The Indomitable Martial King

[ Chapter 26 ]

There was much to be done. First off, Repenhardt needed to convert the goods acquired in Falton into cash. Only then could he go to rescue Siris. Technically, it was more about purchasing her freedom, but he found the expression distasteful and chose to ignore it.

He was walking diligently from the merchant streets towards the lodging district when he noticed a commotion at a tavern set on one side of the street.

“Please, spare my life!”

A shabby man in his fifties was being held by two sturdy men and was begging for mercy. In front of him, a chubby young man in his twenties, face contorted in anger, wielded a club.

“Make sure you hold onto him tightly!”

The young man repeatedly struck the man with his club, who couldn’t even twitch as he continued to take the hits.

“Argh! Aaargh!”

Repenhardt and Sillan stopped in their tracks, taken aback. The man was brutally beaten, his face streaming with blood.

“What’s going on here?”

Both were bewildered, looking around. In broad daylight, in the middle of the street, a man was being beaten to death, yet, no one intervened. People merely clicked their tongues and went on their way. Unsure of the situation and whether they should interfere, they hesitated for a moment.

“Please, spare my life! Argh! Aaargh!”

As screams continued to burst forth, Repenhardt was about to step forward when the chubby young man stopped beating the man. He had a smug look on his face, as if satisfied.

“Now, do you understand your place? How dare you insult the Rolpein Trading Company?”

It appeared that the man had insulted the Rolpein Trading Company and caught the young man’s attention. The Rolpein Trading Company was the second largest trading company in the principality.

Repenhardt frowned, glaring at the chubby young man.

Clearly, the young man’s clothes and jewelry were all expensive. Overall, he looked costly, if one could say that. Only someone living a lavish life could gain such weight.

The sturdy men threw the man aside. The young man looked down at the fallen man in his fifties with an arrogant smile, then gestured to his bodyguard. The bodyguard pulled a purse from his waist.

“Right, I’ve hit him thirty times, so thirty gold coins should do, right?”

After tossing gold coins at the fallen man, the young man left the scene with a laugh.

“Now, you should understand your place, you beggar.”

Repenhardt was dumbfounded. In his previous life, he had encountered all sorts of lowlifes, but this was his first encounter with someone so despicable. Beating a man to death, throwing money at him, and then just leaving? Such behavior showed a complete disregard for any repercussions.

While Repenhardt was astounded, Sillan quickly supported the fallen man and began to heal him. The man groaned as he regained consciousness.

“Are you alright?”

“Thank you, thank you!”

Seeing the man tearfully express his gratitude, Sillan’s pretty face contorted in anger.

“What about that person? Let’s go to the guard right now!”

It was broad daylight, and there were plenty of witnesses. No matter how high-ranking the chubby young noble was, this was not something to just let slide.

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However, the man shook his head.

“Even so, this will serve as capital for me to start over.”

Despite the pain, the man eagerly collected the dropped gold coins. Sillan was speechless at the sight. After picking up all the coins, the man bowed repeatedly and left.

Sillan muttered in a disheartened voice.

“So, just because he got paid, we’re supposed to let it go? Is that it?”

“That’s how it is around here.”

Repenhardt patted Sillan’s shoulder, offering a bitter smile.

“I can’t accept that.”

As they continued walking, Sillan kept grumbling.

Thanks to his high divine power, Sillan, despite his young age, had traveled the world quite a bit. Though he was very young and thus often accompanied by older clergy, he had visited many parts of the southern region of the Vasily Kingdom.

During those travels, he had seen many powerless people suffer. The tyranny of those in power was the same everywhere. He had tried to help them as much as he could, and whenever possible, sought to remedy their injustices.

From Sillan’s point of view, the attitude of the man who had been beaten was utterly incomprehensible. Even if the aggressor was a person of power, in such a situation, it was more than possible to file a complaint. One could boldly make their grievances known and have the perpetrator punished. Of course, it was unlikely that a person of power would face significant punishment, but at least the victim’s grievances could be addressed.

However, the man seemed only interested in the money, with no thought of addressing his grievances. Repenhardt shrugged.

“That’s the thing, around here, ‘punishment’ often just means a fine. You pay it off, and it’s settled. No jail time or anything.”

And that fine goes straight into the state’s coffers. The victim doesn’t see a penny of it. From the man’s perspective, picking up the money might be the better option, at least to cover his healing costs.

“What kind of country does this?”

“That’s what I said, it’s a place obsessed with money.”

“Really now…”

With a bittersweet mood enveloping them, the two entered the lodging district. All around, various inns were bustling with activity. As they walked in search of a suitable place to stay, Sillan suddenly asked, “By the way, Repenhardt, what brings you to this city?”

Until now, there had been a slight awkwardness between them, making it somewhat difficult to inquire about each other’s business. However, having traveled together and grown closer, and now that they had arrived at their destination, it seemed like a good time to ask.

Repenhardt showed a moment of embarrassment before muttering softly, “I’ve come… to buy.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ve come to buy an elf!”

At that moment, Sillan’s gaze shifted peculiarly.

“Hmm, so Repenhardt is ultimately a man as well.”

To be frank, those coveting elf slaves all had the same goal in mind. Repenhardt scratched his head vigorously.

“I understand why you’d look at me that way, and I admit that it might appear so, but it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?”

Seeing Sillan’s cold retort, Repenhardt scratched his head even more fiercely. Unable to explain his past life, he found himself at a loss for words.

“Alright, let’s just say it’s that. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Ugh, men.”

“You speak as if you’re not one yourself. What about you?”

“Eh? Is that so?”

Sillan, who was extremely self-conscious about being perceived as feminine, mumbled in confusion. Is that so? Is it normal for a man to act flirtatiously towards women? Thinking about it, even the martial arts masters couldn’t stop flirting whenever they saw a woman in a skirt. Ah, could it be that the reason my muscles aren’t growing is because I’m not flirting enough?

While Sillan was oddly self-critical, Repenhardt continued to look around the street. Spotting a large two-story building, he pointed it out.

“Ah, that place looks good.”

It was an inn called “The Golden Rest,” built with high-quality stone and appearing quite luxurious.

The inn was clean and lavish. True to its name, “The Golden Rest,” it seemed one needed a well-padded purse of gold to dare enter. The tables in the ground floor hall were all intricately crafted high-quality items, and the paintings on the wall were impressive.

Sillan looked around and clicked his tongue.

“This place looks really luxurious. Even if we made a lot of money in Falton, it’ll quickly run out if we’re not careful…”

After Repenhardt had shown his true skills, Sir Edward had given him several items salvaged from Falton. Sillan had kept this in mind when he spoke. Although the value of those items could cover the living expenses of a typical middle-class family for a year, lavish spending like this wouldn’t last long. Indeed, upon inquiry, the daily lodging cost here was as much as ten silver coins.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

To Repenhardt, who had separately saved a considerable amount, this sum was negligible. After calculating Sillan’s share generously in the currency of the Silver Age, he went upstairs. Sillan, impressed by the apparent wealth, followed him.

After unpacking in a luxurious room with a large living room and two small bedrooms, Repenhardt, while packing his backpack, told Sillan,

“Ah, I need to step out for a bit, so wait for me at the inn.”

“Eh? Why don’t I come with you?”

“Ah, this is a bit difficult to do together…”

Repenhardt trailed off, looking troubled. He was planning to sell all the items he had secretly taken from Falton. The secrecy was crucial. There was absolutely no way he could take Sillan with him.

‘How should I make an excuse?’

While Repenhardt was thinking of various excuses, Sillan surprisingly didn’t pry further.

“Alright then. Come back soon.”

Sillan agreed more easily than expected. Relieved, Repenhardt waved his hand and quickly left the room. Left alone in the empty room, Sillan suddenly took off his robe, revealing his slender upper body. Smiling, he began to stretch.

“Then, I should exercise in the room.”

That was why Sillan had not insisted on going with him. He hadn’t found the time to exercise due to all the moving around. Repenhardt had been walking all day long. Without constantly replenishing his stamina with divine power, it would have been impossible to keep up. And once they secured lodging, he would immediately fall asleep, leaving no time or energy for exercise.

“Imagining Repenhardt’s impressive physique is also an important part of training,” Sillan thought as he began doing push-ups energetically.

“One~! Twoo~ Threee~ Fourr~!”

Thud!

After only four, his arms trembled and he collapsed onto the floor. His body was indeed in poor shape. However, Sillan didn’t give up. Healing his body with divine power, he started exercising again.

“Don’t give up! Sillan! You can do it!”

Echoes of counting numbers resounded through the luxurious room.

* * *

In the walls raised of marble and the interiors adorned with silver crafts, this place was known to be the most refined neighborhood in the Chatan Principality, a term synonymous with ‘wealthy’, frequented only by its guests.

A portly young man was enjoying teatime at a table. He was Teriq, the current head of the Rolpein Trading Company, the second largest trading company in the Chatan Principality. Having come out after a long while, he was sipping black tea, wearing a pleasant smile.

“Indeed, the envy of the impoverished is so petty,” he scoffed.

A displeasing incident had occurred just a moment ago. While he was strolling without a care, he stumbled upon an aged peddler at the tavern, vilifying the Rolpein Trading Company. Accusing it of exploiting the power of wealth to cheat the smaller traders, the man was shouting in broad daylight, drunk.

As the owner of the Rolpein Trading Company, how could he simply overlook such behavior? Naturally, he taught him a lesson, which unexpectedly cost him thirty gold coins, but that was mere pocket change to him.

“If they feel wronged, they should just earn their own money instead of swearing on the streets. Don’t you think?”

“Indeed, Master.”

The elf girl seated next to him playfully agreed. The men he brought as escorts were waiting outside to not dampen the cafe’s atmosphere, while Teriq was having tea with only his personal Slayer as company.

As they were sitting, a familiar face entered through the cafe door. It was Beret, the heir to the Caron Trading Company, accompanied by an elf slave in lascivious attire. Teriq was momentarily puzzled by his appearance.

That elf slave, judging by her attire, was certainly not a Slayer. A Slayer should be dressed in a warrior’s attire like the elf girl seated next to him. Of course, there were fools who desperately wanted a Slayer and would dress an elf slave in warrior’s attire, but that was a disgusting sight and something a cultured Chatan Principality citizen would never do.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Beret?”

“Te, Teriq?”

Beret’s face flushed with dismay upon seeing Teriq. A smirk crossed Teriq’s face as he eyed the elf slave standing beside Beret.

“What’s this, Beret? Thought you bought a Slayer. Where did you leave it? Keeping it at home to worship?”

“Damn, of all places to run into this guy!”

Beret gritted his teeth. His main reason for causing a fuss about wanting to buy a Slayer was largely because he couldn’t stand Teriq’s arrogance. But he couldn’t just conjure up a non-existent Slayer, so Beret sighed and responded.

“I returned it about a fortnight ago.”

“Returned?”

Tuniq looked puzzled, prompting Beret to explain, almost as if he was lamenting. After hearing the story, Teriq burst into laughter.

“Puhahahat!”

“Why laugh?”

“Can’t even tame one elf slave? No wonder Caron still fluctuates around the 10th position in the principality, with an heir like this.”

“Ugh!”

Feeling humiliated, Beret clenched his teeth. He couldn’t argue since there was no fault in the statement. Trying to defend himself, Beret muttered.

“What can you do? Turns out it had been returned three times already. No wonder it was so cheap.”

A brilliant idea popped into Teriq’s head. Given that he and Beret were always in a battle of pride, trying to belittle each other, what would Beret’s face look like if he managed to successfully train this Slayer that he had to return?

“Huh, just you watch.”

Beret rose from his seat with a defiant look.

“It’s about time I visited Elvenheim again.”