WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

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◈ Raised by a Ruthless Swordsman ◈

Chapter 10: Righteousness Escort Agency

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Even without exchanging a word, he had somehow noticed. It seemed one needed sharp instincts to work in a place like this.

Still holding his dishcloth, the waiter quietly approached and sat across from me, barely settling onto the edge of the chair.

"Sir. About that escort agency you asked about."

Even after bringing it up, the waiter's eyes kept drifting toward the table.

His gaze lingered on the half-eaten fish and cooling rice, and he smacked his lips without realizing it. He must not have had a proper meal while running around the inn all day.

I set down my chopsticks and pushed the plate toward him.

"Please, have it. I've had enough."

"Hehe, thank you. But sir, you can speak casually to me. You don't need to be so polite to someone like me."

Without bothering to refuse, he adjusted his seat. Still mindful that he was before a guest, he cautiously picked up a piece and put it in his mouth. His eyes widened, but he continued speaking as he chewed.

"I heard a protection convoy bound for Yeongpa will be setting out soon. They're hiring more escort warriors too. The timing couldn't be better."

He looked pleased up to that point. Then his voice trailed off.

"...But that place is, well..."

The waiter swallowed the food in his mouth and lowered his voice further.

"It's supposed to be the biggest escort agency in this area. They say it's close with the magistrate's office, so nobody dares mess with it. The treatment is good, so lots of people want in. Folks who are handy with a blade line up for it. Unless you're quite skilled, you can't even put your name forward..."

His voice faded as he glanced at me. He had told me about a good position, but he did not seem sure I could get in.

Still, I was in no position to boast either.

Folks who were handy with a blade. I had no idea what level that meant.

For ten years in the mountains, Hyeonam had been the only person I crossed swords with. I had defeated Hyeonam only once, in the end. Even then, it had been little more than forcing a victory through superior stamina.

The bandits who attacked the village had been no trouble. But they could not be a standard to judge by. What could I measure by cutting down people who did not even know how to hold a sword?

Which side would escort warriors be closer to? Hyeonam's side, or the bandits'? Or somewhere in between?

I casually asked the waiter, who was picking apart the remaining fish, whether escort warriors were truly that skilled.

The waiter shrugged as he chewed.

"How would I know anything about swords? Still, I know this much. You remember those damned Black Snake Gang bastards from earlier? They're a fair bit of trouble around here."

He lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"I heard they once went to cause trouble at that escort agency. But two escort warriors beat them half to death, and they had to crawl out. Since then, the Black Snake Gang hasn't even dared show its face near the place."

Yet those men had not looked particularly formidable either. They had been fierce enough while throwing their weight around the inn, but I had not seen them draw and swing their sabres. There was no way for me to judge their skill.

In the end, I would not know until I faced them.

Come to think of it, the boy had only been sent out during the short time I went to buy clothes. Yet in that brief span, he had found out where the escort agency was, when the convoy would leave, and even gathered all those rumors.

The waiter seemed to have forgotten his stray thoughts by then and was carefully picking apart the rest of the fish. Even with his cheeks stuffed full, he looked thoroughly satisfied.

As I watched him, an old memory surfaced: the day I was dragged away from home by the elder ten years ago. Yeona, crying as she clutched at my clothes in the yard.

Whenever she was given something to eat, she too would stuff her cheeks until they bulged like that. If she was alive, she would be seventeen now. Yet the face I remembered was always frozen at seven.

"You did well."

The waiter stopped chewing and broke into a broad grin, as though he had heard something remarkable.

When I casually asked his name and age, he answered through a mouthful of rice, his words muffled. Thirteen. Abok.

I loosened my money pouch, took out another ten coins, and placed them before him.

Abok's gaze went back and forth between the coins and my face. Then he sprang to his feet and bowed so deeply his waist nearly folded.

"Oh, sir! You don't need to do this much..."

Just then, someone shouted, "Waiter!" from the other side of the inn. Abok swallowed his mouthful, cried, "Yes! I'm coming!" and swiftly scooped up the coins before running off.

The clatter of dishes and the voices of the other guests once more filled the space he had left behind.

Watching him go, I cleared my place, rose, and headed upstairs.

I returned to my room and shut the door. After locking it securely, I removed my sword and placed it by my pillow. Then I sat cross-legged on the bedding.

I had no idea what would happen when I went to the escort agency tomorrow. The waiter said people skilled with blades lined up for the position, but I did not even know how I was supposed to show my skill.

I steadied my breathing and slowly guided the energy in my dantian along the path I circulated every morning and evening. From the dantian, up my spine to the crown of my head. Then past my face and chest before returning to the dantian.

After clashing with the bandits, my energy had remained just below eight-tenths. Each circuit filled it by the slightest amount.

As always, it accumulated slowly. Only after circulating it for a full four hours did it rise well above eight-tenths. I had spent four whole hours merely to replenish that much.

There was nothing new about it. Only once, when it truly mattered. Repeating the same vow to myself, I pulled my sword close and lay down.

* * *

Perhaps because of last night's energy circulation, my body felt much lighter when I opened my eyes. Pale light filtered through the small window.

I got up, adjusted the clothes I had bought yesterday, and fastened my sword at my waist. After feeling around my pillow once more to make sure I had not left anything behind, I left the room.

Downstairs, the inn was quiet unlike the evening before. Only a few travelers sat scattered about, eating an early meal.

Abok hurried between them, spotted me, and brought over a steaming bowl of porridge without being asked. It was a thin porridge made from millet mixed with something else, but the hot food eased my empty stomach.

Without speaking, I finished the bowl.

As my table was being cleared, I called Abok over and asked again which direction the escort agency was.

With his dishcloth slung over his shoulder, Abok explained in detail. He even gestured as he told me which way to take the main road, which bridge to cross, and which alley to turn down.

He was much more thorough than when he had explained the way to the clothing shop yesterday. He even seemed excited, as though it were his own business. I carefully committed his directions to memory.

After paying, I left the inn. As I crossed the threshold, I sensed someone calling behind me and turned to see Abok standing outside the entrance.

He clasped his hands and bowed, as if wishing me well. Even when I gestured for him to go inside, he stayed there, waving for quite a while longer.

I raised a hand to him once before turning away.

The streets were just waking up. The sounds of shutters opening and stalls being set out filled the air, while steam from boiling water rose beneath the eaves.

Following the directions I had been given, I set off along the main road as more people began to fill it.

* * *

The streets gradually grew crowded. I followed the main road down, crossed a stone bridge, and turned into the second alley.

When I emerged from the alley, the road widened, and a large building appeared on one side.

A long wall enclosed it, and several roofed buildings could be seen beyond it. A black signboard hung above the gatehouse at the center, its four gilded characters declaring Faithful Escort Agency.

The paint was still vivid, so it did not seem to have been hung long ago.

The gates stood wide open. People and carts passed constantly in and out. I approached them.

A man standing beside the gate watched the traffic coming and going, then noticed me. Before I could ask anything, he spoke.

If I had come to apply as an escort warrior, I was to go inside, write down my name, and wait. His tone and expression made it clear that he found the matter bothersome.

I crossed the gate. A wide courtyard came into view. A group of people had gathered along one side, easily more than twenty at a glance.

Their clothing varied. Some wore proper martial attire reinforced with leather, while others wore shabby hemp clothes with only a sword at their waist.

Some carried swords on their backs, others wore them at their waists, and some stood with spears planted before them. Though they seemed mixed together, each kept a certain distance from the others. They did not appear to be one group.

They said the agency was hiring more escort warriors. So many had gathered from the very morning.

A table stood apart from the group, with a man seated behind it. Every applicant went before him, then withdrew to the corner of the courtyard.

I likewise stopped before the table. The man did not even look up, holding a brush in his hand.

"Name."

"Jin A-pyeong."

The man wrote something on the paper.

Then he pointed with the tip of his brush toward one side of the courtyard and told me to wait there. He added only that they would call people in one at a time, and that the escort captain would personally assess their skill.

I went where he indicated and took a place at the edge. A few people nearby glanced at me, but that was all. No words were exchanged.

After waiting for about fifteen minutes, a man emerged from deeper in the courtyard. When he stood before the group, the murmuring died down. He looked at the paper in his hand and called out a name written on it.

The person called left the group. Everyone's eyes followed their back as they followed the man into the inner courtyard.

About seven or eight minutes later, the man came back out and called another name. What had happened to the person who went inside? Perhaps there was a separate exit to prevent a commotion.

After that, they were called in one at a time in the same manner. Most took around seven or eight minutes, though some took a little longer. At about that point, the man always returned to call the next person.

By the time the sun had climbed high, those who had arrived before me had all disappeared, and later arrivals had taken their place.

Yet the group was no different in size from before. That gave me some idea of how many applicants there were.

At last, the man with the paper came out again and called a name.

"Jin A-pyeong."

I stood and walked toward him.

"Are you Jin A-pyeong?"

"I am."

The man looked me over once, then turned as if telling me to follow. I followed him deeper into the courtyard.

After passing through a short corridor, my view opened up. It was a wide clearing enclosed by walls. The ground on one side was darker and more firmly packed than elsewhere, as though countless feet had passed over it.

Several weapons stood at its edge. Wooden swords, wooden sabres, and wooden spears. Smooth wooden weapons with no sharpened edges.

And at the center of the clearing stood a man.

His hair was gray in places, and he looked to be around fifty. He was not tall, but his shoulders were broad and his waist thick. Quite a bit of white showed through his short-cropped hair, and his sun-darkened face was expressionless.

He spoke.

"I'm Ma, the escort captain."

"I'm Jin A-pyeong."

"What weapon do you use?"

"A sword."

At Escort Captain Ma's gesture, an escort warrior standing nearby chose a wooden sword from the edge of the clearing and brought it over.

As I took it, memories of that time suddenly came back to me.

For ten years, I had been with a single wooden sword. Even after I began carrying a Real Sword, I had not thrown it away and used it from time to time.

Hyeonam had personally carved it and tossed it to me. Its grain was rough and knotted, and it looked crudely made, but whatever it had been carved from, it never broke despite ten years of swinging it.

After gripping it until my hands blistered, the hilt had become perfectly familiar to my hand. And now, it was likely guarding Hyeonam's grave in the mountains.

I gave the weapon in my hand a few swings. Its weight and the grain beneath my palm differed from the old one. But that was all.

I set aside what had lingered at my fingertips and gripped the wooden sword again.

Escort Captain Ma stood at one side of the clearing, waiting for me.

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