Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Leather Notebook

‘All I have left is this one bag.’

Galahad clicked his tongue softly as he shook the leather bag in his hand.

He had prided himself on living quite diligently, but in the end all he had salvaged was this one leather bag. He had returned the uniform as well, so he was wearing the shabby shirt and pants he had arrived in.

‘I’m the first to leave alive.’

There was a famous story in the Intelligence Bureau. The legend that to leave the Intelligence Bureau, you had to put your life on the line. In fact, once you belonged to the Intelligence Bureau, you could not transfer to another department.

Because the Intelligence Bureau was pathologically obsessed with security. If not for political reasons, Galahad would have tried to erase the memories even by hitting his head with a hammer.

‘They said they would come to pick me up.’

Galahad put a cigarette in his mouth.

Then, a carriage approached noisily. At the snorting of the glossy horse, passersby were startled. Some people watched as if seeing something rare.

‘A carriage in this day and age—.’

Galahad squinted his eyes.

As magicology developed, mana carriages fitted with magic circles and mana storage instead of horses became popular. The price was similar to or cheaper than horses, and they were easy to manage, so they were popular. In fact, carriages were gradually disappearing from the capital.

‘A carriage sent by the Grand Duke.’

To have to travel that far distance by carriage—. Galahad clicked his tongue and headed toward the carriage. A man with narrowly slit eyes was sitting in the carriage.

Thick steel armor and a long sword at his waist, a dagger on the inside of his thigh, even the helmet set beside him—. A typical knight.

“Are you Galahad Amberutan-nim?”

“Yes. Is this the carriage sent by His Grace the Grand Duke?”

“Yes, you may call me Gilbert. I will guide you.”

The man roughly opened the door. The interior was worse than the exterior. The chair wrapped in scraps of cloth looked more uncomfortable than a tavern chair, and there were even stains on the wall.

‘This won’t be easy.’

Sending such a shabby carriage and only one person meant that side was not welcoming Galahad either.

“It’s made of demon leather, so it should be softer than you think.”

The man who introduced himself as Gilbert said in a voice mixed with laughter.

Knowing that complaining would change nothing, Galahad nodded and boarded the carriage.

Bang, the carriage door closed noisily. The carriage moved before Galahad could even sit.

“Soft, my ass—. It feels like someone is kicking my butt with their foot.”

When he grumbled quietly, laughter was heard from outside the carriage.

Sharp ears. Galahad muttered softly and rummaged through his inner pocket.

From the inner pocket he took out a small leather notebook. From the outside it looked like just a shabby notebook, but when he poured mana into it, it opened automatically.

It was filled variously, starting with crooked handwriting and going up to neat handwriting.

The sentence written at the very top was—.

[I possessed a novel.]

It was written in crooked Korean.

It was clearly a sentence Galahad had written, but it was so old that the memory was faint.

At first he thought he had reincarnated with the memories of his previous life. When he recalled the memories of his previous life, Galahad was just starting to walk.

Only after hearing names familiar with the demon race did he realize he had possessed a novel.

Galahad hastily retraced his memories and organized the contents of the novel. That was this leather notebook.

By the time he realized it was possession, quite a bit of time had already passed.

His memory of the novel was not intact. It hadn’t been a novel he had paid much attention to in the first place, and who memorizes the contents of a novel while reading it.

Still, he remembered the major plot points. For example—.

[The world is destroyed by the Demon King.]

The novel was a sad ending. No, even calling it a sad ending was insufficient. It was a shitty shitty ending.

[Important figures: Blonde Sword Master, some Great Mage, Mother of the Fairies, Barbarian who uses an axe, Anti-demon race······.]

It was written roughly as he remembered. The ending was certain, but he could not be sure about the rest of the contents.

Below that, explanations were attached in the imperial language.

[The Great Mage is most likely the Twilight Magic Tower Master. Location unknown. The Blonde Sword Master is likely the eldest daughter of the Northern Grand Duke, the Mother of the Fairies is probably in the Fairy Forest, the Barbarian who uses an axe is unknown.]

They were pieces of information Galahad had obtained while working in the Intelligence Bureau.

Galahad’s goal was a warm and comfortable old age. For that, he had to stop the Demon King ending somehow.

Originally he had planned to prepare for the Demon King in the Intelligence Bureau. Because the Intelligence Bureau was a power organ large enough to be called the organization that moves the continent.

‘But a live-in son-in-law of the Northern Sword Master···.’

Galahad smiled bitterly. It was hard to see it as a good move, but it wasn’t the worst move either.

The Blonde Sword Master was also the hero with the largest role, and it was the area where the front line with the demon race was.

Didn’t they say that to catch a tiger, you have to go into the tiger’s den?

Galahad continued to reread the notebook stained with his handprints, retracing his memories.

***

The carriage stopped after the sun had set.

“Please get off.”

Gilbert pointed behind. It was right beside an empty road.

“Are you saying we’ll camp out?”

Galahad squinted his eyes. Galahad was a scion of a count’s family.

There were villages or castles at one-day intervals, so he couldn’t understand why they were insisting on camping out.

“You were told to avoid contact with the empire as much as possible.”

“Is that His Grace the Grand Duke’s will?”

“I follow Lady Adrianne.”

Adrianne was the name of the woman Galahad was to marry.

“Yes, one should listen well to one’s wife.”

Creak, a chilling sound came from the corner of Gilbert’s mouth.

‘He doesn’t like me.’

In a way, it was only natural.

Galahad was a mage, the thing they hated most, and the third son of a count. There was no way the situation of such a guy marrying the Grand Duke’s eldest daughter would be welcome.

Beneath that, countless power struggles and interests must have been entangled. Looking at the result, it was the Grand Duke’s defeat.

“You are not married yet.”

Gilbert smiled, showing his molars. Killing intent that pricked his back—.

‘This is dangerous.’

Galahad smiled bitterly while putting a cigarette in his mouth.

Gilbert cleaned up the spot without a word. His hand movements were extraordinary, as if he was used to camping. Galahad watched quietly.

Firewood gathered and in an instant a fire was lit. Then he put a pot on it and threw in meat. Even stew on top of that—.

‘I don’t want to eat it.’

Galahad clicked his tongue softly. He already knew that these guys’ sense of hygiene was trash, but still, flipping meat with hands that had dug dirt and touched firewood—. The worst.

“Please eat. It’s Northern-style cooking.”

Gilbert grabbed one piece of meat and held it out. It was a large chunk of meat that hadn’t been sliced, and only the surface was seared. It wasn’t cooked, so red blood dripped steadily. Not even rare, but super rare.

Is this cooking? It was absurd, but unfortunately this was not a situation to be picky about side dishes.

“Thank you.”

Galahad tore the meat with his mouth. Sour blood full of fishy smell filled his mouth. He chewed thoroughly and swallowed.

Wondering if he had grilled it that way just to screw with him, Gilbert also tore the meat. He even drank the flowing blood like a beverage. Watching that barbaric meal, his desire not to go to the North grew even stronger.

The meal continued quietly. After finishing, Gilbert handed over liquor in a bottle.

“I don’t drink.”

Galahad lightly shook his head. Alcohol slows the head and makes the hands heavy, so it is taboo for mages.

“As expected of a mage.”

Gilbert emphasized ‘mage’. It was not a good pronunciation.

“Yes, a very excellent mage.”

Galahad answered while meeting those eyes without avoiding them. Gilbert’s brow furrowed slightly.

“You will have to be careful in the North. The ignorant Northern bastards cannot distinguish well between mages and the demon race.”

To think this level of threat was all. Galahad felt childish.

“Surely the Grand Duke cannot protect even one son-in-law in his own territory.”

This time Gilbert smiled faintly. He was a guy with deeper patience than expected.

“I heard it’s a trend in the empire these days to hunt mages. A mage’s heart is very expensive—.”

As if it had never been otherwise, Gilbert grinned. It was true. In fact, recently quite a few records of mages being hunted had come up.

“Don’t worry about that. Even looking like this, I’m quite a precious item. Isn’t it the first exchange in twenty years between His Majesty the Emperor and the Grand Duke. It was so turbulent that even talk of rebellion was heard, so if I, the proof of the exchange, were to come to harm?”

This time Galahad grinned. Unlike before, Gilbert was not smiling.

“I am quite an important person. Serve me well.”

Even Galahad did not know the inside story. Perhaps it was simply a discarded pawn whose string had been cut, but there was no need to say it.

“If you have eaten, let us move again.”

Gilbert said as he stood up from his seat.

“You plan to keep moving without sleeping?”

“Yes, because you are an important person.”

“Will it be all right?”

“I am a knight, so I can go without sleep for a few days. Is the important person all right? The carriage will shake a lot.”

Gilbert asked with narrowed eyes.

‘He’s sulking.’

Galahad clicked his tongue softly and nodded.

In fact, the carriage seat was hard and shook violently. It was not a situation where one could sleep.

The petty intention to make Galahad suffer somehow was clear.

However, Galahad was a mage. Mages of this era were stronger in an auxiliary nature than in combat.

Making the shaking carriage into a very soft and quiet bed was quite an easy matter.

Galahad slept for the first time in a while, even snoring.

***

Knock knock.

At the alarm magic, Galahad opened his eyes. How deeply he had slept, his body felt refreshed.

Galahad cleaned up his seat and opened the door.

Gilbert, who looked more haggard than before, squinted his eyes.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I slept very well. Are you all right? Your complexion is not good.”

“······I am fine. On the battlefield, it is common not to sleep for a few days.”

“I see. I am fine, so continue to work hard.”

Gilbert’s face twisted even more. He was a guy with a flavor of teasing.

“Let us stop by a castle or village once on the way.”

“···A castle, you say?”

“I think I need to buy a coat.”

Galahad said while rubbing his arm that had goosebumps.

“Does a mage even feel the cold?”

Gilbert asked back as if it was truly a question. At that, Galahad squinted his eyes. What does he think a mage is—.

“Of course I feel it, since I’m a person.”

Of course, he could maintain body temperature using magic. However, magic that affects a mage’s body was several times more difficult than shaving a bed or blocking sound.

“Isn’t there Garseton Castle on the route? I heard the coats there are good. Let’s stop by.”

“Garseton, you say?”

It was a subtly unpleasant counter-question, but Gilbert was originally an unpleasant guy. Galahad nodded.

“Understood.”

One corner of Gilbert’s mouth rose.

As expected, an extremely unpleasant guy.

***

‘It’s cold.’

Galahad grumbled while brushing his hair back. The center was warm every day, but here it was cold enough for goosebumps to rise. He had to use mana just to maintain temperature.

Even without a cigarette in his mouth, his breath came out. Just warming his body caused mana to drain steadily.

Because there were no stones laid, a lot of mud stuck under his shoes. Is this mud? Galahad sniffed. An unpleasant smell wafted. It’s mud. Galahad hastily put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. The fragrant lemon smell drove away the other smell.

“It will get colder as we go up.”

Gilbert, whose under-eyes had become dark, said sharply. Gilbert was wearing what looked like animal fur clothes that he had taken out from somewhere.

“Wasn’t there something like enduring the cold with a bare body on the front line?”

At Galahad’s question, Gilbert squinted his eyes. Looking closely, it was a smile.

“Yes, even soldiers dress warmly.”

Too bad. Galahad grumbled softly.

Then, a fat man came running. He had so much flesh that it shook every time he ran. The man was wearing high-heeled shoes whose fashion had long passed.

“Oh my! If you have come, why did you stop at the outer castle instead of coming to the inner castle!”

The fat man said while wiping the sweat on his forehead. Galahad glanced at Gilbert. Gilbert avoided his gaze as if it was not his business.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Are you not a guest of His Grace the Grand Duke?”

Galahad looked at Gilbert. Gilbert shrugged his shoulders and answered, ‘It is not me.’

‘There was notice from the Grand Duke’s side that there would be a visit.’

Gilbert had rather opposed visiting the castle. The visit that man is talking about is probably not Galahad’s visit.

“Please come in! The Lord is waiting!”

“Is there a soft bed?”

At Galahad’s question, the fat man tilted his head and then nodded.

“Yes, there is also a warm bathtub!”

“Well-cooked meat too?”

“Of course! Our cook is the best in this area!”

“Good.”

When Galahad nodded, the excited pig man led the way, shaking his buttocks.

“Please be careful. Quite a few people have disappeared around Garseton Castle. Among them, there are mages too, I hear. It is a very dangerous place for mages.”

Gilbert, who had stuck to his side at some point, said in a voice mixed with laughter.

“Why are you saying that now. You should have said it earlier.”

“You didn’t ask, did you?”

“True.”

At Galahad who grumbled softly, Gilbert laughed softly.

“Then will you go somewhere else even now?”

“You, are you good at fighting?”

At the sudden question, Gilbert’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Quite well.”

“Then guard me well. I am an important body.”

Galahad chewed the cigarette in his mouth and moved his steps.

‘Is it reckless, or bold. Or does he know.’

Gilbert, who muttered softly, sent a hand signal somewhere.

It was an unusually dark night.