WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 83

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Alhad Den (1)

"......?"

"Did that... cat just...?"

The guests in the inn all startled at Lulu's words.

Since she'd done nothing but sleep since before they even walked in, everyone had simply assumed she was a pet cat.

She really takes to people's hands well. Is that orc a druid? I want to pet her too.

That was about the extent of what people thought when they looked at the black cat on the table.

But now that it had come out that Lulu wasn't an ordinary cat but a talking one, the room was thrown into shock.

Everyone, that is, except one.

The big man who'd been heading back to his table after his companion talked him down had no idea what had just happened.

He'd turned his back to them, so he'd missed Lulu speaking.

He came to a dead stop, then slowly turned around.

His face, already flushed with drink, went redder still.

The veins bulging at his temples and his bloodshot eyes said everything about his state of mind.

"You little punks, trying to weasel your way out of this..."

"No, Trant! That wasn't him who said it..."

"Then who was it, the orc? Either way, one of you two must've disguised your voice just to mess with me!"

"Neither of us said it!"

"Then who did?"

"Th, that cat did..."

The big man, Trant's companion, pointed at the table.

There sat the cat, eyes still hazy like it hadn't fully woken up.

The moment it locked eyes with Trant, it tilted its head for a second, then slumped right back down.

And promptly fell back asleep.

"You out of your mind? What? A cat did what now?"

"No, seriously, just now that cat really..."

"I might be drunk, but I'm not that drunk. If you're gonna spout that kind of nonsense, quit trying to stop me and just watch."

"......"

"Ha. A cat that talks? If there's a cat like that, I'll eat my own hand."

Trant, furious beyond reason, stomped his way over to the table where the cat lay sleeping.

His expression made it clear that nothing anyone said was going to stop him.

Airen looked at Lulu with eyes full of disbelief.

'She was sleeping so peacefully, and now she wakes up and says something like that...'

It wasn't that he thought his little sister was wrong.

Kiril's opinion had some merit, in that it could nip pointless trouble in the bud before it started.

It was just that Airen wasn't built for that kind of thing.

But right now, the situation was completely different.

If they'd just stayed quiet, this whole thing would have blown over fine. Saying something like that now was pouring oil onto a dying fire.

'Did she say it half asleep? If I wake her up now, she probably won't even remember saying it...'

Airen looked at the man they'd called Trant.

The misunderstanding had already hardened in place. Actually, calling it a misunderstanding wasn't quite right either.

Lulu was part of their group, after all.

Which meant they couldn't just brush it off by saying it wasn't Kubharu or himself who'd spoken.

It left a sour taste in his mouth.

But Kubharu was unbothered.

Perfectly calm, even with a faint smile on his face, he looked at Trant and spoke.

"Hey there, big fellow."

"What? Getting scared now, orc?"

"Of course I'm scared. I'm a fortune-teller. I've got no interest whatsoever in fighting a mercenary like yourself."

"That so? Well, too bad, because I'm interested in..."

"That thing you just said. Did you mean it?"

"Huh?"

"About eating your own hand if there was a cat that could talk."

"Ha, what's this about all of a sudden..."

"How about we make a little bet?"

Trant's face went even redder.

He figured this orc was just trying to change the subject because he was scared of the fallout.

He sucked in a breath, ready to explode.

But Kubharu spoke faster.

"If this cat can't speak human words, I'll apologize however you like. Want to hit me? I'll take it. Want me on my knees? Down I go. Want money? I can give you that too."

"What is this...?"

"But if this cat can talk? Well, making you eat your own hand seems a bit much, so I'll let that slide. Instead, your side picks up our whole group's meal tab for today. How's that sound? Course, you don't have to take the bet. If you're too chicken, that's fine too."

"......You son of a. Fine! Let's see it, then!"

Trant answered loudly and kept going, spitting out threats about killing them if they tried any sneaky ventriloquism tricks behind his back, his expression thoroughly murderous.

But nobody watching took his bluster seriously in the slightest.

Not the other guests who'd been watching the argument, not the innkeeper wringing his hands over the commotion, not even the other mercenaries who'd come in with Trant.

Sensing the mood had turned strange, Trant looked around.

'What? Don't tell me...'

Kubharu flashed a broad grin at the big man, whose face was slowly hardening.

He gave Airen the same smile, cleared his throat with a small cough, and shook Lulu, who was still fast asleep, awake.

"Lulu, wake up. This isn't the time for napping."

"......"

"Lulu, Lulu!"

Somehow she'd fallen into a deep sleep in that short span, and no amount of shaking would rouse her.

But once Kubharu lifted her bodily into the air, there was no staying asleep after that.

Dangling in midair with her back stretched long, Lulu got a serious look from Trant.

"Hey. You... can you really talk?"

"......Who's this? This ugly guy?"

"......"

Trant ground his molars as he watched the black cat rub its eyes with a front paw while it spoke.

Kubharu was still smiling.

He spoke to Lulu, who had a question mark floating over her head.

"Lulu."

"Hm?"

"Order whatever you like for dinner tonight, as much as you want."

* * *

Airen Farreira's group had managed to avoid a fight thanks to Kubharu's improvised bet.

But once Lulu had fully woken up, she went and found the mercenaries Trant belonged to, and bowed her head.

It wasn't about Kiril. It was because of the "ugly" comment she'd made at the end.

"Trant, right? Sorry! I woke up and there was a face way too close to mine, and it startled me."

"......"

"You're not ugly! Not exactly handsome either, but just, you know, ordinary looking!"

"......"

"You're still upset, huh. What should I do? Want a massage? As an apology, I'll rub everyone's shoulders here."

"What? Fine. Lulu, was it? I'll accept your apology. Starting with me..."

"Hey! I never said I'd accept yours yet!"

"Trant, so what are you gonna do if you don't take it? You didn't listen to me, made that bet on your own, lost, got your money taken, and now you want to go pick another fight?"

"......"

"Just let it go already. I want to try getting a massage from a cat. Lulu! Trant's fine with it now. So hurry up and do me first!"

"Got it!"

"Ohh, ohhh... that's the spot... aah."

Peace returned to the inn thanks to Lulu's soft-pawed massage service, and Airen let out a sigh of relief before finally heading off to bed.

'We won't be seeing each other again anyway, so there shouldn't be any more trouble.'

That turned out to be wrong.

Maybe it was because their destinations lined up.

Or maybe it was just coincidence.

They visited the same village the next day, and the day after that, and stayed at the same lodging house every time.

And every time, the man named Trant looked at them with clear displeasure.

Thankfully he never picked another fight like before, but that look alone was uncomfortable enough.

A week had passed, and today was no different.

Watching the mercenary group walking ahead of them, Airen asked Kubharu,

"Looks like we're going to overlap again this time too, huh?"

"Can't be helped. I'm not sure if Derinku is their destination, but it's pretty clear they've got business on the other side of the mountains."

"So we'll end up traveling together after all."

"Probably?"

Kubharu nodded.

Right now they were in a city near the Alhad Mountains, and to reach Derinku, they'd have to cross over the mountains.

But a large group of bandits lurked along that route, so it was best to travel with as large a group as possible.

That was exactly why Airen's group was trying to join up as merchant caravan escorts.

"There'll be a simple test, but you shouldn't have any trouble with it."

"I won't have trouble either!"

"Hm, well, I doubt they'll make a cat sit through a test too..."

"Kubharu, are you confident?"

"Let me say it again. I, Kubharu, am an orc fortune-teller, and orc fortune-tellers are a symbol of good luck. Any caravan would welcome me the moment I said I wanted to join."

Lulu shook her head at Kubharu's overflowing confidence, and Airen smiled.

They made their way toward the merchant caravan, trading light conversation the whole way.

But Trant, the mercenary walking a step ahead of them, wasn't feeling nearly so light.

Their voices kept drifting over to him, and he scowled.

'Damn it. That little punk and all his posturing!'

He couldn't stand the lot of them.

And out of all of them, the punk named Airen was the one he couldn't stand the most.

More than the orc with his slick talk who'd proposed that bet, more than the cat that called him ugly.

Because that kid was a swordsman.

Or rather, because that kid, who didn't act like any swordsman worth the name, went around pretending to be one.

Skin too pale, like he'd never worked a hard day in his life.

The carelessness of calling himself a swordsman while not even carrying a sword.

And on top of all that, the way he tossed off the name of Ian, Hall Master of the great Krono Fencing Hall, like it was nothing.

However he looked at it, the kid was nothing but a green amateur drunk on the atmosphere that the title "swordsman" gave off.

No doubt he'd never put in any real effort at all, just gotten intoxicated on the aura the word carried.

'Ticks me off just thinking about it again. How can he talk about Hall Master Ian so lightly?'

Trant scowled deeper, remembering that moment.

That kid probably had no idea.

No idea how remarkable it was that Ian, a commoner by birth, had climbed to the very top of the continent.

No idea what an incredible feat it was that Kun, who matched him in skill, had achieved.

No idea how much hope and courage that had given to so many commoners because of it.

Anyone who understood that would never have compared men like an innkeeper or a clothing shop owner to those two, not even as a joke.

Of course, that was just Trant's own thinking.

Airen hadn't spoken lightly of Ian or any of the other swordsmen.

If anything, he'd tried harder than anyone to understand and appreciate the hardships they must have crossed to reach the heights they had.

But in the mind of a man drunk on liquor, Airen was nothing but a green fool who looked down on swordsmen, and that impression hadn't budged an inch in the week since.

Which was exactly why...

'This time, I'll show him properly!'

Trant made up his mind. He'd show the kid a gap in skill so vast he wouldn't even dream of measuring up.

"Haaap!"

Whoosh!

Standing before the caravan's chief guard, he swung his sword with everything he had.

He put in more effort than even the time he'd first performed swordsmanship to earn his Mercenary Plate.

He wanted his overwhelming skill to wreck the composure of that blond punk who thought so little of the title "swordsman."

Maybe his feelings got through somehow.

The caravan's chief guard spoke with a satisfied look.

"Hm, you pass. Young as you look, your swordsmanship is impressive."

"You flatter me. I've just worked a bit harder than most."

Hearing the praise, Trant bowed his head respectfully.

Then he glanced over toward Airen Farreira.

The look in his eyes practically asked, did you see how good I am?

But the kid showed no particular reaction.

He simply stood there before the chief guard with the same blank expression as always, the same slick-looking orc beside him, and that same insufferable cat perched on his shoulder.

But it didn't matter.

He'd find out soon enough, once his own test came around.

How different the chief guard's expression would be when dealing with him, Trant, compared to dealing with that kid.

How embarrassing it would be to end up not hired as a paid guard but tagging along as dead weight, forced to pay an escort fee instead.

Now he'd find out for certain...

"Hm! A Silver rank Mercenary Plate, and at such a young age... truly impressive. No need for a test."

"Is that so? Understood."

"......?"

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