Chapter 99

Chapter 99: Chapter 99

Traveling a long distance was an extraordinarily arduous undertaking.

Walking for hours was difficult enough, but travelers also had to endure the difference between daytime and nighttime temperatures, uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, thirst, and hunger—all at once.

There were no maps.

They did not know how far away their destination was.

Thus, they did not know how long the journey would take.

It was an age when many naive country folk believed they would die if they ventured beyond their villages. Most people never left the place where they were born throughout their entire lives.

Consequently, setting out on a long journey meant preparing oneself for death.

In such an environment, children grew up quickly.

They rarely cried or complained because they instinctively understood that doing so might truly get them abandoned.

They knew that adults’ patience was as dry as a riverbed during a drought.

They also knew that when a little water returned to it, the adults would reach out to them of their own accord.

Patience was armor that even a six-year-old child needed to wear.

Hartmann’s son, Roy, walked without a single complaint.

No matter how exhausted he became, he never showed it.

Instead, he wished he could grow quickly enough to carry his sister’s luggage, then grow even more so he could carry his mother’s, and eventually become big enough to carry his father’s as well.

His only frustration was that time did not pass more quickly.

There were certain things children naturally learned by following adults.

Open ground should be crossed as quickly as possible. One should travel only along the edges of forests. Mountain passes were exhausting, but they were relatively safe from mounted bandits.

That was why they were currently crossing a difficult mountain pass.

Naturally, the cart’s wheels rattled even more violently than usual.

Then came a loud crack, and one of the wheels broke free.

Everyone looked around in alarm. Unaware that the cart had broken, the ox continued dragging it for some distance.

"Whoa! Whoa!"

"Damn it."

The procession stopped.

It would probably take a long time to repair.

Roy thought they might be able to rest.

Thank you, Ox. Thank you for letting us rest.

Oxen had such beautiful eyes.

The adults wore grave expressions.

Simply replacing the detached wheel would not solve the problem. The axle itself had broken.

In truth, it had already held out for a long time.

"Discard whatever you can."

Bremen spoke while looking at the household goods scattered across the ground.

"This is my property. I can’t throw it away."

Geiser frowned irritably. His tone seemed to ask who Bremen thought he was to decide whether another man should abandon his possessions.

Bremen had not grown old in vain, and he was not easily disturbed.

"You won’t starve to death because you’ve lost a few pieces of furniture. Since matters have already come to this, I recommend using them as firewood. We can travel a little farther and make camp."

"..."

"If you don’t want to throw them away, make your children carry them instead of the oxen."

One of the young men in the group spoke sarcastically.

He had no family and always stayed close to his two friends of a similar age.

Unable to decide what to do, Geiser hesitated.

Hartmann, who had been watching silently from a short distance away, approached him.

"Is there anything you absolutely must bring? I’ll help you carry it."

The burden Hartmann already carried was by no means light.

Nevertheless, he was offering to shoulder some of Geiser’s belongings if there was anything essential he could not leave behind.

Geiser remained silent for a moment.

Then he called over his three daughters and his son.

They discarded all the furniture, keeping only the necessities: a tin pot, a ladle, dishes, sacks of food, salt, a tent, and blankets.

They loaded those items onto the oxen, and Geiser decided to carry everything else himself.

"Lend me your axe."

Hartmann handed him his logging axe.

Geiser began chopping apart the furniture to which he had grown attached over many years. But splitting wood was surprisingly difficult for someone unaccustomed to using an axe, and he did not make as much progress as expected.

He merely exhausted himself and began panting heavily.

Without a word, Hartmann took back the axe.

Following the grain with absolute precision, he split each piece apart with a single blow.

Crack! Thunk! Crack! Crack!

Then he tied the pieces together like actual firewood and placed the bundle on top of his own luggage.

Once it was strapped to his back, the load towered far above his head.

"Looks like we had another ox with us all along."

Bremen laughed.

Hartmann truly seemed the very embodiment of a steadfast, powerful man.

The party resumed its journey.

They laboriously climbed the mountain pass one step at a time.

Bremen had said they would find somewhere nearby to camp, yet they continued walking for another two hours even after crossing the pass.

It was not until late afternoon, when the sun had dipped considerably, that Bremen suggested stopping near the foot of the mountain.

No matter how strong he was, Hartmann had to put down his load and massage his shoulders.

Roy immediately ran over and began rubbing his father’s shoulders.

In truth, his small hands did little to help, but his son’s thoughtfulness naturally brought a smile to Hartmann’s face.

"That feels wonderful."

The women gathered firewood, lit fires, and placed cauldrons and pots over them to prepare dinner.

It was at times like this that the difference between those with families and those without became apparent.

Those who had families each possessed a role to fulfill and a place where they belonged.

For an unmarried mother with a child and no husband, such occasions were deeply uncomfortable.

During the day, she could simply follow the others as they walked. At night, however, the fact that she was alone became painfully clear.

They were ordinary things that everyone else took for granted, yet she had none of them.

It made her feel small and ashamed.

She would take some uncooked grain somewhere the others could not see her, soak it in water, and quietly eat it.

It was closer to merely filling her stomach than having a proper meal.

Then she would nurse her son.

She was eighteen years old.

She was about to do the same that evening when someone called out to her.

"Madam, come over here and eat with us."

Dalia did not react because she did not realize she was the one being addressed.

"Madam. Madam."

Only belatedly did she understand that someone was calling her.

When she turned around, she saw Hartmann’s wife, Elia.

"What? Me?"

"Yes, madam. The soup is warm. Come and try some."

Dalia blinked in bewilderment.

She had almost never experienced such kindness in her life and could not understand what was happening.

In the end, Elia had to stand, take her by the hand, and lead her over.

Still dazed, Dalia sat beside the campfire.

Roy looked at her and asked,

"What’s the baby’s name?"

"...What? Oh, Riche. His name is Riche."

"Does that mean you want him to become rich?"

Roy’s sister, Becca, asked the question.

"No... It means I want him to grow into a dignified person..."

Dalia answered shyly.

She knew that the word dignity hardly suited a prostitute.

But a mother naturally wished for her son to live differently.

"That’s a lovely name."

"What is your name, madam?"

"Oh, I’m Dalia."

It was exactly the sort of name a prostitute would have.

Hartmann’s family, however, knew little about such matters and merely thought it was an exotic and beautiful name.

Elia ladled some soup from the pot and handed it to Dalia.

In truth, it was little more than thin, watery porridge.

Dalia accepted the wooden bowl with both hands.

After hesitantly watching the others for a while, she took a small sip.

It was warm.

The moment she felt that warmth, a single tear slipped from her eye without her realizing it.

"You should eat with us from now on," Elia said.

Dalia’s throat tightened.

She wanted to answer, but she could not bring herself to speak. If she did, she felt she would burst into loud sobs.

Hartmann’s family understood, so they did not say anything more.

The other travelers silently watched Hartmann’s family extend their kindness to an unmarried mother who had once been a prostitute.

They, too, felt something stir in their hearts.

But the world was so harsh that they dismissed it as merely a passing moment.

Dusk descended, and complete darkness followed.

The travelers laid out their bedding in their respective groups and prepared to sleep, while the men got ready to take watch according to the schedule they had arranged.

Then they heard someone approaching through the darkness.

They tensed at first, but when they realized there was only one set of footsteps, they assumed it was another traveler.

It was not.

A man wearing a leather coat emerged from the darkness, a sword hanging from his waist.

Despite seeing the size of their party, he showed no fear whatsoever.

Instead, he stared openly at them.

Standing with his weight shifted onto one leg, he spoke as though casually tossing the words at them.

"It was you lot, wasn’t it? The ones who killed Bilky."

Some of the travelers shrank before the stranger’s provocative manner, while others tensed.

"We know no one by that name," Bremen replied.

"Old man, I already know everything. Someone in your party killed Bilky."

Apparently, the man Hartmann had killed was named Bilky.

They wondered how the stranger had discovered the truth, but in reality, it would not have been difficult to learn.

Almost everyone knew that a man carrying an axe had departed with Bremen.

"I told you, we don’t know him. Don’t harass innocent travelers. We have six men with us. If you intend to fight, your people will suffer losses as well."

The stranger smirked.

"Looks like you’ve really lost your instincts, old man. But don’t jump to conclusions just yet. I only came to make a perfectly reasonable proposal. Hand over the man who killed Bilky, give us one woman, or surrender one cow. Do that, and we’ll forget this ever happened. Three whole choices—offers like this don’t come along often. Choose whichever you like."

"And if we refuse?"

"Something unpleasant will happen as soon as the sun rises tomorrow."

It was not a proposal.

It was simply a threat.

Hartmann remained silent for a moment, but apparently unable to contain himself, he rose and spoke.

Whether it was wise or not, his very nature seemed incapable of tolerating injustice.

"I killed him because he tried to harm my family. Why should there be any bargain between us?"

The bandit silently examined Hartmann and his family before answering.

"Your wife and children are alive. Our companion is dead. Under those circumstances, I’d say offering you a bargain is an extremely merciful gesture."

"Did he have a daughter?"

"What?"

"I asked whether that man Bilky had a daughter."

"How would I know? He might’ve sired one somewhere."

"Then there can be no bargain to begin with—unless his daughter is going to suffer exactly what he tried to do to mine."

"...Hmm. Is that how it works? I don’t know. Either way, you have until tomorrow morning. Think carefully."

This was an age in which ideas of fairness and justice had yet to be firmly established.

Arguing about them would accomplish nothing.

The bandit walked back into the darkness and disappeared.

An anxious silence settled over the travelers. Only the crackling of the campfire could be heard.

Bremen, their guide and nominal leader, was the first to speak.

"I’ll make this clear now. We aren’t handing anyone over."

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"I made a promise to every person here. I promised to take them to the Eastern Frontier."

"What are you talking about? You want us all to die together?"

"I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that the woodcutter is the strongest among us. If we surrender him, we become weaker, and those men won’t leave us alone once they know we’re weak. Don’t trust a bandit to keep his word. Second, we cannot surrender a woman either. As I said, I made a promise to everyone here. The least costly choice would be one of the cows."

"Don’t talk nonsense!"

Geiser shouted in the stillness of the night.

His reaction was understandable.

In this age, a cow could be more valuable than a human life. It was the greatest form of wealth a commoner could own.

"Why don’t we just hand over that whore?"

One of the three young men who always traveled together spoke.

Dalia stiffened in terror.

"I-I paid. I paid the fee, I swear."

"Who here didn’t pay? But you’re the most useless person among us. That money only paid for someone to show you the way. It wasn’t a protection fee. Do you even have enough money to purchase supplies along the way? Are you planning to live off us the entire time?"

"I-I can get money somehow."

"Planning to sell your body when we reach a city? Of course. A dog can’t change its habits. Why the hell did a whore have to join our party?"

"Watch your mouth!"

Elia shouted sharply.

She defended Dalia so fiercely because she had watched the young woman care responsibly for her son over the past several days.

As a fellow mother, Elia could not tolerate such words.

In one sense, Hartmann was the person responsible for their current predicament.

Yet no one suggested surrendering him.

That was because a powerful adult man was the person their party needed most.

Indeed, such men were desperately needed everywhere these days. Healthy young men were constantly dying in wars and other conflicts.

When disaster struck, groups naturally tried to sacrifice their weakest members first.

It was difficult to call that either good or evil. It was simply an ordinary human tendency.

Nevertheless, some people managed to overcome that tendency.

Such people were called heroes.

"Where is that shepherd called Ricky?"

A young voice interrupted the adults’ argument.

It was Roy.

Some frowned, wondering why a little brat was interfering. Others clicked their tongues at what they considered poor parenting.

Bremen, however, paid attention to Roy’s question.

"Quiet! Wait a moment! Everyone, be silent!"

The people who had been arguing loudly in the middle of the night fell quiet.

Bremen mentally calculated the distance between their current location and the region where the shepherd he knew grazed his sheep.

Shepherds roamed across vast areas, so encountering one was difficult unless you knew where his home was.

But Bremen had only met the man by chance in the past.

He did not know where the shepherd lived.

Still, there seemed to be no other choice.

Bremen refused to abandon anyone, regardless of the circumstances.

"Prepare to leave. If we travel through the night, we might encounter that shepherd."

"What the fuck is that supposed to—"

Geiser could not believe that they were expected to entrust their last hope to some ridiculous shepherd.

Everything could be resolved by surrendering a single whore!

Hartmann’s family, however, immediately agreed with Bremen and began hurriedly packing their belongings.

Dalia naturally prepared to accompany them. The three young men also decided to follow, since Hartmann seemed to be the most reliable person among the group.

"F-Father..."

One of Geiser’s daughters called out to him.

"Damn it."

Geiser cursed and began packing.

Walking throughout the night without any sleep was an indescribably grueling ordeal.

Moreover, even though they knew that light might expose them, they needed torches to see the road.

After only a few hours, the children began to tire.

Hartmann discarded one possession after another and carried the children on his back. He even threw away some of their precious food.

Their immediate survival came first.

Elia also abandoned their household goods and carried someone else’s child on her back.

Dalia carried her own son against her chest and another child on her back.

It might have seemed better to put the children on the oxen, but the animals were already laden with supplies.

Even an ordinary soldier would have struggled with such a nighttime march.

Unfortunately, the bandits followed them.

They had apparently been waiting nearby.

Perhaps they would have attacked regardless of whether the travelers had surrendered a woman or a cow.

The bandits must also have found fighting at night inconvenient, because they merely followed at a fixed distance.

For those being pursued, the mental strain was even worse than the physical exhaustion.

Curses began spilling naturally from their mouths.

Eventually, they became so tired that they lost all sense of time and simply continued walking.

They reached the point where their legs moved on their own even as they nodded off.

Whenever they closed their eyes for a moment and opened them again, an unfamiliar landscape stretched before them.

After the long, dark night, dawn gradually arrived.

As soon as there was enough light to distinguish their surroundings, the pursuing bandits quickened their pace and charged.

Startled, Hartmann hurriedly handed the son he had been carrying to his daughter.

"Protect your brother, no matter what happens!"

"Father!"

His daughter called after him desperately, but Hartmann raised his axe and confronted more than a dozen bandits.

Becca froze, not knowing what to do.

Dalia suddenly grabbed her and dragged her away.

"Let go of me! Father!"

But this was not the time for Becca to worry about her father.

She needed to worry about herself.

The bandits knew that Hartmann was no easy opponent. They merely pretended to engage him, keeping him occupied without committing to a real fight.

The rest continued pursuing the fleeing travelers.

Only then did Becca turn and run.

Her younger brother, now fully awake, took his sister’s hand, and the two raced across the field.

"Wait! I surrender! I surrenderrr!"

Someone shouted his surrender.

It sounded like one of the three young men who traveled together.

"You can’t take my cows, you bastards!"

As expected, the bandits were priMarie ly after the cattle.

Geiser tried to protect his cows until the very end and was struck by a blade.

Had he been killed?

Was he merely wounded?

There was no way to tell.

Hartmann had initially tried to guard the rear, but when the bandits practically ignored him, he rushed back and swung his axe wildly at those attempting to steal the cattle.

The bandits released the reins and withdrew before he could reach them, refusing to fight him recklessly.

These men were clearly experienced raiders.

The sky grew steadily brighter, turning a deep shade of blue.

The frightened cattle bolted faster than any human could run.

By then, even the bandits could not decide whether to pursue the people or the cows.

As their objective wavered, their coordinated movements fell apart.

They chased their targets in complete disarray.

Unfortunately, Becca and Roy had fallen the farthest behind.

The bandits’ grasping hands drew steadily closer to the siblings.

Hartmann saw them while desperately swinging his axe and cried out as though his heart were being torn apart.

"Roy! Becca!"

Still running, Roy looked behind him.

The most terrifying hand in the world was reaching for him.

Then his foot caught on a stone, and he was nearly sent flying.

Just before his face struck the ground, someone caught him effortlessly.

Was it his sister?

No.

The strength in that supporting hand was far too steady to be hers.

The bandit reaching for Roy stopped.

His footsteps stopped as well.

The person who had caught Roy helped the boy back to his feet.

In the distance, Roy saw several sheep.

When he raised his head, he found a blond young man standing beside him, dressed in shabby clothes and holding a staff of the sort used by shepherds.

The other travelers had also stopped fleeing and were looking back.

More precisely, they were staring at the shepherd.

"Close your eyes, child."

The shepherd spoke to Roy without taking his gaze from the bandit.

Roy obeyed and closed his eyes.

Strangely, despite the urgency of the moment and his desperate gasping for breath, a sense of peace settled over him.

The bandits had charged forward, only to find some random shepherd standing in their way.

They raised their weapons to threaten him.

Unlike when they faced Hartmann, however, they had no opportunity to maintain a safe distance and merely keep him occupied.

The shepherd moved like the wind, closing the distance in an instant.

Whoosh!

A wooden staff sliced through the air.

The head of the bandit who had been reaching for Roy was severed cleanly.

With his eyes still closed, Roy heard something heavy drop onto the field, followed by the sound of a body collapsing.

There was no death cry.

The people who had been chasing and fleeing stopped as though time itself had frozen.

They stared at the shepherd.

Then they stared at the headless corpse.

This was no ordinary shepherd who merely knew how to fight.

He possessed a skill that seemed closer to magic.

The witnesses stood dazed, unable to believe what they had seen with their own eyes.

Time itself, however, had not stopped.

The sun was slowly rising.