Keldric had no intention of staying in Schaffendorf for long.
While there was no urgency in his journey to Belam, he couldn’t linger with the condition of the bandits who had been beaten by the townsfolk.
They were bruised all over, with a couple of them suffering broken bones, unable to walk properly.
He had no intention of showing them mercy; Keldric felt no sympathy for bandits who had been pillaging neighboring villages.
In any case, once they reached Belam, they were bound to face the gallows.
If they were lucky, they’d escape with their lives, only to end up as slaves working to the bone for life—but that wasn’t Keldric’s concern.
“Sir Knight! Thank you so much! May the blessing of the gods be with you!” With farewells from Marius and several townsfolk behind him, Keldric set off at dawn, slowly urging Boreas forward.
“Hah…”
After several days of finally resting on a comfortable bed, the crisp, cold morning air felt invigorating.
The mountain goat mercenary company that followed Keldric felt the same.
Their newly freshened-up appearances bore expressions of satisfaction.
“Yesterday was quite an experience.”
“Yeah, it really was.”
Some of the mercenaries had spent the night with the village women, and their faces showed a renewed vitality.
The earlier uncomfortable atmosphere had dissipated.
Initially, the mercenaries had been wary or fearful of Keldric, but now most looked at him with reverence.
They were moved by the overwhelming prowess and compassion he’d shown.
However, Keldric paid it no mind, focusing instead on holding the reins of Alisa’s horse beside him.
“Are you alright?”
Alisa, barely able to answer, weakly waved her hand, showing she was still worn out.
The toll of using forced magic had been harsh; in the morning, she hadn’t even been able to get out of bed, so Keldric had had to help her onto the horse himself.
She was in no condition to properly handle the reins.
Keldric let out a faint sigh, his white breath lingering like smoke in the cold morning air.
Though the chill was intense enough to sting his lungs, Keldric, who had lived in the north for a long time, was used to it.
“It’s nice to have more horses.”
“It should definitely speed us up.”
After the fight with the bandits, Keldric had managed to acquire several useful weapons and six horses as loot.
The mercenaries each took a weapon, and the horses went to those who could ride, including Jorgen and Alisa.
Jorgen, surprisingly, knew how to ride.
He likely hadn’t learned it formally like Keldric, but probably picked it up naturally over years on the battlefield.
“How much do you think we could get if we sold all of them?”
“Um… Don’t you need any spare horses?”
“They’d be useful, but none of these seem particularly suitable.”
“In that case, we could easily get sixty Grassen silver coins.”
Most of the horses the bandits had been riding were hunting steeds.
If one traced their lineage, there might be an old warhorse used for breeding, but the bloodlines were diluted.
Keldric had tried riding the captured horses a few times; while they could be ridden and directed, they weren’t strong or fast enough for battle.
Boreas, on the other hand, was different.
With even, glossy fur and a larger build, Boreas was clearly a horse of noble blood.
Although he’d been a bit tired after the battle with the bandits, a good day’s rest had brought him back to full strength.
Of course, a single horse wouldn’t be enough for large-scale territorial wars.
Knights chasing wealth and land would always carry spare horses, and one day, Keldric too might need them.
But not today.
“Our next destination is Yalta?”
“Yes, it’s by the Ronauen River, known for its delicious salmon.”
The Ronauen River, flowing into the frigid Northern Sea, was the lifeline of the North.
The northern people relied on it for water and food, and the plump salmon were particularly popular.
“Hopefully, the inn will be decent.”
Keldric thought back to the inn he’d stayed at in Schaffendorf, The Shepherd’s Flock.
It was far more comfortable than The Warbling Wren inn in Calton village.
If the inn in Yalta was even close to that, it’d be enough for him.
“There’s an inn similar to The Shepherd’s Flock in Yalta. A few Obol silver coins can get you a good salmon dish. I think you’ll enjoy it, Sir Keldric.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Fortunately, the Yalta inn had Jorgen’s stamp of approval.
Keldric licked his lips at the thought of a juicy grilled salmon.
Eating thin barley porridge could only last so long; after having a proper meal in Schaffendorf, he had developed a small craving for something better.
“Is it salmon season now?”
“It’s not, but they probably salted some salmon from the last season a few months ago. And it’s not like they can’t catch fresh ones now.”
With that casual chat, Keldric urged Boreas forward.
Even so, with Jorgen’s constant chatter, he didn’t have time to feel bored.
Before, he’d have had to pay him silver to open his mouth, but now Keldric heard all the local news freely.
“Once we get to Belam, what’s your plan?”
“For us mercenaries, it’s simple. We’ll gather some numbers in Belam, then head wherever a territorial war breaks out.”
Keldric sighed slightly.
While he didn’t know how long Jorgen would be resting, it was clear he wouldn’t lack work.
The Empire, over three centuries old, was entering a turbulent period.
Territorial conflicts were erupting everywhere, and those envious of their neighbors’ hunting grounds or silver mines kept fueling the fires of war.
The Empire’s nobles were relentlessly vying to seize each other’s lands—and it wasn’t just the Empire; neighboring nations were the same.
“I heard a war broke out between the Kingdom of Frank and the Kingdom of Britas. Some mercenaries I know are heading there.”
“Sounds chaotic.”
“Yes, the whole continent is in turmoil. The Crusade for the Holy Land ended tensely a few decades ago. For us, though, it means more work.”
Jorgen, with his extensive territorial war experience, had quite the network.
Mercenaries flocked to territorial wars, and thanks to befriending them, Jorgen occasionally received valuable news, which he then passed to Keldric.
“By the way, I heard something interesting from a mercenary from the Duchy of Firensa… There’s a rumor that they’re organizing another Crusade to reclaim the Holy Land.”
“Another Crusade?”
“Yes, to the land across the sea, where the infidels reside. They say they’re going to reclaim the Holy Land.”
At that time, people were deeply religious, and nobles or knights were no exception.
Ambitious knights joined the Crusades to earn divine favor, and nobles were the same.
“It’s just a rumor, so you don’t have to take it too seriously.”
“It sounds like news we’ll be hearing more about, so I’ll keep it in mind.”
Without saying it aloud, Keldric felt a strange familiarity when he heard the words “Holy Land” and “Crusade.”
It was a fleeting thought, but Keldric stored Jorgen’s words in his mind, feeling a bit unsettled.
The journey from Schaffendorf to Yalta took at least a day and a half, so Keldric had to spend a night outdoors.
Sleeping rough was never comfortable, though lying under a sky full of stars had its charm.“Shall we move out?”
“Yes, let’s get going!”
After spending the night at a makeshift campsite, Keldric and his group set off early in the morning.
The cool morning breeze helped wake everyone up.
Fully awake, Keldric looked over at Alisa, riding beside him.
“You seem better now.”
“…Apologies for yesterday.”
Alisa, who had been out of it the previous day, had finally regained some strength.
Thankfully, she’d leaned on Keldric as they rode; otherwise, if she’d walked, she likely wouldn’t have had the stamina to stay upright today.
Keldric drove Boreas onward, admiring the gradually changing landscape around him.
Sparse trees began to appear on the snowy plains, where trees were rare unless near the mountains, and shallow streams appeared with increasing frequency.
The presence of streams hinted at a larger river nearby.
Knowing that Yalta was near the Ronown River made this a welcome sight for Keldric.
After walking for quite a while, by the time Jorgen had nearly run out of stories to tell, the sun was already about to set.
“A river!”
Finally, the grand waters of the Ronown River greeted Keldric and his group.
The Ronown River was wide and fast, with water that looked as if it would be as cold as ice.
Keldric gazed across the bridge that spanned the river.
Jorgen, who had come up beside him, pointed across the bridge as well.
“That’s Yalta,” he said.
As darkness slowly settled, the village of Yalta lay there, nestled beside the life-giving river of the north.
Keldric took in the wooden palisade surrounding the village and was impressed.
“It’s much bigger than Calton Village. It might even be larger than Schaffendorf.”
Yalta, being close to Belam, had grown quite large.
People who hadn’t been able to settle in the city had started living in nearby villages, and Yalta was one of them.
Its size was natural.
When Keldric arrived at Yalta’s outskirts, twilight was already upon the village entrance, which was surprisingly well-lit with torches.
In the countryside, people generally worked at sunrise and finished their day at sunset.
But Yalta was different now.
Keldric noticed two men standing guard at the entrance between the palisade walls.
“Who are they?”
“Judging by their level, they don’t look like a simple militia,” Jorgen commented.
As Jorgen had pointed out, an average militia in a rural village would be fortunate to even wear thick gambeson.
However, the guards at Yalta’s entrance looked anything but ordinary.
There were only two of them, but both were clad in chain mail and surcoats, making a difference.
Keldric inspected the soldiers’ armor more closely.
One carried a long spear slung over his shoulder, while the other had a sword of the Messer type at his waist.
“What’s going on here?”
“I’m not sure either. Shall I go and ask?”
“Hmm… No, it would be odd to send only you. Who knows who they are.”
It was better for Keldric to approach them himself.
He gently tugged the reins, moving Boreas forward.
As he drew closer, the two guards seemed to notice Keldric as well.
Approaching them, he looked them over.
“Well-armed,” he thought.
The guards, wide-eyed at the sight of Keldric’s imposing figure, looked visibly tense.
Although he had cleaned his armor and helmet, his surcoat still bore faint traces of blood that wouldn’t wash out easily.
As they observed each other, one of the guards finally spoke, albeit with difficulty.
“May the blessings of the gods be with you, honorable knight. Welcome to Yalta.”
“Blessings be with you as well. Thank you.”
“If I may ask, may I know your esteemed family and name?”
“By the grace of the gods, I am Keldric of the Bellaf family.”
Having introduced himself countless times since leaving Calton Village, Keldric didn’t miss the way the guard’s eyes flickered over him.
His pronunciation of the imperial language was unmistakably noble, and the guard seemed surprised by the sudden appearance of a genuine knight.
“I apologize, but may I ask the purpose of your visit to Yalta?”
“I’m on my way to Belam, coming from Schaffendorf. Is that something you need to know?”
“Oh! I apologize if I have offended you! It’s just… Baron Volpen is currently residing in Yalta, so…”
Keldric was taken aback by the unexpected name.
“Baron Volpen?”
That would mean that these soldiers were also under Baron Volpen.
“The Baron is here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“May I know the reason?”
“The baron is on his way to a place called Calton Village. However, due to a recent incident in the area, he has temporarily taken residence here.”
Keldric recalled the contents of the letter Hilmor had mentioned.
Since there was essentially only one road from Calton Village to Yalta, it made sense that Baron Volpen, heading toward Calton, would also be here.
Now Keldric understood the situation, though there was still one thing he hadn’t figured out.
“What kind of incident?” he asked.
The guard hesitated to answer.
It was a risky move to hesitate in front of a knight, but perhaps Baron Volpen had issued a gag order, leaving him no choice.
“I understand the circumstances,” Keldric said.
It was a complex situation.
He had no idea what this “incident” the guard mentioned could be.
And as long as Baron Volpen was in Yalta, Keldric would inevitably have to meet him if he wished to spend the night in the village.
While it wasn’t exactly troublesome, it was an awkward situation.
“Are there any other nobles besides Baron Volpen?”
“Sir Werner of the Henzer family is also staying here.”
“Ah, Sir Werner.”
Baron Volpen was straightforward.
As written in Hilmor’s letter, he was traveling with Sir Werner of the Henzer family.
“Sir Keldric, if you don’t mind, may I escort you to the Baron?”
One of the guards spoke to Keldric politely.
Reluctantly, Keldric nodded.
“Then, I’ll follow you.”
There was no option to avoid the meeting.
It would be highly discourteous to come to a village where a noble resided and head straight to the inn without seeing him.
“Wait for me at the inn,” he instructed his companions.
“Understood,” they replied.
After sending the Sooth Goat mercenaries and Alisa to the inn, Keldric slowly followed the guard toward what appeared to be the village elder’s house in the distance.
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