The Warrior’s Ballad

Translator: Willia

Having a river next to a village or town made securing a water source convenient, but more than anything, the river breeze felt refreshing.

Compared to other inland cities, Ernburg was remarkably clean, with almost no unpleasant odors, and its people's appearances were neat and clean.

It was truly a good place to live. However, even in such a pleasant place, there were still problems.

Problems naturally arose wherever people gathered. If there was a society without any problems, it would probably be a seriously sick society.

So there was no need to become disillusioned with people themselves because of social problems.

Wherever you went, there would always be good people, but also some bad bastards. That’s all there was to it.

“I told you last time, didn’t I? That the kid who killed the Mad Dog Steiner is my friend. Tada! I brought him here! This is the guy I told you about, Ricky. Amazing, right? Hard to believe, huh? But it’s true. I was there with him at the time. If you underestimate him, you might lose your head. I’ve seen dozens of people like that already. Hehehe.”

Boribori said this while looking at a well-built adult man wearing a headscarf. The man was none other than Mason, the guild master and leader of the Stonemason Guild.

Mason crossed his arms and silently stared at the boy wearing a red cloak, while Boribori continued his cheeky talk.

Frankly, just listening to Boribori’s words would make it hard to believe, but Mason already knew that the famous 'Red Cloak' had arrived here.

However, Ricardt’s gaze was directed past Mason, toward the dock.

At the dock, several ships had been moored for days without setting sail. Around fifty members of the Stonemason Guild and their families had set up camp and were simply living there.

The women were struggling to carry several large pots, lighting fires on the spot to cook meals for their families.

This was because their livelihoods had recently become difficult, so they were cooking and eating together.

In the pots, pale gruel floated, with fish caught from the river bobbing whole. The smell of the food wafting in the wind wasn’t particularly pleasant.

“So, what do you want me to do about it?”

Mason asked Boribori, his blunt tone strangely intimidating.

But Boribori, completely unbothered, spoke in his usual way, whether out of confidence, cheerfulness, or sheer thoughtlessness, it was hard to tell.

With his phanton sword strapped to his waist, eyes wide, and finger raised, he spoke as if he was enthusiastically trying to sell something.

“We’re adventurers, right? When there's trouble, it's our job to handle it for you. Of course, we do require a small commission. So, we can collect your unpaid money for you. How about it? Don't we seem reliable?"

In reality, they were far from looking reliable. Boribori was barely 160 centimeters tall, and though Ricardt was as tall as an adult, his youthful face betrayed his age.

No matter how great their reputation, it was hard to truly believe when they came from such a different world.

But this was Ernburg. While they weren’t always here due to their wanderings, this place had once been the nominal stronghold of the Ernburg Five.

The people here knew best just how terrifying those five had been. And this boy had killed them.

The rumors had already spread. A boy in a red cloak, Boribori the Five Body Part Slicer, and Nameless X, the heroes of Siegfringer had eliminated the Ernburg Five.

The stonemason wearing a headscarf silently stared at Ricardt. But Ricardt’s gaze remained fixed on the people eating their meals.

When Mason followed Ricardt’s gaze, he saw people scraping the bottoms of three large pots, more than ten people crowding around each one. The fish gruel was gone in an instant.

Mason turned back to Ricardt and spoke.

“As you can see, this is our situation. We don’t have the money to make a request to the Adventurers’ Guild.”

Ricardt’s red cloak fluttered in the wind. Whatever he was thinking about, Ricardt continued to watch the people eating their gruel.

A woman feeding her baby first, a child squeezing between their siblings to barely manage to grab a single piece of meat, an elderly man insisting he had no appetite and giving up his portion to the children.

Ricardt took in these scenes with his eyes, then turned to Mason and asked,

“The commission fee can come from the unpaid money and its interest, we’ll take that interest as our payment. But before that, could you tell us what happened? I heard that this person Marconis had paid for the construction."

At that, Mason led Ricardt and Boribori somewhere. They arrived at a spot near the dock where wooden crates were stacked, and Mason pulled out a contract to show them.

The man pointed to a particular clause in the contract with his finger:

<If additional construction materials are required, the guild will procure these materials independently to complete the construction, and the merchant association will pay for the cost of the additional materials.>

The Stonemason Guild wasn’t just a group of people who chiseled stones or worked with masonry.

While the term “stonemason” referred to someone who carved and polished stones, the Stonemason Guild had a broader meaning. They were the ones who oversaw and completed the entire construction process.

From design, surveying, and material procurement, to transportation and on-site construction, they handled everything related to building. They even hired local laborers to secure the workforce.

The Ernburg Stonemason Guild was famous because they built everything, from ordinary homes to a lord’s castle, city walls, and temples.

Despite being a group of highly skilled artisans, they were not treated well socially.

Even if they were entrusted with a massive project that cost astronomical amounts of money, after deducting labor costs and the price of materials, the guild itself received very little in the end.

Their skills were passed down from generation to generation and developed over time. It wasn’t something one could learn in an educational institution or academy.

For this reason, if a group like this collapsed, it would be impossible to recover their expertise.

“So, you’re saying the construction fee was paid, but the problem lies with the additional costs. It’s clearly written in the contract, why aren’t they paying?”

Ricardt’s tone carried a sense of confusion, but the truth was that it wasn’t surprising. It was obvious at a glance that the merchant association was pulling a scummy move to avoid paying. Still, he asked anyway to confirm.

“They said, ‘How can we know whether additional materials were actually needed after the construction is already completed?’”

It was blatant nitpicking.

No matter how meticulously a contract was written, there had to be mutual trust when executing an agreement. Whether it was due to a lack of trust or deliberate malice, the merchant association clearly wasn’t holding up their end.

“But here’s what I’m curious about. Even if additional materials were needed, couldn’t you just build with what you had, to match the amount of money you received?”

Or, alternatively, couldn’t they stop construction midway and renegotiate the terms? Ricardt wondered if it was really necessary for the guild to go out of pocket to complete the building.

Mason, the leader of the stonemasons, gazed at Ricardt for a moment before suddenly asking him a question in return.

“Why do you wield a sword?”

“Huh?”

“Is it for the sake of indulging in your own power, like the Ernburg Five did?”

“No, it’s not.”

"We have traditions and principles. 'When building something, build it as if it will last forever.' It’s a saying that has been passed down to us for countless generations. We’ve built homes, raised castles, and constructed cities. Even if the owners of those buildings vary, we’re the ones who brought them into existence with our hands.

“Look at this city. Look at this dock. Look at that city wall over there. Every one of them was built by my father, my grandfather, and my ancestors.”

There was a palpable sense of pride in Mason’s words.

Ricardt followed his gaze, looking first at the dock nearest to him, then at the houses scattered across the city in the distance, and finally at the city walls.

They all appeared different to him now. Indeed, all of those were things that had been built by human hands.

Buildings that had stood for mere years, decades, or even centuries still stood firm and unwavering. Perhaps the very home they lived in had been built by these people.

“You probably kill people easily and earn money just as easily. That’s why we must look foolish to you. But to us, there’s a value more important than simply making a living. We’re willing to endure hunger to uphold that value.”

“You don’t seem foolish to me.”

“...”

“You seem admirable, actually. If my question was rude, I apologize. I was just curious.”

Ricardt apologized with a smile, his demeanor as refreshing as the river breeze. Apologizing to someone like Mason didn’t feel the least bit embarrassing or humiliating.

Mason looked at Ricardt with a sense of surprise, as if finding him unexpected. He had assumed Ricardt would be arrogant, but that wasn’t the case.

In truth, Ricardt’s attitude varied depending on the person. When he needed to, he could be arrogant, but he respected Mason because Mason was a man of admirable principles.

"Let's set aside making the contract for now. First, do you agree to let us collect the unpaid money?"

“If you can get it for us, we’d be grateful.”

“Good. Let’s go, Bori.”

“Huh? Huh? Where?”

“Where else? To collect the money.”

With a sword slung over one shoulder, Ricardt strode away from the dock. He was heading toward the mansion he had visited the day before for the banquet.

Boribori hurried to catch up with him, asking,

“Is it okay to do this without even writing a contract?”

“You can tell just by looking, whether someone is decent or a scumbag. The merchant association’s lot gave off a slimy vibe. If we’re going to settle down in this city, we need to think long-term, right? That means it’s better to judge by people, not money.”

“No, I’m asking if it’s okay to skip the contract altogether.”

“Nobles stake their lives on their word. Some even consider signing a contract an insult.”

“Eh... Since when did you start acting like a noble, Ricky?”

“You punk.”

Ricardt roughly ruffled Boribori’s hair. Despite Boribori being fourteen years old and on the verge of adulthood next year, Ricardt, two years younger, was the taller and more robust of the two.

“So, how exactly are we getting the money back?”

“Simple. By force.”

It wasn’t as if trials didn’t exist in this era, but most disputes were resolved through force rather than legal proceedings.

Trials took a long time, and unless the local lord presided over them directly, they weren’t very effective. Even if you won, there was nothing you could do if the losing party simply refused to comply, saying, “Take what you want over my dead body.”

Of course, there were different types of trials, and one of them, trial by combat, offered a clean resolution to disputes. Every legitimate noble had the right to demand a trial by combat.

Ricardt, being a legitimate noble himself, had confidence in this. If push came to shove, he could always demand a trial by combat.

Besides, when it came to recovering unpaid money, there weren’t many options other than using force.

Arriving at the gates of the mansion he had visited the previous day, Ricardt called out to the gatekeeper.

“You remember me from yesterday, right? Please open the gate.”

The gatekeeper peered through the gap in the beautifully carved gate, recognized Ricardt, and obediently opened it. He remembered Ricardt because of the shabby clothes he had worn the day before.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

“What brings you here, my lord?”

“I’m here to collect unpaid money.”

“...Huh?”

The gatekeeper looked confused, clearly not understanding what Ricardt was talking about.

But Ricardt didn’t wait for a response. He pushed the gate open and strode into the courtyard. As he strolled around the estate, taking everything in, his gaze eventually landed on the stables.

“Bori, grab a bridle.”

"Huh, what are you planning?"

"Let's sell these horses to cover the unpaid debt.”

"Huuuh?"

Horses were incredibly valuable. Even the cheapest ones, excluding pack horses, were worth several gold coins. The expensive ones were worth prices that could soar to unimaginable heights.

The stable was quite large and well-built, and when Ricardt entered, he found five massive large inside.

Ricardt chose the horse with the glossiest coat and the best physique among them. It was clear at a glance that it had been meticulously cared for.

“Wh-who are you?”

The stable boy, who had been sweeping the floor, was flustered when strangers entered. But Ricardt paid him no attention. He grabbed a bridle and placed it on the striking brown horse with white spots.

“Wh-who are you? Please don't touch them."

“Don’t come any closer. I might kill you.”

Ricardt threatened while drawing his dagger. While it was essentially robbery, it was forced collection according to the contract.

The gleaming edge of the sharp dagger radiated menace, and the terrified stable boy panicked, immediately bolting to inform his employer.

In the meantime, Ricardt saddled the horse, led it outside, and climbed onto its back. Having taken riding lessons back at his home, he was quite good at it.

Boribori, on the other hand, didn’t know how to ride a horse, so he simply grabbed the reins of another horse and hurried out.

Ricardt, already mounted, rode into the mansion’s inner courtyard and waited for Boribori.

Clop clop. Clop clop. Clop clop.

He trotted around, trampling the grass as if he owned the place, casually turning the horse in different directions.

The imposing sight of a person on horseback naturally overwhelmed onlookers, and the mansion’s staff stopped what they were doing to stare in shock.

“Open the gate! Or I’ll trample you!”

Ricardt shouted, pointing his sword at the gatekeeper. Faced with the massive horse, the gleaming sword, his commanding voice, and his fierce glare overwhelmed the gatekeeper, who instinctively flung the gates wide open.

By then, Boribori had managed to slip outside.

At that moment, Marconis stormed out of the mansion, his face a mix of outrage and disbelief.

“W—what do you think you’re doing?!”

Ricardt looked down at him from atop the horse and sneered.

“I’m here to collect unpaid debts. You should have paid your debts on time. If the value of this horse isn’t enough, I’ll be back for more. Farewell. Hyah!”

Then he brazenly spurred the horse and galloped out of the mansion. The rough hooves kicked up clouds of dust.

Clop! Clop! Clop! Clop!

His blonde hair streamed in the wind, and his red cloak fluttered.

The mansion’s staff couldn’t take their eyes off the picturesque sight of the boy as he disappeared into the distance. Indeed, it seemed that noble lineage wasn’t proven by appearances alone but by bold actions and an unshakable demeanor.

Meanwhile, Marconis, the owner of the horse, was left utterly dumbfounded, staring blankly at Ricardt as he vanished.

Because the horse Ricardt had just taken was worth far more than the unpaid debt.