The Banished Black Swordsman Wants a Peaceful Life with the White Saint in the Frontier ~Huh? You Want Him to Come Back with the Saint? It’s Already Too Late~ - 54

Chapter 54: Urgent Request

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー

As the wagon’s wheels rolled onto the cobblestones at the edge of Gluteridge, the cart was swallowed by the town’s bustle. It was the time when the feel of midday mingled with the smells of preparing dinner. The scent of freshly baked bread, animal fat, iron—and today, there were unusually many shouting voices. The flow of people was hurried, and harder footsteps than usual echoed around.

The signboard of the Barmasty Trading Company peeked out ahead at the corner. Two carts were already lined up at the side hitching post, and the company’s door was restlessly opening and closing repeatedly. People coming out carrying sacks, people rushing in clutching documents. The front entrance, where light banter would normally fly back and forth, felt somehow tense today.

“…It looks pretty hectic.”

Next to him, Lusha spoke softly while adjusting the edge of her hood with her fingers. Her light blue eyes peeking from the hood’s shadow quietly followed the restless crowd.

“I hope it’s not something involving the church.”

Lloyd replied while winding up the reins and tying the horse to the post. Just saying those words made his heartbeat intensify, pounding like a drum and seizing his awareness. If the church’s shadow was extending here, lingering would be a bad move. He scanned the surroundings with his eyes alone, searching for any sign of emblems or clerical robes.

Hm… I don’t see any church officials around?

Finding no such signs, he relaxed just a tiny bit. Lusha’s fingers traced the edge of her hood once more. Her movements were slightly stiffer than usual.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

Lloyd pushed open the door. The brass handle was cold, leaving the dry, metallic feel characteristic of metal on his fingers. Inside was noisier than outside. A temporary desk had been set up in front of the counter, where Cron was handling stacks of papers, splattering ink as he swiftly filled out forms. From behind the desk, Cron looked up while spreading out a pile of documents.

“Hey, you two. You came right away.”

Cron noticed them and raised the hand holding his pen. His usual light quips weren’t coming today. Shadows under his eyes, but his gaze was clear. Despite his childlike build, it was this man’s troublesome nature to look like a seasoned merchant only at times like this.

“As you can see, it’s chaotic. I probably won’t be able to brew tea for you today.”

“What happened?”

“Well… Things have gotten a bit troublesome. I need your help.”

A direct statement with no preamble. Lloyd nodded silently and stepped forward to the desk.

Lusha bowed her head from half a step behind Lloyd, keeping her expression suppressed in the hood’s shadow.

“Take a look at these.”

Cron pulled out several pages of damage reports from the stack and lined them up on the desk. The ink was still fresh.

“The truth is, a pretty troublesome magical beast has been appearing on the nearby roads. At night, it attacks merchant caravans and farms, stealing food and supplies. The escorts couldn’t handle it, so they sent an SOS to us.”

“A magical beast, huh.”

When Lloyd picked up the papers, Lusha leaned in to peek. Drawings of wagon wheel tracks disturbed in the mud at night. Broken arrows. Bite marks. The culprit wasn’t specified. The on-site writer must have been frightened since the handwriting darted back and forth. 

“The client is a transport caravan that’s a regular customer of the company. A shipment they planned to move tonight has been held up.”

“So? What do we need to do?”

“Hurry to the site tonight and stop the damage. As you can see from these reports, they’re already at their limit.”

Lloyd placed his fingertip on the corner of a report. The paper was slightly damp. Due to someone’s sweaty hands, or the outdoor air? A map spread in his mind. The damage sites were scattered southeast of town, from beyond the oak-lined road to just before the peat bog. Around before and after crossing the bridge. Targeting at night. A pack, or solitary? Stealing only strongly scented items, or possibly indiscriminate stealing.

“This request is high risk. Normally, I’d turn it down since it’s not my usual thing… But if we abandon them, it could affect the town’s entire logistics.”

“What about the lord? This should be the lord’s job in times like these.”

It was the lord’s duty to protect the residents’ living environment in exchange for collecting taxes.

“I already asked.”

Cron shrugged, looking fed up.

“But those guys are just too slow to move. They keep talking about procedures and won’t budge at all. We need action right now.”

“…I see. So that’s where we come in.”

“Exactly. It’ll be a dangerous job, but the reward will be generous accordingly. Please, help me out.”

There was no usual lightness in Cron’s tone. A merchant who calculated when to yield softened just the edges of his words slightly due to the intensity of the request. Before the town’s logistics stalled, intervention was needed somewhere. That wasn’t logic, but something he felt instinctively.

He’d been indebted to Cron many times. Cron had supplied what was needed for life in the abandoned village and kept watch so unnecessary rumors didn’t spread in town. Counting the favors, his fingers wouldn’t be enough. There was no reason to refuse. Plus, the fact that it wasn’t church-related lifted a weight, as if one stone had been removed from his heart. Whether he could call it relief, even he wasn’t sure.

But… The relaxation lasted only a moment. His gaze habitually slid sideways. It met Lusha’s light blue eyes.

『Elliott… Please, be safe.』

This morning’s sleep-talk resurfaced, and his gaze reflexively fled her. The whiteness of the papers on the desk was oddly dazzling.

“Lloyd…”

Lusha frowned anxiously and murmured his name softly. Confusion seeped into her tone, chillingly touching Lloyd’s chest. But he deliberately pretended not to notice. A short silence. The sound of papers rustling and a distant horse’s neigh. They grated on his ears unusually.

“Uh… Did something happen?”

A voice that seemed like it would brush it off but didn’t quite, dropped from across the desk.

Cron’s eyes weren’t smiling. They were the eyes he used when counting money at the counter.

“No, nothing.”

Lloyd pulled his chin back slightly and replied. His voice felt too cold, like his throat wasn’t his own. Lusha shrank her shoulders slightly and lowered her gaze. The shadow of her eyelashes fell long on her pale cheeks.

“Well… When you’re alive, all sorts of things happen. Especially when strangers start living together.”

Cron raised one eyebrow and shrugged once. He didn’t pry further. He rearranged the papers, aligned a few, and handed them to Lusha.

“This is the detailed map. Hurry so you can arrive before nightfall.”

“Understood.”

Lusha received them with both hands and carefully overlaid the map and several report pages at the desk’s edge. Her slender fingers aligned the corners, narrowing her eyes at the ink bleeds. She took a short pencil from the small leather pouch at her waist and marked the damage sites, adding small arrows to the surrounding terrain. Wind directions. Bridge position. Gaps in the woods. Ground firmness suitable for camping. Only the necessities, quickly but surely.

She was good at this kind of detailed work. If it was just Lloyd, he’d roughly grasp the overview in his head and leave the rest to on-site judgment, but having her organize the fine details like this made those judgments smoother. No, it wasn’t just that. Scouting often relied on her <Detection> magic. Healing, protection… And if his <Malice Glyph> ever ran amok, her <Luxuria> would suppress it.

…Relying on her again, huh?

Something deep in his chest ached faintly. Relying wasn’t bad. That was what teamwork was. But why did relying feel strangely scary since that moment this morning? Was he indulging, entrusting himself, and only imagining a future where he lost it all beforehand?

…Ridiculous. On the battlefield, such hesitation could be fatal.

“Head out as soon as possible. The site is southeast, a little over half an hour, past the hill and beyond the oak road. The key is whether you can secure footing before sunset.”

Cron continued calmly. From the desk’s edge, a small signal whistle and a cloth bundle soaked in oil were offered.

“The whistle is for signals. Three short and one long means ‘retreat,’ two longs mean ‘position report.’ And this oil cloth is to make torches last longer. The wood there might be damp.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Lloyd threaded the whistle onto his neck cord and stuffed the oil cloth bundle into his coat’s inner pocket. It had almost no weight but was reliable.

“Any surviving escorts?”

“Just two. One injured his leg and returned to town. The other is at a temporary outpost in a village near the site. If you link up, you should be able to get some information.”

“Got it.”

He asked only what was needed and nodded. Extra words weren’t necessary now. As he pulled back from the desk, Cron finally pushed over one small pouch. A hard clink. Advance payment for emergencies.

“I’m glad you’re taking the job, but don’t misjudge when to pull back, okay? We value live returning customers more than dead heroes.”

“Understood.”

Lloyd answered shortly and turned on his heel. Outside, the wind was colder than before. The sun tilted west, thin gold flowing along roof edges. The horse snorted and struck its hoof once on the stone. Lloyd deftly untied the rope and climbed onto the driver’s seat. The wood creaked underfoot. Lusha, going around to the cargo bed, glanced at him just once before closing the leather tube. But she quickly lowered her gaze, stowed her writing, and sat down quietly without a sound.

“Let’s stop at the shop for food and supplies. Then head out right away.”

“Ah… I’d like to buy some calming herbs too. There are probably a lot of injured people.”

Lloyd nodded in response. Her reply was gentle. But that gentleness somehow pierced his chest. Afraid to look back at the driver’s seat, he faced only forward. He lightly whipped the horse’s neck. The wheels rolled, beginning to mark a regular rhythm on the cobblestones.

Leaving the company front, the street was unexpectedly empty. The crowd had been drawn to the market, leaving long shadows here. Birds flew between roofs, crows cawed on the ridges. What reached his ears was the hard hoof echoes and distant laughter. But between the two of them, there was no sound. His throat hardened too much to find words. They crumbled before taking shape.

I’m such a clumsy guy, aren’t I?

He was astounded at himself. Surely, this was part of why he couldn’t <Resonate> with anyone. The wind blew, dry grass rustled close together. That sound alone stretched long between them and seemed to highlight the lingering hesitation deep in Lloyd’s chest even more.

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー