The Wandering Priest in Dark Fantasy

[Translator - Peptobismal]

[Proofreader - Max]

Chapter 70: Land of Ancient Gods and Knights (1)

Clip-clop

The horse struggled to climb the hill.

"We're almost there. Once we're over this hill..."

Rupert, leading the way, stopped at the top of the hill.

Just as Hamel followed him and reached the top...

"Lord Hamel, welcome."

Rupert spread his arms with a proud expression.

A wide-open snowy field.

A bluish hue was interspersed throughout.

Blue sprouts had already begun to peek through the snow.

The scent of spring was mixed in the blowing wind.

And at the end of their gaze...

A massive black castle stood tall on the vast land.

It was puzzling how such a gigantic castle could be built on such a wide-open plain with no hills.

"Wow."

As everyone expressed their admiration, Rupert cleared his throat and said,

"Welcome to Sturnhelm, the domain of our Glenvale clan."

***

Sturnhelm, which they reached after several days of travel.

It was the greatest city and castle in the North.

The enormous castle, built with black stone, looked as solid as an iron fortress.

The castle's reputation for never having been breached by outside forces in a thousand years was no exaggeration.

"It's magnificent."

Rupert nodded at Hamel's murmur.

"It's incomparable to the flashy castles in the central region."

"Hmm, you wouldn't say that if you had seen the Imperial capital."

Rupert replied to Daniel's rebuttal in a sullen voice.

"I wasn't talking to you."

"I wasn't particularly talking to you either."

Daniel shrugged, and Rupert turned his head away.

Seeing this, Hamel sighed inwardly.

Rupert had changed a lot since their trip through the dungeon.

He had gained confidence in his actions and had become gentler in his interactions with others.

However, he still treated the other members of the group as if they were beneath him.

Except for Hamel, whom he treated with utmost respect.

Such aristocratic consciousness would surely be difficult to change.

Just as Hamel couldn't understand Rupert, Rupert couldn't understand Hamel either.

"Stop it, both of you. Let's get in line."

Hamel, mediating between them, approached the castle gate and stood at the very back of the line.

Seeing this, Rupert shook his head.

"Lord Hamel, there's no need for you to wait in line."

"?"

Instead of answering, Rupert urged his horse towards the gate.

The soldiers guarding the gate turned in unison, pounded their chests, and saluted.

Rupert nodded and said firmly,

"Open the gate."

"Yes! Open the way!"

Instantly, all the soldiers stopped and opened the way.

The people waiting to enter the castle stared at Hamel and his party with wide eyes.

No aristocrat could receive such special treatment.

Only two kinds of people could:

The Imperial family, the rulers of this Empire.

Or the Glenvale clan, the lords of this castle.

"Let's go, Lord Hamel. I will escort you to the lord."

"...Thank you."

Hamel was quite bewildered as he urged his horse forward.

The rumors that the Glenvale clan wielded influence comparable to the Emperor in the North seemed to be true.

As he entered the domain, Hamel slowly looked around.

Observing the residents of a domain was a way to understand the atmosphere of the city.

At first glance, the atmosphere seemed lively.

Many merchants came and went, and smiles were on people's faces.

'There don't seem to be any major problems.'

Hamel turned his head towards something that caught his attention.

Clank clank

Carts laden with weapons were being transported.

Heavily armored men were also occasionally seen among the citizens.

The number of supplies and horses was also unexpectedly high.

Hamel observed them and asked Rupert,

"Is there some kind of competition being held in Sturnhelm?"

"No, there isn't. But for some reason, there seem to be more people in armor than I remember..."

It seemed like something was going on.

He had seen a similar atmosphere before.

Sorn, the territory located in the northern part of Heidern.

It was similar to the atmosphere there when they were preparing for war.

Hamel felt a sense of déjà vu as he rode his horse.

It seemed like he had decided what the first question he would ask the lord would be.

***

"The lord of Heidern, Priest of Azure Flame, Sir Hamel Saint Gilmore, entering!"

With the attendant's announcement, Hamel stepped into the Great Hall.

Ono, Daniel, Lena, and Rupert followed him inside.

Dozens of knights and vassals were waiting in the hall.

And at their head stood a man.

"Welcome."

The man, clad in a cloak that appeared to be made of black bear fur, spoke.

Hamel recognized him.

He was the same man from Rupert's memory fragment, the one they encountered in the dungeon a while ago.

However, he looked a bit older than he did then.

But his physique, visible beneath his clothes, still looked as solid as a rock.

Hamel couldn't help but flinch when he saw him.

Despite being empty-handed, the man exuded a sharp aura with just his gaze.

'This is...'

The Empire's one and only Swordmaster.

Ricard Glenvale.

"It is an honor to meet you, Guardian of the North."

Hamel lowered his head and greeted him.

The man stood up and walked towards Hamel.

Then...

"The honor is all mine, Savior of Lonely Ridge."

He bowed his head in greeting, just like Hamel.

Hamel was slightly surprised by the unexpected courtesy.

Apparently, it wasn't just Hamel, as even his son, Rupert, had his eyes wide open.

Ricard, unconcerned by their reactions, smiled and placed his hand on Hamel's shoulder.

"I heard through the urgent dispatch. If it weren't for you, not only Lonely Ridge but the entire North would have fallen into great chaos."

"I was fortunate. What I did was nothing special."

"No. I believe it was a blessing for us that you passed through that place. You there!"

Ricard shouted loudly.

An attendant appeared from somewhere and handed him a certificate.

"It's nothing much, but it's a token of my gratitude. I've ordered the armory of Sturnhelm's renowned blacksmith to be opened. You and your companions are welcome to visit anytime and take as many weapons and armor as you like. Custom orders are also acceptable."

"This is... too much."

Hamel, who had already received a reward in Lonely Ridge, shook his head.

The renowned blacksmith of Sturnhelm was famous even in other territories.

It was said that the price of a well-forged sword from him was equivalent to the annual operating cost of a small territory, yet there was still a long line of people waiting to commission his work.

He was a blacksmith who was rumored to have a waiting list of several years, even for lords.

"Nonsense. It's a meager offering."

"Heidern is now a friend of the North. If you need anything, I will help you as much as I can. We don't make promises with just words. Glenvale speaks with its sword."

"It is an honor."

Hamel simply bowed his head in gratitude.

Finally satisfied, Ricard nodded.

It was their way not to leave any debts or grudges.

Ricard, pleased, turned his gaze to Rupert.

"On the other hand, Rupert. My son. You..."

He paused and stared at Rupert.

Unlike when he looked at Hamel, his eyes were cold.

Flinch

Rupert trembled under his gaze like a mouse before a cat.

Seeing this, Ricard clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"You disappoint me once again."

"I'm... sorry."

Rupert instinctively recoiled and replied in a meek voice.

Ricard sighed, seemingly displeased even by that.

"I sent you to the academy, and you returned a spineless girl. I shouldn't have sent you south."

"..."

Rupert lowered his head and accepted Ricard's rebuke.

Hamel silently observed the situation.

He had heard the story of Rupert's past.

However, it was a little different from what he had heard.

The way Ricard looked at Rupert wasn't simply disapproval or disappointment.

That was...

'It must be called expectation.'

Perhaps it was just fatherly love.

But Hamel couldn't understand why Ricard only offered harsh criticism.

The Rupert that Hamel saw was a righteous knight, although arrogant, and his skills were more than sufficient.

What Rupert needed was humility and insight, not just brute force.

If Ricard truly cared for Rupert, wouldn't it be better to offer praise as well as criticism?

'Still, the situation isn't bad.'

Hamel actually considered this situation positive.

Because the way Ricard looked at Rupert was softer than he expected.

If they gave Rupert, who was slowly changing, a little more time, the gap between father and son would gradually narrow.

To lighten the heavy atmosphere, Hamel spoke up.

"There's something I'd like to ask."

"Oh my, I've been impolite. Please, speak."

Ricard finally eased the tension and apologized.

Hamel recalled the atmosphere of the territory from earlier and asked,

"The territory seemed a bit restless. I've seen cities with a similar atmosphere a few times..."

"Is that so? What were those cities like?"

"They were cities on the verge of war."

"Hmm."

Ricard looked at Hamel with a curious smile.

He seemed quite pleased with Hamel's insight and nodded.

"If you saw it that way, it seems our preparations are going well."

"Preparations, you say...?"

At Hamel's question, Ricard beckoned him over.

He led Hamel to a desk.

A map was spread out on the desk.

On the map, which depicted the northern territories of the Empire, castles and blue and red figures were positioned as if facing off against each other.

"What do you think this is?"

"The blue figures represent the northern cities and their soldiers. The red figures, on the other hand, are further north... barbarians?"

"Precisely. This is a map showing the movements of the barbarian tribes."

Ricard tapped the map and continued,

"As you can see, their movements are a bit strange. It's not unusual for them to come down south in groups during the winter when they're short on food..."

"But it's spring now."

"Exactly."

Ricard replied with a grim expression.

Even in the North, it wasn't a barren frozen wasteland all year round.

Spring was the time when the weather warmed and animals returned.

This meant that the barbarians of the North would normally stop their incursions around this time.

"Well, even if they gather, they're just a disorganized rabble, and they haven't attacked yet. This is mostly out of precaution, but we're preparing."

It's always too late after something happens.

Hamel agreed with Ricard's prudence and pondered for a moment.

'If something different from usual is happening, then maybe...'

Hamel cautiously asked Ricard,

"Have there been any rumors about strange foreigners?"

"Foreigners?"

Ricard thought for a moment and shook his head.

"No, I haven't heard anything like that. Why do you ask?"

"Actually..."

Hamel told Ricard about David.

How dangerous he was, and that Hamel had come to the North to track him down.

After hearing everything, Ricard pondered for a moment, then said, as if something had come to mind,

"Come to think of it, I did hear something. A rumor about a suspicious man with blue hair and blue eyes wandering around the forest."

"...!"

Hamel's eyes widened.

The description perfectly matched David.

Hamel asked urgently,

"Where is that place?"

"Snogloom. It's a small village called 'Snowlight Valley'. Would you mind going there?"

"Of course. I'll take care of it."

"Good. I'll lend you my Royal Guard. Go with Rupert."

"Thank you."

Hamel expressed his deep gratitude for Ricard's kindness.

He had caught David's trail sooner than expected.

The Swordmaster was also unexpectedly friendly, and it seemed like things would go smoothly.

***

"Listen carefully, Rupert."

The empty Great Hall.

Ricard's cold voice echoed through it.

With the others gone, only Ricard and his son, Rupert, remained in the hall.

'Why does it always end up like this?'

Rupert clenched his trembling hands.

He had resolved himself countless times before seeing his father.

That he wouldn't tremble in front of him.

That he would face his cold gaze and atone for his sins.

That was the conviction he had learned from Hamel, the way to learn from regret.

But...

The moment he stood before his father, all his resolve crumbled.

It scattered like a mirage or an illusion that never existed in the first place.

"Why do you think I told you to follow Sir Hamel?"

"To help Sir Hamel, of course..."

"Wrong."

Ricard firmly cut Rupert off.

Rupert flinched and lowered his head.

"This is a matter that arose in the North. The North doesn't leave its problems to others."

"So you mean..."

"You handle it yourself. Since it's a matter of the North, a Northerner should finish it."

Rupert couldn't readily answer his father's frosty voice.

The disappointment was even greater than the hope that had swelled within him.

He felt breathless, just like that day...

Ricard's gaze, cold and sharp like a wolf's, pierced through Rupert.

"Don't disappoint me any further, son."

"...Yes."

Rupert's eyes, as he replied, were empty and hollow.

[Translator - Peptobismal]

[Proofreader - Max]