Barbarian Quest

Chapter 27

Gottval the Priest dedicated his time to teaching Urich every evening. Thanks to the satisfaction he got from teaching, it wasn’t a bad job for him, either.

‘He’s learning incredibly fast,’ Gottval thought as he glanced at Urich, whose eyes were darting around the ground reading the letters.

Urich’s memory was extraordinary. Once he saw something, he never forgot. Anyone who had taught him in the past could attest to that.

On the evening of the third day, Urich returned to Gottval to continue his lesson. Now that they were in the mountains, their surroundings were quite dark.

‘I only have a few days left to learn.’

Urich wanted to learn a lot of things from Gottval, who was the only scholar that he had ever met.

“Donovan?”

Gottvan and Donovan were sitting together. Donovan was on his knee, reciting a prayer.

“Urich, please come back in a moment. Donovan is currently in the middle of his confession,” the priest waved Urich away.

‘Confession,’ Urich muttered. He had seen his mercenaries doing the same thing a few times. It was a practice of confessing one’s sin to cleanse their soul.

‘What even is the point of that?’

Urich leaned against a nearby tree and waited for Donovan’s confession to be over.

“Don’t bother Father Gottval too much, Urich,” Donovan said to Urich as he walked by after finishing his confession with the priest. Even Donovan always showed his respect toward the priest.

“A priest must be quite the honorable title.”

“Everyone fears the afterlife. There’s nothing scarier than failing to find the correct path after dying,” Gottval answered Urich.

“So, when you guys die, you become purified by the fire of the sun and then are reborn, and the northerners go to the Field of Swords,” Urich said as he pointed at Sven and the other northerner.

Gottval hesitated for a moment before choosing his next words carefully.

“I believe that the Field of Swords is not really the paradise that the northerners seem to think. It’s just a hell for those with a pile of bad karma, where there is no such thing as redemption. The god of the north is violent and arrogant. He doesn’t love his people, unlike Lou, who embraces all living things like the ray of sun.”

“There’s no need for a god to love his people unconditionally, though, right?”

“There isn’t a god who doesn’t love his people, just like how all parents love their children.”

Urich put his arm around Gottval’s shoulders as he picked his ear.

“That sounds nice. But if the gods love their people so much, why do they let us fight? Why do they just watch from wherever they are? How come we have to make each other bleed with rocks and metals if there exist such loving gods?”

“That’s because of the original sin. The greed and sinfulness of humans destroyed the eternal day and brought upon the darkness...”

“Bullshit. You priests are the shamans of this place, and I know that all you shamans do is lie!”

‘Where is the World of Spirits that was supposed to be on this side of the mountains?’ Urich barely managed to hold his words back.

“I never lie, Urich,” Gottval firmly asserted. He was a man of strong faith.

“Well, whatever. Anyway, what were you talking about with Donovan earlier?” Urich always kept his eyes on Donovan. He knew that Donovan was always looking for a chance to take his place as the leader of Urich’s Brotherhood.

“Confessions are devoted to Lou, not me. Once the words of confession have entered my ears, they don’t come out of my mouth.”

“Hmm,” Urich looked at Gottval as he rested his chin on his fist. He felt a sudden urge. What would happen if he grabbed the priest by his throat and tortured him by ripping his stomach open with his axe? Would he talk, then?

Nobody kept their mouths shut after a good torture. Pain made men weak.

“Urich?” Gottval said in an uncomfortable tone. He felt uneasy by Urich’s aggressive grin. Urich continued to smile at the priest’s words.

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“This is the civilization. So, teach me the civilized way, Mr. Priest.”

Urich tilted his head and sat in his seat. Like usual, Gottval taught him the words of the Empire. Within the first few days, Urich’s vocabulary had surpassed a hundred words.

“Who did you learn how to write from before?” Gottval asked during their short break. Urich took a sip of water from the leather sack and wiped his mouth.

“I learned it from my previous boss, Horus. He was a gladiator broker, so he knew how to read and write.”

“Of course, merchants must know how to read and write. Where is he now, and what is he up to?”

“He died. He was teaching me like you are right now, but that unlucky man got hit by an arrow right in his neck. He died in my hands without getting to say any last words.”

Gottval recited a brief prayer.

“...I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No need to be sorry. I killed every last one of the men who raided us that night with my own hands,” Urich replied proudly. Gottval felt suffocated by the unexpected murderous aura and flinched. He rushed to change the subject.

“Are you from the south? I thought you were a northerner at first, but the more I look the less you look like a northerner.”

“Eh, that’s about right.”

Gottval didn’t question Urich any further after his sluggish answer. Every barbarian who wandered around the Empire had a backstory or two.

Woosh.

The wind blew through Urich’s long locks. His nose twitched to pick out every smell that was carried by the wind: the smell of the greenery from the trees and bushes, the boiling stew that was now getting cold, and the smell of sweat and metal.

As he focused on his hearing, he was able to blur out the chatter of the mercenaries and soldiers. With that, any unusual sound stuck out and triggered his ears like a sharp needle.

Urich’s eyes twitched as his senses became heightened. His five senses combined to form a sixth.

Ting.

He picked out only the necessary sounds in the midst of the chaos. He reached his hand toward Gottval’s head.

Thuck.

An arrow pierced Urich’s palm. If it wasn’t for his hand, the arrow would have buried its tip well inside Gottval’s head.

“It’s a raid, a raid! Get up!”

The soldiers reacted quickly. They were standing soldiers who had received proper well-structured military training. They were the elites.

Grip.

Urich clenched his fist and broke the arrow that was stuck in his palm.

“Keep your head down and hide behind me, priest.”

Urich lathered the blood flowing out of the wound on his palm all over his face.

“I don’t want to see another teacher of mine die in front of me.”

Gottval held his breath and kept himself hidden behind a tree. After all, he was only a priest who had never touched a sword in his life.

Schring.

Urich’s sword unsheathed with a clear ringing sound. He kept his eyes wide open, waiting for a battle to break out. He was prepared to run out as soon as another attack came his way.

‘They’re gone.’

Urich knew without seeing the enemies. Their presence had completely disappeared.

“...a hit and run. What a headache.”

Urich walked into the forest, and the other soldiers became alarmed and stared at him.

“Stop, it’s dangerous! The enemies are still...”

“They’re already gone. They ran away,” Urich answered as he stepped further into the forest. He picked up the traces of the raiders in between the trees with the broken and trampled branches.

‘They were only about ten men.’

It was a small surprise attack. Urich’s eyes were glaring like a predator.

“What the hell were the lookouts doing, huh?”

A clash erupted between the mercenaries and the soldiers.

The surprise attack was quite predictable, but according to some of the mercenaries, the lookouts were chatting among themselves inattentively. Three of the soldiers were seriously wounded, and a mercenary was killed by an arrow.

‘Giggs,’ Urich muttered the name of his fallen brother.

The name of the unfortunate mercenary was Giggs. He had been with the group since their gladiatorial days and was one of the men who ambushed in the pile of filth back in the battle of Count Mollando.

“I saw it with my own eyes, Urich! Those bastards paid no attention to their job,” mercenary Bajorn exclaimed as he pointed at two of the soldiers.

Thump!

Urich ran toward the two soldiers and threw them on the ground. He pounded their faces with his fists and kicked their stomach in.

“Kek, ugh, Keugh.”

The soldier being trampled rolled up like a turtle. Urich nonchalantly pummeled two soldiers as the others rushed in to stop him.

“S-stop!”

Thud!

One of the soldiers who tried to get Urich off his comrade was knocked out by his swing. Blood was dripping off his fists, and he was fully intending to kill them with his bare hands.

“I-I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The soldier mumbled his apology in fear of death.

“What do you think you’re doing!” The guard captain Setton shouted as he walked toward the violent scene.

“A lookout who didn’t look out for danger can die,” Urich answered as he lifted the soldier, who was almost a corpse.

“Release my soldier at once, mercenary leader!” Setton demanded as he moved his hand closer to his sword.

“Our brother is already dead, and he’s not coming back,” Urich said as he put down the soldier.

“If you ever lay a finger on my soldier again, your head will be the first to go before the bandits,” Setton’s lone eye glared with murderous intent.

‘Goddamn barbarian.’

His blind eye was throbbing. Setton despised the barbarians. They were the ones who took his left eye.

“That’s enough, Urich,” Bachman stopped Urich. Urich returned to his mercenaries.

The bandits’ surprise attack was a success. The morale of the exterminators had been stirred up, and they were now constantly on alert.

Crackle, crackle.

The mercenaries gathered firewood and burned Giggs’ body.

“Oh, Lou, your son is returning to your embrace. Please have mercy on his sinful soul...” Gottval recited the funeral prayer.

“At least you’ve got a proper priest to guide your soul, Giggs. You won’t be wandering this world now,” Donovan said with a bitter grin. He and Giggs were particularly close, as Giggs was one of his loyal men.

Drip.

Donovan sprayed the wine over the flame of the body.

“I heard you bared your fists for Giggs, Urich. I owe you one,” Donovan said as he looked at Urich. The blazing flames reflected scarletly on their faces.

“Don’t mention it. Our name isn’t Brotherhood for nothing. I will mourn and rage at the death of every single one of us—even you, Donovan.”

Urich stared into the ember after nonchalantly answering Donovan. He was seeking Giggs’ soul in the burning flames.

‘I can’t see the souls with my eyes. Are they visible to the priests and shamans?’

In Solarism, bodies were cremated. They believed that the fire returned the souls to the god of sun.

“Gottval,” Urich called the priest, who had just finished the funeral ceremony. Gottval turned to look at him.

“Is the wound in your hand okay?” Gottval asked.

Urich’s hand had been hit by an arrow in his attempt to protect Gottval.

“It’s moving fine, so I don’t think there are any issues,” Urich answered as he clenched and unclenched his hand.

“You have my sincerest gratitude for protecting me, Urich,” Gottval said with the utmost respect.

“It’s nothing. We’re all supposed to help each other, no?”

“Love and generosity are the teachings of Lou,” Gottval smiled.

“That’s funny, I’m pretty far from both of those. Did you send my brother Giggs to the sun?”

“He should have safely returned to the embrace of Lou.”

“I have a question, Priest,” Urich said as he rose from his seat. He was at least a head taller than Gottval.

“...I don’t believe in either gods of Solarism or the north. The afterlife that I believed in doesn’t exist anywhere. So, when I die, where do I go?”

Ever since Urich’s idea of the afterlife was shattered, he wondered. The land on the other side of the Sky Mountains belonged to the living.

‘What about my forefathers and brothers? Where do our souls go?’

Gottval pondered for a minute, then hesitantly opened his mouth.

“If that is the case... your soul will become an evil spirit wandering this world, even forgetting who you were...”

With that, Urich sat back down. With his head tilted, his gaze alternated between the darkness and the flames.

Urich had a dream that night.

The forefathers who had returned to the earth long ago and his brothers who had gone before him were wandering the world of the living. Unable to find rest, their souls were tormented by the wandering. Their souls had become evil spirits, waiting for Urich to die.

‘Because of you, Urich, the resting place for our souls is no more! You discovered the world of the living. Know your sins, as you will soon join us here!’

The evil spirits cackled. If a certain barbarian hadn’t climbed the mountains, the world on the other side would have remained the world of spirits. The souls of the forefathers would have been resting in peace. It was Urich’s eyes that disrupted their peace. From the moment Urich had discovered the other side, it was no longer the world of the spirits.

“Ugh!” Urich let out a ragged breath as he woke up.

Thump, thump.

His heart pounded with anxiety. He gazed up at the dawn stars and drew his sword and pressed the cold blade against his cheek. The anxiety and excitement subsided as if they were absorbed by the firm blade.

‘Was that the evil spirits?’

Urich gazed into the still-dark forest. The wavering bonfire resembled the evil spirits stirring in the darkness.

Although it was still quite early, Urich chose not to go back to sleep. He gazed toward the east and desperately waited for the sun to rise.

‘Bachman always said that there is the vast sea in the east where the land ends, and that at the end of that sea is the Edge of the World.’