#67 Dauphin the Thief (11) – Reward

“He-He fell in!! Should we go in after him?”

“We’ll never find him properly if we search underwater in the middle of the night! Gather more men! We’ll wait above the surface and grab him as soon as he comes up!!”

While the other guards kicked up a fuss trying to capture Dauphin, who had fallen into the river, Daliah stood alone, glaring at the river with a displeased expression.

Not because the attack had failed, not because she hadn’t been able to secure Dauphin.

Rather, her displeasure stemmed from Dauphin’s reaction a moment ago.

When Daliah had charged into the vortex, Dauphin had shown clear and almost palpable panic, and had made a clear gesture of suppressing the attack.

Dahlia, fearing her attack might critically wound her opponent, had failed to properly respond to Dophen’s counterattack – one she would normally have evaded.

It felt like exploiting the other’s goodwill, ambushing them with their own kindness.

If Dophen himself were here, he’d likely say, “The one who got distracted in battle and showed an opening is at fault, isn’t it?” frankly admitting his own mistake. But Dahlia, with her rigid nature, couldn’t bring herself to think so cleanly compartmentalized.

“S-Squad Leader! Well? Did we finish that b*stard off for good?”

The spoiled young master, Dophen’s target whom he’d been protecting, rushed over to Dahlia, having confirmed the battle was over.

Dahlia answered in a curt tone.

“…At the very least, his right arm is shattered. Perhaps even some ribs.”

“Haha! Excellent! Splendid! I’d heard you were skilled, but I never imagined this! With a broken arm, falling into the river… he probably couldn’t even crawl out and drowned, good riddance!!”

Seemingly deeply gratified, the young master alternated between praising Dahlia and cursing Dophen.

Silently listening to his words, Dahlia caught something in the corner of her eye.

A boy in ragged clothes, staring blankly at the river where Dophen had fallen.

The boy then turned his head, glaring at the young master and Dahlia, who was receiving his accolades, with resentful eyes.

Because of the helmet Dahlia was wearing, he didn’t seem to realize she was looking at him.

“It’s not a situation where we can be sure it is safe. Let us return.”

Dahlia diverted the young master’s attention to keep him from noticing the boy.

The young master, seemingly growing uneasy at Dahlia’s words, glanced at the river, and then hurriedly followed behind Dahlia.

Dahlia suddenly looked up at the sky.

She had protected the threatened target and stopped the assailant.

As a guardsman, she had undoubtedly fulfilled her duty, yet the moon in the sky seemed to reproach her, and Dahlia lowered her gaze in secret.

*

In the end, Dophen was never found in the river.

The guard chattered on, half-optimistically and half-wishfully asserting that he must have drowned after falling into the river while injured. The city’s reaction was divided.

The upper class rejoiced, but were uneasy about the fact that a body had not been discovered; the lower class despaired or insisted that Dophen could not have died so futilely, and speculated about his survival.

And for Dahlia, another day off arrived.

Dahlia, leaving her quarters in plain clothes, fell lost in thought.

‘Where to go?’

In the past, she would have used a walk as a pretense to patrol the city even on her days off.

She would have also checked to see if guardsmen from other squads were taking out their frustrations on the residents.

But now, it was difficult for Dahlia to set foot in the commoner’s district as she used to.

The face of the old woman who had condemned her and the gaze of the boy, filled with resentment, had not faded from her memory.

Few could see Dahlia’s bare face and immediately conjure the image of ‘Squad Leader of the 8th,’ yet, as the old woman had shown, it wasn’t impossible.

Now, if she were to wander into the commoner or slum districts as she normally did, it would only stir up unnecessary trouble.

Conversely, while the upper-class districts would offer a semblance of welcome, she’d be inundated with requests to prioritize their safety.

Unable to easily choose a direction, Dahlia hesitated, teetering.

Perhaps she should just return to the guard barracks and rest, but that would only cause her squad unwarranted worry.

They’d likely tell her to indulge in a hobby, but given that her guard duties and daily life were practically intertwined, even the idea of a hobby…

“…Ah.”

There was one thing.

Acknowledging it as a hobby felt a little, no, a lot, like a blow to her pride.

But still, it was a place where she could spend time feeling purely joyful, without obligation or responsibility.

“I also need to repay my debt.”

Muttering words that felt directed at no one, Dahlia turned her steps toward ‘his’ house.

The border between the upper-class districts and the rest.

A building that fell short of a noble’s mansion, yet remained opulent for the average commoner.

Staring at the front gate with a face as serious as if it were the entrance to a battlefield, Dahlia then rang the bell beside the door with a deliberate movement.

A clear chime echoed, and after a short wait…

“Hm? Ah.”

The man who casually opened the door, betraying her tension, offered Dahlia a gentle smile.

“Welcome, Miss. I’m glad you didn’t forget our appointment.”

“Yes, well.”

While carefully nodding, Dahlia’s gaze swiftly darted to the man’s right arm.

And upon confirming that he was using it to open and close the door without any apparent discomfort, Dahlia, too, relaxed the tension in her shoulders.

Thank goodness. Truly.

It was all just my assumptions.

The man tilted his head at Dahlia’s suddenly relieved expression.

“Is there something good that happened? Ah, come to think of it, I heard you performed admirably again, is it because of that?”

“It’s not that.”

“Is that so? Well, please, come in.”

From then on, the flow was similar to last time.

The man presented Dahlia with problems through a series of even somewhat extreme stories, and Dahlia, countering his tales, was able to more clearly organize the various emotions within her.

It wasn’t precisely the same as before, though.

Among the things she spoke of weren’t just simple discussions, but also stories personal to Dahlia.

The original Dahlia wasn’t one for sharing her own tales.

Within the 8th Platoon, those who knew Dahlia’s past were limited to a few veterans who’d been with her for at least several years.

So, to be telling such stories to a man she’d only met twice was unthinkable, yet somehow, in his presence, her lips parted with ease.

Perhaps, she merely wished to unburden herself of the pressure and stress she’d been feeling lately, even if only in this way.

“You see, me? I’ve been strong since I was a child. I don’t know how this will sound, but it’s almost… abnormally so.”

From a young age, she hadn’t been pushed back by her peers, or even those of older generations, when it came to brute strength, and she’d never succumbed to the various illnesses that easily claimed the lives of infants and young children.

Her physical robustness, in particular, was extraordinary; a young girl who’d lost her footing and fallen from a second-story height without sustaining so much as a scratch.

“Papa, ahem. So, my father…”

“Feel free to just say ‘Papa’.”

“…Papa was perplexed, but I was glad. He was such a wanderer, and a normal child wouldn’t have been able to keep up with him, or would have been a hindrance, but I could.”

There was the time a bandit, attempting to take Dahlia hostage, held a knife to her throat.

There was the time she was struck by a stray arrow while protecting civilians during a clash between territories.

There was the time she was bitten on the arm by a pack of wolves who’d developed a taste for human flesh while preying on traveling merchants.

Each one was a deadly threat to a child, yet Dahlia had either weathered them unscathed, or had suffered only minor scrapes and bruises.

“But, to others, it seems that was a bit… strange. I was treated like a monster, or that a witch had transformed, or that I was simply a monster impersonating a person. And then Papa said this: ‘Dahlia, this constitution of yours isn’t monstrous, or strange. It’s a gift given by the gods in heaven to protect people. So, ignore those fools even when they speak nonsense.'”

After offering an imitation that didn’t sound much like him, Dahlia chuckled.

“That was the only time Papa ever called the people he protected ‘fools’. He’d always been incredibly forgiving when they were ungrateful to him, but I guess he couldn’t stand it when they insulted his daughter.”

“Hmm.”

The man seemed to deliberate for a moment before asking.

“Is that why you became a guard? Because you were born with such strength, to use that strength to protect people?”

“Half of it, yes. The other half was about making a living.”

“There was also the path of an adventurer, though. The Adventurer’s Guild here in the Virka Kingdom, as I understand it, originated as a self-defense force. Wouldn’t that also have been a way to help people?”

“I don’t really like adventurers.”

Dahlia muttered, her face sour.

“They get paid to go and exterminate monsters, and then act like they’re doing the village some kind of favor, bullying them. They deliberately slack off on the job because they were treated badly by the lord, and the territory’s people suffer because of it. When business isn’t good, they instantly change their profession to bandits and start causing trouble. They talk about the romance of it all, about freedom from nobles, but fundamentally, they’re just thugs running around with weapons, only looking out for their own interests.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“There are some adventurers who come to Levruk from time to time, and they’re practically enemies with the guard. They tell us we’re just sucking up to the nobles because we don’t have the confidence to make a living on our own. But at the end of the day, they’re the ones living hand to mouth, without even a steady salary.”

The man seemed strangely flustered.

Dahlia pondered if anything she’d said might have discomfited the man, a flicker of possibility igniting in her mind.

‘Could he be an adventurer, or connected somehow?’

If so, she’d inadvertently spoken ill of his kind, and a pang of mild guilt pricked at her.

She cleared her throat a few times before continuing.

“Well, it’s true I’m not fond of adventurers, but I know some are good. Especially after hearing that the Adventurer’s Guild took on the Lich subjugation without negotiating with the nobles, there was a lot of praise within the squad. Had they not acted so quickly, perhaps the entire kingdom would have been endangered.”

“Indeed. The courage and dedication of those who made such a difficult choice deserve proper recognition. A world where goodwill is mocked and exploited, where those who scoff at it are considered clever, is surely worse than a sewer.”

Dahlia flinched almost imperceptibly.

She remembered that several squads, apart from the 8th, had derisively called them “idiots playing hero before kicking the bucket.”

She’d felt this way to some extent before, but lately, a growing sense of disillusionment with her job and profession seemed to plague her, and she sighed again.

Sensing Dahlia’s mood, the man broached a new topic.

“Then, did you learn your martial arts from your father, Miss?”

“Fencing and Mana Enhancement, yes. However, I can’t emit a sword aura or anything like that. I can infuse a weapon with mana for a very short time, but it’s so brief that all I can really do is activate the length adjustment function on my spear.”

Upon hearing Dahlia’s explanation, the man made a request.

“Could you extend your hand for a moment, please?”

“…? Sure, why not.”

Dahlia readily extended her hand, and the man placed his hand on top of hers.

Dahlia, feeling awkward, looked around, but the man was so focused on the sensation of their joined hands that he didn’t notice.

After a moment, the man chuckled dryly.

He understood how her father must have felt when he discovered his daughter’s constitution.

‘He must have been overjoyed. But simultaneously, utterly dumbfounded.’

There exists a concept known as Mana Cultivation Methods.

These techniques involve manipulating mana within the body in specific ways to achieve various effects, such as increasing the inherently limited amount of mana or imbuing it with special properties.

Most prominent knightly or martial families possess such cultivation methods as closely guarded secrets, because these methods can also improve one’s physique.

Greater strength, a sturdier build, inexhaustible stamina.

It’s only natural that groups with the means to enhance such crucial qualities for warriors surpass those who don’t.

But here, we can propose a hypothesis.

Cultivation methods are ultimately ways to channel mana within the body along a particular path and process with a specific intention.

What if the mana that naturally flows through the body, without any conscious effort, was itself optimized to strengthen it?

What if someone was constantly experiencing the benefits that others could only achieve after years, or even decades, of gradually changing their constitution and reaching a certain level of mastery, from the moment they were born?

Of course, it wouldn’t be easy.

The art of Mana Weaving, it was said, hinged on such delicate adjustments that even a hair’s breadth deviation could send the whole process spiraling into ruin. Better to leave it untouched than to meddle with it after only a cursory education.

Imagine tossing up tens of thousands of multi-colored dominoes into the air, only to have them land on the ground, forming a perfect picture without any external correction. How often could that possibly occur?

But, if such a thing were truly possible.

If there existed someone born with that natural affinity.

‘No need to look far. Just copy the way someone instinctively wields Mana and, with slight adjustments, complete a blueprint capable of raising an entire Knight Order.’

Not everyone could use it, of course.

Dahlia herself had simply been using it naturally since birth. She couldn’t even properly wield *geomgi* or *geomgi*—she’d reached a level where she could go toe-to-toe with a Low Rank 5 combatant using just her physical prowess. But, others likely wouldn’t achieve her efficiency.

Even so, this was a power that could be placed in the hands of the weak.

What choice would Dahlia make, when he eventually gave her this gift?

The man found himself intensely curious about that future, but saw no need to rush.

There was still time needed for completion, after all, and best not to present it as some kind of present when Dahlia hadn’t resolved the issues weighing on her heart. It would only add unnecessary burden.

Still, a worthwhile discovery. A reward for forcing his right arm to move with the suit’s help, the man smiled.