Kakei Senki Wo Kakageyo! / Kakei Senki Wo Kakageyo! Chapter 3

It has become the season of leaves being scattered by the wind. The faces of everyone walking in the shopping district has a tinge of sudden sharpness. The cold is like a whetstone. Without even fire or hammer, it appears to polish your own nature.

“Hmm, it’s nothing but some kinds of farming tools and kitchen knives.” (Oyvua)

While gulping down the sake cup in broad daylight in a bar, he looked out onto the street. Oyvua Otara (T/N: >> Oivua Otara <<) stared at the flow of people with glazed eyes. He is a giant. It appears that not only one chair can’t cover his full body but that it will break under the body’s weight it has to support. He is sitting skilfully shallow on two chairs lined up next to each other. He wears a combination of a yellow casual dress and a black hood apparently being the choice of a refined person. But since he is big anyway, he leaves the impression of being a sumo wrestler or an actor with superhuman strength.

“What was it about kitchen knives, sir?” (Owner)

An old man came out from the bar’s interior with its sparse customers and placed another sake bottle on Oyvua’s table.

“Oy, oy, owner, I didn’t really request this, did I?” (Oyvua)

“The guy, who sharpened my kitchen knife, is quite excellent, you know?” (Owner)

The old man laughs and displays a somewhat large kitchen knife. Oyvua also laughed and lightly accepted the sake cup and held it reverently over his head. Although he is now a wanderer, he once served as swordsmith. 1 or 2 kitchen knives are a trifling matter. He was born as fourth son of a knight’s household living in a castle. He possesses a career of becoming an apprentice in smithing naturally disinheriting him from nobility since his home is poor.

“However, if you are this skilled, why do you look as if you’ve got plenty of free time?” (Owner)

“That is… well… even I dislike the free time, but…” (Oyvua)

Oyvua pouts skilfully shrinking his large build.

“There isn’t any good workplace for me.” (Oyvua)

He sipped the sake with a strangely pitiful appearance as he revealed this. Though he wants to drown in drunkenness, he can’t get drunken at all. And yet, gulping down the booze while feeling downhearted, he makes sure to watch the others enjoying themselves without himself being able to blend in there. He continues to observe the bustling on the street. The bar’s owner, heaving a single sigh, returned to the kitchen for the purpose of making snacks to go with the sake for this fine fellow who acts like a big child.

“Ah… this world has become detestable.” (Oyvua)

There is a town close to the fief’s capital in the territory of Earl Helrevi in the north-eastern part of Asuria Kingdom. Having allowed this area to be dominated by Eberia during the war, this land is now regaining its prosperity after the “Sacred Flame Festival.” It’s military stores that are holding up this restoration.

Especially its horses are excellent. If you go too far into the east, you will reach the “Desert of No Life.” There you won’t find any activity of life with its miasma leaking from the large ice fields in the north. However, in reverse it is flourishing area right until you reach the desert. The horses are forged by the wind having slight parts of miasma mixed in, making them tenacious. The area is blessed with a meadow as well.

The mood that is widely circulating in Asuria Kingdom is unpleasant. The passion for restoration is similar to the fire in a furnace. The prosperity of the people is also similar to the bursting of a spark. However, each of them appears to be engulfed in the detestable colour of rust.

(You can say it is exaggerated if it’s the hero, but the point is, didn’t he just die in defeat?)(Oyvua)

(Shouldn’t a general acknowledge the value of victory or defeat? He is a hero that let many defeated allies die. But I suppose the methods of General Salomon gained victory and saved the kingdom.) (Oyvua)

It was a horrible defeat and Oyvua remembers the situation at that time even now. No matter where you looked, hundreds of enemy flags were flying. They continued to kill his allies as if relentlessly breaking them into bite-sized pieces. With the path of retreat completely cut off, the many noble commanders gave disarranged orders just causing panic. Though he has a blessed physique, without any horse and armour, as the campaign’s blacksmith specialist, Oyvua’s life was in a truly precarious situation.

The hero’s troops lacked cooperation with their allies and advanced too far. I don’t understand whether it was something owed to the situation, but it is a definite fact that the location, where the army set up, was extremely foolish. The responsibility for that was with the leader, the hero, Oyvua judges. Family honour and individual strength, appearance and titles, all of these don’t matter at all.

If you ask, the hero, having a ferocious courage, defeated many enemy soldiers. This might certainly be magnificent, but it probably isn’t a too commendable deed as “soldier.” No matter how many enemies he killed in front of his eyes, the fault of him causing the entire army to be killed due to his leadership won’t disappear.

(So what about it? The hero is a legend as general who used merciless means to kill. I want to ask how this gave rise to today’s peace!? Every last of them doesn’t realize it… Ah I can’t stand it, I can’t bear it.) (Oyvua)

Passing the period of time, where wholesome people sweat due to work, he sleeps. At a suitable time once the day turned dark, he slowly got out of bed. Drinking one ladle full of water, he once again leaves the room. His pace is light. Passing across several alleys, he went towards his destination. It was a building looking like a weathered meeting place.

“Oy, oy, all of you are together.” (Oyvua)

He greeted the figures of men, already drenched in sweat, in front of him in a friendly tone. With an uniform lightweight equipment, they are holding a wooden sword or a “bamboo-bundled sword” in their hands. The group, forming a circle, apparently meets up frequently to exercise.

“You are late, Oyvua. We have already begun the scuffling, but you can only join us after finishing 1’000 practise swings and physical exercises.”

“I know, I know.” (Oyvua)

Getting a particularly thick and long wooden sword from the rack in the corner, Oyvua slowly started to do callisthenics for his shoulders and hip. While he was elaborately training his legs and loins, the men began to yell out their fighting spirit and the sounds of strikes resounded. This place is an unauthorised dojo where the town’s martial arts lovers meet up and diligently practise. For the current Oyvua it is the sole place he can enjoy himself.

“Yo, let’s mix it up?” (Oyvua)

Questionably glossing over the number of practise-swings, he participates cheerfully in the scuffle. If it was a military drill of the army, they would wear defensive armament on top and exchange blows with weapons having a dulled blade, but it is unthinkable for them to have the money to prepare something like this here. They use bamboo-bundled swords. They fixed 4 bamboo pieces into one bundle. For the sake of the blows being buffered, the centre of the bundle is hollow. Without defensive armaments, they won’t injure their bones even if they hit powerfully. The weapon has literally no weight. There isn’t any weight from armour either. It is indeed unsatisfactory for someone like me who experienced a campaign.

While handling the launched sword strikes like a gale, Oyvua was happy. For him, who was blessed with muscle strength and constitution, the scuffle with bamboo-bundled swords isn’t a place to display his true strength. It was in the category of half-playing-around, but even so it possessed a charm he was indeed engrossed with.

(It is the most suitable weapon to train those guys using farming tools to fight.) (Oyvua)

(Besides, something like a sword with a dulled blade is disgusting. I don’t want to touch it. I don’t want to touch it.) (Oyvua)

However, he is unlucky as there isn’t a next opponent. The fights are at their peak everywhere. At such occasion he withdrew to the vicinity to wipe his sweat with a towel. He noticed a single child standing at the entrance of the dojo. It isn’t particularly prohibited to study by observation at this place, but it is a time where it gradually gets darker. And, the public order of this area isn’t good either.

(What a sharpness… this guy isn’t a normal person.) (Oyvua)

(1’000 or 10’000… no above that, huh… ? Anyway, those are the eyes of someone holding the death of an outrageous number of people on top of his palm. Damn! What-the-hell!) (Oyvua)
Is he human? Or is he something called a demon? Oyvua couldn’t do anything other but being dumbfounded. He couldn’t move. As if trying to stand stand on top of a blade that could easily split him in two. I wonder if this won’t happen after all? He made a big sound of gulping down his saliva.

“Ah, sorry, I wilfully allowed myself to observe you.” (Marco)

As the voice, sounding like a bell, reached him, Oyvua suddenly regained his consciousness. In front of his eyes is a child with a strangely mature facial expression showing a polite attitude in his direction. Was I watching a daydream? It was different. Oyvua ascertained the sweat of his tightly grasped palms with his fingertips.

“Y-Yea, it’s fine to observe as much as you want. But, you have to put one bronze coin in that box if you want to participate.” (Oyvua)

He points at the wooden box at the side of the entranceway. It’s money paid for the sake of continuing to borrow this meeting place. It is also used to shoulder the costs of materials such as the bamboo-bundled sword which are consumable goods. By the way, as Oyvua is the producer of the bamboo-bundled swords, he is exempted from paying the participation fee.

“No, I am not up to the task for that. Hearing a dearly missed sound… I merely succumbed to its charm.” (Marco)

Saying this, he looked fondly at the scene of the scuffle. There isn’t any trace of the glint in his eyes, that previously caused me to shudder, any more. I don’t think I saw it wrongly. I fear that he likely naturally stores the blade within the scabbard of his mind, Oyvua grasped. And, I can tell that this person isn’t someone living for violence but for military power. He is endowed with power controlled by rules to a certain degree… In other words, he is a soldier.

Just, ‘dearly missed sound’? I wonder what he means by that? As far as Oyvua knows, the sound resounding in this dojo isn’t the one commonly heard on a parade ground either. It is a sound of rhythmical and continuous clear striking unique to the bamboo-bundled sword.

“Has the training with bamboo-bundled swords become popular?” (Oyvua)

“Eh?” (Marco)

“As far as I know it is a refined tone which shouldn’t be used by anyone but the volunteer army.” (Oyvua)

“A-Ah, I guess that’s how it is… Yea, I don’t think there is anyone else using it.” (Marco)

He was confused to be asked in reverse although he expected the question. For some reason it looks like that fearsome young boy knows about the volunteer army. I wonder if his parents joined the campaign? Since I have heard that the volunteer army broke up before the “Sacred Flame Festival,” it is a likely story that those who returned to their home towns are exercising with bamboo-bundled swords.
The boy bent his head slightly to one side. It was possible to throw a fleeting glance at the slenderness of his neck.

“Are there still some people originally belonging to the volunteer army?” (Marco)

“That is…” (Oyvua)

As he started to answer, a scream as if tearing up silk was raised. When it was unnaturally interrupted, Oyvua couldn’t help but have a bad premonition. Such things like kidnapping aren’t unusual either. As the surface of society is passionately restorating, the underside of society can’t erase the violent nature from the time of war.

“Excuse me.” (Marco)

“Eh, ah, oi!?” (Oyvua)

Even if he has time, the young boy dashed at full speed out as soon as he turned is back. Merely catching a glimpse of his facial expression, it was filled with disgust. He might have some knowledge about it? What’s the deal with him? Oyvua ponders. I’m not inexperienced to the degree of thrusting my head in each and every trouble of this sort. It is also troublesome if you are targeted by the likes of such cliques. But, after having exchanged words, it is unpleasant to overlook a person that piqued my interest. I guess all the more if it is an unusually remarkable character.
He looks by accident at the men striking each other as group. They are in an intense ecstasy. They haven’t noticed the incident at the entrance at all. They probably haven’t even realized that there was a young boy here. He would be the same if it was himself exchanging blows. Later it would finish with only taking a tiny space within their conversations that there apparently was a kidnapping in the neighbourhood.

“This is also just because of that guy. Yea, if that’s the reason, it can’t be helped. It can’t be helped.” (Oyvua)

Picking up one wooden long sword you could even call very thick and also unintentionally being struck with an idea, Oyvua also took a somewhat smallish, thin wooden sword and began to run in order to chase after the young boy.

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