WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

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◈ Sword Master of the Fallen Kingdom

Chapter 14

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What Was Lost and What Was Gained (3)

From the moment he first took the job, he'd had a rough idea.

The suspicion hardened into certainty after the four riders attacked at noon.

This world was nothing like Earth. Uncharted dungeons, ancient ruins buried by time. In a world where mana existed as a living mystery, magical tools, relics, and artifacts imbued with special power were everywhere. Ancient ruin artifacts especially, many of them impossible to replicate or restore with any current technique.

A faint ripple of mana, felt across various points on the cargo wagon. Monsters converging in unnaturally large numbers. The coordinated assault by knights and soldiers.

Piecing the whole thing together hadn't been hard. This was an age where overwhelming strength was power itself. Anyone transporting a large haul of relics, things whose worth couldn't simply be measured in coin, was a natural target. And anyone bold enough to strike at House Metis had to be another high-ranking noble.

"No answer. Did you suddenly lose the ability to speak?"

Informality and bluntness both. Kyle's sharp words rang through the office. The count needed a moment before he could respond.

"You! Don't you think you're going too far!"

As expected, Mikhail, standing behind the count, flared up. The loyal middle-aged knight was red in the face, hand hovering near his sword.

"So?"

"Wh, what?"

"I think I've shown about as much respect as someone trying to swindle me deserves."

"......."

"I wonder if you'd be this polite if I were a noble. Rather than just a lowly mercenary."

Words no one should dare say to a count and his favored knight. Heresy, technically. Grounds for losing your head on the spot.

But that was for an ordinary mercenary.

Kyle had burned through seven premium mana stones. He wasn't about to let this slide, not without getting at least what he was owed. Cutting down the middle-aged knight and taking the count hostage, if it came to that, had already crossed his mind.

Not that it would have been impossible. With enough intent, he could have wiped out a decent-sized house in a single night.

Kyle counted the remaining mana stones in his head. Watching Mikhail with a disinterested gaze, he reflexively brushed the scabbard of the sword resting across his knees. The middle-aged knight's body gave a single, involuntary flinch.

"That's enough, Sir Mikhail."

The count gathered himself and raised a hand to stop his knight.

"Phew... I'll apologize first. I wasn't deliberately trying to test you. I thought the compensation I had in mind was reasonable, but it seems we have a difference of opinion."

The count lifted his teacup with a dignified gesture and settled into a look of calm, as though nothing had happened. Watching him lie so effortlessly made Kyle's mouth curve into a dry, hollow laugh.

A difference of opinion?

"Fine. I'll be straight with you. You're right."

Clink.

The count set down his teacup, expression turning grave. Kyle held him in a cold stare for a moment. Then the count began laying out the full story.

"What the Narme Trading Company was transporting wasn't ordinary goods. They were relics from an ancient ruin, one that hadn't been disclosed to the public."

A few months back, Count Metis had come across information about an undisclosed ruin. Valuable, to say the least.

Dungeons and ruins already known to the world had little left to offer, having been swept clean by famous mercenary companies and expeditions long ago. But a newly discovered site was different.

Simply being first was enough to generate enormous profit.

This ruin hadn't even needed clearing. No traps worth mentioning, no guardian spells.

Because of that, Count Metis had secured a large quantity of relics without spilling a drop of blood. The problem was transport. Moving goods of that scale in the open was asking for trouble. Like flies drawn to something sweet, opportunists would come swarming. Nobles with a weakness for relics and artifacts would be especially relentless.

"So I hid the relics among ordinary goods and had them transported under the guise of a regular merchant convoy. The head of the Narme Trading Company had been doing business with my family since my father's time, so he was the right choice for the job."

The head of Narme was more capable than he looked. Not too many wagons, not too large a company, and a guard force just a little larger than usual. He moved the relics as naturally as possible.

Somewhere along the way, anxiety got the better of him. In Traben, he hired three additional mercenaries, Kyle included, all hand-picked for their skill.

"So that's why the escort was heavy. Still, if you were moving real relics in bulk, you could have prepared even more thoroughly."

"Bolstering our forces any further would have given us away before we even started. The whole point was to move without drawing attention. We had to look like an ordinary merchant convoy, so there was no way around it. And there weren't many gold-rank mercenaries to begin with, so we didn't have the time to find them."

"A miscalculation, in the end. Without me, everyone would have been slaughtered in that last attack."

The count didn't deny it. Worn down from the earlier testing, if anything, he looked almost resigned. The lead knight had been commander-class, by any house's measure. Even with another gold-rank mercenary in Kyle's place, the outcome couldn't have been guaranteed.

"I never imagined we'd be found out. We were so careful."

The count let out a self-deprecating sigh. Mikhail, standing behind him, listened in silence, expression far more somber than before.

"Why did you send your second son? He could have died."

"Originally, my eldest was meant to go alongside Sir Mikhail. He's my son, but as a knight, he's truly exceptional. I don't suspect the head of Narme, but you never know how things can turn."

But Soren had volunteered to go in his elder brother's place.

Soren's pleading. The urgency of moving the relics as fast as possible.

"Sir Mikhail is my personal guard, one of the strongest in our household, so I thought there wouldn't be any trouble."

The count went on. Setting aside monster attacks, there should have been no surprises, he said. The preparations had been perfect. He'd never suspected a thing. He had no idea where the leak had come from.

"Which house sent those knights?"

The sack Kyle had handed over held the heads of the four riders he'd killed.

Fighters of that caliber, someone might recognize them.

"House Filein. The marquis's house. We've never gotten on well with them."

Kyle had heard of House Filein. Like House Metis, they were one of the prominent families with real influence in the Kingdom of Brendel.

"You'll have some trouble cleaning this up."

It wasn't just hired assassins who'd died. Those four knights had almost certainly been among House Filein's more capable members. Losing four of them and failing to seize the relics, the marquis would be furious within days.

"It's fortunate the fault lies with them."

The count said it like it was nothing. It was true, though, all the knights had been cloaked, hoods pulled low, concealing their identities.

They had trespassed on another house's land and attempted to raid a passing merchant convoy. Pressing the matter now would be admitting to a crime. On the surface, they had no ground to complain from. Either way, it was none of Kyle's concern.

"So, getting back to where we started, about the payment..."

"I'll give you a hundred gold. And for the magical tool or relic, I'll add one more on top of what I mentioned earlier."

"No."

"Not enough?"

"I don't need money."

"Then..."

"Do you happen to have a relic or artifact that can break a curse?"

"A curse?"

The count furrowed his brow.

"Nothing of that sort, I'm afraid."

"What about something that brings the dead back to life?"

"That's an amusing thing to ask. A way to bring back the dead? Nothing like that exists. Though if there's any lead to be found anywhere, it might be in the capital of the Church State of Crescent."

All magic had its price. Divine power was no different. Bringing the dead back to life was a direct defiance of nature's order. Even if resurrection were possible, it would cost the caster their own life.

The past couldn't be undone. He'd expected as much. Kyle looked quietly down into his teacup. His reflection on the still surface stared back at him, expressionless.

You've changed a lot, Kyle. I don't think your face looked like this when you first fell into this world.

"Do you have mana stones? Top-grade, close to a hundred percent purity."

Kyle drained the last of his tea and asked.

"We should have a few top-grade mana stones. But..."

"Then that's fine. I'll pass on the relics. A hundred gold and seven top-grade mana stones. That should be enough."

"Hmm... if that's what you want."

The count thought it over briefly, then accepted. A hundred gold and seven top-grade mana stones for a single escort job was more than generous, but given the relics they'd secured and what Kyle had actually done, it was a fair price to pay. If anything, it felt like getting off cheap.

"Ah, just one more thing."

Kyle had risen from his seat and was nearly out the door.

"Do you have any affiliations elsewhere?"

"Affiliations?"

"A mercenary doesn't always work alone. I've heard many of them belong to companies or guilds."

"None."

"Have you considered an official knighthood?"

The count asked with quiet hope. Rare, but not unheard of, knights who had lost their house sometimes sought a new lord to swear loyalty to.

"I appreciate the offer, but no. I don't want to be tied down."

"...I see."

The count murmured. A faint disappointment in his voice, nothing more.

"It's getting late. Since it's worked out this way, why not stay the night? The sun will be fully down soon."

"I'll take the thought."

"Surely this is better than a city inn?"

"I have a bad memory attached to those. A run-down inn suits me better."

Kyle's mind went back to what had happened at House Bylk not long ago. Just thinking about the girl who had come to his room in the middle of the night made his brow pull tight on its own.

"Then I can't force you."

The count said it while gazing at the sunset beyond the window.

"It was a pleasure. Travel safely. You can collect your payment directly from Soren."

***

Out of the office, Kyle glanced to his side. Soren was there, looking as though he'd been standing still the entire time.

"Oh, Kyle-nim."

"Were you waiting in front of the door the whole time?"

"Yes, well..."

Soren ducked his head, clearly embarrassed. Kyle looked away, past the castle walls and up at the sky. Just as the count had said, the sun would be fully down before long.

"How did it go with the payment?"

"We came to an arrangement. A hundred gold and seven top-grade mana stones."

"Is that right? I'm glad."

"The eighty gold I didn't collect and the seven mana stones, your father says I should get them from you."

"Ah, follow me, then. The mana stones are kept separately in the underground vault."

Soren gave an easy smile and walked ahead. Kyle followed in silence.

Their footsteps echoed through the empty corridor, steady and unhurried. Sunset bled in through the side windows and stained everything deep crimson. The brighter the light, the darker the shadows. For some reason, Kyle felt as though he'd seen this exact scene before.

The same dusk as yesterday. The same dusk, come tomorrow. But one day, he wouldn't be able to see it at all. A person's life wasn't endless. Like the people who had left him first.

At least today, he hadn't died.

"Come to think of it, how are you holding up?"

The thought surfaced on its own. Kyle directed it at Soren's back.

"That merchant road seems like rough going for a young lord raised in comfort."

"Ha ha... it definitely was."

"And you went looking for it."

"I wanted to change that much. Unlike my brother, I've always been told I'm weak by nature. No real talent for swordsmanship or magic, either. So for the first time, I pushed my father to let me go..."

Something close to resignation ran deep through Soren's quiet voice. Kyle could read enough of what lay behind it.

So that was why he'd been looking at Kyle with those envious eyes.

Now it made sense, why Soren had looked at Kyle with such warmth. It happened sometimes. People finding in others what they lacked in themselves, admiring without quite knowing why.

Common enough. More so in those with an unsteady sense of self. His own past self had been the same, once.

"You really are incredible, Kyle-nim. Building up that level of skill alone as a mercenary couldn't have been easy. And that sword energy..."

"Sword energy is just one of many ways to use mana. What matters is the time and effort you put in."

"Even so. I'm not really someone who sticks with things."

"Keep working at it steadily, and one day you'll see it pay off."

"Do you really think so?"

Soren stopped and turned around. His face was full of hope.

Kyle slowly parted his lips.

Yeah. Effort never betrays you.

The words didn't come out the way he'd thought. Normally he could have just said something hollow without a second thought, but today something felt different. The words he couldn't push out lingered in his mouth.

You know the truth.

Anyone can put in effort. Talent is another matter. Every person who succeeds has two things in common: extraordinary talent, and grueling effort to match. Trying hard doesn't guarantee you'll get there.

Swords and magic were even more unforgiving. An ordinary person who worked steadily could reach a certain point, but beyond that, the wall was absolute.

Those born with natural gifts cleared the desperate efforts of ordinary people like they were nothing. Cruel as it was, that was just how the world worked.

"Effort..."

Kyle forced his unwilling lips to move.

"...is something you build slowly. Keep moving forward, one step at a time."

"......."

"You'll get something good out of it. At least you'll be better than you were yesterday."

A careful mix of half-truth and something honest. Soren's expression lit up.

In that smile, Kyle saw his own past reflected. The worn, stained past when the people who mattered to him were still alive, when hope had not yet gone.

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