The early days of December.
"How do I look?"
"You seem to have grown a bit... perhaps."
"Don't just say empty words. Tell me honestly."
"I'm not sure, sir."
"Damn it."
In early December.
Lancel and his messenger were moving slowly through an area infested with bandits.
The bandits in the south were growing in number. They were only manageable because they were disorganized, but one wrong encounter could be fatal.
Lancel advanced cautiously along the safer routes.
"Of all places to get an arrow in the knee. What rotten luck. Tsk."
"Surely you'll grow taller eventually, Young Master. Just try to relax about it. Haha..."
"Are you mocking me?"
"Pardon?"
"I asked if you're mocking me."
In previous playthroughs, Lancel's height had always been between 180cm and 190cm. There were slight variations, but he typically approached 190cm.
At this rate, however, even reaching 170cm would require divine intervention.
That would be considered short in the Empire, where people were unnecessarily tall. Damn it.
*I should at least be taller than Mary.*
With mixed feelings, Lancel returned to his tent. He lit the oil lamp and took out paper, as he did every day.
"You write quite diligently."
"I have nothing else to do."
Lancel carefully applied ink to his quill pen. This letter would eventually reach Marigold, even if not immediately.
The disappointment she must have felt during their time apart. Lancel hoped that Marigold, who must be pouting by now, would someday feel compensated.
He wanted her to know that his absence wasn't due to neglect.
That was truly all he wanted.
—————————
-December 3rd.
-By the way, what do you think about short men? What if I were shorter than you when fully grown? It's not that I'm particularly concerned, just curious. My day always ends with a sheet of paper under the lamplight. (continued)
-Lan.
—————————
* * *
"Sir Lancel! Bandits...!"
"Run!"
"Young Master! Your wound!"
"Think about that later!"
—————————
-December 8th.
-I never get used to being injured. Though it will heal quickly, whenever scars remain on my body, I regret not being more careful. Don't be too shocked when you see my body later. This is the result of my best efforts to avoid injuries. (continued)
-Lan.
—————————
"Are you feeling better?"
"No, I'm not. This is bad."
"Those bandits must have poisoned their blades. Judging by the symptoms, it's snake venom. You might have a fever for a while. Shall we rest before continuing?"
"No time. Let's go."
—————————
-December 11th.
-It's snowing today. How is the weather in the capital? I'm shivering from cold that penetrates to the bone. If I should die, please don't be too shocked. People die; it's natural. Besides... we might meet again someday, right?
(middle section)
By the way, what do you think about the afterlife? I believe there must be another life waiting after death. What if we were reborn with all our current memories intact?
-Lan.
—————————
"Young Master, your fever...!"
"Ah. I might die from this."
"Goodness, don't say such things!"
"Sorry... please take care of my letters. Quack."
"Not 'quack'! Please come to your senses, Young Master!"
"It's fine... I'll... resurrect... anyway..."
"What nonsense are you talking about?!"
—————————
-December 13th.
-This is the morning after surviving a brush with death. I briefly considered burning yesterday's letter, wondering why I wrote such things. But I've recovered now, so it's fine, right?
For reference, everything I wrote yesterday was delirious nonsense from the fever, so don't take it too seriously. Just skim over it. It seems people say strange things when near death. (continued)
-Lan.
—————————
"Haah. Was the world always this beautiful?"
"...You really almost died yesterday, Young Master."
"So what? I'm alive, and that's good."
"That's true, but still."
—————————
-December 17th.
-I apologize in advance. When I return home, the first thing I'll do is soak in hot water. Then I'll lay my relaxed body on a soft bed. After lazily sleeping for two days and nights, I'll finally get up and come to see you. You'll understand, won't you?
-Lan.
—————————
"Young Master, a village! I can see a village!"
"Let's hurry. There might be an inn."
"Yes! Have we really survived, Young Master? Is this reality and not a dream?!"
"Yes. Celebrate."
"Celebrate!"
—————————
-December 18th.
-(beginning omitted) The southern villages don't accept outsiders, probably because of the war. Yes, today again the ground is my bed and the sky my ceiling. (continued)
-Lan.
—————————
The southern region, abandoned by imperial forces, had become like a lawless zone, leaving Lancel unable to relax for even a day.
He simply traveled endlessly on a seemingly infinite road. The occasional villages they encountered were extremely wary of outsiders, making it impossible to stay.
Along the way, they ran out of travel money and had to sell their horse. Being carried by the messenger was better than starving to death.
"Your leg has healed, so now it's your turn to suffer a bit."
"Yes..."
Finally, they spotted an imperial railway station.
"Nobles, you say? You two?"
"How dare you say 'you'! Do you know who this is? The Viscount Dante family's...!"
"Hahaha! Look at yourselves! Even beggars would weep at the sight! If you don't want to die playing at being nobles, get lost!"
"Are you finished talking?"
"Shut up! No money, no ticket, not even in the tail car! You stink, so back off!"
"Young Master, don't stop me. I'll beat these fellows to the ground..."
"Forget it. Let's just walk."
The railway guards weren't wrong.
Lancel and his messenger truly looked like penniless beggars, nothing more, nothing less.
Having abandoned their belongings while fleeing from bandits, they had no means to prove their identity. All they had was a single sword.
They couldn't afford to sell even that.
"Wait. You two beggars!"
"...?"
"I'm talking to you, yes!"
"This bastard has been...!"
"Baron Corbet outside feels sorry for you beggar boys and has paid for your tail car tickets. Be grateful to the Baron."
*Baron Corbet, is he a god?*
Lancel and his messenger quickly boarded the tail car, benefiting from the nobleman's capricious kindness.
—————————
-December 19th.
-Appearances truly matter, it seems. We were almost denied entry to the train for being treated as beggars. Baron Corbet, who gave alms to me! I praise your kindness. Thanks to you, I've boarded the train to the capital. (continued)
-Lan.
—————————
"To think that the Young Master, the youngest Imperial Knight, must travel in such cramped quarters among commoners—what an insult..."
"It's fine. This is better than nothing. Let's stay quiet so we don't get thrown off."
"...I will certainly address this matter later. For the name of the Dante family, I cannot let this incident pass."
After being crammed in the tail car for half a day.
CRASH-!
The train suddenly stopped after colliding with an obstacle on the tracks.
At that moment, about a hundred bandits poured in.
"We don't have much time, so take everything!"
"Kyaaaah!"
"Y-you scoundrels!"
"How dare you touch an imperial train...! Do you think you'll get away with this? The Empire will hunt you down to hell itself!"
"My late master, who died by my blade, said the same thing."
It was rare for bandits to target imperial trains unless they were exceptionally bold.
But these were the Iberk Bandits, notorious in the southern region.
A man with dark skin and curly hair raised an elegantly curved blade.
"Search everything from the noble cars to the tail car. Take every last coin."
"Yes, Boss Iberk!"
The train instantly became a scene from hell.
Bandit leader Iberk grinned, showing his teeth.
"If you find any good-looking ones, don't kill them. Capture them. We can put them to good use..."
Iberk's voice suddenly stopped.
The cause was a red line carved across his neck.
His head slowly dropped to the floor.
"The boss...!"
The notorious bandit Iberk's end was so sudden it seemed almost anticlimactic. He didn't even realize his own death.
"How much was the bounty on this guy again?"
The limping young knight, Lancel, grabbed Iberk's falling hair.
The train guard stared at Lancel in shock. This was the same person he had called a "beggar" not long ago.
"I-it's... an enormous amount... I believe..."
"Enough to get a carriage?"
"M-much... much more than that, I would think?"
"Really? Well then."
Lancel smiled and tossed Iberk's head. The train guard caught it with a scream.
"Please deposit the bounty quickly."
—————————
-December 25th.
-I have returned.
-Lan.
—————————
Baron Evil Shen wondered if he had ever run this hard in his past. Following his servants, he was soon out of breath.
He ran desperately toward the approaching carriage in the distance.
"Lancel! Sir Lancel!"
The Dante family members were already rushing toward it—Rio Dante, Kyle Dante, and even Lala Dante, who usually showed a cold attitude toward her younger brother.
"Lancel is back!"
"Young Master Lancel!"
The return of Lancel, whom they had thought dead.
Baron Evil Shen felt like he might burst into tears.
How much harassment had he endured from imperial nobles, how much had he worried all this time?
The carriage door opened, and Lancel appeared, wrapped in a shabby cloak.
"Bath water... bed..."
He mumbled just those two words in a daze.
.
.
.
Without even time to feel the welcome.
After releasing his accumulated travel fatigue in the bath, Lancel now lacked the strength to move even a finger.
With his last bit of energy, he sought out Baron Evil Shen.
"Here. Letters."
"Lancel, could these be..."
"Please publish these in the newspaper starting tomorrow. It will be difficult to publish them all at once. Please divide them appropriately."
After saying only that, Lancel staggered to his bedroom with a maid's support.
If he fell asleep now, he wouldn't wake for at least half a day. The rest was up to Baron Evil Shen.
"Letters... he wrote this many during all that...?"
Baron Evil Shen's hands trembled as he began to unfold the stack of papers Lancel had handed him.
There were at least 100 pages, at a conservative estimate.
Rustle.
Page by page.
Baron Evil Shen, who had intended to skim through them, soon found himself reading the letters without making a sound.
"My goodness..."
Lancel hadn't attached much significance to what he'd written.
He simply thought of them as letters.
Letters written to be delivered to Marigold, to belatedly soothe the disappointment she must have felt during their separation, just meant as comfort.
But for Baron Evil Shen, it was different.
Numerous southern villages, forests, bandits, garrisons, fortresses, traps, battles, and the many people Lancel had encountered and passed by.
This thick stack of letters contained an extraordinary story.
A type of story that imperial citizens had never seen before.
"...A travelogue... no, this is... a saga... a saga."
Baron Evil Shen's hands holding the letters trembled.
.
.
.
Mid-January.
Breaking through heavy snow, the Second Imperial Support Army, which had reached the edge of the Empire, was bewildered by an unexpected situation.
In the southern region teeming with bandits, only this small village was strangely peaceful.
It was a tiny hamlet called Pacho Village.
"Though it's remote, it's not positioned to be safe from bandits..."
"Perhaps there's nothing worth taking?"
"That can't be. The remnants of the principality would squeeze out whatever they could find."
Commander Duke Pelt soon found a hint from the villagers.
It was a statue erected in the center of the village.
"Whose statue is this?"
"It's the Knight of Dawn who protected our village."
"Knight of Dawn?"
"Yes. To the bandits, he was known as the Demon King of Phrygia."
"What nonsense..."
Duke Pelt laughed dismissively. Both titles seemed equally far-fetched.
"No doubt an idol created by baseless rumors."
He stroked his beard as he looked at the statue.
Whoever had sculpted it hadn't done a particularly good job. The facial features and limbs were crude, making it difficult to make out clearly.
He could only tell that it depicted a young boy on horseback raising a sword.
"Hmm?"
That's when Duke Pelt read the inscription on the statue's pedestal.
—Behold. When the sun rises, I shall be there. From one end of the vast imperial land to the other. Following the cold dawn from east to west. Seeking the darkest places of this continent, I, Lancel, shall return.
"Lancel?"
Duke Pelt tilted his head. Amidst the grandiose declaration was a name that somehow seemed familiar.
"Duke Pelt, Your Excellency? We need to depart before sunset..."
"Ah, yes. We should. Hmm."
Duke Pelt ultimately couldn't recall whose name it was. It was definitely a name he had heard somewhere.
*Who was it?*
.
.
.
"Snore."
Lancel slept for two full days.
During that time, newspapers were being distributed throughout the capital.
[The news from the 'Knight' that has not been arriving will be released over the course of a month.]
"Groooan..."
Of course, Lancel was still asleep.