Volume 2 Chapter 3
Translator: SaltyTank
Editor: Chrof
Late into the night, moonlight shone onto Witsen’s face through the windows. He rolled back and forth on the bed, unable to dispel the uneasiness in his mind. He could not help but think about the battlefield he had dreamt of as he murmured the seemingly familiar chant. The skilled combat movements and chanting felt too real to be a mere dream; it felt more like a memory sealed within his head.
Am I still myself?
This was a question he had in mind ever since going through Karile’s trial. As a person who had lived in a city for practically his entire life, why would he have such combat skills, let alone proficiency in sword fighting and magic? He could not come up with an answer for that question.
Should I stop here and give up?
It was a pointless question; Witsen had known the answer before even asking himself. No matter how bizarre and odd something may seem, he would ultimately discover the truth by proceeding down the path with an unwavering mind. He knew that the truth was not always beautiful, but at least it was still the truth. One could never have a grasp over anything if he did not seek the truth, at least that was what Witsen believed. Just like how adventurers were crazy about treasure, he was very keen on discovering truths.
I have to walk down this path.
Witsen closed his eyes and answered in his mind.
The moment he closed his eyes, he noticed the sounds of footsteps going back and forth in front of the door. He sat up and turned to face the door. With obsidian in hand, he focused on listening to the suspicious footsteps and was prepared to deal with any situation.
“Hmm, should I knock on the the door or not? What a tough choice… Fine, I’ll just knock.”
Knock knock!
Witsen woke Karile up after the person who had been wandering in front of their door knocked.
“What’s going on?” Karile rubbed her eyes and said with a sleepy expression.
“Someone’s knocking on the door,” Witsen replied.
“Yeah, you can handle it…” Karile, who had just been woken up, fell asleep in no time once again.
This girl…
If Karile wasn’t going to wake up, then Witsen had no choice but to handle it himself. He silently walked towards the door and placed his hand on the door knob. Of course, he had already transformed his obsidian into a sword.
Three, two, one!
Witsen counted down mentally and opened the door. Without caring who it was, he placed the sword against the person’s neck. The other party was startled; he was supposed to be the one launching a ‘sneak attack’, not Witsen.
With hands held high to show that he was not carrying a weapon, the person sighed and said, “Easy now, I hold no hostility. I’m Plato, a bard. I heard from the boss that you guys are heading to the blood elves’ place. Can you guys bring me too?”
As if to reassure that he was really just an ordinary bard, Plato pointed at the five chord zither on his back. It was only then that Witsen took back the sword placed against Plato’s neck.
“So noisy. Who is it?” Karile could not bear the noise and walked over with an oil lamp in hand.
The lamp revealed Plato’s look. He had sparkling white skin, a pretty and handsome face, and wavy long hair. He looked almost like a girl, but one could still tell he was a boy.
A pretty boy! Witsen screamed in his mind.
“Looks pretty cute alright, but…” Karile scrutinised all over Plato, and finally said, “So short!”
It was a natural statement considering that Plato was even shorter than Karile, a teenage girl.
“Hey! Who’re you calling short!” Plato protested.
Karile ignored him and turned to look at Witsen with a disgusted look on her face.
“Hey, are we really bringing this spoiled brat with us?”
“Who the hell are you calling a spoiled brat! I’m eighteen this year!” Plato jumped up and down angrily.
Witsen thought for a short while, then knelt down and said, “Hey kid, ah no, Plato. Do you know the way to the blood elves’ territory?”
“No, that’s why I’m asking you two to bring me along.”
Witsen stood back up and pulled Karile over and whispered, “I don't see a problem with bringing him.”
“He doesn’t even know the way. How is that not a problem?” Karile whispered in return with a suspicious look.
“It’s actually better that way. If he doesn’t know the way, he won’t try to get us into danger because that means getting himself into danger as well.”
“What if he was lying?”
“That…”
“Give me your sword.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Just give it to me,” Karile said as she grabbed the sword from Witsen’s grip and walked up to Plato. Making a stance where she could attack any moment, she glared at Plato and shouted, “You! You were lying just now!”
“Eh? Eh eh eh eh eh? No, sniff, I wasn’t lying! Put the sword down…”
Plato was visibly stunned and brought to the brink of tears. Karile was never good with handling children, not to mention crying kids. She had no idea what to do with the kid who appeared out of nowhere and started crying.
“Eh? Crying? That, big sis was joking just now… Eh? Don’t cry, okay? Witsen! What should we do!”
Witsen sighed and took back his sword, then faced Plato. “Plato, stop crying, we’ll bring you along.”
“Eh? For real?” Plato immediately stopped crying and showed a cheerful smile.
This kid! Just how quick can he change his emotions…
“Yes, for real,” Karile answered.
“Thank you!” Plato rushed to hug Karile, who was unsure what to do.
“Big sis, you smell nice.”
“A nice smell? I didn’t use any perfume though?”
“It’s real, it smells really nice!”
Just like that, the duo was joined by a young bard.
“Hey Plato, aren’t you a bard? I’ve never heard a bard sing before, can you sing me a song?” Karile asked while pointing at the zither on his back.
“Oh, of course.” Plato placed the zither on his lap and started playing a song.
“La la la, la la la,
I’ve learnt magic in the mountains,
Saved the world from the volcanic dragons,
Charged through the storm of enemies for the empire’s glory,
Witnessed Los Lanca regain tranquility after purging sin,
And even bargained with the Lord of the Abyss.
I’ve seen countless glory and darkness,
Experienced countless moments of happiness and sadness,
But nothing beats the warm tavern fireplace,
The boss who has a scar on his face,
The drunken drinkers, and the folklore at that place.
La la la, la la la…”
“Not bad, not bad.” Karile clapped. “Who wrote this song?”
“This song,” Plato answered, “was written by you, Mr. Witsen.”