WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

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◈ Sword Master of the Fallen Kingdom

Chapter 9

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The Nameless Mercenary (9)

Around the time the aftershock died down, something could be heard falling.

Thud, thud, thudding....

The great troll's head rolled across the ground. Blood seeped from the clean cut at its severed neck. The people in the clearing who had shielded their eyes from the blast and wind opened them one by one, looking toward the heart of the aftermath.

A silhouette had settled beneath the moonlight. A hood pulled low, a black cloak falling all the way to the ankles. The hair and eyes visible beneath the hood were jet black, the same shade as the cloak. The blade of the sword in Kyle's hand still shone a pure, brilliant white.

"......."

Silence stretched. Not one person dared to speak first.

Sword aura?

Pol stared at Kyle with trembling eyes. Even at a glance, the light in Kyle's hand looked far brighter than the red light the middle-aged man had possessed.

Cutting down a troll's head in a single blow. And on top of that, using sword aura.

The density of it was even greater than that of the middle-aged man, who seemed to be a skilled knight himself.

This was not something an ordinary silver-grade mercenary could do. Even a decent gold-grade mercenary would have to bow their head before that sword aura. As Pol struggled to sort through the chaos in his head, Kyle looked around with an indifferent air.

The goblins and orcs that had been about to charge stood watching him with trembling eyes, a complete reversal from moments ago, when they had been riding high on the troll's momentum. Kyle quickly counted the remaining monsters and swept his sword lightly in a horizontal arc.

Slash!

A shimmer rose in a straight line along the sword's path. The air warped, and the monsters' bodies split in half all at once.

Splat!

The bodies hit the ground, reduced to chunks of flesh. The white light on Kyle's sword slowly faded. From his empty left hand, fragments of brilliant white light drifted apart and scattered.

"What are the casualties?"

Kyle sheathed his sword smoothly as he spoke. The people who had been blankly staring at him turned to look at Pol, as though only now remembering he existed.

"Any deaths?"

"Deaths..."

"None?"

"...Yeah. A few injuries, that's all. Even those are light wounds."

Pol's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Is that accurate?"

Kyle looked steadily at Katrin and Veil, who were standing to one side.

"A-ah, yeah! That's right. No deaths. Thanks to you."

"What happened out there?"

Veil asked. Kyle glanced at the people still staring at him and answered.

"There was a variant."

"A variant? Don't tell me, the kind I'm thinking of?"

"Yeah. A variant goblin shaman."

"And it..."

"Dead. Along with the rest."

Kyle gave a brief account of everything: why goblins and orcs had been traveling together, why such a large horde had struck in the dead of night, and the story behind the variant goblin shaman pulling the strings.

"A variant..."

"Goblin shamans are the ones that use curses and spells, right."

"That bastard was controlling the monsters? The troll too?"

Murmuring spread through the clearing. Kyle looked down at the orc corpse sprawled nearby. Split in two, it lay dead with its eyes wide open.

"Hrrk, gh, gh..."

The Narme trade master was trembling in a corner, making strange sounds. Kyle glanced at them with cool eyes and said quietly.

"Are you going to keep on like this?"

Those who had been whispering among themselves fell abruptly silent.

"Treat the injured first. Then clean up and head east. With their core gone, there won't be any more attacks. Moving camp will take time, but at least it's better than sleeping here."

The order came from Kyle, not Pol, who was supposed to be overseeing the escorts. And yet the mercenaries and caravan members obeyed without a word. He could feel glances from the people moving busily around him, but Kyle paid them no mind. From the ornate trade master's carriage, a pair of eyes flickered into view and vanished.

***

After burning the monster corpses and traveling on for a stretch, the caravan set up a temporary camp at a decent spot. Past midnight, worn out from the sudden attack, everyone dragged their exhausted bodies along, lit campfires, and fell asleep.

Still, they didn't forget to post night watches. Those assigned to the middle shift let out small groans. Katrin was the exception. Thanks to Kyle and Veil's consideration, she had been given the last watch, and the moment the campfire was lit she tucked her bag under her head and fell into a deep sleep.

I'll rest while I'm sleepy and wake up for my watch at the end.

That thought dissolved in the tide of sleep.

Right, someone will wake me up when it's time....

"You're up?"

Cool morning air. Katrin slowly lifted her heavy eyelids at the now-familiar voice. A bright yellow light was rising over the pale sky. Nothing like the pitch black it had been when she first fell asleep.

Could it already be morning?

Realizing belatedly, Katrin bolted upright. Looking to the side, she found Kyle leaning against a tree trunk, poking at the campfire. She forced out her voice, which barely wanted to come, whether from the cold or the fatigue.

"What... time is it?"

"Probably six."

He answered as if it were nothing. The last watch was Katrin's responsibility. She should have been up by four, at the latest. But it was six.

"I... sorry."

Katrin bowed her head, her voice small.

"Don't apologize. I didn't wake you on purpose."

"How long have you been up?"

"From the start."

Kyle nodded toward one side. There was Veil, dozing with his halberd clutched to his chest, looking at least as exhausted as Katrin. With all that heavy armor, it was no wonder.

"He kept nodding off in the middle of his watch, so I just let him sleep properly."

"Then you..."

"Don't worry about it. I don't sleep much to begin with. One night is nothing."

He didn't say that the real reason was that he found it hard to trust them.

Words land differently depending on how you frame them. The same action could feel entirely different based on the packaging. Ten years living in this world had taught Kyle that lesson well. Even if those two had kept watch, he had planned to stay up the night regardless. No need to add unnecessary words when the situation was already painting him in a good light on its own. And Katrin did look genuinely moved.

"...Thank you."

Small as it might seem, in the mercenary trade, where you put your life on the line every day, these things carried real weight. Not only did it mean you wouldn't get a knife in the back, but a debt of gratitude could come back around when you needed it most.

Not that any of it particularly mattered to Kyle.

"Drink this. It'll settle your stomach."

Kyle handed her one of the three cups sitting over the campfire.

"Wow... this is good. What is it?"

Katrin took a careful sip, eyebrows rising slightly.

"Mist tea."

"Mist tea? Isn't that pretty expensive?"

"Not that expensive. Buy in bulk and you get a discount."

"Still, it's not cheap. Drinking tea as a hobby? You really do come across as nobility."

Katrin let out a soft laugh and sipped her tea. From not far off came the chirping of birds greeting the morning.

"Mmm..."

That was when Veil stirred. He hauled himself up unsteadily, groaning, clutching his head. Looking around with bleary eyes, he spotted the two already up and his eyes went wide.

"Oh, you're both awake."

"Morning."

"...Katrin? Kyle? How long was I out?"

Kyle handed him a cup instead of answering. Veil took it almost without thinking, sipped, and broke into a smile.

"...This is good."

"Right? He says it's mist tea."

"Mist tea? Isn't that quite expensive?"

Well, maybe not so surprising after all.

He muttered to himself and quietly accepted it. This was the same Kyle who had loaded his stew with pricey spices. He carried a spatial pocket around, for that matter. Getting fussed over a handful of tea leaves would have been the odder reaction.

"Finish up and get moving. It's time to leave."

Kyle, warmed by the cup of tea, got to his feet and put out the campfire. That was the last of the morning's quiet. The other mercenaries and caravan members were rising one by one around them. Time to set out.

***

The caravan pressed on eastward. Their destination was the same as always, Dornel, home of the House Metis.

Fortunately, no one had been seriously hurt, so their pace didn't slow. Minor injuries were a fact of life for mercenaries, and a handful of caravan members who couldn't push through were loaded onto wagons, moaning as they were carried along.

"They're really laying it on thick. Like trade master, like caravan hand, I suppose."

"Katrin, you can't hold ordinary people to the same standards as mercenaries. We make our living by the sword, but they're different."

"Even so, a little spit on the wound and they'd be fine."

Katrin grumbled, watching the caravan members being carted off in wagons. Thankfully, there had been no significant attacks since that first night.

The mood was as peaceful as when they'd first set out.

But not quite the same. The biggest change was how people looked at Kyle. Those who had treated him as an outsider who'd barged into their caravan just days ago were now looking up at him with something close to reverence, admiration and goodwill plain in their eyes.

"You're Kyle, right?"

It was around that time that a group of mercenaries approached the three of them at the rear.

"I'm Alec, with the Rusty Blade Mercenary Company."

"I'm Peter."

"Mason."

"We're a bit late saying this, but thank you. You saved our lives. If it hadn't been for you, a lot of people would have died that night."

"A troll is a tough opponent even for seasoned knights. We're sorry about the first day. Please forgive us."

They apologized without pushback. Kyle accepted their thanks and apology without any show of anger or pleasure, simply composed. Reassured that he held no particular grudge, they finally exhaled.

"Phew, that's a relief."

"This might sound a bit brazen, but please don't hold too much against our captain. I think he's feeling pretty sorry on the inside."

"Yeah. Captain gets embarrassed easily. Not the most straightforward person."

"We'll apologize on his behalf. He's a good person, despite how he might seem. Just has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility."

Kyle looked at Pol's back at the very front of the caravan. Just then, Pol turned around and their eyes met. He moved his lips with a complicated expression, then quickly looked away.

Kyle exhaled. "I don't particularly mind. I was a hired guard. I did what I was supposed to do."

"Ha ha ha! Right. Got paid, so you just do the job."

"The knight who can use sword aura so freely is magnanimous too, it seems."

"Just curious, but... are you actually gold-grade? I'll apologize if that's rude, it's purely my own wondering."

"Now that I think about it, that middle-aged mercenary used sword aura too. Does that mean this caravan effectively has two knight-level fighters?"

"Two gold-grade mercenaries, more like it."

The trio tossed remarks back and forth among themselves. After a bit of idle chat with Kyle, Veil, and Katrin, they headed back to their positions as if nothing had happened.

"He really is easily embarrassed, isn't he? Sending his subordinates instead of coming himself."

Those three were among the finest in the Rusty Blade Mercenary Company. Sending fighters assigned to guard the front all the way to the rear meant Pol had quietly allowed it. Whether it was too embarrassing for him to come in person, or whether he simply couldn't leave the front in case something went wrong, no one could say.

"Anyway, Kyle. I have something I want to ask."

Katrin glanced at him cautiously.

"Don't."

"Are you really a silver-grade mercenary? You're not actually gold-grade and hiding it, are you? Not that I think you have any ulterior motives, I'm just genuinely curious."

Katrin asked with wide, innocent eyes. Veil, walking quietly beside her, pretended not to be listening.

Killing a troll in a single blow. No ordinary knight could do that. Taking on a troll alone required at minimum a gold-grade mercenary or an elite knight with full command of sword aura, and even that was with backup support. On top of that, from what both Katrin and Veil had seen, Kyle's sword aura had shone far brighter than that of the middle-aged man they assumed was a knight. Two veterans who had been through everything, and neither had ever witnessed a sight like that.

"If I were hiding my grade, the Narme trade master would have caught it first."

When the Narme trade master hired additional mercenaries, she would have received their information from branch manager Max. Lying in front of the trade master was out of the question.

"That's true. So you're choosing not to rank up on purpose?"

"Sword aura isn't invincible."

"Come on. After dropping a troll in one shot?"

"It's about how you use mana as a tool. And..."

Kyle trailed off.

He couldn't use mana on his own. Even using sword aura had been nothing more than borrowing mana temporarily.

Knights and mages draw ambient mana into their bodies and use it from there. Kyle could not. The moment mana entered his body, it couldn't escape, transforming instead into purple thorns inside him. So he used the exceptionally pure mana released when he shattered mana stones. Even that had terrible efficiency, roughly ten percent actually usable. And only the highest-grade mana stones, completely free of impurities, would even work. Those were usually reserved for ancient relics and top-tier magic artifacts, which meant every use of sword aura was burning dozens of gold.

"Why did you stop mid-sentence?"

"Enough. Don't push it. Not if you want to avoid night watch for the rest of the day."

"That's cold."

And so a few more days passed. The Narme caravan rose early each morning and kept moving until just before sunset. At each camp, watches were assigned by group without fail.

As luck had it, there were no major attacks after that night. Occasionally a small wolf pack or wild animal would wander close, only to get spooked and bolt.

"Almost there! One more pass and we're in Dornel!"

On the afternoon of the ninth day since leaving Traben, someone at the front shouted out.

"Almost there?"

"Hah... finally some rest."

"What's the first thing you're doing once we're in the city?"

"Getting a drink."

"I'm washing up and sleeping in. Made good money on this run anyway."

The mercenaries muttered with brighter faces than before. Even the caravan members worn from the rough camping had some color back in their cheeks at that. Being used to camping didn't mean it wasn't tiring. After ten days of roughing it, Dornel was nothing short of paradise waiting just ahead.

Just as they were about to crest the mountain pass.

"Wait."

Kyle stopped. Katrin and Veil, walking directly behind him, halted and looked at him with puzzled eyes.

"Kyle?"

"What's wrong?"

"Something's up ahead."

"What?"

Both pairs of eyes followed Kyle's gaze. At the very top of the caravan as it climbed the mountain, at the start of the pass, something was standing.

Kyle's eyes narrowed. What had looked like a small shadow at first was, on closer look, shaped like a person. Not an ordinary person. Spears in their hands. Swords at their hips.

"One, two, three, four... how many are there? They're all on horseback. The look of them is just like..."

"Regular army."

"......."

Katrin and Veil's faces went pale at those two words.

"The... regular army?"

"Kyle, what you're saying..."

"All knights. So this was the real job after all."

His mouth twisted. Kyle ran his fingers over the familiar pommel of his sword. The vanguard ahead had noticed it too and ground to a halt. The group on the ridge was looking down at them. The forest, loud just moments before, went quiet.

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