WeTried Translations

Translator: Dawn

Editor: Dawn

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Genius Knight of a Fallen Race

Chapter 11

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Those at the Bottom All Long for Salvation

After having fainted from blood loss and exhaustion, Shan woke up in the middle of the night with the moon hanging large in the sky. Something soft was supporting the back of his head, and the hand brushing his forehead carried a faintly sweet scent.

“Ah, you’re awake!”

Only then did Shan realize that he had been lying with his head on the thigh of Debi—the butterfly fairy of the Alto troupe. As he was helped up into a sitting position, he saw that they were at the edge of a fairly wide river.

Some members of the troupe were setting up tents nearby, while the others were preparing dinner. Roden, who had been brushing a horse’s mane nearby, noticed and walked over.

“You woke up just as we were settling down to rest. How do you feel?”

“I’m okay.”

Looking down at his chest, he saw that the torn flesh had been tightly wrapped in bandages. For someone like Shan, who had always simply endured injuries as they came, it felt unfamiliar.

“We used expensive medicine, so it should heal quickly. But just in case, don’t move around too much. The wound could reopen.”

“Got it. But where are we?”

“After you collapsed, we kept moving without rest until nightfall. Somewhere east of Vito, I think. The army probably won’t chase us this far, but...”

It seemed that while Shan was unconscious, the troupe had carried him on one of their wagons. Noticing Roden’s uneasy glance toward the west, Shan told him everything that had happened with Fional.

After listening, Roden let out a sigh.

“Still, he lives up to his reputation. A man with some magnanimity. If he were the type who didn’t care about honor, things could’ve gone very badly.”

“But what were you doing, fighting those people earlier?”

When Shan had returned from the battle, he had clearly seen Roden confronting the people gathered outside the city. At the mention of it, Roden’s already fierce face twisted further.

“Those bastards were talking about capturing the Altos and handing them over to the count’s army! So I stopped them. They’re your kind, after all.”

“Ah...”

Shan turned his head sharply toward the distant direction they had come from. If those people who had tried to oppress the Altos had been right in front of him, he would have cut them all down—men, women, adults, children alike.

“Well, luckily my face helped. Just standing there was enough to keep them from making a move.”

“Thank you, Roden.”

Given that Roden had already been under immense pressure facing an army, it must have taken real courage. And those travelers likely carried blades themselves.

“Don’t thank me for something obvious. Let’s eat first. It looks like the food’s ready.”

Dinner consisted of a soup made with flour and butter, along with grilled fish caught from the nearby river. As they all sat together to eat, Roxy, the leader of the troupe, formally expressed his gratitude again.

“On behalf of my family, let me say it again. Thank you, Shan. And thank you as well, Sir Roden.”

“You can just call me Roden.”

“Haha...”

Though being the same age as Debi and two years younger than Pen, Roden’s mature appearance made it hard to treat him like a younger man. Even Pen, despite talking with him several times, kept calling him “Mr. Roden.” As the two chatted warmly, the dwarf Boldot, who had been quietly eating with a gloomy expression, suddenly spoke.

“If things had gone wrong when we resisted them, we’d all be dead. Even now, we’re fleeing the place we were supposed to perform.”

“Father, why are you suddenly—”

It almost sounded like he was blaming Shan for causing trouble by helping. Boldot pushed Pen aside with his short arm.

“That’s exactly why I stayed still. While my daughter was being dragged away, I just crouched in a corner, trembling. And afterward, I comforted myself, saying I would have stepped in if I were as strong as you... The more I think about it, the more pathetic it seems. I’m truly sorry.”

His apology wasn’t directed at just one person. It was for his daughter, who had nearly been taken, his son, who had been beaten trying to stop it, and even for Shan, who had stepped in for strangers. The other members of the troupe, who had secretly felt the same way, lowered their heads in silence.

Watching them, Shan nodded.

“I understand how you feel. I used to be the same. I didn’t even know I could do something like this.”

Before he realized he had the strength to resist, Shan had always suppressed himself, accepting every injustice from the villagers. The only reason he changed was because he had reached a point where he could no longer run. Because of that, he had no right to call them cowards. As Shan finished speaking, the members of the troupe began to sob one by one. It was the tears of the powerless—those without the strength to resist injustice. 

The next morning, they acted as if nothing had happened, laughing and chatting over breakfast. Afterward, they discussed what to do next. The first to speak was Hose, the fire-breather, puffing his shell-covered cheeks in complaint.

“I think it’s too dangerous to stay in Libert now.”

“Yeah. From what I’ve heard, the nobles are practically trying to overturn the country. Things will only get worse, not better.”

Duke Moraen, the king’s uncle, and Count Barlic, the king’s maternal grandfather. These two powerful nobles had started a war to gain regency over the five-year-old king of Libert. The battle Shan had witnessed was just a small fragment of it. Rumors said that thousands of mercenaries were pouring in from across the land. Soon, the entire country would become a battlefield. And in times like this, a traveling troupe of Altos was an easy target.

“Then how about coming to Pendia with us?” Shan suggested, a little shy about speaking up. “I heard Altos aren’t discriminated against as much there because of the New Faith...”

He also secretly wanted to travel with them. But the troupe members smiled warmly, yet with a hint of awkwardness. Pen scratched his feathered horn and explained,

“The problem is... Pendia already has the most Altos.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Because no one pays money to watch something they can see everywhere.”

Only after hearing that did Shan truly realize what their identity meant. They were an Alto troupe that drew crowds by making full use of their unusual appearances and abilities to perform a wide range of acrobatics. 

Naturally, in a place where many Altos lived, that rarity would disappear. There would be no business. Even if they tried to take up other work, it would not be easy to overcome the resistance of those already settled there.

“Besides, I’ve heard Pendia has a lot of monsters. Dealing with ordinary beasts is one thing, but wandering around where those kinds of creatures roam is just too dangerous.”

Even here in Libert, it was easy to encounter bandits, wild animals, and relatively small, weak monsters. Whenever that happened, the troupe would drive them away with Pen swinging his long staff or throwing stones with a sling, while Hose blew flames from a torch. Neither method would work against truly powerful monsters.

“For people like us, there’s really no place better than Libert. Ajun is the hardest line of Old Faith country, and half the people you meet there are bandits or raiders. Luman follows the New Faith, but... it has a bad history.”

“A bad history?”

At Shan’s question, Roxy gave a shadowed smile.

“A long time ago, there was a rebellion... and they were all killed or driven out.”

About a hundred years ago, on an island in the Luman Kingdom, a group declared the rebirth of the Alto Empire. It was a massive uprising with tens of thousands, perhaps even more than half of all Altos worldwide. The Luman royal family sent troops and, after a war, annihilated them all. Then, they expelled every remaining Alto in the kingdom.

Since then, Altos had been consistently barred from entering, making Luman a place where it was even harder to find them than in most Old Faith countries. The reason the troupe knew this so well was that they themselves were descendants of those who had been driven out. This was a story passed down from their parents and their parents before them.

“If only the Savior would be born...” Pen muttered with a sigh, then quickly covered his mouth.

But the words had already been spoken. Shan tilted his head in confusion, wondering why the atmosphere had suddenly changed, while Roden’s expression hardened.

“...Don’t tell me you’re Revivalists?”

“No, no, nothing like that! We just... talk about the stories passed down from our ancestors. We all praise the Goddess’s mercy. Of course. Right, Pen?”

“Y-Yes! Of course!”

As Roxy hastily explained, Pen nodded frantically. Shan simply watched, puzzled, while Roden stared at them for a moment before sighing and shaking his head.

“...Alright. Just be careful. There are plenty of people looking for reasons to accuse you.”

“We don’t usually talk about this. It’s just... seeing how kindly you treat Shan, we felt like we were among our own kind.”

At that, Roden didn’t push further and simply nodded.

After more discussion, the troupe decided on their course: They would continue traveling within the Libert Kingdom, carefully avoiding the shadow of war. Shan glanced at Roden, wondering if there was any way to help them, but Roden shook his head. Even though his father was wealthy, they couldn’t ask him to support more than ten Altos for free. 

Furthermore, relying on someone else’s goodwill rather than their own abilities wasn’t necessarily a good life for them either. They parted ways in the late afternoon, when the river they had been following became shallow enough to cross on foot. Roden checked his compass.

“This is where we should split up. Cross this river and keep heading east, and you’ll reach Pendia.”

The troupe planned to head south, toward territories less entangled in the war. Before parting, Roxy placed a hand on Shan’s shoulder.

“I pray that your future is filled with shining glory, Shan. Grow strong and become a hope for all Altos. I’m sorry to place such a burden on someone so young... but we desperately need someone to lead the way.”

Shan couldn’t bring himself to confidently promise that. He had ambitions of becoming the strongest knight, but there was no certainty that he could lead his people. Maybe... if he became a lord someday and gathered only Altos into his domain. As he thought that, Debi stepped forward and suddenly hugged him tightly. It was a soft, warm sensation he had never felt before. Having no memory of ever being held by a mother, Shan instinctively stiffened.

“You’re already my hope, just as you are, my knight with the beautiful eyes. Even if we never meet again, I’ll never forget you.”

She lightly kissed his forehead, then stepped back with a smile. Her half-folded butterfly wing fluttered, scattering faintly glowing dust.

“You’re pretty bold for a kid.”

That was the first thing Roden said after they crossed the river. Shan tilted his head in confusion.

“Bold about what?”

“...Never mind. You’re still too young. Anyway, don’t feel pressured by what they said. No one in this world is meant to carry an entire race on their own.”

The idea of being the savior of the Altos was far too heavy for a boy barely in his early teens. Roden worried Shan might be crushed by it. But in reality, Shan had already made peace with it. If the opportunity came, fine—but if he lacked the ability, then it couldn’t be helped. This was the mindset he had learned from a childhood of constant resignation.

“More importantly, what’s a Revivalist? You looked really serious earlier.”

At that time, Roden's face was not that of a young man seen when with close friends, but rather, the expression of a 'serious knight' seen when standing in front of others. Roden hesitated, stroking his beard.

“...It’s basically a heretical belief that one day a great mage savior will be born among the Altos and restore the ancient Alto Empire. They’re among the most hated by the Church, along with human sacrifice cults.”

“Why?”

“Because that savior is supposed to overthrow the Church of the Goddess. Even aside from that, the Church has always hated anything related to the old Alto Empire and magic. Before the New Faith existed, just being a mage was enough to get you killed.”

Judging from how the Church had excommunicated and declared heresy on the Magic Society for claiming that the Spirit, which the knights wield, was also a kind of magic, one could guess that the Church remained very wary of magic even now.

“Though it’s not quite that extreme anymore. Pendia even has a royal mage now.”

“Really? Who?”

Shan’s eyes widened in surprise after hearing a story he’d never heard before. He knew that the mages had a fairly high social status in Pendia, but he didn’t expect a member of the royal family to learn magic.

“Princess Serin, I think? Probably a couple of years older than you. They say she’s a genius, but who knows if it’s real or just the royal name propping her up,” Roden scoffed, unusually harsh. “The Magic Society would probably call it art even if she went mad and smeared filth on a wall.”

“...That’s amazing.”

“Well, it’s still not exactly praised. Don’t get interested in strange things and focus on fighting. Alto knights might succeed, but Alto mages? That’s a dead end.”

“Success, huh...” Shan murmured the word.

Wealth, fame, power—things that once felt distant now had weight. He had seen it clearly: a group of mercenaries he struggled to defeat was effortlessly commanded by a single knight. Someday, perhaps, he too could command such power. And then, he wouldn’t have to rely on others’ goodwill. He could decide his own fate. Maybe even the fate of others.

“I want to succeed. As soon as possible.”

“I’d like to see that too, but first, you need to grow much more. Though honestly, with how much you eat, I don’t need to tell you that. Any more and you’ll start rolling instead of walking.”

“I was still a bit hungry this morning.”

Despite everything he ate, Shan remained lean. It almost seemed like some creature inside him was devouring the food before it could nourish him.

“Then again, maybe that’s why you can swing a sword with such strength.”

After traveling while chatting, they reached a small village by sunset and rented a place to stay. The next day—and the day after—they continued finding villages before nightfall. With horses, their pace had increased, and Roden managed their route efficiently. Even so, he couldn’t perfectly calculate Shan’s appetite, and they ended up skipping a meal once. 

They rarely encountered others along the road. Normally, there would be merchants or pilgrims, but the war had made things tense. Those they did meet avoided Roden, intimidated by his armored figure on horseback. On the fourth day after parting with the troupe, just as Shan was about to remove his bandages, Roden pointed ahead.

“We’re finally here! See that fortress?”

“Yeah.”

There stood a weathered fortress between rugged mountains, blocking a narrow pass. The walls were about six meters high.

“That’s Fortress Solrod. It’s basically the border. Once we pass it... We’re in Pendia.”

For Roden, it was his homeland. For Shan, it was a land of opportunity.