Record of Wortenia War: Volume 2

by Ryota Hori

  “You really gotta hand it to the Crimson Lion.”

  Not just in terms of her connections, but also her skills.

  “Well, half of it was her making use of Boltz’s connections...” Gran grumbled in agreement. “Still, it’s impressive how she gathered this number of mercenaries so quickly without going through the guild. And she didn’t call in just anyone. They’ve all got the reputations to back them up, and there’s a lot of people still on the fence... I guess they don’t call Lione the Crimson Lion for nothing.”

  Arand scanned the place, shrugging in what looked like exasperation.

  “Yeah... You hit the nail on the head, Gran.” He nodded deeply, confirming his friend’s assertion.

  Gran was the same guild rank as Lione, but he wouldn’t have managed to call in this many troops, even if he did have the money to pay them better than market price. That woman, ten years younger than Gran though she was, possessed something that drew people to her side.

  “You met the kid, right? What’s your take on him, Gran?”

  Many a rough man looked up to Lione as a sisterly figure because of that quality she had, and Lione had acknowledged that young man: Ryoma Mikoshiba. The biggest reason for them gathering here was out of their great expectations toward this young, mature-looking lad they’d met just a few days prior.

  “He’s sharp, just like the Crimson Lion says. To be honest, I thought about crushing his skull the first time we talked, but I won’t deny he has a way of drawing you in. Kid ain’t got a shred of charm to him, but he’s sharp. Besides, if we leave that bastard Wallace be, the sparks might end up flying our way too one of these days.”

  The face of the boy he’d met a few days ago surfaced in Gran’s mind. He had plain, sociable features, but that was just on the surface. Ryoma Mikoshiba possessed a shrewdness one would never assume from his appearance. Gran knew this well enough from how he’d been tricked during his conversation with Lione. He fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

  When Ryoma exposed the reason Lione called him out to the pub that day, Gran was just about ready to murder him on the spot, but complaining about it now wouldn’t change the past. The moment Lione called him over and he walked up to her, everything was already set in stone. Pretend as he might to be a seasoned veteran, no single mercenary could escape having an official of the guild that had its fingers nestled in every corner of the continent keeping their eye on them.

  After meeting Lione, Gran used his own connections as a seasoned mercenary to gather information as well as he could. What he learned was that there was no record of Lione’s group failing a request.

  On the contrary— not only did they not fail any requests, there was no record of them taking on such a request from Pherzaad to begin with. He’d confirmed that from a person working in Pireas’s guild who owed him a hefty amount of money. The other mercenaries here probably managed to come up with the same information, albeit through different channels.

  “So you ended up coming to the same conclusion, eh, Gran?”

  “Yeah. So long as Lione didn’t make up the whole thing about the request.”

  “Which means...”

  Arand cast a meaningful gaze at him, to which Gran nodded.

  “Yeah. Sooner or later, that son of a bitch Wallace is gonna move to silence anyone who knows about this incident... Otherwise, news of Lione’s group being traitors would be going through every branch.”

  “The fact he hasn’t done that means he’s still looking things over?”

  “That’s probably about right, yeah.” Gran spat out his reply bitterly.

  All requests accepted through the guild were usually recorded in detail, down to who accepted which request from whom, for how much, and where it happened. That was crucial information necessary for dividing adventurers and mercenaries into ranks. And while Gran couldn’t normally look into other people’s records, he was still able to, thanks to the clerk he had leverage over.

  If he could find no such record, it would mean one of two things. Either Lione’s group fooled everyone by claiming to take a request that didn’t exist, or someone with enough power to bend the guild’s rules struck the request out of its records.

  But Lione had no reason to fool Gran and the other mercenaries, and even if she did, she’d come up with a more believable alibi. Which left only one answer to the question. And there weren’t many people capable of hiding the existence of a request taken through the guild.

  There wasn’t a trace of proof for that, but the most likely candidate was the guildmaster of Pherzaad’s guild, Wallace Heinkel.

  “So everything’s going just how that kid predicted, eh?”

  “Yeah. He’s a cheeky snot, but I can see what the Crimson Lion saw in him.”

  “Guess the rest depends on whether the kid can take out Branzo... Did you tell the Crimson Lion about him, Gran?”

  Arand’s gaze fixed on the back of a man standing in the center of a group of people forming a circle. He was a large man, clad in leather armor that was reinforced in a few spots with metal plates. A black tattoo of a spider was etched into his exposed, log-like upper arm.

  Lione, who was standing nearby, was fairly large for a woman, but in comparison to her, the difference was all too obvious.

  “Yeah, I mentioned it while she was gathering information.”

  “The Black Spider... I don’t know who hired him, but a bastard like him definitely makes for a good assassin. Think it was Wallace?”

  Arand must have hated Branzo a great deal, because he spat at the ground while glaring at the ominous black tattoo on his arm.

  Branzo the Black Spider. A man infamous among mercenaries as a man who would take on any job so long as it would pay him well.

  “No, it definitely wasn’t Wallace. Pherzaad’s a long way off, so even a guildmaster would have trouble handling things directly... But he’ll probably make his move sooner or later.”

  “So it was someone in Rhoadseria...”

  “Yeah, probably.” Gran answered, nodding as he twirled his beard. “The most suspicious bunch are the nobles’ faction mooks opposing the princess.”

  “I guess it’s better than not knowing when they might get attacked, but facing an assassin head-on isn’t what I’d call normal either. And I don’t see some amateur kid with no experience on the battlefield beating Branzo... He might be a disgusting piece of shit, but the Black Spider has enough skill to back up that name... Why did you suggest this, Gran?”

  “You’re asking me that now?” Gran shook his head at Arand’s accusing tone.

  “I don’t mean that. Yeah, if he defeats Branzo, he’ll be turning everyone’s heads. No one would be calling him a greenhorned brat anymore if he proved his strength like that. But...”

  Arand trailed off.

  “Right... He knew that from the get-go, and the fact he went with my idea is proof he thinks he has a chance.”

  “You think he can win?”

  “Who knows? Can’t tell without seeing the fight play out.” Gran shrugged, showing an amused smile.

  Ryoma Mikoshiba was in his tent, lying over a woolen blanket, quietly reading a book. The book was brown, discolored from exposure to sunlight, and had the moldy smell distinctive of old books, which made the lengthy history the book had survived clear to the eye.

  “Master Ryoma... It’s almost time.”

  Laura’s sweet whisper tickled his ear, pulling Ryoma out of his reading and back to reality.

  “Ah, so it is...”

  Ryoma raised his body from Laura’s thighs, which served as his pillow, and gave a long stretch. The sound of his bones creaking filled the room.

  The book in Ryoma’s hands wasn’t one produced through the usual methods by this time, but a much older sort of book, made by having the pages sewn together with string. Perhaps calling it a tome rather than a book would be more apt. It wasn’t written with normal ink, but rather with black octopus ink, and was certainly not something made in this Earth.


  The Questions and Replies between Emperor Taizong of Tang and Li Weigong

  It was counted as one of the Seven Military Classics of China, alongside the Wuzi. This book, penned during the Tang Dynasty, described the interactive dialogue between a tactician and general who were among the greatest in Chinese history. This particular book was one of the easier reads among the seven classics.

  That said, even back in Ryoma’s world, there weren’t many who could read this tome. It may have been block printed, but it wasn’t written in standard characters. Plus, it was in Chinese. Anyone who didn’t major in Classical Chinese Lit in their higher learning wouldn’t be able to read it.

  And this was another Earth at that— it wasn’t even Ryoma’s world. Naturally enough, it simply sat gathering dust for years in the store of a merchant who handled old books until Ryoma found it.

  “Sorry about using you as a pillow.” Ryoma rose to his feet, putting a bookmark in the point where he’d stopped.

  “It’s fine. If my lap suits you, you may use it whenever you wish.”

  Ryoma brushed his fingers gently through Laura’s silver locks in gratitude.

  “You were quite absorbed in your reading... But are you sure you shouldn’t have moved your body a bit more?” Sara, who also stood nearby, asked with concern, as she handed him a glass of water.

  Ryoma had read many books translated into Japanese, but reading a book in Chinese was a first for him. He owed it to this world.

  I guess it’s the same logic as me being able to read this world’s language... I could probably do some pretty interesting stuff if I make use of this... But I guess I should finish this little job first.

  Some special measure regarding language had likely been applied to him when he was summoned to this world. And while it was certainly an interesting matter to think about, Ryoma chose to focus on the battle ahead.

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  Ryoma gulped down the water which Sara had chilled with thaumaturgy. With his head having been filled with the text he’d been reading, the cool water served as a refreshing reprieve. Handing the empty glass back to Sara, Ryoma closed his eyes and rotated his shoulders.

  Nothing felt out of the ordinary. Ryoma’s grandfather had beat into him the importance of always conducting himself like he was on the battlefield, and so Ryoma had no need to choose the place and time of a battle. Not being able to block surprise attacks and foul play was a much worse fate. Ryoma had been educated this way from a young age, and it was a way of thinking that sports would never cultivate.

  Since he was always ready for true combat, not being able to defend himself without warming up first simply wasn’t an option. An enemy that ambushed you wouldn’t simply stand by and give you a minute to do a few squats, after all...

  “The preparations should be ready by now, thanks to Lione. All that’s left is to show off to all those people...”

  Fundamentally speaking, people were no different from animals; the weak bowed before the strong. But Ryoma knew perfectly well from past experience that when it came to humans, showing off your strength in a bad way could invoke the opposite effect.

  The important part was the question of how the people around him perceived the target he was fighting. So long as he minded that, Ryoma would achieve the result he wanted.

  It doesn’t matter if this is another world, or if I’m up against a human. It’s nothing I haven’t been through before.

  Ryoma had gained information on Branzo through Lione. From his personality to his way of thinking, his perception of good and evil, and even his fighting style... The winner was already decided. And few things were as satisfying as beating down the arrogant.

  Ryoma’s lips curled up as a childhood memory surfaced in his thoughts. Unlike in Japan, he would have no need to hold back this time.

  I’m getting chills... Is this fear? Or am I actually starting to enjoy killing...?

  Rather than a shudder of excitement, what filled Ryoma’s heart was a satisfying, sweet delight. Before he even knew it, Ryoma had grown accustomed to life on this Earth. He just hadn’t become aware of it yet.

  “But...”

  “I’ll be fine.” Ryoma placed a hand on Sara’s shoulder, as she stood beside him with an anxious expression. “I’ll get it done quickly. Honestly, I could really use the exercise right now, so it couldn’t have come at a better time. Oh, but hold on to this for me, okay?”

  Ryoma handed her the book in his hands, not a trace of anxiety or wavering in his eyes. Only an iron will could be seen in him.

  ““Good luck.””

  The beautiful twins bowed their heads at Ryoma’s words, spoken in the same tone as ever, following his large, reliable back as he left.

  “Well, you took your time showing up.” Branzo spat out ominously as Ryoma stood up in front of him with a calm smile. “Showing up with two women serving you, eh? Someone’s got ’er made.”

  Indeed, after waiting under the blazing sun, Branzo would want to make a sarcastic remark or two. Lione, who stood nearby, shook her head with a wry smile. He’d apparently been taking out his anger on her until Ryoma showed up.

  “We still have some time left... Don’t we?” But Ryoma faced Branzo’s angry gaze calmly, turning to look at Laura, who stood behind him.

  “Yes. We’ve agreed to meet at midday, and there’s still some time.”

  As if to confirm her words, the bell signaling noon rang from behind the walls.

  “Right, bang on noon-time. Let’s get started, shall we? I’m sure we both have places to be and our own matters to attend to.” Ryoma took off his overcoat and handed it over to Laura, who waited on him.

  Sure enough, Ryoma wasn’t late to arrive, so he had no need to apologize, but Branzo could only see him as a brat who didn’t know his place. He looked harmless enough and spoke politely, but everything about the way he acted irritated Branzo.

  “I see what everyone meant now.” Branzo whispered as he looked at Ryoma’s toned form. “You’re pretty well built for a brat, and you got the balls to back it up. I can see why you’d overestimate your own strength.”

  Ryoma’s well-defined abs would probably be as hard as a metal plate if he were to flex them. His chest was wide, and his hands were as thick as logs, with fat coating his steel-like muscles. Truly, the body of a warrior. Enough to elicit sighs of admiration from the surrounding mercenaries.

  But Branzo, on the other hand, was sure of his superiority. From every perspective, be it height, weight or physique, Ryoma wasn’t his equal. One’s power was the sum of their muscle strength, and one’s physique dictated the upper limit of that power. And in all those regards, Ryoma was lacking compared to Branzo.

  “Well, physique and muscles aren’t everything.” Ryoma sneered meaningfully.

  Ryoma insinuated that Branzo was an idiot who was only good for his muscular prowess, and the mocking light in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t afraid of his opponent in the slightest.

  Ryoma’s indomitable attitude further sharpened the glare of Branzo’s emotionless, reptile-like eyes. His towering height of two hundred and twenty-five centimeters, along with his muscles, gave off the menacing aura an armored giant might produce.

  His glare alone could reduce women and children to tears. But Ryoma simply gave a slight bow of his head and turned his back to him without a word.

  “You’ve definitely got balls, I’ll give you that. You don’t seem like a greenhorn, at the very least... Fine. I figured I’d grant you a painless death, out of respect for a fellow mercenary... But fuck that. With that kind of attitude, I’ll snap your limbs off like a bug.”

  Whispering those words huskily, Branzo cast a murderous look at Lione.

  “Crimson Lion... You know the deal. No interference.”

  “Bit late in the game to bring that up, slick. It’s you we’re talkin’ about. And it’s not like ya haven’t taken your own measures, aye?”

  He replied to her question with a smi
rk that made it clear she was right.

  “Of course not. I’m not dumb enough to take someone at their word without any guarantee.”

  “That’s pretty cold of ya.” Lione said, seemingly offended. “If ya don’t trust me that much, why’d ya even show up for this?”

  “Heh, even I can’t lay my hands on someone hiding in the castle. And I’m busy enough. My job’s just to kill one greenhorn kid, and I don’t want to waste any more time.”

  It seemed Lione believed his words. Branzo’s skill wasn’t bad at all, but he had a massive body that wasn’t suited for sneaking into a castle and assassinating a target. That meant he’d have to wait for his prey to scamper out of its hole eventually, but that would take time. She didn’t know how much this job would fetch him, but it made sense; given his personality, he’d go along with this offer if it ended things quickly.

  “I getcha... Gran’s idea musta been a godsend for ya, eh...”

  “More or less... But shit, what a dumb kid. To think he’d come over to me just to get himself killed.”

  Lione eyed Branzo coldly as he grinned indomitably.

  “Are you both ready?”

  Ryoma and Branzo both nodded silently at Lione’s question.

  The distance between the two warriors eyeing each other down was roughly ten meters.

  I’ll teach this little sod to run his mouth at me...

  Branzo lowered his waist and glared at Ryoma. The fact he didn’t even ask him to remove the leather armor he wore over his massive body just annoyed him further.

  That didn’t mean he intended to take off his own armor, though. It annoyed him to no end, but he wouldn’t cast aside an advantage.

  Look at this joker. He intends to fight me while standing still...? What an inexperienced amateur. Poor idiot doesn’t even know how to fight, and he still challenged me.

  Branzo mocked Ryoma, who stood still with his arms dangling down. He could only see Ryoma as a pitiable lamb. In this world where there were few restrictions on carrying weapons, people hardly ever fought bare-handed. There was little policing, and even within towns the public order was low. On top of that, there were the powerful life forms called monsters roaming about. In this world, conflict was an everyday occurrence, and even the commoners carried a dagger for self-defense.