Chapter 022: Call Me Cervantes
Riding together on horseback, we managed to cut the travel time from Breadport to Easton with the Gunbel Trading Company in half.
"We’ll arrive by tomorrow morning."
Janson handed me a bowl of warmed soup as he spoke.
It was a soup seasoned appropriately with grain flour and salt.
‘Truly a master of camping.’
I couldn’t help but acknowledge it while licking the bits of food stuck to my lips.
I caught a glimpse of Janson’s face, subtly satisfied as he glanced at my reaction.
"I heard you’re training to be a warrior? Is that right? That’s why you came here."
"Yeah."
"Huh."
Janson nodded absently and sipped his soup.
My earlier acknowledgment of his skill aside, the awkwardness between us remained unchanged.
I’d experienced this in my past life’s military days—among men, subtle personality differences often clashed, making it hard to get close even without particular dislike.
That’s the feeling. Janson’s first impression on me wasn’t exactly great either.
"Nice, nice. You’ve got good blood and great skills… You can do whatever you want, huh."
In all my lives, he was the first to babble about my bloodline being good.
The Benkou family, a low-ranking warrior clan, was born with physical defects or hereditary diseases, quietly despised even by commoners in the homeland.
Skills? They were merely atonement for the wanderings of my past life, a fortunate opportunity gained to prepare for finding meaning in this life.
I had no desire to boast about them to others. It was just like fitting sturdy wheels to a carriage that must keep running.
"Maybe it looks that way."
"…Huh?"
"Just a matter of perspective."
How absurd. After saying it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. It felt like I’d become a mature person, or something like that.
‘This must be true deception.’
I don’t want to imagine it, but let’s suppose it wasn’t Janson sitting across from me, but Jewel. Would I have been able to respond so confidently?
She’s a woman from a family that, years later, will dominate the Empire’s military leadership and lead the invasion of the Kingdom.
In my past life, I played the loyal soldier despite my disillusionment with war.
‘…’
Let’s admit it.
I might have been feeling inferiority or unease toward Jewel.
‘I’m still a weak human with neither strength nor conviction.’
…Yes, I had no right to scorn Maserin as a soulless swordswoman.
"Hey, why are you picking at your nails like that? What’s got you so lost in thought?"
"Ah."
I blinked as if I’d just emerged from a trance of heart techniques.
Still, it wasn’t a pointless thought. For the first time, Janson looked different to me.
"…Janson. If you had power, what would you want to do?"
"Out of nowhere? Huh, didn’t peg you for the daydreaming type."
"Just answer the question."
"Well, honestly? I’d quit the guard, join a famous Langster Faction group, secure a spot, and settle down."
"Why not the Sharon Faction?"
"Because the Sharon Faction only lets you in if you’ve got the right bloodline."
"Like Zephyros?"
"Not exactly like that…"
I brought the soup to my lips, realized it had cooled, and quietly set it down.
I’m a bit sensitive about these things, believe it or not.
"That’s why the Sharon Faction is outnumbered by the Langster Faction."
"Probably, yeah. But knights are all about honor, even if it kills them, so they manage to hold on."
"Honor?"
"Yeah, honor. Most knights, no matter the faction, settle into their own territories, right? They growl at each other as enemies on the surface, but as long as there’s a common enemy like demonic beasts or scholarly sects, they can’t rashly upset the balance. From the perspective of great nobles like lords, treating them as mobilized forces keeps public order, and taxes get collected diligently, so they gain power in the end."
"…"
"…Nobles see this cycle as honor."
Pathetic lot. Yes, that’s why…
The Kingdom deserved to fall.
* * *
The next day, we set out at dawn, but it wasn’t until just before noon that the outline of Canchester faintly came into view.
Janson let out a long yawn.
"Ugh, all this trouble because of that jerk Henry. If I catch him, he’s dead, for real."
He didn’t seem worried at all.
This must happen often.
For now, I planned to finish this task, send the two back to Easton first, and meet Roxley alone.
We were moving slowly along a dirt path cutting through an open plain.
"What’s that?"
Far ahead, by the roadside, there was something like a makeshift tent.
Across from it, a table was set up, and four armed men were loitering nearby.
"Oh, that’s the first checkpoint."
Janson said casually.
If there’s a first checkpoint, does that mean there’s a second one? In a tiny village like this?
"That’s ridiculous."
"Canchester has a lot of foot traffic in southern Conwell. The toll business is pretty lucrative."
At this point, I was curious how much more surprising this could get.
Janson took the lead, and I followed.
"Hey, wait? You…"
The man sitting at the table tilted his head, pointing at Janson.
The one feeding a tethered horse, and the two standing guard-like, turned to look at us as well.
"Easton Guard! Right?"
"…Uh, yes. You remember me. It’s been a while."
"Remember? How could I forget a face like yours?"
Janson dismounted and approached them… I stayed on my horse, quietly observing the conversation from behind.
The one feeding the horse came over and tapped Janson’s cheek lightly.
"Man, you’re still a sight to behold. How does someone end up looking like this?"
"…"
"Where’s your twin?"
"Probably at the barracks."
"Right. But why the long face? Cheer up, man. It’s been a while."
The guy grinned and roughly ruffled Janson’s leather helmet.
Naturally, his gaze shifted to me.
"Who’s this guy? Weird outfit."
"He’s an Imperial moving with the Gunbel Trading Company."
"Gunbel Trading Company?"
I could see subtle tension creeping onto their faces.
The one standing with Janson mouthed ‘Why?’ silently.
"He’s got business at the forge…"
"And you?"
"Henry’s return got delayed, so I’m here to check."
They exchanged quick glances.
I couldn’t tell what signals passed between them.
The two in the back shrugged at each other, while the one at the table squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
He seemed to be the decision-maker.
"Sorry, Bill, but you’ll have to turn back today."
"I’m Janson."
"Yeah, whatever. Point is, we can’t issue passes to Easton folks for a few days."
"Why not?"
"How should I know? Orders from above."
I dismounted and walked toward the tent.
I’d been curious about what this tent was since earlier.
"Hey, you can’t go in there."
I ignored him and lifted the tent flap…
‘…Damn.’
The stench was overpowering.
It was a foul odor that triggered instinctive revulsion.
Inside the cramped tent, there were only a couple of layered blankets. Scattered rags lay everywhere…
‘Hmph.’
I just closed the tent.
"You lot have been raking in tolls evenly, haven’t you?"
"…Hey, even if you’re with the Gunbel Trading Company, watch your mouth."
"I’m not with the Gunbel Trading Company."
They all glared at Janson simultaneously.
"That true?"
"I-I don’t really know."
"Damn it, Imperial. You looking to get killed? Can’t you tell? This is… what’s it called…"
Someone in the back muttered ‘foreign interference’ in a low voice.
"Yeah, that’s it. Right now. Am I right?"
"Right. That’s why I’ve been hesitating. It’s been nagging at me."
"What’s this guy blabbering about?"
Kiing!
Finally, one of them drew his sword first, and as if on cue, the others gripped their weapons in turn.
The glint of blades revealed in an instant chilled the air.
I put my hands behind my back in this situation.
Then, I slowly walked among them… and stopped at the center point of the four men standing in their positions.
I’d willingly stepped into their encirclement.
I knew they couldn’t rashly attack me.
When their gazes converged, I spoke.
"You’re Langster Faction thugs, aren’t you?"
"…What?"
"Then who am I?"
It was a question for them and for myself.
"Some crazy bastard?"
When one of the four muttered that, I didn’t hold back the hollow laugh that came out.
"Janson."
"Huh?"
"What did you say about me yesterday… That I could do whatever I wanted, right?"
"Y-Yeah."
"Exactly. From now on, I’m that kind of person."
Not ignoring what I think is wrong or believe is unjust, but breaking it.
‘The first rule of Bihen Benkou’s chivalry.’
The meaning of this life begins here.
"Call me Cervantes."
* * *
Janson’s eyes widened.
He could feel his pupils dilating.
‘Is he seriously about to fight…?’
The flash of light before his eyes was faster than his inner muttering.
Janson’s naked eyes caught two silver lines crossing diagonally.
Thud.
The man who’d mocked him collapsed helplessly.
It was like watching a large wooden plank topple in the wind.
‘B-Bihen…!’
Blood dripped from the sword Bihen held lowered.
A good blade doesn’t retain blood.
"Attack together…!"
Janson had no real skill in swordsmanship.
The Easton Guard accepted anyone with functioning limbs.
‘But this…’
For some reason, he could see the fight clearly.
In an instant, Bihen’s sword traced ever-changing arcs, but its intent was so clear he could understand it.
‘Multiple thrusts targeting gaps against the plate-armored one, a bold strike against the spear-wielder…’
Sitting side by side with Bill, poring over martial manuals and basic swordsmanship texts, was their tactical training.
Reading them often led to thrilling fantasies.
An impossible dream, a sleazy delusion filling its void, was now clumsily transforming into theoretical knowledge in this moment.
Analyzing Bihen led to this conclusion.
‘It’s not his first time…’
Anyone could see his skill was exceptional.
But more than that, his grasp of many-versus-one combat, or rather, the textbook understanding of close-quarters battle, seemed like that of a seasoned veteran.
Thud.
How could an instant feel so long?
Before he knew it, Bihen stood amidst four sprawled corpses, his sword lowered like fallen petals.
Janson suddenly had a wilder thought.
Perhaps this man was born for this.
It wasn’t out of impulse or a craving to unleash power—that much was certain.
He looked serene, as if he’d simply done what needed doing.
So there was no need to ask Bihen why.
They didn’t die for being rude or picking the wrong opponent.
They were simply long overdue for death.
"Let’s go, Janson."
In this moment, neither Zephyros nor the Langster Faction—nothing—could scare him.
Janson was witnessing the hero he’d long imagined in his mind.
"Yeah…!"
It was strange to smile while looking at corpses.