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It was a ordinary-looking tavern. It was old, but there didn’t seem to be any significant decay or major structural issues.

The hall had a bar, tables, and a staircase leading to an upper floor with a railing that offered a clear view of the ground floor below.

The wooden walls were marred with chaotic knife marks, as if marking a beast’s territory. It silently testified that this place was far from ordinary.

Unlike other taverns in slums, it wasn’t particularly noisy.

People were quietly conversing, playing cards, sipping drinks, throwing daggers at the wall instead of darts, or inhaling smoke from burning something like mugwort.

Away from these people, in a secluded corner, were some lightly armed individuals sitting or leaning against the wall.

One of the seated individuals had a rather fierce looking face, but on closer inspection, he didn’t seem very old. Around 18 to 20 years old.

He was frowning deeply as if he’d seen something unpleasant. He had his head half-turned, his gaze forcibly directed at something on the table.

On the table was the severed head of the Vilton brothers.

“Right. So, get rid of this fucking shit quickly.”

The fierce-looking man spoke. Then, one of the nearby people grabbed the severed head by the hair and took it away.

The man, feeling nauseated, spat on the floor once and took a sip of the strong liquor in his wooden cup. Then he looked at the people sitting across from him.

It was Arno and Ricardt. One looked like a novice, and the other was excessively young. They didn’t fit in this place at all, and bringing the Vilton brothers’ heads was even more incongruous.

However, he didn’t inquire about their reasons or circumstances.

“Those fucking bastards were so fucked up that, despite the low difficulty, the reward is quite substantial. 30 silver coins each. Here, take a look.”

He placed a document on the table. It had sketches of the Vilton brothers, along with their characteristics and criminal records. Skimming it, words like “women”, “human trafficking” caught the eye.

It also bore the seals of the Imperial Court and the chief constable, indicating a reward of one gold coin each for capturing them alive, or 30 silver coins each for bringing their heads.

Then he placed a small pouch of coins on the table.

“Sixty in total. Count and sign.”

Without a word, Ricardt pulled the pouch towards him, loosened the string, and fingered through the coins a few times. He quickly spoke.

“Two are missing.”

“What?”

“I said two are missing.”

Did he count all the coins in that brief moment? And not by taking them out but just by roughly feeling them?

“Huh… You’ve got good eyes, kid. The two are a fee. Alright?”

“Fine.”

Ricardt immediately agreed and took out 29 silver coins from the pouch.

“This is Arno’s share. Arno. Arno!”

“Huh? Oh, yes!?”

Arno, who had been looking around with a clearly terrified expression, finally snapped to attention when Ricardt called him.

“These are yours, Arno. 29 coins. It was supposed to be 30 each, but two were taken as a fee.”

“Ah, yes…”

Arno, who had grown cocky after killing a few bandits, seemed to have shrunk back considerably, looking dazed and intimidated.

He didn’t even think to refuse out of politeness, and he didn’t seem capable of feeling happy about receiving 29 silver coins, a considerable sum.

It was understandable since Arno felt like he was inside a tiger’s den and wanted to leave this place as soon as possible.

After a brief commotion outside, he had followed when told to come along, but now he felt he had definitely come to the wrong place.

“By the way, is this really the Beringen Adventurers’ Guild branch?”

Ricardt asked the fierce-looking man while signing the document. The signature was simply his name, but his handwriting, reminiscent of his mother, was as graceful as willow tree branches.

“No. This is the Eisen Brotherhood’s building. To put it simply, it’s a Thieves’ Guild.”

The fierce-looking man spoke nonchalantly as he sorted the documents. However, Arno’s eyes widened at the mention of the Thieves’ Guild.

“What?”

This was because the Thieves’ Guild was an organization of criminals incomparable to mere bandits.

It was structured, professional, disciplined, secretive, and known for sure retribution.

Moreover, Arno, who traveled frequently for work but resided in Reinfurt, was shocked because he had heard rumors of the Eisen Brotherhood.

In fact, it was impossible not to know them. Living in Reinfurt and not knowing about the Eisen Brotherhood was like risking half your life.

Ricardt looked at Arno once as if to ask what was going on, then asked the man sitting across the table again.

“Aren’t you an adventurer?”

“I am. But you know, a job title is just a name, right? The Nord people do both raiding and trading.”

“Then what about the branch? The Beringen Adventurers’ Guild.”

“That guy, that guy, that guy, and I are all adventurers affiliated with the Beringen Guild. The rest are out right now. The rest of the members are out right now. Us being here, well, you could say we’re indebted to them for now. Though it’s been quite a while. Whether for work or money, it’s better to be on good terms with the thieves’ guild if you want to do well as an adventurer.”

It was questionable whether you could call this a branch when they were holed up in a thieves’ guild building, but it seemed even Arno didn’t know much about it, and things seemed to run somewhat haphazardly.

Ricardt couldn’t quite understand why the adventurers’ guild was entangled with the thieves’ guild.

“Why?”

“Why? Because you need information to get things done.”

“Is that how it works?”

“That’s how it works. Now, let me ask you a question. How did you kill the Vilton brothers?”

“We just ambushed them while hiding.”

“Is it that simple? No matter how I think about it, I don’t think I could have done something like that when I was your age.”

“Everyone’s different.”

“But this seems quite different, though. Anyway, do you have any other business with me?”

“I’m looking for a guide to take me to the Beringen Academy.”

“Why that henhouse?”

“Henhouse?”

“It’s a henhouse alright. What business do you have there?”

Instead of explaining, Ricardt took out an admission letter from his bag and showed it. This time, not only the fierce-looking man but also his nearby colleagues were surprised.

“Wow! What is this!? Those bastards making things like this now too!?”

“What is it? Wow, why does this look so convincing?”

“Wait, are you a noble?”

The man was even more surprised to see the sentence wishing for the good fortune of the Caldebert family.

“Yes. Why?”

“Something’s wrong here.”

“What is?”

“That place isn’t meant for kids like you.”

“What do you mean? Explain.”

“More than half of the students there are bastards. The rest are commoners. There aren’t any proper nobles like you.”

This was surprising, or rather, unexpected. Ricardt had unconsciously thought that the academy would be filled with kids in similar situations to his.

Bastards were just bastards. Neither nobles nor commoners, just bastards. Lives born from unblessed unions, living unfortunate fates.

Nobles openly despised them, and commoners cursed them behind their backs. Bastards were respected by neither social class.

Of course, there were cases where a head of a family acknowledged them, and some bastards carved out their own lives, but those were very rare.

However, did that matter? Perhaps due to his upbringing, Ricardt didn’t care much about social status. In his previous life, he had killed indiscriminately.

“That doesn’t matter. I decided to become an adventurer myself.”

“Huh? Why?”

“To find out if the war was worth it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Eastern Expedition Territory. The war a hundred years ago. So many people suffered and died painfully. Don’t you wonder if it was worth it?”

The man looked perplexed, as if he’d bitten into something bitter. What is this kid talking about? Why do you care about that?

“If you join a knight order, you can gain honor. If you become a mercenary officer, you can at least make money. Why become an adventurer of all things?”

“Then I’ll just get both as an adventurer. Honor and money.”

The man looked at Ricardt with a strangely twisted face. This kid doesn’t seem right in the head.

“Haha. Right. You can get both. Anyway, it’s rare to see a junior here. Let’s change the location. It’s too gloomy here.”

The person leaning against the wall spoke. Although it was hard to tell with the hood on, it was a woman’s voice. The fierce-looking man blinked a few times and nodded.

“Alright. Let’s move somewhere else for now. I’ve been in the shadows so long, I feel like my face is growing mold. Follow me, young junior. Fust, keep an eye on the place.”

“Sure.”

The fierce-looking man stood up and gestured for Ricardt to follow as he walked deeper into the building.

Ricardt naturally followed him, but suddenly turned to look at Arno. Arno was hesitating.

“Thanks, Arno.”

Then he simply followed the fierce-looking man, leaving Arno behind. It seemed somewhat cold-hearted, whether intentional or not.

Arno just blinked. Are we parting ways just like that?

The Thieves’ Guild building was bigger and wider than expected. It connected to an underground passage, with a stream flowing in the middle and pathways on both sides.

The underground passage was like a maze with many branching paths, complex and old, yet still very sturdy. When was this built? Was it made by humans?

After following the fierce-looking man and his two colleagues through the passage, they reached a sunny riverside. Smuggling ships came and went along the river, and there was a dock.

Smuggling meant bringing things in secretly, but there wasn’t any feeling of secrecy or caution here.

The river breeze blew, sweeping away the city’s stench and refreshing their stifled chests.

“Now, this is more like it.”

They reached a place with wooden crates, and the woman sat down comfortably. As she took off her hood, her unexpectedly pretty face was revealed in the sunlight.

Her brown hair was pulled back tightly in a ponytail, which suited her well due to her pretty head shape.

After briefly watching the sunlit river, she spoke to Ricardt.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Sandy. The ugly guy here is Blatter, and this is Boden.”

The fierce-looking man was Blatter, and the silent one was Boden.

It seemed like the names were chosen hastily, a characteristic of bastards. They often took names from things like leaves, dirt, and sand.

Noble names like Ricardt, Abelich, or Vilter, on the other hand, meant things like strong warrior, glorious fury, or protector. The origins of the names were different from the start.

“So, you need someone to go with you to the academy?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to go with big sister?”

“Sure.”

Ricardt readily agreed. Sandy kept smiling as if she found Ricardt adorable.

“Hey, shouldn’t we at least introduce him to the henhouse or explain what his life will be like from now on?”

Blatter, who was pulling a bottle of alcohol out of a crate, said.

“Isn’t Boden good at explanations? You’re our information guy, after all.”

“…Does it take information to explain a henhouse?”

“But why do you call it a henhouse?”

Just as they were about to bicker among themselves, Ricardt interjected and asked. Boden answered.

“The beds are crammed together. Bunk beds. The remaining space is only enough for one person to walk through, and 120 people live together there. For two years.”

Just thinking about it seemed unpleasant, as both Sandy and Blatter grimaced and shook their heads in disgust.

Boden spoke in a calm tone.

“It’s not too late to turn back, young master. It’s better to go back. I don’t know what you’ve heard that makes you want to go there, but it’s not as romantic as you think. Not at all.”

It was a sincere piece of advice from experience, not an attempt to scare or test him. However, Ricardt’s response was unexpected.

“A roof to keep the rain off and a place to sleep that isn’t the cold hard ground is luxury enough, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Living itself is painful anyway. Don’t you think?”

Words that shouldn’t come from a child’s mouth were spoken. The words sounded cynical, but his expression showed no signs of resignation or despair.

People who weren’t familiar with Ricardt often found this aspect of him surprising, and Boden was no different.

“…How have you been living, exactly?”

Unlike Boden, Blatter took a sip of his drink, exhaled a hot breath, and simply nodded in agreement.

“Phew, you’ve got a point.”

“It feels strange to hear that from our young junior. There was a reason I was drawn to you.”

Sandy also smiled gently. Living as a bastard meant experiencing more sorrow and heartbreak than anyone else.

“By the way, I heard that most of the academy students either become half-cripples or die. Is that true?”

“Yeah, it’s true.”

“Why? What kind of academy is that? Isn’t it a very honorable thing to be sponsored by the royal family? But then why do they do such dishonorable things at the academy?”

“Honor? Haha, I’m surprised you even use such an old-fashioned word. You really are a noble, I guess. But that’s the problem. The fact that the royal family gives money. Because of that, they fight each other fiercely. If other guilds disappear, we get to eat more.”

Laughing at the word “honor”, Sandy explained, leaning back and shaking her head.

“I don’t quite understand.”

“So, the money given by the royal family is fixed. But since there are multiple guilds, it gets divided. If other guilds disappear, we get more. It’s said that the places sponsored by the royal family are more brutal because the area is so small. It’s best not to mess with them. They’re always angry.”

Even Ricardt, who rarely showed emotional disturbance, was taken aback. They kill each other over money? Well, it’s no different from going to the battlefield, he supposed.

“After being exploited in the henhouse for two years, if you survive, you’re thrown into battles for three years. Then you’re divided into upper, middle, and lower ranks, and after that, you can either take the final exam or become an adventurer like us by signing a contract. The main jobs are… you’re smart, so you explain.”

Sandy turned to Boden.

When Sandy looked at Boden and spoke, Boden responded with a nonchalant expression.

“Catching and punishing bad guys, hunting beasts or monsters, transporting goods, escorting caravans, , doing what those above tell us to do, taking on requests that come in, official jobs, unofficial jobs. Unofficial ones are things like assassination.”

“So, you do whatever comes your way.”

“That’s right.”

“Don’t you go to the Eastern Expedition Territory, I mean, Fernland?”

“I think that’s the final exam site. Only those ranked top in the class go there. They’re monsters in terms of skills and guts. As you can see, we’re not top class, so we don’t know much about it. They say passing the final exam makes you the Emperor’s Champion.”

A champion referred to a great warrior. It was an ancient tradition where someone would fight on behalf of a noble who was either too old or lacked the skill in a duel.

Typically, close relatives or friends would step in, and being a Champion for a high-ranking person was considered highly honorable. Many ballads celebrated Champions, known as the Champion’s Ballads.

However, in reality, kings or emperors rarely had to duel. So, the title of the Emperor’s Champion was an honorary title that practically meant being the Emperor’s problem-solver. It was different from the Emperor’s personal guard.

“By the way, what’s your name again?”

Sandy asked as she fiddled with her already tidy hair.

“Ricardt.”

“That feels so distant. Don’t you have a nickname or something?”

Ricardt was a name that anyone could tell belonged to a noble.

“Ricky.”

“Wow, that’s bold.”

“What? Isn’t it a common nickname?”

“Still, it’s the same name as the Immortal Ricky.”

Just when he thought he could forget, talk of his past life came up, and Ricardt felt bitter inside.

“It’s a coincidence. But I don’t think he’s immortal.”

“No one could kill him, and no one saw him die. Some people even believe he’s a god. They call it the Order of Judgment? And he’s special to us too. Because all that suffering in the henhouse was to try to be like him.”

“…What do you mean, be like him?”

“He’s the legendary Sword Master. A person whose blade emits light and can cuts through rocks, and fights with the strength of an army thanks to his superhuman physical abilities and endurance. Many kids die trying to follow in his footsteps even a little bit.”

What is this nonsense? Ricardt was dumbfounded. He felt the dark shadow of his past life looming over him.

Or was it the shadow of his current self? A shadow that he couldn’t escape no matter how hard he tried.

“It’s not necessarily like that.”

While Ricardt was still reeling from the shock, Blatter spoke.

“Being a Sword Master is a dream that sounds too much like a fairy tale, but for me, it was a valuable time for me, at least.”

“I didn’t know you had such masochistic tendencies.”

“It’s not that. We went through a lot, right? I think of us as family. If it weren’t for the henhouse, could we have met and been together like this? I don’t think so. If I had lived my life as a bastard and not become an adventurer… what would I have become?”

Blatter’s drunken confession left his friends speechless. They just turned their heads to look at the river flowing by, reflecting the passage of time.

“Yeah, a lot of things happened…”

Boden muttered to himself. It sounded like words loaded with many events, time, and meaning. Ricardt couldn’t fully grasp it yet.

But they didn’t look up to Ricardt just because he was a noble, nor did they look down on him for being young. They tried to see Ricardt as he was.

Though they were open-minded people, their daily lives were somewhat closed off.

They didn’t just chase money like mercenaries, nor did they solely pursue honor like knights, and they didn’t live entirely in the shadows like the Thieves’ Guild.

They were simply people who trusted and relied on each other, living with a sliver of hope.

This was Ricardt’s first impression of adventurers.

*****