Chapter 90: Chapter 89: Adventurer? No, "Calamity Star

As expected, Basque came up empty.

After all, Jon had left Nomu Village three days ago. Basque had been running all over the mountains with the Hunters for the past few days, so he naturally didn’t know. Or rather, the Old Dwarf was the only one in the entire village who knew Jon was gone.

But the old fellow had no reason to tell Basque, did he?

This put Basque in quite a predicament.

’The kid still has plenty of frozen venison and firewood, so he probably didn’t go into the mountains to hunt or gather more.’

’Could he have just gone out to stretch his legs, or did he actually get angry and leave the village for good?’

’Either way, this isn’t good.’

The memory of Jon carrying the wolf’s head, covered in blood, his face a fierce and emotionless mask, made Basque’s jaw ache.

Although Jon had every reason not to participate in the upcoming wolf hunt, Basque knew the ignorant fools in the village wouldn’t see it that way. If the arrangements concerning Jon weren’t "convincing" enough for them, those people would actually dare to slack off.

At this thought, he couldn’t resist kicking both Hotte and Harlow, who were trailing beside him.

’These two good-for-nothing cowards!’

"Ouch!"

The two had already been beaten soundly by Jon and then brutally whipped in public by Uriel. Their bodies were covered in injuries, and as the kick irritated their wounds, they couldn’t help but grimace in pain.

But they didn’t dare protest, not even daring to drop the things they were holding.

After letting off some steam, Basque could only give up on the idea of talking with Jon.

He stared at Hotte and Harlow, his face devoid of expression, and said, word by word.

"Listen to me carefully. When you get back, if anyone asks how Jon is doing, you tell them he’s badly injured and can’t leave his house."

"If I hear any other rumors, and it damages everyone’s morale for fighting the wolf pack, you know the consequences—"

As he spoke, his words took on a chilling tone.

"At this time of year, it’s perfectly normal for a few wolves to sneak into the village and drag someone off..."

The two idlers’ legs immediately began to tremble like leaves, and they nodded furiously.

"We won’t, we won’t! We won’t say a word!"

"Yes! Captain Basque, we’ll say whatever you want us to say!"

Seeing his threat had hit its mark, Basque snorted coldly.

"Now, take those things inside, stack them neatly, and then get to work!"

"Yes, sir!"

Hotte and Harlow were, of course, holding supplies for daily life: things like salt, cloth, oil, and containers, as well as some money, two sets of thick clothes, and two spears.

These were all things that were always useful for life in the Northern Territory.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t be delivered directly into a certain someone’s hands.

Just as Basque was leading the two idlers back to the tavern and was about to enter, his ears twitched. Amidst the silence, he picked up an unfamiliar sound.

’Hoofbeats? Is the village chief back?’

The sallow-faced man stopped and stood under the eaves of the tavern. He squinted toward the village entrance, trying to make out the approaching figure through the swirling snowflakes.

At first, it was just a blurry shadow, but it gradually came into focus.

As Basque watched, an idea struck him.

’One person, two horses... Not the village chief. Could it be an Adventurer planning to enter the mountains from our village?’

’Could I hire them to help with the wolf pack?’

His mind made up, the captain of the guards called out into the tavern and then led two guards to greet the newcomer at the village entrance.

Whether a deal could be struck or not, it was worth a try.

As they drew closer, Basque finally got a clear look at the stranger.

The newcomer was tall, clad in a thick fur cloak. A half-helm obscured his face, but his chin was visible beneath it, clean-shaven. One of the hands holding the reins was covered by an iron gauntlet, while the other, for some reason, was bare, protected only by Arm Armor.

On one side of his saddle hung two Longswords and a shield; on the other, a Short Bow and a quiver of arrows.

The second horse trailing behind him was a packhorse, laden with neatly bundled supplies.

’Judging by his clean appearance and well-organized gear, he doesn’t look like a commoner. He looks more like an Adventurer from a minor noble family!’

Consequently, Basque’s casual attitude became a bit more serious.

He stood at the entrance to the village and called out.

"This is Nomu Village. May I ask where you’ve come from, sir, and where you’re headed?"

The "Adventurer" pulled his horse to a halt, sized up Basque, and then spoke with a light chuckle.

"Captain Basque, there’s no need to call me ’sir’."

"It’s only been a few days. Don’t you recognize me?"

The man’s voice was calm and composed, but his words struck Basque like a thunderbolt.

The veteran felt himself sway and immediately demanded in a rush.

"You... You’re Jon!?"

"Yes, of course it’s me."

Jon, who had been mistaken for an "Adventurer of minor noble birth," swung himself off his horse. Holding the reins with one hand, he used the other to throw back his hood and remove his half-helm, revealing a young, resolute face tinged with a faint smile.

"I’m back."

...

The "Calamity Star"—or rather, Jon.

He was back.

Most of the villagers who first heard the news were bewildered.

Who was back? Where had he gone? And where did he come back from?

But soon, their confusion was replaced by something else entirely.

They watched as Captain Basque, a man whose prestige in the village was second only to the chief’s, beamed while escorting a young, iron-armored Knight into the tavern.

And trailing behind those two into the tavern were the two young guards—men the villagers had watched grow up—who were muttering distractedly to themselves.

"That’s Jon... That man is Jon..."

That man was Jon? Jon? The Calamity Star? This young Knight was Jon?

Almost everyone was plunged into the same state of shock that Basque had experienced upon first seeing him.

Their necks swiveled stiffly to follow Basque and the young Knight, their gazes fixed on the young man’s face.

It had been so long that almost no one could remember what Jon used to look like.

In their minds, "Jon" was synonymous with "Calamity Star," and the "Calamity Star" was a wild man with disheveled hair and a scraggly beard!

Even though he had killed a wolf, beaten up two of the village ruffians, and forced them to parade in shame a few days ago, the "Calamity Star" of their imagination had merely transformed from a "slovenly wild man" into a "frightening brute."

And now you’re telling me that this man—in his gleaming armor, with a sword at his hip, wearing a fine fur cloak that many villagers might not touch in their entire lives—

this handsome, composed young man... is Jon?

This has to be some kind of joke!

He’s clearly a young noble Knight!

But on closer inspection, his face did hold a shadow of familiarity.

This made them afraid to voice a single doubt.

’What if?’

’What if this person really was that "Calamity Star," that Jon? Then what would become of them, the ones who had ostracized and bullied him?’

A sense of panic and worry began to spread through the crowd.

But Jon acted as if he didn’t notice. Or rather, he simply didn’t care what these villagers thought.

He simply sat down casually at the tavern’s long bar and tapped on the counter.

"Captain Basque, tell me about the situation in the mountains."

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