“So, he just walked out?”
The old knight who returned from an expedition asked the Quartermaster. It wasn’t a question born of misunderstanding the situation. He simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Yes. He said it fell within the scope of his orders and left the headquarters.”
“What a funny fellow.”
“Funny or not, what are you going to do about this, Commander?”
“Watch your tone. That’s insubordination.”
The Quartermaster snorted. Having worked together for decades on the Western Front, jokes like this were second nature to them.
“I’d been planning to officially assign him a banner since it felt like a waste for him to remain a free knight, but now he’s gone off already.”
“What do you intend to do? We can’t exactly treat him as a deserter.”
The fact that he couldn’t be labeled a deserter stemmed from Kriel’s unique circumstances. Kriel was never formally part of the Western Army. He was merely a mercenary hired on a short-term basis.
Kriel had strength but wasn’t someone who had garnered much attention. That changed when the Western Army’s eyes fell on him during the trial by combat that had taken place within the camp.
In that trial, Kriel acted as the representative of someone branded a “witch” and took down five knights in succession.
Because the trial had been set up from the beginning to frame the witch, even winning the trial by combat didn’t result in her innocence being acknowledged. They spread baseless rumors like, “The witch used the sorcery of the Abyss to interfere with honorable knights!” in an attempt to forcibly overturn the trial’s outcome.
The commander himself had approached Kriel who had been branded the witch’s minion and offered him silence from the crowd, authority within the camp, and guarantees for the trial’s conclusion. All in exchange for serving as the commander’s personal knight.
And so, Kriel had no direct superior above the commander in the chain of command. Since he had left to carry out the orders of his only direct superior, it couldn’t be considered desertion.
“Well, leave him be. If he wants to handle his discharge properly, he’ll have to meet with me eventually. When that happens, I’ll offer him the position of the army’s standard-bearer or even head knight of my family.”
“I suspect he’ll stubbornly insist on being discharged.”
“His skills are too good to waste, though.”
.
It was an undeniable truth, even for the Quartermaster, who often felt an urge to rebuke the Commander. Instead of agreeing with the ever-mischievous words of the aging Commander, he had no desire to see him grow even more full of himself. So the Quartermaster decided to naturally change the subject.
“The movements of the Holy Kingdom are becoming unusual.”
***
[So, are you heading off to find some Saint or Saintess? Do you even know anyone?]
Kriel shook his head. He might have known the witch to some degree, but it wasn’t the kind of relationship where he wanted to grow closer. After all, wasn’t she the reason his name was still registered in the military until now?
“I’m going to the Holy Kingdom. Saints and Saintesses tend to wander about, as you said, so it’s not exactly easy to meet them.”
Of course, his real intention was to use the trip to the Holy Kingdom as an excuse to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Western Army. Surely, the commander who acted like a senior officer would lose interest over time.
[Sounds good. It’s been a while since I’ve been there.]
“A while?”
Come to think of it, hadn’t that guy once said he’d held a position back in the days of the old United Kingdom? Sensing Kriel’s curious gaze, Orishin began to boast about his past.
[Before the races divided. Before the Abyss rose to power. Back when the lines between priests and kings were blurry!]
Kriel was perplexed as he recalled the setting of the Tirnanog RPG. It dawned on him that the “Old United Kingdom” Orishin referred to wasn’t the early days of the United Kingdom currently holding the Western Front but an ancient pan-racial federation from ages past.
“You’ve lived for quite a long time.”
[Indeed, I have. You see some truly strange things when you live that long.]
Orishin’s stories always started off sounding profound, only to devolve into bragging. He’d go on about how he had seen the three heroes who founded the United Kingdom or how he had once stood up to the legendary Fire Dragon Caladripa and lived to tell the tale.
“And how does such a famous spirit end up being taken down by the Abyss?”
[Damn it, you leave me speechless.]
“I’m not accusing you of anything. I just find it surprising. It’s the first I’ve heard of a method capable of corrupting an ancient spirit like you without some grand sacrificial ritual or large-scale offering.”
[Well… to be honest, I don’t know much about it myself.]
Orishin whose form consisted only of a floating head bobbed slightly as he offered an explanation that was hardly helpful. He claimed that when he came to his senses, his horns had somehow turned into two.
“So, all you can say is that you don’t know.”
[If I knew the origin of that curse, I would have lifted it myself. Honestly, that’s just unfair.]
Although the horse head spirit grumbled, it didn’t feel like genuine frustration. It was merely his usual banter.
[I think I’ve told my story already. How about yours? Back in Loran, I made a similar request, but you ignored it, didn’t you?]
“My story?”
Kriel paused in thought. The Tirnanog RPG. How he had become a character within the game. His struggle to escape the penalties of the Dark Knight class.
In the end, he had been unable to find a way to reconcile the Dark Knight’s skills with keeping his sanity intact. Instead, he had sealed the class’s unique skills and focused on honing the shared techniques available to knights.
Countless memories surfaced and faded, but there was only one thing he could say at the moment.
“I ended up in danger of being stuck in the military because I trusted the wrong person. Then I used you as an excuse to escape.”
[Ha, look at you getting all chatty when there’s no one else around.]
Kriel shrugged. As Orishin pointed out, keeping up the pretense of being a noble knight was something he only did in front of others. It wasn’t just far from his natural personality; it had nearly led to his capture by the military when he tried to protect someone oppressed, as befits a knight’s duty.
Now that he was far from the military, he wanted to relax a little. Unless he started recklessly spewing curses, opening up a bit in front of one or two people wasn’t going to tarnish his Nobility.
…Right?
As Kriel mulled over the Nobility gain-and-loss conditions in the game, Orishin’s voice reached his ears.
[How long will it take to get to the Holy Kingdom?]
“Even with my faster pace, I’d say about ten days.”
[You’re pretty fast!]
Kriel’s pace went far beyond what one might call “pretty fast”. The distance from the Western Army camp to the capital of the Holy Kingdom was typically a journey of over two weeks, even on horseback.
Unlike a horse that struggles to maintain speed in rugged terrain, Kriel dashed through the mountain ranges without slowing down, keeping his rest to a minimum. Even in such conditions, his speed was extraordinary. This remarkable speed was due to the power of Fighting Spirit which was a special energy cultivated by knights.
Kriel’s use of Fighting Spirit to enhance his body was the result of dedicated effort. He wanted to survive without relying on the dark powers of the Dark Knights, such as Bloodlust or Resentment.
As a knight class, Dark Knights naturally had their own specialized Fighting Spirit skills, but these were classified as Dark Fighting Spirit, created by fusing their abilities with Bloodlust or Resentment.
However, Dark Fighting Spirit held no appeal for Kriel, who valued a sound mind and a sound body. And so, several years had already passed since he had managed to acquire and diligently train in the more standard Fighting Spirit techniques used by regular knights.
After a week of his relentless journey, traversing mountains and crossing rivers in a rugged and wild fashion, Orishin finally asked him a question.
[By the way, you’re a knight, so how come you don’t have a horse?]
“It’s not just a horse I don’t have. I don’t have any money either.”
Orishin seemed momentarily at a loss for words before bursting into laughter.
[Kuhahahahahahaha! You’re a funny guy! Are you sure you’re the same noble knight I saw before?]
“That was in front of others. On the battlefield, a knight is like a paperweight.”
[A paperweight? You mean the thing you put on paper to keep it from flying away?]
Kriel nodded his head. It was a belief that had gradually taken shape, built on his own experiences of wandering from place to place while pretending to be a knight.
“Even if you falter yourself, you must not let others falter. Doubt yourself if you must, but always inspire confidence in others. After all, who would follow a commander they can’t trust?”
[Oh, really? But you’re hardly the type to lead anyone. From what I’ve seen, you prefer to wander around alone. You seem like the kind of guy who likes doing things solo.]
Kriel let out a faint laugh from behind his helmet.
“That’s why I don’t have a horse. If I had even a shred of charisma, wouldn’t the headquarters have given me a horse or something?”
[That’s… actually convincing!]
Kriel, however, quietly left out some inconvenient truths. In a world where mystical powers like magic and Fighting Spirit were commonplace, even military horses possessed their own abilities. Among them, the finest steeds were bred in the Holy Kingdom.
These horses were blessed with extraordinary self-healing powers and superior night vision. And so, they were prized on the Western Front. Yet when they saw Kriel, they spat in disdain and turned away. As a Dark Knight. He was naturally repulsive to ordinary creatures who adhered to the natural order, and to blessed beings he was not only distasteful but downright irritating, and often provoked aggression.
Riding an ordinary horse wasn’t an option either; they were terrified by Kriel’s very presence. It was clear that mounting anything was completely out of the question for him.
No wonder Dark Knights go out of their way to track down Bicorns for a contract.
Kriel cast a glance at Orishin. The ghost whose floating head resembled a horse’s didn’t look remotely suitable as a mount.
***
The capital of the Holy Kingdom. The sacred city of Temlis. It was a magnificent place where the Priest King chosen from among the clergy resided.
“Drop your weapon and raise your hands!”
“For the last time, I am not a spawn of the Abyss.”
Kriel found himself subjected to an abrupt and entirely unwelcome interrogation.
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