Encounter on the Road and an Ambush

The cork-and-resin-coated wheels rattled as they raced along the flat main street...

Inside the carriage, Marlin leaned against the front sofa seat and let out a faint snore. Lorist was extremely satisfied with his new carriage. The carriage was good—smooth and comfortable. The horses were good too, well-trained. Even Ready, who was driving, had surprised him by possessing such excellent horsemanship. It seemed taking Ready in had truly been the right choice. El had been right—this kid would make a good attendant.

Hmm, there was a small latch here. So this carriage window could be opened inward. The cool evening breeze brushed his face, refreshing him. Lorist simply left the window open and watched the street scenes outside flash past one after another.

"Huh? Stop!" Lorist shouted.

"Whoa..." Ready yanked on the reins. The carriage surged forward another seven or eight meters before coming to a stop, and the two Zino horses pulling it snorted unhappily.

"What's wrong, master?" Ready asked.

After becoming Lorist's attendant, Ready had changed how he addressed him. In Galintea, an attendant calling the person he served "master" did not imply a relationship between slave and owner. Rather, it meant someone who had the authority to make decisions for his attendant.

"Turn around and go back. Stop at that little square with the streetlamp," Lorist ordered.

"All right." Ready pulled the reins and directed the two Zino horses around, racing toward the small square lit by a streetlamp.

The carriage stopped, and Lorist jumped down. He walked toward the long bench beside the flower bed in the middle of the square.

The bench stood beneath the streetlamp. Three people—a grown man and two children—sat on it, huddled tightly together. The middle-aged man heard the noise, opened his half-asleep eyes, and looked over. When he saw Lorist approaching, he was startled. "It's you..."

"It's me. You... Are they your children?" Lorist suddenly understood.

This middle-aged man was the last challenger Lorist had faced in that morning's dueling competition—the middle-aged mercenary who had left such a deep impression on him, Bordefinger.

"Yes. This is my son, Shiward. He's twelve. This is my daughter, Alisha. She's seven." Bordefinger introduced his two children.

"You and the children are planning to spend the night here?" Lorist could never have imagined that a peak Silver Rank swordsman would fall into such a state. Only vagrants and beggars made do with spending the night on a long bench in a roadside square like this. If he had not seen this opponent he admired sitting together with his two children from the carriage and confirmed that his eyes were not deceiving him, Lorist would not have told Ready to turn the carriage around.

A bitter smile appeared on Bordefinger's face. "We just came here from the Krissen Empire. We didn't have much luggage to begin with, and I was greedy. I thought I was certain to win the challenge, so I scraped together every bit of money I had to register. We had been relying on selling our luggage to get by. Until today, I was still full of confidence. I never imagined I would lose to you and disappoint the children. The landlord had lost a great deal of money betting on me, and I was also several days behind on rent, so he threw us out. Nowhere to go and not a penny to our name, we can only make do here for one night."

Lorist was somber. If his Battle Qi truly were at Black Iron rank, he indeed would not have been Bordefinger's match. But no one could have expected that what he cultivated was not Battle Qi, but the Golden Water Art from his previous life.

"Didn't you think of finding some temporary work?" Lorist found it strange. Someone like Bordefinger, a Silver Rank expert, should have been highly sought after. Guarding a home would have worked, and he could have joined a mercenary group as well. Many mercenary groups would even pay a hefty joining fee to recruit an expert like Bordefinger.

"I did, but it didn't work." Bordefinger shook his head with a bitter laugh. "I already regret coming to Molent City. I never expected the residents of Molent City, who claim to pursue freedom and equality, to be so hostile toward outsiders and discriminate against foreigners. At the Mercenary Guild, it's difficult for foreign mercenaries like us to receive good missions. Even when we do, they demand extremely harsh conditions, such as guarantees beyond our capabilities. Those of us from the Krissen Empire are treated with even more humiliation and hostility. They contemptuously call us defeated soldiers and look down on people from the Krissen Empire. The war ended twenty years ago, and the Krissen Empire no longer exists, yet the people here still regard us as enemies. On top of that, I have two children with me. When taking on missions, I have to consider their safety, so those mercenary groups think I couldn't devote myself wholeheartedly to them... If I had won this morning, I would have taken the prize money and left with the children for another country. This isn't the city we thought would bring us freedom and a happy life..."

Bordefinger's voice carried anger, sorrow, and faint disappointment, along with a trace of regret hidden beneath it. If he had not believed he could win, if the landlord had not egged him on, if the high prize money had not clouded his judgment, he would not have bet everything on the duel and spent all his money registering. Those ten gold coins would have been enough for him to leave this copper-stinking, cold-hearted city with the children long ago. He might even have bought several acres of land and a small house in a remote mountain village, allowing the children to live stable lives.

Sigh. He could only blame his own greed. He had failed to think calmly. If a Black Iron-rank instructor dared to challenge every Silver Rank swordsman, how could he have such confidence without the ability to back it up? Even he himself would not dare claim he could defeat every swordsman of the same Silver Rank. Only after losing the duel had he figured it out, but by then regret had come too late. Bordefinger lowered his head in frustration.

"Where in the Krissen Empire are you from?" Lorist asked.

"I'm from the northern lands of the Krissen Empire," Bordefinger replied.

"Hm? What a coincidence. I'm from the Krissen Empire too, and I'm also from the north. I announced my name before our duel this morning—Norton Lorist. Do you know the Norton Family from the northern lands?" Lorist was delighted. It was rare to meet someone from his homeland.

"Norton? The Roaring Giant Bear of the Far North? I've heard of them. They're a famous military-merit noble family from the north. But I heard of them while I was in the army. Many commoners enlist hoping to earn military merit and become nobles like the Norton Family's ancestors, gaining hereditary territory. Yet over the past several centuries, how many have actually achieved that? But why are you in Molent City, and why did you accept challenges from Silver Rank swordsmen?" Bordefinger asked, puzzled.

Lorist smiled. "It's a long story. I left home ten years ago and came to Molent City to study. Later, because of the civil war in the empire, I lost contact with my family. We haven't communicated for six or seven years. Since you're from the north, you should know how my family is doing now, right?"

Bordefinger understood, but then shook his head. "Sorry, I don't know. I haven't returned to my homeland in nearly twenty years either. The north is vast. My hometown is Mond Town, far from your family's territory. Even on horseback, it would take three or four days to get there. I left home at twenty-one and joined the imperial army. Later, I was promoted to an officer and remained in the army. Since I had no relatives left in my hometown, I established my home in the Imperial Capital after getting married. I never expected the empire to fall into civil war. Three princes fought for the throne for six years and turned a perfectly good empire into ruins. When the war finally ended, I returned home only to discover that everything was gone. My wife was dead, our home had been burned down, and the two children had survived by scavenging. If the neighbors hadn't helped look after them, I might never have seen them again. After gathering our belongings, I brought the children here. I had hoped to give them a peaceful home..."

So Bordefinger had come from a military background and endured years on the battlefield, witnessing life and death. No wonder he had remained calm and unflustered during the crisis in that morning's duel. With his peak Silver Rank skills, he could easily have acquired money from an ordinary household without anyone noticing, ending his hardship. Yet he had not done so. He would rather let the children spend the night by the roadside with him. Such resolve was truly rare and admirable.

At that moment, Ready came to Lorist's side, glanced at the three members of Bordefinger's family, and asked softly, "Master, what happened?"

Lorist smiled at Bordefinger and invited him, "We became acquainted through fighting, and we're fellow countrymen besides. Brother Bordefinger, we can't stand here talking until dawn, can we? Would I have the honor of inviting the three of you to my humble home? I also happen to want to ask about the current situation in our homeland."

"This..." Bordefinger hesitated. He knew Lorist meant well, but he did not want to accept the invitation in such a wretched state.

A cold wind swept past, and the two sleeping children shivered.

Lorist took several steps forward and blocked the wind. "Brother, I know you still have a soldier's pride and don't want to accept sympathy or pity, but you have to think of the children. It's spring, but the night wind is cold. Sleeping like this, they'll easily catch a chill and fall ill. If they get sick, things will become even more troublesome for you. Besides, we're fellow countrymen. If I didn't help you in your current situation, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. You should know that people from the north are famous for their generosity and hospitality. What is there to think about? Come on."

"All right. Then we'll impose on you," Bordefinger said, no longer hesitating as he nodded and accepted the invitation.

Bending down, Bordefinger picked up his sleeping daughter. Just as he was about to wake his son, Lorist shushed him and said, "Don't wake him. I'll carry him."

"I'll do it, master." Ready took a large step forward, bent down, and lifted the little boy into his arms.

Hm, Ready was sixteen, yet carrying the twelve-year-old boy seemed effortless. He neither flushed nor gasped for breath. El had certainly not exaggerated when he said Ready was strong.

Bordefinger bent down again and picked up a small bundle wrapped around a longsword from the bench. These were personal belongings, and Lorist would have felt awkward taking them without permission.

"Get in the carriage first. There's also a colleague who got drunk inside. We have to take him back to the tavern first. It's on the way anyway; you'll just have to squeeze in a little." Lorist pointed toward the carriage.

"We're the ones causing you trouble. There's no need to be so polite, Mister Norton," Bordefinger said gratefully.

Lorist turned and walked toward the carriage. "Just call me Locke. I feel uncomfortable whenever you call me 'Mister.' Just use my name. I'll call you Bordef—"

"Look out! Left side!" Bordefinger shouted in alarm.

Lorist twisted aside at lightning speed. Four half-foot-long blades of light shot toward him...

Dodge? No, impossible. Behind him were Bordefinger, holding his daughter, and Ready, holding the little boy. If he dodged, the four blades of light would certainly strike them. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bordefinger turning around, intending to shield his daughter with his own body. He clearly thought Lorist would dodge and had prepared himself to be wounded by the blades. As for Ready, the sudden crisis had left him frozen in place.

Damn, they're Gold-rank enemies. Where's my sword? Lorist reached for his longsword and found nothing, then remembered that he had removed it after getting into the carriage and placed it behind the rear sofa. Fortunately, he still had his shortsword hanging at his waist.

With a metallic ring, the shortsword left its sheath. Clang, clang, clang, clang! In a flash of lightning and sparks, the shortsword whirled and cut down the four blades of light before they could reach him. Lorist's heart settled. Given this strength and speed, the blades of light had been fired by only a Gold One-star swordsman. They posed no threat to him and were nothing to fear. He was merely somewhat unaccustomed to using a shortsword as his primary weapon.

"Take the children into the carriage first. Ready, drive back to the tavern. I'll handle things here. Hurry..." Lorist ordered in a low voice.

"Huh? You actually blocked my four blades of light. Looks like this Black Iron-rank fellow really does have some ability." Two figures appeared at the edge of the square and slowly approached without haste.

"Don't worry, we're not here to take your life. We were hired to take one of your arms. It'll be over quickly. Just bear with it for a moment and you'll be fine. Heh heh." One of the figures spoke as though he were being humorous—or perhaps as though victory were already certain.

"If you want my arm, you'll have to trade your lives for it," Lorist replied coldly.

"Heh heh, we aren't Silver Rank. Two Gold Swordsmen can butcher you as easily as killing a chicken. Even a cornered chicken can fly onto a roof—where do you think a big fellow like you can run?"

"Senior Brother, stop wasting time. Are you going or am I? The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go back for a drink. The two women Junior Brother found for us are still waiting in the room." The other figure was growing impatient.

"Your sword." A longsword was handed over.

It was Lorist's longsword, the one he had left in the carriage. Bordefinger had carried his daughter into the carriage, taken Lorist's sword, and returned.

"They're after me. This has nothing to do with you." Lorist accepted the longsword and hurriedly glanced behind him. Seeing Ready driving the carriage away, he felt half reassured.

"The blades of light they fired just now were aimed at Alisha and me too." Anger filled Bordefinger's voice as he drew his own sword with a ringing rasp. If Lorist had not blocked those four blades of light, he and Alisha would have suffered disaster. Although the attackers had come for Lorist, they had targeted him and his daughter without distinguishing friend from foe. How could he swallow that anger?

"They're Gold rank. Be careful," Lorist reminded him.

"Hmph. It's not as though I've never fought Gold-rank opponents. I killed several on the battlefield," Bordefinger said.

"Heh heh, what a boast. I'd like to see how you plan to kill me, a Gold-rank swordsman. Junior Brother, there happen to be two of them. We'll each take one. As for that Locke, we'll just take the arm as Junior Brother requested. Kill the Silver Rank one."

"Good."

As soon as the words fell, the two figures opposite lunged forward with murderous auras...