Riftan’s POV (Under the Oak Tree Side Story) - Chapter 7 – Riftan’s POV

Chapter 7 – Riftan’s POV

Translator – LF

Proofreader – Nymeria

Even in the middle of winter, his whole body was drenched in sweat after walking for half a day. He was no better than a tramp, covered with dust from the dry wind. Riftan brushed off his loose robe before entering the inn. The sand dust was one problem, but the smell of the blood of monsters sticking to his whole body was another. There was only one inn in the Golden Sand Village and the owner of the inn was particularly nagging.

Riftan eyebrows pulled together. He wanted to avoid taking a bath in the back of the inn not to make himself a feast for the eyes of the maids.

“What are you doing there not going in, Calypse?” Riftan’s head turned to the sudden sound of a voice that spoke with a twisted tongue. A grinning bald man was poking his head out of the inn’s open window. “They said something great about you in Devon. I’m not talking about your handsome face.”

The man swirled his glass of alcohol and whistled frivolously. Riftan’s eyebrows gathered once again, but he ignored the man and walked into the inn. As expected, it was crowded with preoccupied mercenaries. It seemed like those who had been hired for expeditions had already returned.

Looks like I won’t be able to get a quiet rest.

He sighed and walked to the counter. The hostess, who was folding laundry, scrutinized him with her eyes. “You never come back in good shape.”

“Stop the useless talk, instead give me a room.”

The woman grunted and pulled out a rested key from a chest drawer. Riftan picked it up and went straight up the stairs. The hostess shouted after him.

“I’ll ask the bath water to be brought immediately so don’t even think of lying down on the bed without washing up first! If you make a mess of the sheets again, you know the price you have to pay!”

He didn’t even look back and waved his hand dismissively. He wasn’t injured much in this expedition, but as he fell hard from a rock, he got a bad-looking bruise near his ribs and his shoulder almost popped out while chaining a half-dragon’s leg. Riftan wanted nothing else in the world right now but to lie down and rest. He massaged his throbbing shoulder as he tumbled towards the room assigned to him.

As he pushed the door with his good shoulder, a room with nothing but a single bed and a shelf unfolded before his eyes. He dropped his luggage on the floor and the sword he carried on his back by the bed. He then took off his ragged robes that resembled a rag.

Hunting monsters required him to be as light as possible, so he only wore a breastplate, vambraces made of wyvern leather, greaves, and wrist guards as armor. He loosened the leather seam from his armor and threw them on the floor one by one, then he pulled a blood-stained black tunic over his head.

I’ll never be able wear this again.

Riftan looked down at the cloth, remembering it was grey when he first bought it. He sighed and flopped down on the bed. After a while, the son of the inn’s owner came into the room with a wooden bathtub.

“I heard you came back today looking like a mess? Where have you been this time? Is it true that you caught and killed six half-dragons all by yourself?”

The boy bombarded him with questions as he laid down rough brushed and towels that were used for washing the horses. Riftan held the brush and frowned, his eyebrows creasing together. He was being treated like an animal. As he felt increasingly ill-tempered, the boy continued to ask multiple question with his dark brown eyes shining like a calf’s.

“What did you eat to be that tall? Is it true that you are the third strongest among the Black Horn Mercenaries? What should I do to be that strong?”

Riftan looked down at the boy with bored eyes. As far as he knew, the boy and him were the same age. Sometimes, it was annoying to be treated like some thirty-year old soldier. He sighed and threw a coin at him. He meant for the boy to just receive the payment and leave and the boy quickly caught up with his mood and left the room coldly. Riftan threw off his boot and pants, then soaked in lukewarm water. The bathtub was too cramped for a person to bathe in and the water in it was cold for the weather. But he felt satisfied being able to bathe in clean water.

He trembled as he recalled hunting half-dragons for two weeks straight. He had already been in the mercenary corps for four years, he thought he had seen all awful things, but this expedition proved him wrong, being the worst of them all.

He cupped his hands and scooped water to rub his face with, then submerged his whole body, all the way to his head.

In his mind there was nothing but exhaustion, the events quickly passed by when he left the Croix territory. From being caught hiding in the wagon by escort mercenaries, to being allowed to accompany them throughout the journey, to moving west and encountering all kinds of monsters…
As a result of participating in the expedition, he became a member of the Black Horn Mercenary Corps. Since then, he had been working as a mercenary and had done whatever it took to make money, from minor disputes to killing monsters.

He felt like he aged 40 years, and not 4. Besides, no one around him actually saw him as a 16-year-old boy. Riftan let out a sigh, stroking his stubbled chin. His height was already over 6 kvettes (about 180 cm). Even though he was still growing, his bones felt sore every night, his shoulders wide and stretched to the point of breaking, and the muscles in his whole body swelled up tightly. Sometimes, it felt like seeing a different person when he happened to see his own reflection in the water.

However, for him, growth was nothing but a cumbersome and uncomfortable process. Apart from having to buy shoes and clothes often, the biggest problem was acquiring equipment that fit his physique. He had to replace his armor six times in a span of 4 years, and he was always hard pressed with money to buy a sword that had the right length. The most annoying part of growing up was the fact that the attitude of the people towards him subtly changed.

Riftan rubbed the back of his head, washing it clean and stood up in the water. He roughly wiped himself dry with a towel, then rummaged through his luggage bag and changed into clean clothes, making him feel a little better.

He strapped the sword around his waist again and headed outside. After filling his stomach in the restaurant, he was thinking of going to sleep. Please, he pleaded in his head as he descended the stairs, hoping not to get involved in any troublesome business when he heard an unwelcomed voice.

“Hey, Calypse. I heard you did well in the last expedition. The leader was smiling ear to ear.”

Riftan turned his head and clicked his tongue. A man with eyes slender like a cat and a slim body approached him with a friendly smile. Among the mercenaries, it was Samon who was particularly persistent. Riftan, annoyed, tried shaking him off by quietly sitting at a table on the corner. As if taking his action for granted, he took a chair and sat down next to him.

“Do you know how much the other guys in the expedition cursed you? They said you’re a complete lunatic, like a ravage beast throughout the journey.”

“… any food will do, give me anything I can eat right away.”

He pretended not to listen to Samon and threw a coin to one of the passing servers. The waitress, who was carrying a tray full of liquor bottles, gave him an appealing look and ran straight to the kitchen. Riftan leaned against the wall and gently closed his eyes. Undeterred of his unspoken dismissive attitude, the man continued to babble.

“Who knew a kid who didn’t even know how to properly grip a sword would become this amazing in a few years? Wow, the things I see with my discerning eye in people is… insane!”

As soon as the waitress placed a large glass of liquor down, the man quickly snatched it and gulped all of it down unnervingly. It seemed like the guy wasn’t going to stop pestering him until he dealt with him, so Riftan eventually quit ignoring him and opened his mouth.

“What in the hell is the matter with you?”

“What a hot-tempered fellow.”

Samon grinned and placed a heavy pouch in front of him. Riftan narrowed his eyes at the man. The man untied the strap with his large calloused hands and showed what was inside and Riftan raised an eyebrow. The leather pouch was stuffed with gold coins embedded with Rakashim’s emblem.

“Do you see? It’s not just silver, it’s gold. That’s twenty-three Denars. And this was only the deposit.”

 “… just what kind of quests are you accepting?”

Riftan switched from his languid attitude, giving him a wary look. There was no doubt that for someone to pay such a large amount in advance, the task had to be clearly dangerous. What kind of ridiculous quest was it that he agreed to this time? Samon giggled and burst in laughter as Riftan grimaced.

“You are the only guy in the world who reacts like that in front of gold coins.”

“…”

“There’s nothing to be suspicious about it. You would understand more if you knew what the quest was about. A wyvern nest was found in the Soron Valley. The lord of this town and of course the lord of Nebron Castle are said to be recruiting for an expedition team. If you join, you’ll earn one Denar.”

“Count me out. One gold coin for an expedition involving wyverns? They must be joking…”

Just then, the waitress placed a bowl of lamb stew in front of him and smiled seductively. Ignoring her subtle flirting, Riftan immediately picked up his spoon and sipped the hot soup. However, Samon wasn’t going to leave him alone and let him enjoy his meal peacefully. The man spoke again, his voice rising.

“I told you. This was just the deposit. If you get to kill a wyvern, each one will earn you twelve derhams.”

“I’m losing my appetite.”

Wyverns were one of the trickiest dragon subspecies. It was one thing to earn a lot of money as every part of a dead wyvern, from its leather to mana stones, was valuable, but a living wyvern was like a demonic monster’s incarnation. Twelve silver coins for catching such a high-level monster was a joke. Riftan tore off a piece of bread and dipped it the stew, then he kicked the man’s shin.

“Get lost, I’m not interested.”

“This f*cking son of a…!” Samon’s temperament was reaching its limit as he hurriedly rearranged his facial expression. “At least listen to what people are saying! There’s a reason for that price!”

Riftan silently stuffed food into his mouth. He was planning to finish it as fast as he could and get up. Samon hurried to speak too, seeing how Riftan’s planned to shake him off.

“There are two wizards joining the expedition. And that’s not all. There will be catapults and magic tools. The lord of Nebron is determined. There’s not much work for us but to stand around and watch, and then we’ll just take the beast apart when it’s all over.”

“You mean he’s paying that much just for us to take apart dead beasts?”

“It’s not much. This amount of money was like nothing to a lord.” He threw his pouch in the air and caught it, snorting. “There are still a lot of old religious people living north-west of Libadon. Doing something perceived as fraudulent like hunting and selling monsters will damage a person’s reputation to the parishioners. They will leave it to the mercenaries for job as such, and then make it appear that they defeated evil creatures in the name of God.”

Riftan chewed the lamb and expressed cynicism. He had a rough understanding of why the noble lords wanted to hire mercenaries. The corpses of dragon subspecies like wyverns and half-dragons were like gold mines, some mercenaries earned money solely from hunting monsters. However, nobles were keen to maintaining their dignity. Openly hunting monsters would make them appear vulgar. Riftan laughed through his nose.

“Let the lowly do the dirty works, was it?”

“You don’t have to think of it that way. It’s a win-win situation.” Samon smiled and placed an arm on Riftan’s back. “Think about it. This is a rare opportunity. It may seem like a cheap price for an expedition involving wyverns, but you must consider the fact that there are wizards and soldiers involved. Weighing the risk, the pay is actually pretty generous.”

Riftan stroked his chin with a pondering expression. Taking apart a wyvern’s body parts was a tricky task that would require four skilled men to do it for five hours straight. Still, if it will only take three to four days of suffering, it might be worthy joining for a price of a gold coin. Riftan, who was thinking carefully, eventually nodded his head in agreement.

“Fine, I’ll join.”

“You made the right choice.” Samon took a gold coin out of his pocket and gave it to him. “Here’s the deposit. Once you accept it, you’re not allowed to change your mind.”

Riftan snorted in reply and turned around. He climbed the stairs again to get some rest when someone unnaturally fell towards him. It was the waitress who kept flirting with him. He hurriedly dodged her and lightly pushed her body away from him, like a plague. She dropped to the floor neatly. The woman who was deliberately rejected looked at him with a puzzled face.

Riftan, who was taken aback, also looked at her with a perplexed expression. He ran up the stairs as if to escape. Then, he heard a loud cry behind him saying how rude of a person he is.

Why am I the bad guy? Isn’t the one who purposely bumped into me who’s in the wrong?

Riftan trudged back to his room with a frown.