Chapter 56. Was Solicited.

The punk and Pol, as if competing to see who could say the word ‘Brother’ more.

While I was briefly contemplating how to shut those mouths.

“Ah-!! It's so damn loud!!”

The ‘Big Brother’ threw the liquor bottle he was holding.

The bottle flew without hesitation and struck the punk's head.

The bottle shattered, and the punk passed out and collapsed on the spot.

“……”

I would have understood if he had attacked Pol instead, but to attack his own ally first?

“Hey. Snake. You're that good at fighting? Follow me outside.”

Separate from his seemingly insane words and actions, even as he staggered from being drunk, his hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist, as if he would draw it at any moment.

He would try to attack the moment I showed an opening.

‘So an ex-knight is still a knight.’

I felt a definite difference from the guys I had faced until now.

I shouldn't underestimate him just because he was drunk.

“Fine. I'll play along.”

In any case, to stop the schemes targeting us, I needed to tie up loose ends.

I followed the man out of the tavern.

Outside, people who had gathered after hearing the commotion filled the narrow alley.

As we came out, the people scattered like a school of fish encountering a shark, creating a space.

“You bastard. I like that you’re brave. Mercenaries and thugs alike, most of them tuck their tails between their legs when they find out I was a knight.”

“Is that such a big deal? You're not an active knight, you said you were a knight in the past, didn't you?”

“What did you say?”

The man's eyes widened as if he had heard something he shouldn't have.

“Wow. The alcohol is wearing off fast. Were you brave, or were you stupid? Just because I'm no longer a knight doesn't mean the swordsmanship ingrained in my body has disappeared.”

“Then you should have worked as a mercenary or something, why are you acting as a leader in a back alley?”

I didn't understand.

If he was a knight, he would have naturally learned swordsmanship, and a mercenary who had learned swordsmanship was treated as at least a 2nd-class.

A 2nd-class mercenary was a top-tier force even at the city level.

Even if it wasn't as much as a knight, they could receive sufficient treatment.

At the very least, it would be a better life both morally and financially than leading thugs in a back alley.

“...You really are talking without knowing anything.”

What could be the reason he lost his knightly status?

‘Did he kill someone?’

No, this was a world where human life was trivial.

They wouldn't kick out a knight just for killing a few people.

“Regret your arrogance!”

The man drew his sword and charged.

Certainly, it seemed that the fact that he was a knight was not a lie.

Movements on a different level from the common back-alley thugs.

However—because of the level of humans I had seen until now, the movements of the ex-knight didn't feel all that great.

I deflected the straightforward thrust.

The path of the sword twisted, and the opponent's body swayed greatly.

“You said you were a knight, is it right to swing a sword without even revealing your name?”

“Shut up!!”

An angry shout struck my ears.

He swung his sword, turning his body as if he didn't care that his attack had been futilely blocked.

But there was no reason to face the sword, which was being swung with only strength in an agitated state, head-on.

Whoosh-

The sword cut through the air.

“Is this all a person who used to be a knight can do? You can do better, can't you.”

At the light provocation, the man gritted his teeth.

I stepped back from the continuous blows—or rather, the haphazardly swung attacks that followed immediately.

Even though his mind had sobered up to some extent, his drunken body seemed unable to control itself, a wavering trajectory.

His eyes were desperately on me, but his sword was not.

Kakakak-

The tip of the sword touched the ground several times, creating an unpleasant sound.

“Heek!”

“E-Everyone, back off!”

“Guards! Call the guards!”

The onlookers who had been watching and chuckling as if it were someone else's business also fell into a panic as the sword grazed past their noses.

The space widened in an instant.

“Haak- hek-”

The man who had gone all out panted hideously.

...Even considering that there was no thought given to stamina distribution, to be discharged in just a few seconds was serious.

It was probably the result of neglecting his training while acting as the king of the back alleys.

‘Isn’t this something that applies to me too?’

Although I had rolled around diligently to survive in my own way, if asked if I had trained hard, it was ambiguous.

Far from catching up to Luke, I might be getting farther and farther away.

I think I could now understand a little of the fear of muscle loss that gym rats talked about.

I had thought it was bizarre that the Sword Saint in prison was exercising by sticking to the ceiling, but now I saw that it was a necessary activity to avoid weakening while confined in a small space.

‘I need to be properly trained by the Sword Saint.’

I had to sharpen the one dagger that would pierce Luke's heart.

It was certain that I couldn't just stay in place at this level.

Realistically, my skills wouldn't improve by leaps and bounds just by receiving the Sword Saint's teachings—but still, it would be much better than just swinging a sword blindly on my own.

Of course, for that to happen, the new emperor's coronation would have to end without any problems.

“You! Kahak. Ptui! This bastard, heung, keuheuk. Hak!”

The man in front of me spewed out a grotesque noise.

“Calm your breathing and then speak. I can't understand you if you talk like that.”

“...In front of me, you're being so relaxed? Heuhak. A mercenary brat?”

He seemed even more heated than before.

He must have noticed that I was lost in other thoughts and lost his temper.

“You're being just as relaxed, aren't you? You're not even using the swordsmanship you were so proud of.”

From the moment I heard he was a knight, I had been expecting him to use swordsmanship.

Because until now, I hadn't had a chance to properly see other swordsmanship.

The swordsmanship of the Sword Saint and Simon had passed by in an instant like the wind, and when the knights were fighting the Arachne, it was hard to see properly because of the distance.

‘I thought I might recall something if I saw other swordsmanship.’

The swordsmanship of people at a far-off high place like the Sword Saint or Simon was not in the realm of understanding just by seeing it.

It was my calculation that a lower level would be easier to recognize.

But for some reason, the man in front of me was not using swordsmanship.

“It's not that I'm not using it, it's that I can't. Because the people around could get caught up in it.”

The ex-knight, who had finally recovered his breath, made an excuse.

Oh, is that so?

“You should have settled this when there were people around.”

The man re-gripped his sword.

Hwaak-!

And then, in an instant, the atmosphere changed.

***

We re-entered the tavern.

His subordinates no longer showed any hostility towards me.

Having proven a strength on par with their 'Big Brother' whom they revered like the heavens, they could no longer look down on me.

Moreover, since that Brother was attempting to talk peacefully, if they did something foolish, they could be beaten up from both sides.

“Sit. I'll buy you a drink.”

“You’re going to drink more?”

Just when I thought he had sobered up a bit.

“No, no. I'm not drinking. At least, I shouldn't drink right now. I'm not that thoughtless of a person.”

“I’m good too. We’re not on terms where we can comfortably drink together, are we?”

Even if they had calmed down to some extent, I didn't know when those guys would turn on me and bare their teeth.

I had no intention of touching alcohol until I had completely settled in a safe place.

“I can drink, right? I'm curious about the alcohol of the Imperial Capital.”

Pol asked brightly.

“...Sure. Drink.”

His feeling wasn't bad, was it?

It meant that nothing major would happen right away even if he drank.

At Pol's order, a waiter immediately came with a bottle of liquor.

Pol, who opened the bottle with a shoulder dance, immediately put the bottle to his mouth and began to drink it down in gulps.

“Keu-!”

With menacing thugs surrounding the table, the alcohol went down his throat just fine.

‘But was Pol old enough to drink?’

I suddenly realized that I still didn't know Pol's age.

...Though, in this unruly world, there probably wasn't an age limit on drinking anyway.

As I was quietly watching Pol down the liquor, he suddenly gave a thumbs-up and smiled broadly.

“The Imperial Capital's alcohol is different too! It's the best I've ever had!”

I wasn't looking because I was curious about the taste.

“Wow, this is amazing. Can I order one more bottle?”

“Even at a glance, it’s expensive liquor, so shouldn’t you be moderate?”

Even though Peter said he would buy it, shouldn't he have some tact.

“No, no. Drink as much as you want. I'm buying it because I want to.”

Peter waved his hands.

It was a very suspicious action.

It is often said that there is no such thing as a free lunch in the world.

I didn't fully agree with that statement, but I believed it was true to some extent.

To be precise, a certain amount of goodwill could exist, but excessive kindness always had a hidden purpose beyond that.

“He's saying it too. I'll have one, no, just two more bottles.”

Pol said he would gladly accept it.

Really, there was a limit to being naive.

‘Well, it’s not like you absolutely have to play along just because you got a free drink.’

It was just that, morally, it would feel bad to pretend not to know after receiving free alcohol, but it wasn't like we had signed a contract, and it was far from being firmly tied down.

If it was some ill-mannered scheme, I could brush it off to some extent just by hiding behind Simon or the Sword Saint.

“...Do as you please. If you fall asleep, I'm leaving you behind.”

It was better for him to be quietly drinking than to interrupt the flow of the conversation with stupid remarks.

Pol, who was genuinely happy.

...Could it be that Pol's 'good feeling' was referring to this free alcohol?

“So—seeing as you’re buying expensive alcohol, you must want something, right?”

I turned my gaze back to Peter.

“Well. It’s hard to know where to start. This, it’s not exactly a proud story.”

Peter hesitated for a long time before he managed to open his mouth.

“Could I possibly get some help from your master?”

“Help is help, but it depends. If you just say it like that without any context, how am I supposed to take it?”

Help that only a famous mercenary could provide?

Unless I had to kill a dragon or something, nothing came to mind.

“Ahem. Top-tier mercenaries have connections with nobles, right? So, if—if there’s a territory that needs a knight, I’d like to get an introduction, that kind of, ah, this is a really shameless thing to say-”

Ummm?

I didn't understand Peter's words for a moment.

What about a noble?

What about a territory that needed a knight?

“...Right now, are you, like, asking me for a job recommendation?”

Goodness.

This was a first for me, in its own way.

“Hm. Heh-hmm.”

“Does it make sense to ask a mercenary to arrange a knight position for you?”

“Why wouldn’t it make sense? Your master must be at least a 1st-class mercenary.”

A 1st-class mercenary.

The peak that a mercenary could typically reach.

It meant a mercenary whose fame resounded on a national scale.

Since they were treated better than most nobles, it wouldn't be impossible to nudge a noble to get him a knight position.

That was true, but.

“The fact that you have to rely on an introduction means that no one will accept you without one, right? And what gives you the guts to ask for an introduction when you’ve already been stripped of your knighthood?”

Peter was a returned human, confirmed to be defective.

What was I supposed to trust to arrange an introduction for him?

I should have known from the moment he readily offered to buy expensive alcohol.

Considering the weight of the matter, a few bottles of alcohol should be considered too cheap, rather.

“...That, that's true.”

Surprisingly, Peter readily admitted it.

It was a fact for which there was no room for excuses.

“This is absurd. You’re asking for an introduction from an opponent you were pointing your sword at until just now? Are you in your right mind?”

“That’s how desperate I am! If I can just return to being a knight, somehow-!!”

There he went again, flying off the handle.

“There are other ways to make a living besides being a knight. Like a mercenary, as I said before.”

“...That’s...because.”

Peter, who had suddenly become dispirited, mumbled.

Was there a special reason why he couldn't be a mercenary?

“What? I can’t hear you well?”

“...Because that’s embarrassing!!”

What? Embarrass...ing?

“...Are you picking a fight with me right now?”

To make a listening mercenary sad.

“Ah...! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that!”

Peter, who was in a position where he had to ask me for a favor, immediately apologized.

“It's shameful, but there were things I said and did to those who chose the path of a mercenary back when I was a knight……. I looked down on them so much, so for me to become a mercenary after losing my knighthood……”

“...So, because it’s embarrassing to become a mercenary, you were playing leader in a back alley? Wasn't that embarrassing?”

What a rotten attitude.

No matter how thin the line between a mercenary and a thug was, there was a line that separated the light from the shadows.

For a guy who used to be a knight to have crawled into the shadows, it was over at that point.

“I-I haven't gotten my hands on anything particularly dirty! I've never stolen money or hit an innocent person!”

“Instead, those punks acted freely with you backing them up. You, who were drinking away the money you received from them that they had earned through dirty means.”

Peter's face turned beet red and he shut his mouth.

He was ashamed and angry, but he seemed to be holding it in because he was in the position of asking for an introduction.

How pathetic.

What was so great about that knighthood.

There was nothing more to hear.

In any case, as long as there was even a slim possibility of being introduced to a noble, Peter couldn't touch me.

I'll just brush it over and do my own thing.

Perhaps sensing my displeasure, Peter began to rattle off excuses like a machine gun.

“I'm begging you!! Just think of it as saving a life!! Can't you at least put in a word with your master?! I know it's rude to ask like this on our first meeting!! But, if I told you after we became friends, you would feel more betrayed!! Please understand my sincerity!! I'll do anything I can-!!”

It didn't touch my heart at all.

Just the impression of being clingy.

‘He seems like he'll cling on persistently, how can I shake him off?’

While I was contemplating, Pol burst out laughing tactlessly.

“Pahaha-!! This person, he seems like someone Sir Liatro would like! Don't you think so? Pupuhuhuhu.”

“Are you drunk? I told you to drink in moderation.”

“I’m not druuunk.”

He was completely drunk.

Still, this wasn't so bad.

I had a decent excuse to get out of this place.

“I have to end the conversation here. I have to take this guy to his room.”

I got up from my seat and forcibly pulled Pol up.

I barely suppressed the urge to hit the back of the head of Pol, who was spouting nonsense about being able to walk on his own, and knock him out.

Just as I was about to leave the tavern, supporting Pol, Peter grabbed my arm.

“...Sir Liatro? Didn't you just say Sir Liatro?”

It seemed he had been mulling over what Pol had just blurted out.

“Are you perhaps talking about Sir Simon Liatro of the Imperial Central Knight Order? You know him?”

“Ah-”

Peter used to be a knight, and this place was also near Simon's mansion.

It wasn't strange for him to know Simon's name.

It was a matter that would have been revealed sooner or later anyway, but for it to be revealed like this was not in my plan.

“Then could it be—your master was Sir Liatro?! Th-Then-!!”

He missed it by a hair's breadth.

In any case, whether my master was Simon or the Sword Saint, it didn't make much of a difference to Peter.

The important thing was just the fact that I had a connection with big shots beyond Peter's imagination.

“Brother!! No, Sir!! I beg of you!! Please!! Give me a chance-!!”

The possibility of Peter letting me go had vanished.

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