A dozen or so tents, several trailers, a few hunted animals, and a handful of campfires.
It was a simple-looking camp, almost like a wandering family that had made the wilderness their home and the sky their roof.
Toland hopped off the motorcycle and, grinning, scooped up a little girl who came running over to greet him.
He lifted her into the air and spun her around, making “Woo~ Woo~!” noises.
The little girl burst into giggles, happily stretching both arms out as though she were flying.
“Is she…
your daughter?” Clarus climbed down while carrying a set of bedding in his arms.
Młynar had somehow found time during their escape to buy it for him, while Toland had disappeared into some corner to take a piss.
Even refugee settlements had markets where goods were traded.
No matter how filthy a place might be, civilization was still civilization.
“How could she be?” Toland set the little girl down and gently patted her head.
She immediately ran back into the arms of a woman nearby.
“They’re all poor souls we rescued at some point.” “Or how about you introduce me to some noble lady and let me enjoy the good life too?
Młynar never agrees, even though I’m such a great catch.” “…Please.
Don’t ruin some poor girl’s life.” Clarus was starting to get a headache.
He was beginning to understand why Młynar had developed that habit of closing his eyes in pain whenever Toland opened his mouth.
Młynar walked toward the large bonfire in the middle of the camp.
“You’re back?” A man carrying a large bow on his back sat beside the fire, holding his hands out toward the flames.
“Mm.” Młynar sat down nearby.
“Nothing happened these past couple of days?” “Of course not.” The man smiled.
“Hard to believe we’ve actually managed to settle down in a place like this.” Młynar took a slip of paper from inside his clothes and handed it to him.
“The supply list, location, and handoff method are all written there.” “Perfect timing.
We’re starting to run a little short on supplies.” The man exhaled.
“You don’t make much money clearing out bandits.
They’re just like us—their pockets are usually empty.” Młynar calmly warned him, “Stop killing minor nobles whenever you feel like it.
Some of them haven’t done enough to deserve death.” “They’re all scum.
What’s the difference?” The man gave a mocking smile.
“Last time, I put an arrow straight through one bastard and pinned him to his own bed.
Guess what he’d done?” “He’d barely inherited his title before he tried to lay hands on his dead brother’s wife.
Nobles are all the same.” Seeing Młynar’s sideways glare, the man immediately raised his hands.
“Sorry.
Forgot you’re technically a ‘noble’ too.
Hahaha…” “You’d better know where the line is.” Młynar stood up.
“See?
Deep down, you still think of yourself as some knightly lord.” The man remained seated beside the fire without turning around.
Młynar walked away without looking back.
“Młynar, I’ll prove it to you.” The man stared into the flames and spoke almost to himself.
“That precious knightly spirit of yours is nothing but garbage.” “The Armorless Union will prove it to you…” “Out here in the wilderness, staying alive is the only true way to survive.” …
“Uncle, that man was…?” Clarus stood there holding his bedding, looking toward the figure with the large bow on his back.
“Don’t worry about him.
Just another pitiful man from the wilderness.” Młynar answered indifferently, then added another warning as though still uneasy.
“Try not to spend too much time around him.
Some of his views are rather extreme.” “I understand, Uncle.” Clarus nodded.
“Mm.
Come with me.” Młynar led Clarus toward one corner of the camp.
There stood a fairly large tent.
After lifting the flap and entering, Clarus found that although the interior was simple, it was extremely tidy.
Neatly folded bedding lay on the ground, accompanied by a table, a lamp, and several storage boxes.
That was everything inside.
Młynar picked up the table and shifted it aside, then pointed to the empty space he’d cleared on the other side.
“You can put your bedding there.
Life in the wilderness is boring.
You’ll have to learn to endure it.” “Yes, Uncle.” Clarus laid out his bedding.
Młynar sat down in the chair and picked up a newspaper resting on the desk.
“Get some rest.
It’s already late.” His eyes never left the paper.
“Huh?
This early?” Clarus was surprised.
It was only around eight or nine in the evening.
Back in the Grand Knight Territory, nightlife would barely have begun.
Whether it was the brightly lit streets or the thrilling knight competitions, everything was only just waking up at this hour.
“You can try staying up longer if you want.” Młynar shifted the lamp slightly so he could see his newspaper more clearly.
“There’s nothing to do in the wilderness.
Communications?
No signal.
Drinking and entertainment?
The camp rarely has anything like that.” Młynar even made a rare joke, though it wasn’t particularly funny.
“If Margaret and Zofia were here, perhaps the three of you would stay awake until very late.” Clarus’s mouth twitched.
“Uncle, please stop teasing me.” “In the wilderness, the only thing worth thinking about is what you’ll eat tomorrow.
Everything else is meaningless.” “If you wake up early enough, you might even find prey no one else has discovered yet.” “I understand, Uncle.” Clarus picked up the toothbrush and homemade toothpaste he’d bought along with his bedding.
“Turn right after leaving the tent.
There’s a stream in the woods.
You can wash up there.” “Mm.
Thanks, Uncle.” …
Night in the wilderness was completely different from night in the Grand Knight Territory.
Neon lights filled every corner of the Grand Knight Territory, except for those few dark places where neon wasn’t allowed to exist.
Out here in the wilderness, however, the light of Terra’s twin moons slipped through the gaps between the leaves and scattered silver across the forest floor.
Clarus walked through the sparse woods until he reached a gently flowing stream.
Silver moonlight shimmered across the water.
A tiny fish had been caught in a small whirlpool, swimming helplessly in circles.
The moment it finally escaped— a large hand grabbed it.
“Tch.
Too small.” Toland put the little fish back into the water and watched regretfully as it swam away.
“Oh, here to wash up?” Toland waved at Clarus as he sat down on a rock beside the stream.
“Mm.” Clarus dipped his toothbrush into the stream, squeezed some toothpaste onto it, then put it in his mouth.
“As expected from someone raised in the Grand Knight Territory.
Just like Młynar, always so particular.” Toland crouched beside the stream, scooped up a handful of water, and carelessly splashed it across his face.
“Country bumpkins like us can’t afford such fancy stuff.
Just dab some salt on your finger and rub your teeth a few times.
Good enough.” With the toothbrush still in his mouth, Clarus lowered his feet into the stream.
“What’s the difference?
We’re both miserable.” “You…” Toland gave him a strange look.
Then he remembered Clarus’s Oripathy.
“Okay, fine.
I’ll admit it.
You’ve got it a little worse than I do.” “At least I know I’ll probably live long enough to wonder what I’m eating tomorrow.
You can only wonder whether you’ll wake up tomorrow and get to see the sun again.” “Can you shut up if you don’t know how to talk?” Clarus spat out the foam in his mouth and cursed at him.
“I’m way harder to kill than you are.” “Not necessarily.
I bet I’ll outlive you.” Toland took off one shoe and sniffed inside.
His face twisted as he gagged, immediately pulling it away before sticking his feet into the stream as well.
“…You’re upstream from me, and your feet smell like that?!” Clarus stared at him in disgust.
“Same water, same water~” Toland laughed.
“By the way, don’t you have anything you want to ask me?
Młynar’s been wandering around out here for years, but there are still some things I understand better than he does.” “I haven’t even started living in the wilderness yet.” Clarus moved his feet across the stones beneath the water.
The stream was so clear that he could see the sand on the bottom.
“But there is one thing I’m curious about.” “Go ahead.
Ask whatever you want.
If I know it, I’ll tell you.” Toland leaned back on both hands with a grin.
“That guy with the huge bow.
What’s his story?
Uncle seems…
strange around him.” Clarus tilted his head toward Toland.
“Ah, him…” Toland scratched his head.
“Młynar told you not to spend too much time around him, right?
Honestly, I agree.” “So what’s his deal?” Clarus grew more curious.
“His life’s been pretty miserable, though that’s hardly unusual out here.” Toland shook his head.
“Catastrophes, taxes…
He used to be an ordinary hunter, but they kept squeezing him until he had no choice but to flee.” “His entire family died.
He was the only one left.
Eventually, he became a bounty hunter and started wandering the wilderness.” “Later, he ran into Młynar and me.
Back then, our ideas seemed pretty similar, so we traveled together and became partners.” “Then why do you two talk about him like that?” Clarus looked confused.
“We’re not badmouthing him.
He’s just…
kind of extreme.” Toland sighed.
“He’ll do anything to survive.” “Młynar and I didn’t realize it at first.
But after spending enough time with him, we figured out that even when he helps people or builds camps like this, it’s all because he thinks those things are necessary for ‘survival.'” “Still, I can’t really say his way of thinking is wrong.
Out here in the wilderness, doing whatever it takes to survive is pretty understandable.” “But Młynar…
well, you know what he’s like.” “He’s noble.
And he cares too much about what’s right.” “The three of us founded an organization together a while back, but recently Młynar and I haven’t been involved much.
We left pretty much everything to him.” “He was actually really excited about it.
Thought he’d finally found somewhere he belonged.” “He even changed his name to match the position the three of us held.” Toland shrugged.
“He calls himself ‘Darksteel’ now.” “Recently, the organization started assassinating minor nobles again.
Some of them really didn’t deserve to die, so Młynar probably gave him a warning.” Toland waved his hand dismissively.
“Ah, don’t think too much about it.
He’s actually a decent guy.
If anyone in camp asks him for help, he’ll usually agree.” “I see…” Clarus spoke quietly.
“Having a rift form between people who used to be partners really does hurt.” “It’s not that bad for me.” Toland looked up at the twin moons.
“I saw it coming pretty early, so I had time to prepare myself.
Młynar’s probably the one who has it worst.” “Everyone has a different soul of the wilderness.
Everyone is chasing something different.
A rift was bound to form sooner or later.” Clarus lazily kicked at the surface of the stream, sending up a small splash.
“Soul of the wilderness?” Toland raised an eyebrow.
“That’s ridiculously dramatic.” He thought about it.
“But I kind of like it.” “If you ask me, Młynar’s soul of the wilderness started out as a really pure knight’s soul.” “He couldn’t stand seeing injustice.
Whenever he saw something wrong, he wanted to step in and make it right.” “But ever since he started searching for his brother and sister-in-law, he doesn’t seem quite as pure as he used to be.” “Now he always feels…
restrained.” “Darksteel’s soul of the wilderness is much more typical of someone from the bottom—someone who’s already been driven into a corner.” Toland’s voice grew quieter.
“I want to survive.” “I’ll survive no matter what it costs.” “If helping more people survive makes it easier for me to live too, then I’ll help them.
There’s strength in numbers.” “But if only one person can survive…” He looked toward the water.
“Then I’ll live on carrying everyone else’s share too.” “What about you?” Clarus smiled.
“What’s your soul of the wilderness?” He was genuinely curious to hear Toland’s answer.
“Me…?” Toland raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t laugh when I say it.” “My dream is to earn enough money as a bounty hunter to buy a house in the Grand Knight Territory.” “Find a wife.” “Have a kid.” “And spend the rest of my life peacefully.” “You bum.” Clarus laughed and teased him.
“You little bastard.” Toland laughed too.
“Don’t look down on it just because it sounds simple.” “Cleaning up your identity costs money.
Becoming an official resident of the Grand Knight Territory costs money.
Bribing the right people costs money.
Cutting ties with all sorts of people costs money…” “Breaking away from your past isn’t easy.” “You don’t think of the camp you built together as home?” Clarus was genuinely curious.
“You want to escape that badly?” “How could I not?” Toland shook his head.
“Aunt Catherine is wonderful.
Uncle Preten is a good man too.
Even Oclier, that repairman with the worst temper in the whole camp, is actually kindhearted.” “They’re all really, really good people.” “I’ve even felt the warmth of a family here—something I never had when I was little.” “When I finally leave…” Toland looked up with a deeply nostalgic expression.
“I really, really will miss this place.” “If you ask me, that’s a great dream.” Clarus smiled.
“To live a peaceful life, safe and sound until the end…
how many people on Terra don’t even dare dream of something like that?” Toland gave him a thumbs-up, grinning brightly.
“Thanks.
See?
I knew I liked you, kid.” Clarus added, “…I do have a tiny bit of doubt about whether you’ll actually find a wife, though.” Toland grabbed his stinking shoe and hurled it at him.
“FUCK OFF!!!”