The Grasslands Will Remember Us Forever (3)
"To our honored guest!"
"To our honored guest—!"
Wahahahaha—!
At the Blue Legs Tribe settlement on the outskirts of the desert, I forced an awkward smile while looking at the feast spread so heavily across the tables that they looked ready to collapse.
"Young Master! This is super delicious!"
"Kkuk! Kkukkuk!"
The others burst into laughter at Arin, who sat beside me stuffing both hands full of meat into her mouth.
"Hah! This little lady knows good food when she sees it!"
"Eat as much as you like! There's plenty more meat outside!"
Of course there was.
They were eating the warhorses that had died in today's battle.
"No matter how I think about it, this situation makes absolutely no sense."
"What a coincidence. I was thinking the same thing."
Chewing on the charcoal-grilled horse meat, I answered Stella.
Wow, as expected of a warhorse.
This stuff was tough as hell.
It felt like chewing on leather armor.
"Hahaha! Don't say such cold things, Senior Brother!"
Meanwhile, Timur, the tribe's hearty chief, approached me laughing loudly.
"We're practically family now, aren't we?"
"No, we're not."
Total strangers, actually.
We literally met today.
I answered flatly while taking a sip of fermented mare's milk wine.
The sour taste hit instantly. Definitely not something anyone but locals could drink.
"I already explained it. Lost sword arts or whatever, I don't know anything about that."
I rejected Timur's eager expression outright.
A grown man around my previous life's age was using honorifics toward a fifteen-year-old kid.
It was so uncomfortable the food wouldn't go down properly.
"But Senior Brother did use that swordsmanship."
Timur spoke with a deadly serious expression.
"The Four Shadows Strike. And Yungsa."
"...."
When I fell silent, Timur took a breath and began explaining.
"There is a prophecy passed down within our tribe."
"A prophecy?"
At my question, Timur slowly spoke in the awkward language of the old Empire.
"Pass this sword to the warriors of the grasslands and the knights of the north."
"And thus, our Empire shall shine brilliantly once more."
Hearing that, I paused to think.
The warriors of the grasslands.
Back when this desert had still been grasslands, that was what the swordsmen of the Aishingior Empire had been called.
Now it probably referred to these descendants of the Empire.
Then who were the knights of the north?
There was no need to think hard about it.
"Following the prophecy, my grandfather passed those techniques down to both my father and a swordsman from the north."
"And the name of that northern swordsman?"
"Ian Leinrant."
A sigh escaped me automatically.
To think I'd actually run into someone who was practically my martial senior brother.
"My father died young in battle, and the swordsmanship meant to be passed down to me vanished with him."
Their swordsmanship wasn't passed down through manuals, but through the body itself.
Exactly the same way Ian had taught me.
"But now that Senior Brother has appeared, one of our greatest burdens—"
"Ah, wait, wait."
After understanding what was going on, I quickly stopped Timur.
'Was that old man beating the hell out of me all the time because of this?'
My ability to perfectly reproduce techniques after seeing them once.
I thought he just enjoyed teaching.
There was no way he'd actually planned something like this too.
No, impossible.
Knowing that old bastard's personality, he definitely just shoved every technique he knew into me at random and accidentally hit the jackpot.
'And I still need to figure out whether this situation benefits me or not.'
The reason they brought me here and treated me so lavishly was obvious.
Help restore the lost swordsmanship.
In other words, stay here for a while and act as their swordsmanship instructor.
Unfortunately for them, I had absolutely no intention of doing that.
"You were trying to capture me, weren't you?"
"T-That was just a contract! We were only doing it for money..."
Only then seeming to realize the issue, Timur lowered his head with a reddened face.
'A contract. So there really is someone backing this.'
Thinking that, I immediately spoke.
"And instead of completing that contract, now you're trying to protect me—the very target they wanted."
At those words, Timur fell silent.
"Do you know who's after me?"
"Ah, well..."
Of course he didn't.
Their mission had simply been to capture me and deliver me to Count Terein.
Mercenaries didn't need to know anything beyond that.
"You see that nun over there?"
I pointed toward Stella, who was still fiercely battling a chunk of horse meat.
"She's a watcher assigned to me by the Holy Church."
The Holy Church.
At those words, tension appeared on their faces as well.
"Not the Church, I'm specifically Father Garrison's—mmph?!"
Stuffing another piece of horse meat into Stella's mouth before she could object, I continued:
"The ones who hired you were the Church."
These people worshipped ancestral gods rather than Kersias.
To the Holy Church, nomads wandering the desert were heretics.
There was absolutely nothing to gain from getting entangled with them.
"Count Terein... hired by the Church?"
"That's the first I've heard of it..."
"But if it's true, then this is dangerous, Timur."
The ones agreeing with me were the tribe's elderly elders.
"Sorry, but I don't have time to stay here just to explain things to you."
My objective wasn't these people.
It was the royal tomb in the center of the desert.
The undead sleeping inside it.
Calling me Senior Brother out of nowhere, talking about absurd prophecies and all that nonsense...
I had no interest in any of it, nor did it benefit me in the slightest.
Still, there was something I absolutely needed from them.
'I was wondering how I'd get the blood I needed. This gives me the perfect excuse.'
Thinking that inwardly, I continued speaking.
"So, while we're at it, how about we make a deal—"
And just then—
"I'm the adjutant of Count Terein!"
"Timur!"
Along with urgent shouting, a group of knights entered the settlement.
At the front stood an Imperial officer wearing red clothing.
The crest of Count Terein's family was embroidered onto his cloak.
Hihiiiiing—!
Not the small horses nomads usually rode, but military steeds raised within castle walls.
The knights dismounted and walked toward us with narrowed eyes.
"Timur! What is the meaning of this?!"
"What happened to Young Master Klein?! He was supposed to be delivered to the castle tonight—!"
The knight stormed into the tent shouting that—
"Ah."
What entered the knights' sight was Arin happily stuffing her mouth full of meat, Stella staring blankly at her, and me standing in the center.
The knights stared silently at us for a moment.
Then one of them—
Shing—!
Drew his sword and charged straight at me.
Kakakang—!
There was no need to defend.
The path of his blade was merely the basic forms of Imperial swordsmanship.
Techniques I had grown sick of seeing during the civil war with Hellian.
Slash—!
Nordvind slid free from its sheath and carved a wound into the knight's arm.
Before he could even process the shock of having his ambush completely read, pain surged through his arm.
"Kraaaagh?!"
"What?! When did he move—?!"
They could technically see my movements.
The difference between someone with mana and someone without it was heaven and earth.
But even while seeing me move, they couldn't follow me at all.
"What in the world is this...?!"
They thought I was attacking from the front, only for the strike to come from the side.
They prepared for the side, only for blades to come from every other direction.
It was my late grandfather's swordsmanship.
Phantom Sword.
"Told you. I said I didn't have time, didn't I?"
There were still four knights left ahead of me, but I wasn't concerned in the slightest.
Rumble—!
Hundreds of Blue Legs tribesmen carrying scimitars and curved blades surged toward the knights.
"You've got to be kidding...?!"
"Timur! What do you think you're doing?!"
The knights looked around in shock at the completely unexpected reaction, pointing their swords in every direction.
"Have you lost your minds?! Why are you targeting us instead of Young Master Klein...?!"
"I was wondering the same thing myself."
While I casually chimed in at the knights' flustered voices—
"That person is our tribe's guest. Don't go pointing swords at him carelessly."
"You barged into our settlement without even announcing yourselves. What, you think this place is your playground?!"
It seemed the tribe didn't think very highly of the knights either, judging by their sharp responses.
'Glad they're backing me up, but...'
Mercenaries willing to turn their blades on their employer over nothing but this "Senior Brother" nonsense.
Where in the world do you even find people this stubborn?
"Guest? Don't be ridiculous. That man is not your guest. He's our target."
As the standoff dragged on—
"If you insist on behaving this way, then we can no longer remain patient either."
At the officer's voice from the front line, cracks appeared in Timur's furious expression.
"Mercenaries live by working for the gold they're paid. Yet you're refusing your contract."
"..."
"Do you truly wish to starve to death in this desert?"
He wasn't wrong.
Mercenaries were people who risked their lives for a handful of coins.
The sight of the warriors charging headfirst into the shield wall earlier was proof of just how desperate their lives were.
"Think carefully, Chief Timur."
Surrounded by knights, the officer curled the corner of his mouth upward.
"All those gold coins you borrowed from the Count."
"...!"
"We could demand repayment immediately."
At those words, Timur's eyes wavered.
A brief silence followed.
Thinking he had seized control of the situation, the officer slowly spoke again.
"For now, since you still have Young Master Klein with you, we won't make an issue of this. So hurry and—"
"Hey, disciple."
I interrupted the officer mid-sentence and called out to Timur.
No special reason.
That officer's way of talking was just pissing me off.
"How much was the contract fee for capturing me?"
After a moment, the answer came back.
"...Three thousand."
"Silver? Gold? Be specific."
At that, Timur clenched his fists tightly before answering.
"Gold coins."
The moment he said that, Stella—who had been watching this whole mess from afar—covered her mouth.
"Three thousand... three thousand..."
It absolutely wasn't a small amount.
Even a respectable knight order would go crazy over that kind of money.
Apparently, this so-called count had valued my head quite highly.
The problem was just one thing.
My family had recently become pretty damn rich.
'And I was wondering what to spend my share on.'
Remembering the heavy pouch Priscilla's ducal house had sent me, I tossed it toward Timur without hesitation.
What spilled out from the heavy pouch wasn't ordinary gold coins, but platinum coins.
"Four thousand as advance payment. Finish the job and I'll pay you the same amount again."
At those words, Timur, the knights, and the officer all widened their eyes.
The atmosphere that had seemed ready to explode instantly cooled down.
Shrugging casually, I spoke indifferently.
"What are you waiting for? Shut those bastards up already."
***
"The northern grasslands? That's wonderful news."
The next morning.
We organized the information obtained after interrogating the knights and the officer.
The client behind the contract was the lord of Terchin, Marquis Terein.
He was already preparing his knight order to pursue me.
Their numbers were around one hundred.
Veteran knights skilled in group combat and rich with battlefield experience.
"The journey itself shouldn't be too dangerous."
Now that they had openly turned against the Count, Timur and his tribe could no longer survive in the desert.
'Other tribes will start invading their territory. And eventually the Count himself might intervene directly.'
That was why I told Timur to lead his tribe toward the Leinrant territory.
The eastern frontier region under a branch family's sphere of influence.
Since it was grassland territory, it wouldn't be a bad place for them either.
"The Count's going to focus on killing me first, not you guys."
I recalled the knights we had interrogated all night before sending them back.
We stripped them naked top and bottom, stuffed them into sacks, and sent them home like that.
The humiliation must've been unbearable.
"So, Senior Brother... about the promise you made..."
"Don't worry. I always keep my promises."
Alongside the payment, I had promised to pass down the swordsmanship Ian had taught me.
'Of course, there are plenty of ways to do that.'
I was both a swordsman and a scholar.
Someone whose profession was organizing, systemizing, and recording what he saw and learned.
"There are sword manuals in my family library. I can just reference those and create one."
"Ooooh...!"
At my words, Timur's face immediately brightened.
The lost swordsmanship of their ancestors.
They were practically abandoning the desert for it, so they deserved something in return.
"But seriously, are you really okay speaking politely to me like this when you're supposed to be the chief of a tribe?"
I genuinely couldn't understand it, so I asked.
And the answer I got was—
"In the desert, strength is hierarchy, and the sword is status!"
—which sounded suspiciously similar to the philosophy of a certain household I knew.
'The knights and these guys alike...'
People carrying swords really are all insane.
I was thinking that when—
"Ah, right."
As though I had only just remembered something, I turned to Timur and spoke.
"Since I'm writing your sword manual, there's one thing I need first."
"Oh? What is it, Senior Brother?"
Smiling at the immediately attentive Timur, I pulled a beautifully decorated glass bottle from my coat.
"Give me some of your blood."