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◈ Paladin of a Ruined Order

Chapter 84

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Dickens

Elbridge and the others arrived at Riverford Barony.

Same as last year, the windmill on the hill turned lazily in the breeze.

Rombel said, "Peaceful territory, this."

It had been that way a year ago, and it was still that way now.

But Elbridge thought the faces of Riverford Barony's people weren't as bright as before.

"The lord's castle is that way."

Elbridge led the group.

They had no appointment, but there was no faster way to meet the lord than this.

A small stroke of luck came their way. On the road to the castle, they ran into a familiar old knight, Walter.

Elbridge walked up to Walter and offered a handshake.

"Sir Walter. It's been a while."

But Walter eyed Elbridge with some wariness.

"And who might you be, sir?"

"Elbridge. We hunted the wolf demonic beast together."

Walter looked doubtful for a moment, then noticed Marcus standing beside Elbridge.

Marcus gave a small bow, and only then did Walter clasp Elbridge's hand.

"Was that around last spring? You've changed so much I barely recognized you. Back then you were skin and bones, pitiful to look at, and now you're such a fine young man... Marcus. Good to see you too."

After Elbridge, Marcus shook Walter's hand as well.

Unlike most knights, Walter treated Marcus, a mere mercenary, without any airs. Same as ever, an easygoing man.

Walter led the group forward and asked Elbridge, "Sir Elbridge. Has something happened with your church lately?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You suddenly gained four seats. That's no small thing. Something major must have happened."

Walter was the second believer of the Order of the Rusted Shield. Though he himself had no idea of that fact.

"A great deal of it was thanks to you, Sir Walter."

"What did I do? Don't talk nonsense."

Walter laughed, apparently thinking Elbridge was joking.

But there were people in this world whose mere existence carried meaning. Walter was exactly that kind of person.

"Are you here to see the lord?"

"For now... yes."

"Good. I'll guide you there. And look at this, two more distinguished guests. A priest of the Order of the Golden Tray, and a brother of the Iron Anvil."

Rombel's eyebrow twitched slightly, but he didn't bother correcting Walter. He knew well enough there was no malice behind it.

"Sir Walter. How's the mood in the territory these days?"

"Honestly... not as good as before. Did you see the palisade around the edge of the territory?"

"I did."

Riverford Barony had no city walls.

There was an inner rampart circling the lord's castle, but it hardly counted as a real structure. The wall was far too low to matter.

Word was that Baron Riverford had tried building the inner rampart to establish his authority as lord, but gave it up after the territory's people complained too much.

Either way, a year ago, there had been nothing at all marking the boundary between Riverford Barony and the open fields beyond.

But things were different now. A palisade of sharpened wooden stakes now surrounded the territory.

"Demonic beasts keep showing up, and the people are on edge. That palisade was built because of them."

"That won't be enough on its own."

Walter nodded.

"Last autumn, Sir Oswald lost his life fighting a demonic beast."

Walter's voice stayed fairly even as he said it.

Over the past year Walter had aged a little, but he hadn't grown weaker for it, if anything he'd grown tougher. Battle and death had a way of hardening those who survived them.

"So the barony has two knights now?"

"We caught a bit of a break when the baron dug into his own pocket to hire an itinerant knight and some mercenaries. But how long that'll hold up... ugh. What am I doing, rambling like this in front of guests."

The old knight laughed, a little embarrassed.

The group arrived at the castle.

Perhaps because of the shortage of men, there wasn't even a guard posted at the entrance. Walter led the group up to the door of the lord's study and spoke through it.

"My lord. You have visitors."

"Show them in."

Given how loose things were around here, that was apparently the entire procedure for meeting the baron.

When Elbridge and the others entered, Baron Riverford looked mildly startled.

"And who are these people?"

"Sir Elbridge. You met him last spring."

"Elbridge, you mean... that thin fellow? My goodness, it's been a while. Have you been well?"

Over the past year, Baron Riverford's hair had gone noticeably grayer.

It was easy to guess how much he'd been through.

"And the others with you?"

"This is Marcus, a mercenary. And those two are..."

Heinz stepped forward.

"Heinz, eastern diocese head of the Order of the Golden Tray."

Baron Riverford nearly knocked over his inkwell in shock.

A diocese head of the Order of the Golden Tray wielded power beyond that of most nobles, incomparable to a small border lord like himself.

Baron Riverford shot up from his seat.

"Oh, please, sit, sit. Diocese Head. What brings you all the way to such a humble territory?"

"Archbishop Elbridge told me Viscount Dickens might be found in this territory."

"...Archbishop?"

Baron Riverford and Walter's eyes both snapped to Elbridge. Elbridge felt a little awkward.

"Sir Elbridge. Weren't you a paladin?"

"It just sort of happened that way."

An archbishop of even a mid-sized church held power that easily surpassed a border lord as well.

In times as chaotic as these, all the more so for an archbishop of a combat church.

And Elbridge wasn't someone you could place on the same level as any other combat church archbishop, either. Elbridge was, in a very real sense, the identity of the Order of the Rusted Shield itself.

Baron Riverford grew even more tense.

"I... I see. So then, might I ask why you're looking for Viscount Dickens?"

Vice Bishop Heinz answered plainly.

"Viscount Dickens is suspected of breaking the archdemon's seal."

For a moment, Baron Riverford didn't grasp what that meant.

Then his eyes went wide.

"Is that true?"

"It's only a suspicion for now."

Marcus added lazily, "For now."

Baron Riverford's hand trembled until he finally knocked over the inkwell.

Black ink spread across the table. But Baron Riverford had no attention left to spare for it.

"I've known Viscount Dickens for years, but... I had no idea he'd done something like that. None at all. None."

"We trust that. Where is Viscount Dickens now?"

"He returned to his territory."

Elbridge frowned slightly.

"Didn't you say every last person in Dickens Viscounty had vanished?"

Elbridge had never been to Dickens Viscounty himself.

But the odds that this information was wrong were vanishingly small. Unlike Elbridge, the Order of the Golden Tray had certainly sent someone to confirm whether the letter's contents were true.

"Viscount Dickens said he... no. Viscount Dickens said he intended to rebuild the territory somehow."

That made no sense. Rebuilding a territory wasn't something a single lord could accomplish alone.

Suspicion was hardening into certainty.

Elbridge said, "My lord. Please lend us one guide."

Baron Riverford assigned Sir Walter as their guide.

The choice made painfully clear just how frightened Baron Riverford was over the matter of Viscount Dickens.

Still, using a white-haired old knight as a guide was a little concerning.

"Sir Walter. Is this too much for you?"

"I'm a knight too. Trained my whole life. This is nothing."

"I thought you used to ride a horse."

Walter laughed sheepishly.

"How could I sit still while our baron empties out what little savings he has left? I sold off my remaining horse to help out too."

"You must think highly of Baron Riverford."

"It's not quite respect... more like fondness. Sometimes he feels like a son to me. I've watched over him since he was small."

"I'll keep that between us."

"No need. The baron already knows."

Walter smiled, the creases around his eyes deepening.

"Come to think of it, the baron said something not long ago. That we might get swept away by demonic beasts any day now, so why not abandon the territory and head to Solenion together."

A city the size of Solenion could weather most demon incursions well enough.

But Riverford Barony was different. Even a handful of strong demonic beasts, let alone a demon, could wipe it out entirely. There was a real chance Riverford Barony would meet exactly that end.

And yet Baron Riverford's choice hadn't been an easy one to make.

The things people take for granted are always the hardest to let go of.

"Then why are you still here in the territory?"

"Because the people refused to leave."

Baron Riverford seemed a bit slow and indecisive on the surface, but he was, in his own way, no ordinary man.

The idea of leading every last one of his people away was no ordinary notion. And bending his own will the moment his people objected was no ordinary thing either.

"Most people here have never known a world outside the barony. They don't want to leave their home."

"They'll die that way."

"When I said as much to him, the baron told me something. That ruin always walks slower than we think."

A well-known saying.

[Ruin walks slower than an old man's steps. But fools close their eyes instead of stepping out of its path.]

Baron Riverford had seen ruin coming. He'd even readied himself to escape it.

But his people chose to close their eyes and look away rather than flee from it.

And so, instead of leaving alone, the baron closed his eyes alongside them.

Baron Riverford might not be a brilliant lord. But he was, without question, a good one.

"I'll pray that Riverford Barony weathers the storm."

"May the Goddess of the Rusted Shield watch over our territory."

The Goddess of the Rusted Shield would surely watch over Walter. Her gaze alone simply couldn't carry him through every hardship.

Late the following night, Walter pointed into the darkness.

"That's Dickens Viscounty. It's been a while since I last came here."

Any inhabited city usually had at least a few lights burning even late at night. The same held true even for a small town.

But Dickens Viscounty was different. Not a single light showed, as if something had smothered them all.

The night wind carried the sound of birds. Less peaceful than eerie.

Through the birdsong, the goddess's oracle descended.

- Feels like a ghost might pop out any moment.

"Goddess. There's no such thing as ghosts in this world."

- It's a figure of speech. Elbridge. Your goddess knows better than anyone that ghosts don't exist.

Elbridge found himself less worried about nonexistent ghosts than about the fact that the Goddess of the Rusted Shield still hadn't gone to sleep.

If her sleep schedule got flipped around like this, it could cause real trouble. She might fail to grant her divine power at some crucial moment.

"Goddess. It's late. Wouldn't it be best to turn in for the night? Your bedtime keeps getting later lately."

- No need to worry, Elbridge. Your goddess can easily go a day or two without sleep.

"..."

- Since things have already turned out this way, it would be wiser to simply stay up through the night and rise early tomorrow.

Elbridge doubted that plan would go smoothly.

But further nagging might have bordered on disrespect, so he chose not to pray again.

Fwoosh.

The surroundings brightened a little. Elbridge looked over to see Walter holding up a lantern.

"My night vision isn't what it used to be, now that I'm older."

The moment Walter lit the lantern, someone shouted from a short distance away.

"Put out that light! Now!"

Instead of extinguishing the lantern, Walter raised it higher to see who the voice belonged to.

A young woman came briefly into view.

"I said put it out!"

The plea was urgent enough that Walter snuffed the lantern the instant he'd raised it.

Marcus called out toward the person in the dark. "Who are you? I heard nobody's left in Dickens Viscounty!"

The voice in the darkness answered, "First time here, huh?"

"Yeah."

"You should be thanking me for saving your lives. Ugh..."

The sound of footsteps followed, and the voice drew much closer.

"Don't get defensive. There's still plenty left to scavenge."

"Scavenge what?"

"You didn't come here for Dickens Viscounty?"

Marcus caught on and asked the unnamed woman, "You're here to steal whatever's left in the viscounty?"

"Don't play dumb. There's dozens of people just like you scattered around this territory, so no need to put on airs."

It was only natural for thieves to flock to a city emptied of people. Unclaimed wealth just lying around for the taking, after all.

Perhaps reading something into their delayed response, the woman in the darkness added, "Don't get defensive. Like I said, there's plenty to go around."

What was surprising was that even a full year after everyone had vanished, the looting still wasn't finished. By all rights, word should have spread and the place picked clean within a month or two.

Before Elbridge could ask anything, Marcus spoke up. "Why'd you tell us to put out the light?"

"Right, you wouldn't know. Light the place up and a Ghost Knight shows up."

"A Ghost Knight?"

"That's why nobody's finished clearing out Dickens Viscounty yet. Ghost Knights wander the city. They're especially sensitive to light, so be careful."

"Hm."

"There's a lot you need to know, so drop any idea of going off on your own and join our group. We've mapped out what's been picked clean and what hasn't..."

As the woman kept talking, the sound of small hoofbeats reached them.

Clop, clop, clop.

"Shit...!"

The woman in the darkness took off running.

But the group didn't run. They turned toward the direction the sound was coming from.

Clop, clop, clop.

The faint hoofbeats grew steadily louder.

'That's it, then.'

Something large was approaching, its shape visible in outline.

But the black shape moved through the dark night, hard to make out clearly.

Elbridge listened closely, gauging the distance between himself and whatever was coming.

'Three. Two...'

But before he could count down to one, instinct beat reason to the punch, screaming that something was wrong.

Striking first carelessly might expose an opening.

But experience told Elbridge that ignoring a gut feeling like this was never the wise choice.

'Now!'

Elbridge swung his sword. And,

Crunch.

He felt the tip of his blade sink into something hard.

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