Chapter 47: The “Former” Knight Commander (3)
Several hours passed, and by the time a crescent moon hung vividly in the sky.
"Cheersssssssss!"
"Uhehehe! Let's drinkkkk!"
Clang!
In the annex behind the knights’ building, knights and mercenaries whose faces had turned bright red clinked their cups one after another.
On the table, dishes like meat and fruit—things one rarely saw on ordinary days—were laid out in lavish abundance. Wooden crates filled to the brim with bottles of liquor were stacked in layers against the walls.
Already, empty bottles were rolling around all over the floor, enough to trip over.
Everyone had gotten thoroughly drunk, staggering this way and that, spouting nonsense.
"Awoooo... Back thennnn, when the Young Master came over there, I was really so shocked, you know?"
"Righttt, who could have imagined it would turn out like that!"
The men from Daphne kept fussing, bragging about Hardin’s feats in this Territorial War.
"Uhehehe! The moment I landed the first strike, I just knew instinctively! We could end this war ourselves!"
"Hic! Beryl, did you really feel that?"
"Of course!"
The Maw Mercenaries chattered nonstop about their own heroic exploits.
And the one who had organized this banquet was...
"You bastard, stop with that pointless chatter and drink!"
"Yes!"
Gulp, gulp, gulp!
Wedged in among the Maw Mercenaries, I was pouring down liquor without a break.
The watching Maw mercenaries inwardly clicked their tongues.
'How does he drink that fast?'
'Is... is he really alright like that?'
We were no strangers to drinking ourselves, but this was, how should I put it—like watching a drinking hippo.
That wasn’t the only problem.
"Cough! Cough! What are you all making such a fuss about, acting like you trained so hard, huh? Back in my day..."
Wait, this guy... was he really in his early twenties?
He started with 'back in my day,' and wrapped it up like it was no big deal at all.
Listening to this made me feel...
'He’s such an old geezer...'
'I think my ears are about to bleed.'
'Hey, cut the nagging already!'
That overwhelming, senior authority pierced straight through the haze of drunkenness, leaving everyone dizzy.
And that still wasn’t the end of it.
"Drink! I said drink!"
"......Uuurgh! N-no more..."
"I’m... I’m too exhausted to keep going..."
"Tired? Who do you think had it worse in the Territorial War, me or you?"
"I suppose... the Young Master did have it harder..."
"Then drink on pure grit, on grit alone!"
Why in the world was he so insistent on forcing more liquor down our throats!
"Uuuugh... I... I’m gonna die..."
Thud!
In the end, the would-be heroes who had set out to subdue the Demon King(?) collapsed one by one, burying their faces into the table.
How many hours passed after that?
"...Pathetic weaklings. Cough!"
Left alone at the table, Hardin coughed several times, then drank straight from the bottle and looked around.
Half had already passed out, while the other half had made excuses about needing the restroom and never returned.
Nine times out of ten, they had probably fled outright.
"This is why youngsters these days..."
"Back in the old days, you know, we’d drink all night long and still come out at dawn to train!
And me? Even now, I feel like I’m about to drop dead from the aftereffects, yet here I am, drinking on behalf of everyone, I’m telling you."
I had a mountain of things I wanted to say, but instead, I only let out a small puff through my nose from a vague emptiness.
"...Did I finish it all?"
When I tried to tip the bottle back again, only a few droplets fell out.
"Uhehehe!"
Hearing laughter beside me, I naturally turned my head.
I saw Mulgybson and the knights from Daphne.
"Do you remember when we went to subjugate the orcs in the northern forest? When I fell over backwards, you were the one who saved me, Commander."
"Ohhohoho! Yes, I remember that."
"Commander, couldn’t you do this job for just ten more years?"
"Oho, you trying to kill me from overwork?"
They reminisced endlessly about hard old days and heroic stories, trading corny jokes back and forth.
Everyone had smiles filling their faces.
The candles lit here and there mingled with the scene, creating a strangely warm atmosphere.
'Not bad.'
I wiped my mouth roughly with the back of my hand and lifted the corners of my lips.
Well, all of them must have had their share of hardship.
They had worked with Mulgybson for at least several years, some more than a decade.
While the family was collapsing, they must have seen so many miserable sights.
'Well... they did suffer in their own ways. These guys, and the others too.'
From the Lord to the retainers, even the attendants and servants.
It would be the same for them all.
It wasn’t that these men were particularly exceptional, but neither were they incompetent or lacking in will.
They had each struggled to survive, but now, the limits of the vessel called Daphne were obvious to anyone.
And the reason this house had come to such a state was probably...
...
For a moment, my gaze fell on the empty bottle.
On its surface, the reflection of a man appeared.
Not Hardin Daphne, but a middle-aged knight with a face covered in scars, wearing an expression of bitterness and regret.
"Huuuuuu..."
...Dammit.
I let out a long sigh.
Then I pushed the empty bottle aside, grabbed a fresh one, and turned my head as I shouted.
"Sir Mulgybson!"
"...Yes. Did you call for me, Young Master?"
As everyone’s eyes turned this way, I gave a broad grin and lifted my bottle.
"You’ve worked so hard all this time!"
"... "
Mulgybson looked at me with an expression full of tangled emotions for a moment.
"Thank you."
With a smile, he answered by raising his bottle as well.
At that,
"You’ve done so much."
"Truly, you’ve worked so hard!"
The knights, faces flushed with drink, each lifted their bottles high and began to shout with vigor.
---
A few hours later.
"Uuuugh... I... I can’t drink anymore."
"Uuuurk! Uuugh!"
The Daphne knights lay sprawled all across the table.
The rowdy atmosphere gradually died down, and as everyone groaned through the aftereffects, Commander Mulgybson—no, the former Commander—clapped his hands and spoke.
"Alright, alright, that’s enough for today. Let’s all turn in! Come on, now!"
"Yessss..."
Like zombies, the knights shuffled out in a mass, some staggering alone, others leaning on their comrades for support.
"Shall we go, then?"
"Yes, yes."
Creak. Clack.
Hardin and Mulgybson closed the door behind them and stepped outside as the last to leave.
Pale moonlight spilled down over their heads.
Step, step.
Without a word, the two walked side by side toward the manor.
Whoooosh.
The night wind brushed past their cheeks, making Mulgybson’s white beard flutter.
Hardin glanced at Mulgybson’s face for a moment.
He saw the deeply etched wrinkles and scars carved into that sturdy face.
Then Mulgybson spoke.
"Today... truly, thank you so much, Young Master."
"Oh, please. It was nothing."
When Hardin shrugged his shoulders, Mulgybson shook his head and replied.
"No, it was wonderful. The banquet was enjoyable... and thanks to it, I feel relieved, having finally stepped down from being the Knight Commander."
"You must have really hated the job."
Mulgybson gave a quiet laugh as he answered.
"It was too great a position for someone like me."
...
Silence fell between them once again.
Hardin scratched his cheek awkwardly before asking.
"But... why did you stay with this house for so long?"
"What do you mean?"
"I just think, with your skills, you could have gone to any other family and done perfectly well."
"Eh?"
"I was wondering if there was a particular reason you remained in a house that was practically collapsing for decades."
"I’m grateful you see it that way, but..."
"I’m not just saying it to be polite."
The deep wrinkles across his face, the skin burned dark as charcoal, the sunspots, the countless scars on his body.
You could tell just by looking.
How much that man must have suffered staying in Daphne.
How heavy it must have been to carry on.
In the world of knights, reputation mattered, yes—but only to a point.
In these circumstances, nine out of ten would have left long ago.
Yet he had stayed all this time.
There had to be some other reason.
"Well..."
Mulgybson stroked his beard and slowly closed his eyes.
For the briefest instant—
[Please... look after the house, Mulgybson.]
A voice drifted through his mind.
Clear and firm.
The voice of a man wiser and more discerning than anyone else in the world.
Mulgybson opened his eyes again with a faint smile on his lips.
"Someone once... entrusted me with this house."
"Who was it?"
Step.
Mulgybson and Hardin came to a halt almost at the same time.
They stood at the fork in the path leading to the castle and the barracks.
It was time to part ways.
"It’s late. Let’s leave that story for another time."
"Huh? You’re cutting it off there?"
"Yes... Must be because I’m old, but my eyes are already closing."
When Mulgybson joked like that, I reluctantly nodded.
"...Alright. Tell me about it next time if we get the chance."
"Of course."
"Then, I’ll be going."
"Have a good night."
Mulgybson offered me a knight’s formal bow, and I scratched my head as I turned to walk toward the castle.
Mulgybson stood rooted in place, quietly watching my back.
When my figure finally disappeared into the castle,
"Huuuuuuu..."
He let out a deep, long sigh and reached inside his uniform to take out a small handkerchief.
It was shabby and frayed, with a small embroidered wave pattern.
Clutching the handkerchief in his hand, Mulgybson murmured quietly.
"...Your descendant has grown up so much already, Lord Valter."
---
A few days later, at Daphne’s training grounds.
From the right and the left, two different groups trudged toward the center of the grounds.
"Damn it..."
On the left, the group emerging from the barracks was the Daphne knights.
'...Starting today, Young Master Hardin is the Commander?'
'I’ve got a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling.'
With tense faces and drooping shoulders, they walked inside.
Hardin, who had declared he’d take a few days off to recover, had promised to appear at the training grounds starting today.
Of course, the expressions of the Maw mercenaries coming from the right weren’t much better.
'Damn... Is it training again?'
'If he was going to rest, he should have taken a few months off, not a few days.'
The joy and thrill of victory had lasted only briefly.
Just thinking about having to endure that man's hellish training again...
'My head’s spinning. Spinning...'
'They say knowing the taste makes it worse.'
And the complaints didn’t stop there.
Manton and Beryl, both sighing heavily, locked eyes.
Almost at the same moment, both of their brows furrowed.
'...We have to train together with those bastards?'
'Damn it, I really don’t want to deal with those people...'
Their reasons were slightly different, but their faces were twisted the same way.
In that tense air, mixed with displeasure and unease—
"Alright, is everyone gathered?"
A familiar voice called out from the far side of the training ground.
Everyone turned their heads to look back—
"...Huh?"
"Commander Mulgybson?"
Instead of the demon... no, instead of Hardin, the old knight Mulgybson was walking over slowly with his hands behind his back.
He waved a hand as he spoke.
"Manton, watch your words. I’m no longer the Commander."
"Ah... yes. But, why have you come here, Sir Mulgybson?"
Stopping in place, Mulgybson stroked his beard and said.
"It’s sudden, but... for a while, I will be personally overseeing your training."
"Eh?"
"Why?"
In that instant, everyone’s eyes widened at once.
"It was the Young Master’s request. The aftereffects from the Territorial War... it seems he still hasn’t fully recovered. So, until he’s completely well again, I will be acting in his place. That’s all you need to know."
"Ah..."
"I... I see."
A faint smile began to return to everyone’s faces.
'Huuuu, we’re saved.'
'Well, if it’s Sir Mulgybson…'
The Daphne knights felt relieved, thinking they’d finally escaped Hardin’s relentless torment.
'So, does this mean no more hell training?'
'Krrrrr, wonderful!'
The Maw mercenaries were smiling from the satisfaction of dodging that nightmare regimen.
After all, nothing could be worse than carrying logs heavier than your own body and slamming them into walls day and night.
"Since that’s how it is, I’ll be leading your training personally for a while."
"Ah, yes!"
"Absolutely!"
Everyone bowed their heads, looking pleased, and Mulgybson smiled as he spoke.
"Follow me, all of you. We’ll start by collecting training equipment."
"Ah, yes!"
With his hands clasped behind his back, Mulgybson started walking around to the back of the knights’ barracks. The knights and mercenaries followed him in a line.
And then…
"Here, pick one of these up."
"……."
Behind the barracks, they were greeted by a mountain of enormous logs.
Logs very similar to the ones the Maw mercenaries had trained with—or perhaps even larger.
'No… This can’t be, right?'
As Beryl and Mikkelsen began sweating coldly, Manton blinked and asked.
"…What are we going to use these for?"
"What do you mean, for what? Hup!"
Mulgybson hoisted the log in front of him up onto his shoulder as he spoke.
"We’re going to train, of course."
"But… these logs, they…."
"Enough talk. Just pick them up."
Without another word, he briskly walked past the knights and headed to the middle of the training ground.
"Grrrgh…"
With groans, the Daphne knights and the Maw mercenaries each lifted a log and trudged back into the training ground.
Mulgybson cleared his throat and spoke.
"For the time being, you’ll be doing basic training with me and these logs. The mercenaries already know this well, but during the training, the use of mana is strictly forbidden."
"…No mana at all?"
"That’s right. By order of the Young Master."
The Daphne knights’ eyes widened in shock.
"Ah, aaah…"
"Damn it…"
Again. Again with this?
Despair spread over the Maw mercenaries’ faces.
Mulgybson’s gaze grew sharper as he continued.
"From now on, you’ll copy the movements I demonstrate. Let’s all train hard… and surprise the Young Master when he returns."
"……."
"Everyone, answer me."
"…Yes."
Voices full of bewilderment and resignation slipped out from their lips.
"Alright, then let’s start… by running twenty laps around the training ground."
"…What did you say?"
"I said we’ll start by running twenty laps around the grounds. After that, there will be squats, crouch-walking… in any case, expect a variety of training, so look forward to it."
Was he… serious right now?
Everyone stood blinking in mute disbelief.
Mikkelsen scratched his forehead hard before asking again.
"B-but... the training the Young Master had us do was just carrying logs and slamming them into the wall? Isn’t this a bit of a different regimen...?"
At that, Mulgybson replied with a firm expression.
"Didn’t I tell you? We are going to surprise the Young Master."
"Heo..."
"If you understand, then start running. Now!"
Kwaaaang!
Mulgybson slammed his log down onto the ground with a thunderous crash as he barked.
"Y-yes, understood!"
"Get moving already!"
This... felt like something had gone terribly wrong.
With unease clouding every face, everyone began picking up their logs one by one.