending and the name of a familiar boy.

"It seems quite impressive."

"He has received recognition from the outside, San Rogino. There's nothing as reliable as cross-validation, isn't there?"

Peter nodded at Lagmus's words.

From the Holy knights of San Rogino to the choice of Larmund, a knight from the old days.

"It should be sent to Shoara."

"Indeed."

Fortunately, the old traditions of Bayezid were still being upheld.

Seeing that, Peter felt relieved, though he didn't show it openly.

Sturma's sturdy fortress walls were built upon such traditions.

※※※※

"Ugh..."

Vlad opened his eyes on the bed with a groan.

The slight lingering headache furrowed Vlad's brow involuntarily.

"How did I get here?"

Judging by the damp towel on his forehead, someone had nursed him while he was unconscious.

'I had a run-in with an unpleasant old man…'

Vlad furrowed his brow, recalling yesterday's events.

Though his memories were fragmented as if he were drunk, Vlad still had vivid recollections popping up in his mind.

A shining forehead.

It was a forehead that gleamed brightly, radiating a sinister power.

"That's possible, huh?"

They say the world is wide and there are many strange things, but when he actually experienced it, he almost laughed.

The old man's forehead, strengthened with aura, was so hard that it would have been better to hit the wall.

"Can you use it like that?"

[Talent manifests itself in various forms.]

Judging by the fact that there was no mention of seeing him till the end, the voice had never seen or heard that before.

Or perhaps it was there in his memory, but he had forgotten it.

"...Well, I did enough to still be receiving hospitality."

[Indeed. He must be someone worth learning from.]

Vlad quietly nodded at the voice's words.

It was an old man whose name and identity were not easily revealed, but Vlad could roughly guess it through his intuition.

An old knight of the Bayezid family.

And now, someone who wandered around, retired.

It seemed to be some kind of ceremony only knights could perform, but as Vlad was still just a squire, it was difficult to guess exactly what he was doing.

"Why are you murmuring to yourself like that?"

"...Come in after knocking."

As Vlad got up from the bed, someone entered the room with a brusque manner.

It was a girl, barely visible behind a stack of clothes, due to her small stature.

"I need a hand to knock."

Zemina dumped the pile of clothes she was carrying onto the bed as if annoyed.

They were all clothes that Vlad had been wearing.

"If you leave them alone, I'll take care of them myself, but don't push your luck."

"Guests. This is also a service provided by our inn."

Zemina looked up at Vlad with a cruel smile that tried to appear friendly.

Today, Zemina's teeth looked unnervingly white to the boy.

"Since you're staying on the expensive fourth floor, you're a precious guest. It's only natural that we do everything for you."

"..."

Vlad knew that Zemina's words weren't just a joke.

Rose's Smiles, which was no different from Marcella's alter ego, was being transformed into an inn instead of a brothel according to her will.

In Jorge's absence, Marcella was striving to survive and do her best at the crossroads of life.

"I still don't have that much money."

"But you're staying for free. Just by being here, you're helping."

Marcella provides a comfortable place for the boy to rest, and the boy lends his name to Marcella.

"Will I be enough on my own?"

"That's up to Marcella to decide."

Vlad, who had long observed the struggles between organizations, was worried that he alone would be able to suppress them, but from Marcella's perspective, it seemed like it could work.

Since Josef is the mayor of Shoara and the second son of the Bayezid family, he is a talented person, so if not known elsewhere, at least within this city, he will be worthy of a reputation.

"Come to the dining room. Marcella prepared lunch."

Zemina, who was busy leaving the room, came back with an expression of regret and held out her hand to Vlad.

"I almost forgot this. Take it, Sir Knight."

"I'm not a knight yet. There's no need to go through all this trouble..."

Vlad was about to say something to Zemina, but he closed his mouth upon seeing the handkerchief she handed him.

It was made of luxurious silk with someone's name embroidered in golden thread.

"It seems clear to me that you are Lady Alicia's knight."

"This... couldn't be helped."

Vlad wanted to explain in more detail if possible, but seeing Zemina forcing a smile, he decided to keep quiet.

There's a time for everything, and now wasn't the right time to clear up misunderstandings.

"It was worth sending the sword along with cutting off the hair. You've made quite a name for yourself."

"Thank you for thinking so..."

Bang!

Before he could finish his sentence, Zemina slammed the door and left. Vlad raised both hands and shrugged.

"...Was doing just fine, as always."

Vlad scratched the back of his head while looking at the closed door where the girl had left.

Zemina probably wouldn't even know that Lady Alicia was the Dowager Baroness of Deomar, let alone that the handkerchief she received was handed over through complex political calculations.

Perhaps even if she did know, her reaction wouldn't have changed from what it was now.

"Ironed them too."

Vlad looked at the clothes laid on the bed, remembering the dedication the girl had shown him on a cold winter day.

The red-haired girl's hand felt warm on the clothes the lady had given me.

"······."

Vlad did not crane his neck out for a long time as he changed the clothes that Zemina gave him.

The feeling of the fabric touching my body was different, but the warmth the girl gave him was no different from before.

It was good to come back.

Vlad thought so and craned his neck.

※※※※

"I said I'm sorry."

"..."

"Just buy me one. Something decent."

"There are things that money can't buy..."

Vlad sat at the table where Jorge always had his breakfast, spooning up the soup. 

Despite enjoying Marcella's soup that he missed, the boy couldn't easily calm down. The worn leather armor he was wearing seemed to affect his demeanor as if he were protesting.

"I liked this, you know."

"Yeah... It's fine armor."

The old man, understanding the boy's sentiments well, simply stirred the soup in front of him. 

The leather armor given only to promising squires by the Bayezid family was indeed something that couldn't be replaced with money, as the boy had said. 

The old man still vividly remembered the excitement he felt when he received that armor in his youth.

"Then, let's go to the city hall with me later."

"Why?"

Although the old man wanted to throw away the soup bowl in frustration at the boy's curt response, he held back. 

It was true that he had started the fight first, and he had not been able to properly control his strength, so he hurt the boy and even broke Bayezid's armor, so he could be said to have committed a great sin.

"Isn't it about time you showed your worth to the young master again? Your probation week is over, and if you mess up, your evaluation will come back, won't it?"

Vlad, who had been tickling, listened to the old man's words and began to think deeply.

Surely, there was no better way to improve his declining evaluation than to bring back some accomplishments. Moreover, seeing how Josef's attitude towards the old man was extreme, following his advice seemed like a wise choice.

"So, let's work together on something. I'll give you a generous raise after seeing it."

"What kind of work?"

"If you ask Zayar or Vordan, they'll give you at least one thing to do."

"....Shall I slice bread for you?"

Seeing the boy instinctively understanding when to withdraw and when to advance, the old man was left speechless.

"Why did you act that way back then?"

"When was that?"

"...Just slice the bread."

Seeing the boy's eyes widen as if he had no idea what he was saying, the old man just clicked his tongue.

'He's not going to be easy to handle.'

The old man felt pitiful as he looked at the boy, who was so clever, and thought about how Josef must have suffered.

"But you still have to pay for the armor that you broke."

"..."

But since he was the one holding that clever boy in his hands right now, the old man had to pay for it.

※※※※

Unable to enter the city hall due to the probation order, Vlad settled in the stables outside.

"Feeling better now?"

"I'm feeling a bit better after resting."

"I've been worried sick about you until you got here."

Gott, now the stablemaster of Shoara, greeted Vlad.

"Are you up for it?"

"What could be bad? I get paid well, get plenty of food, and a good place to sleep. Plus, I heard there's going to be a special bonus this time."

"....How much are you getting paid?"

When Vlad asked, Gott waved his finger and said, "Even though we're close, that's not something you ask."

"You swindler."

Vlad's anger surged as Gott mentioned getting paid well.

Vlad's formal status was a squire, and the position of squire in the Bayezid family was like an assistant and apprentice to the knights.

In other words, Vlad had never received any salary other than the pocket money given to him by Josef.

"But still, you got a lot of stuff like armor and clothes, captain."

"..."

However, Vlad had nothing to say in response to Gott's words. 

The support, tangible and intangible, provided by Oksana and Josef to him was worth far more than mere gold coins. Even just the position of being Zayar's squire could potentially bring hundreds of gold coins as gifts from other families.

"Anything unusual happening lately?"

"It's been a few days since I arrived."

Gott, who was sweeping his horse as if he didn't care about the question asked, confirmed that no one was there and quickly turned his head to whisper to Vlad.

"There have been rumors."

"Oh, really?"

The relationship between the two, like that of a crocodile and a bird, was still intact.

Vlad's mouth started to curl up as he listened to Gott's whispering.

"The night guards say they've seen something strange."

"Tell me."

Although it was an uncertain rumor, there was certainly something intriguing about Gott's words.

"They say there's a pitch-black horse that keeps looking towards the castle gate from afar. When they approach to see what it is, it disappears."

"A horse?"

Vlad seemed to understand why Gott was whispering.

A scene from the foggy village began to emerge in his mind.

"At that time, they said a headless knight was riding a ghostly horse."

".....Yeah, he did."

A pitch-black horse watching over Shoara in the dark of night. And trying to approach but disappearing too quickly to get close.

Gott's speculation certainly had some merit.

"Maybe so."

"Be careful. You're still on probation."

After hearing Gott's words, Vlad stood up briskly and straightened his clothes.

"Despite being on probation, it seems like I have some work to do."

"Huh?"

"Get yourself ready too."

"Yes?"

Vlad put his hands on his hips and looked at the old man approaching in front of him.

The afternoon sun was almost gone, casting a glow on the old man's forehead.

"Hey brat, let's go!"

"You could at least call me by my name."

The old man laughed, saying he had brought some work to do.

The paper the old man was holding had a picture of a pitch-black horse drawn on it.

"It would be nice to receive extra pay."

"Well..."

Seeing the mischievous expression on the boy's face, Gott tossed the solo file he was holding into a bucket.

"I haven't even had a chance to rest!"

"Right."

Vlad broke Gott's sweet rest and smiled brightly.

If you can't ride a horse, then get the person who can.

That was the decision the boy had made.