NOVEL NEXT Chapter 2
2.
Refusal would be a crime of defying the imperial decree, and acceptance would lead to an assassination party by the central nobles.
It’s really a thrilling choice, isn’t it?
The Noble Selection.
It’s a ridiculous test created by the central nobles to select a suitable husband for the empress through what they claim to be an appropriate evaluation.
In reality, it’s because the rest of the royal family besides the empress has been killed, causing the imperial authority to collapse. This is one of the chaotic events where the central nobles are fighting over who gets to sit beside the young empress.
The administration of the selection process is in the hands of the great nobles, and it has now become a system for carrying out executions under the guise of imperial decree against those considered troublesome.
It’s been three years since the system was implemented. So many people have died that even I, who live in a distant land, have heard about it. Even commoners, who don’t know the full details, understand it’s dangerous.
Suddenly, my once golden future feels like it’s been struck by a famine.
Churrrk.
The knight standing beside the middle-aged noble turned his helmet.
The gaze from inside the helmet is quite intense.
Though his face is obscured by shadows, he seems pretty angry.
Looking at the insignia engraved on the center of his armor, he’s probably from the royal knight squadron.
It’s not like he’s saying anything too harsh, but can’t he at least let out a swear word or two? Who would calmly reply “yes” after hearing “come and die”?
As I quietly stared at the blue eyes hidden within the helmet, the knight flinched, gripped the sword at his waist, and approached me.
‘What’s he going to do?’
With my hand on the hilt, I watched the knight’s movements carefully.
I could faintly hear his breathing and see his determined gaze. Despite the heavy armor, he moves silently, showing he’s confident. But,
The distance between us is around five steps.
I can strike with my sword before he reacts.
He’s on official duty, so I might cut his sword in half. If his arm comes off too, it’s an accident.
“…”
“…”
As I stared at the knight in a tense standoff, the middle-aged noble stepped in between us.
“Enough! Lord Milene, step back.”
The knight glanced briefly at the middle-aged noble at his words.
“That man has shown disrespect to the royal family not once but twice, yet he has shown no signs of repentance.”
“You know as well, the knight. Such reactions are unavoidable when summoned for selection. Actually, Lord Macbillian is quite well-behaved among the candidates.”
The knight turned his head again upon hearing the noble’s words.
After briefly glaring at me, he nodded, turned away, and walked back toward the carriage.
‘Boring.’
Seeing him retreat so easily made me lose any excitement I had. As my irritation subsided, I began to feel bored.
What’s happening to my peaceful life in the borderlands?
“Surely it was a good day until now.”
Taking my hand off the sword, I sighed, and the middle-aged noble approached.
Seeing my expression, the noble gave a soft cough and spoke in a very quiet voice.
“Lord Macbillian. As a fellow noble, this is some advice from one aristocrat to another. The trial has already begun. Be careful until you arrive at the imperial palace. And here as well. Do you understand?”
“…Yes. Thank you for your advice.”
The noble nodded and returned to the carriage.
The central nobles must have chosen me, who is at the bottom of the noble register, and given instructions for some sort of operation. The assassins they prepared must be waiting for the imperial emissary to leave the village.
This is what the middle-aged noble’s advice meant. Be cautious, and avoid assassination.
“Tch…”
Assassins aren’t usually gentlemen who finish their mission and leave quietly after taking care of their target. They’re bound to go around killing anyone who witnessed them.
“After such a long break, an overtime shift, huh?”
This is my first overtime since being born in this world, and my mood wasn’t good.
*
Time swiftly passed, and night fell over Ruben Village.
After hastily finishing dinner with maid Rani, I grabbed a bottle of liquor to share with my master and headed outside the village.
At night, the outside of Ruben Village becomes pitch black, making it hard to distinguish objects.
Without streetlights or the glow from buildings like in modern society, places without light are inevitably filled with a dreary darkness after sunset.
I left the village without even a torch, as I deemed it unnecessary. The faint moonlight in the night sky is all I need and it’s plenty enough.
In an era like this, violence and murder are commonplace.
It’s a world where if you encounter a bandit in an uninhabited place, you simply vanish without a trace, and life goes on as if nothing happened.
Major cities and larger towns have relatively decent security, so they are comparatively safe. However, these borderlands are, frankly, far from secure. Even the guards in rural areas are of low quality.
The assassins must be waiting around the village with ease, probably joking about what they’ll do once they return.
However, there’s one thing these hidden enemies overlooked.
While outsiders may not know, Ruben is a particularly troublesome village in the borders that frequently suffers attacks from wild beasts or strange creatures.
Though battles are sporadic, the villagers are not entirely weak. The majority of the village’s defense falls on me, but the fact that the village remains unscathed throughout the year is proof of that.
It seems they were lazy with their reconnaissance, assuming it was just another rural area. Such complacency leads to a fatal end.
Puck!
In the serene forest where even the chirping insects fall silent, a stifled sound of pain echoed.
“Urggh…”
Amid the darkness, a figure with a severed torso collapsed to the ground.
The moonlight reflecting off the discarded sword faintly revealed the fallen corpse.
The old, blood-stained robe, the light armor covering only essential areas, and the sharp weapons glittering beneath the moonlight were all characteristic of a typical mercenary.
‘That makes seven.’
There are still more left.
Considering it’s just a border village, they sent quite a number of men.
Given their proper armament, it seems they intended to wipe out the entire village.
Whoever ordered this truly has a delightful sense of humor.
“We will settle this in the capital…”
Just as I was about to move, vowing to split someone’s head in two, I faintly sensed a presence from behind.
I raised my guard and turned my gaze toward the source of the movement.
Rustling bushes. Something large seemed to pass through. Suddenly, a corpse flew out from the rustling bushes.
Thud.
With a limp toss, the corpse hit the ground, blood oozing out, staining the dirt.
Only briefly after the corpse appeared, the bush that had darkened with blood began to shake again, and this time a person emerged instead of a body.
“A mercenary…”
An elderly man, holding someone in one hand, scanned the area.
“Master Landrel.”
Upon hearing my call, my master tossed the mercenary he’d been dragging.
The mercenary landed with a thud between me and the old man, and his body twitched slightly. He seems not to be dead, his lack of visible wounds and weak response indicating he was just unconscious.
Sheathing my sword and inspecting the unconscious mercenary on the ground, my master nudged him lightly with his toe.
“He was the one hiding and giving orders. Take a look.”
“I was just about to.”
“The rest I’ve tossed into the mountains.”
“Indeed, Master. Thank you.”
After slightly bowing, I began to beat the unconscious mercenary.
The mercenary, who had a swollen face by the time I finished, finally groaned weakly and opened his eyes.
“It will be more comfortable if you answer willingly. But even if you don’t talk, it’s fine.”
I slammed the back of his hand with my dagger. Suddenly stabbed, the mercenary screamed, and to prevent his loud cries, I shoved a piece of fabric torn from a corpse into his mouth.
“Uhhp!! Ugh!!”
Since mercenaries move for money, it’s understandable. However, I needed to identify the ones who commissioned them. A tiny bit of information would be necessary to deal with them later.
“Uhhp!!”
Typically, with enough torture, people tend to open up naturally.
I’ve heard some organizations train their members to endure such torture in case of capture, but I’ve never met anyone who could resist pain thus far.
“Cuhack! Chack! Argh, I’ll… I’ll talk! I’ll talk! We… ”
Around the halfway point of a lightly applied waterboarding session, the mercenary finally started spilling information like a broken faucet.
Filtering out unnecessary details about the captain’s wild lifestyle, I extracted only the useful information before cutting off the mercenary’s airway.
“Breton Mercenary Group… They operate near the capital.”
These guys came from quite a distance.
I’ll have to visit them once the selection is over.
“I’m done.”
“You’ve become quite accustomed to this.”
“I suppose I am a bit of a troublemaker, Master. I’ve brought some alcohol and food. Let’s head home.”
“Hehe. That is indeed good news. Did Rani make the food?”
Through casual conversation with my master, we left the forest.
An unassuming wooden house stood atop a modest hill on the outskirts of the village, offering a panoramic view of Ruben.
A small table outside the house, tree stumps of suitable height for sitting, and a quietly burning bonfire.
Under a star-studded night sky, we placed the alcohol and food on the table outside the house and took our seats.
Glup.
My master and I filled our glasses in silence, gazing at the night sky, and began to sip our drinks.
One glass, two glasses, three glasses.
Around the time the bottle was half empty, my master broke the silence.
“It’s been over five years already, Cain.”
I met my master when I was fifteen.
While wandering aimlessly to make ends meet, I came across him collapsed by the roadside.
Looking back now, my master wasn’t someone who could be defeated by ordinary means.
Yet, his form sprawled out seemed to exude an aura of resignation. It reminded me of my father from the past, prompting me to start a conversation that led us to where we are now.
Clack.
My master turned his gaze as he set down his glass.
“An imperial emissary has visited, I see. If they’ve come this far, does it concern that matter?”
“Yes. It was an invitation to participate in the Noble Selection.”
“Arrogant fools. Are they still perpetuating such antics?”
After refilling his glass, my master downed the drink before continuing.
“When does your departure take place?”
“In two days. I came beforehand to bid my farewell.”
My master’s previously hazy eyes sparkled.
After filling my empty glass, he continued speaking as we drank.
“I would have joined you, but my body hasn’t fully recovered yet.”
“No, Master. It’s okay. Rani is also here.”
At my calm reply, my master slightly smiled and nodded.
“Given your current state, there may be nobody in the empire who can stand against you. However, don’t let your guard down. Do you understand?”
That is indeed wise counsel. None of us can predict how life will turn.
Even my current situation, living my second life with the memories of my past life, speaks to that.
My master, with his piercing blue eyes, briefly inspected me before nodding.
“The imbalance between your soul and body seems to be gradually stabilizing. If you continue your training diligently, you’ll achieve great results.”
After making a quick diagnosis, my master placed something on the table.
“To be shown to a man named Alberto when you reach the imperial palace.”
“This is…”
A complexly shaped silver brooch.
In the center of the brooch was the image of a rising crow. The fact that it was bordered in black suggested it was the crest of a high-ranking noble family.
My master gently pushed the brooch towards me and continued.
“Tell him you’re Landrel’s disciple, and he’ll assist you.”
“Landrel…”
Holding onto the faded yet splendid brooch, past memories surfaced.
Five years ago, meeting my master was truly by chance.
If Rani hadn’t suddenly said she was hungry and veered off the path, we might never have crossed paths.
My master somehow knew all the swordsmanship of the empire or accepted my unusual strength with grace.
Considering these points, I am now certain of who my master truly is.
Landrel.
If it’s not someone with the same name, there’s only one person in the Western Continent who goes by that name.
The sword saint of the Altain Empire who vanished during the war against Silvester.
The first Swordmaster. Landrel Eremwald.
“Cain. Draw your sword. Let me check one last time if you’ve memorized all I taught.”
“Are you sober enough after drinking?”
“Hehe. No problem. I’ve been wielding a sword for fifty years.”
Thus, what started as a drinking session with my master, as always, ended with me getting beaten up.