Chapter 7: The Village’s Condition and Concerns About Life Ahead

The Imperial Knights gave one final morning lesson before departing Clausel.

Soon afterward, Lessard summoned Ren to his office.

“A report has arrived from your village.”

He lifted a bundle of documents tied with cord and handed it across the desk.

“May I read it?”

“Of course. Letters from your parents are included.”

Ren opened the bundle. Much of the administrative information was unfamiliar, but its meaning was clear: reconstruction was proceeding smoothly. Proper roads were being built, and the villagers’ living conditions were already improving beyond what they had known before the attack.

(Thank goodness.)

Lessard’s support was one reason. Another was the money obtained from selling the Thief Wolfen materials. Ren had repeatedly insisted that every coin be used for the village’s recovery.

Roy and Mireille initially refused, arguing that the money belonged to him. Ren finally persuaded them by saying that he too was a member of House Ashton and therefore had a responsibility to help restore its village.

One passage in Roy’s letter caught his attention.

“Since you are already there, why not rest in Clausel a little longer? Between us men, take advantage of the baron’s generosity while you can. The village is not settled yet, so leave the rest to us and His Lordship.”

It was not an attempt to push him away. The next lines made that clear.

“Mireille and I will work as hard as we can. We will rebuild quickly so that we can all live together again. Of course, if you come to love Clausel and decide to live there, that is all right too.”

Roy apologized again and again for failing to protect the village. Mireille’s words carried the same regret. Almost half the letter was filled with the pain of parents who believed they had failed their son.

(Father… Mother…)

Their reasoning was understandable. Clausel was safer and offered Ren more opportunities. After what had happened in spring, any parent would prefer that future for a child.

Ren had a different concern.

(If I might become the spark for another disaster, should I return at all?)

Given’s obsession with Ren had been abnormal. It was possible that the village would never have suffered such destruction had Ren not lived there.

(Maybe staying away is better for everyone.)

The thought hurt, but remembering his parents and the other villagers allowed him to endure the pain.

“However,” Lessard said, drawing him from his thoughts, “your father refused the household magic tools I offered.”

“Father refused them? He was probably being reserved.”

“He insisted that accepting more generosity would be shameless after everything already being done for the reconstruction.”

Lessard studied him.

“What do you wish to do from now on? You may remain here until the time comes to succeed your father, if that is your choice.”

“I…”

“You clearly have something on your mind. Tell me what troubles you.”

His voice was calm and patient. Ren realized he could not conceal the matter.

He explained his fear that his presence might endanger the village again.

Lessard listened without interruption.

“Roy discussed the same possibility with me. He believes your talent may attract another enemy, especially now that your name has become known. A monster is one kind of danger; a hostile noble is another. He asked me to accept you as a knight of House Clausel if you wished to remain here.”

Roy and Mireille had placed Ren’s safety above their desire to have him home. If he chose Clausel, Lessard would protect him. A replacement knight would be sent to the Ashton village, and arrangements could be made if a younger sibling eventually inherited the family’s post.

“Rumors now connect House Ashton with Marquis Ignat,” Lessard continued. “That may discourage open attacks, but no one can promise it will prevent them.”

Ren nodded.

“You are hesitating to return because you value the safety of your family and villagers more than your own comfort. Is that correct?”

“…I think so.”

“Then do not rush a decision about the rest of your life. Stay in Clausel at least until the village is rebuilt and until your fear becomes clearer.”

It was better than returning while still believing that his presence might bring ruin.

“Can this fear ever be eliminated?” Ren asked.

“Not easily. Wherever one lives, the world contains injustices too great to resist.”

Lessard’s tone strengthened.

“Unless you become such an overwhelming existence yourself.”

“You mean becoming a great noble?”

“No. Even great nobles recognize beings beyond ordinary restraint.”

Ren considered the emperor, or perhaps a god. Neither was something he could become.

Lessard supplied the answer.

“A Sword King.”

The words seized Ren’s attention.

“L-Lessard?”

“The five Sword Kings act according to their own wills. One serves His Majesty, but she does so because she chooses to, not because anyone can compel her.”

“You cannot seriously be telling me to become one.”

“As you know, they are the five greatest swordsmen in the world.”

Ren knew all too well. One female Sword King serving the emperor could be challenged in the game, but defeating her required maximum-level characters, exceptional preparation, and luck—even while she was holding back according to the setting.

Lessard began laughing.

“Why are you amused?”

“Forgive me. It is refreshing to see you genuinely astonished.”

The joke eased the heaviness in Ren’s chest.

“Whether or not you ever reach that height, becoming stronger will not be wasted,” Lessard said. “Strength will aid you if you inherit House Ashton, and it will remain useful if you choose another life. For now, learn, work, and experience the world. The future can wait.”

Ren could train with Weiss and Licia, study the duties of a knight, or seek work that might help his village from Clausel.

“You may also continue living in this mansion,” Lessard added. “Your parents offered to pay your expenses, but I will not accept money from House Ashton.”

“I cannot continue troubling you.”

Living independently required rent, food, and other costs. Ren expected a knight apprentice would receive a modest salary, but he had overlooked the difficulty of an eleven-year-old renting a home.

“I will remain responsible for you until you are established,” Lessard said.

“No. You have already repaid me many times over. You are rebuilding my village and improving the lives of everyone there.”

Ren refused to remain wholly dependent and offered an alternative.

“I will find work in town.”

“You truly cannot allow me to care for you?”

The phrasing was unfair and Lessard knew it. Refusing sounded like rejecting the baron’s goodwill. Yet Ren still bowed his head.

“I am sorry.”

Lessard did not give up.

“Then we shall compromise. If you insist on working, allow me to employ you.”

Ren blinked.

“I need someone to perform work similar to what you did in the village.”

“Monster hunting?”

“Surveying as well. An excessive monster population causes obvious dangers. I want the surrounding habitats examined and periodic reports prepared.”

Ren would be paid. Because the task came directly from Lessard, accepting the money would not feel like charity.

“You may hunt for your own purposes while conducting the surveys, and you may accept requests through the Adventurers’ Guild.”

“The Adventurers’ Guild?”

The suggestion surprised him. As the son of a Clausel knight, he had never imagined selling monster materials through the guild.

He asked whether his status allowed it and how taxes would work.

“This is my official request, so your position as a member of House Ashton presents no problem. Transactions conducted through the guild will include the appropriate taxes. After that, the remainder is yours.”

Lessard pointed out that Ren could use the money however he wished, including purchasing magic tools to send to the village.

“Is that truly allowed?”

His delight escaped into his voice. Even while living far away, he could still contribute to his home.

“Once the guild has handled its fees and taxes, the money belongs to you.”

Ren knew how much labor useful magic tools could save. He could earn money, strengthen himself, and improve the village at the same time.

“I recently turned eleven. May someone my age register?”

“Yes. Children are uncommon in this town’s guild but hardly unknown elsewhere. Many perform safe jobs—finding lost pets, carrying messages, recovering misplaced items—to support their families.”

(Better to act than sit here worrying.)

He could work for the village and grow strong enough to resist future injustice.

(If I had possessed greater strength, perhaps Yelquq’s attack could have been prevented before anyone was hurt.)

“Then I will live in Clausel for a while, support myself as much as I can, and gain experience. Perhaps that will help me decide where I belong.”

“One more question,” Ren said. “Do I have my parents’ permission?”

“You do.”

“What?”

“Roy and Mireille predicted that, if you chose to remain here, you would eventually approach the Adventurers’ Guild. They discussed it with me during their visit.”

Lessard and Mireille had initially opposed the idea because of the danger. Roy had answered that a son stronger than himself could not be forbidden from acting merely because his father was afraid.

“They agreed on one condition,” Lessard said. “If you behave recklessly, I will use my authority to bring you back to this mansion.”

That was also why the survey took the form of Lessard’s personal employment: the baron could monitor the risks and intervene.

“It is strange that fighting monsters is permitted while other dangers are not.”

“Roy said noble power frightened him more than monsters. You have fought monsters from childhood and defeated both the Thief Wolfen and the Mana Eaters. He trusts you not to challenge them without judgment.”

Ren would not be a knight apprentice. He would be an individual employed by Lessard who hunted monsters during his own time.

“Weiss will show you where the guild is.”

“I can go alone once I know the location.”

“Very well. Take this.”

Lessard removed two silver coins from his purse and offered them to Ren.

“This is twenty thousand G. Guild registration costs fifteen thousand. Use the remainder for lunch.”

“I can begin with work that requires no registration and earn the fee myself.”

“Nonsense. Registration is required because of the work I am assigning you. At least accept the necessary expense.”

Lessard would plainly continue holding out the coins until Ren took them.

“I will borrow it, then. I will repay you someday.”

Lessard could only shrug at a stubbornness remarkably similar to Roy’s.

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