Chereads / Courage and Blade / Chapter 11 - Chapter 11 The Long Road Ahead

Chapter 11 - Chapter 11 The Long Road Ahead

Until this moment, Gawain had realized that since leaving the dark tomb, everyone present had gone a long time without food. 

His own time without eating was especially long; the last time he had enjoyed the satisfaction of chewing food, the monkeys on Loren Continent were still far from standing upright.

Venturing into another world was not a romantic affair. Amidst the exciting ruins, magic, colossal beasts, and heroic tales, what awaited them more often were practical issues that had to be faced—like finding shelter in the wild and how to fill their stomachs.

The escape was rushed, especially after the castle was breached and they had fought desperately to the last moment with the few remaining guards. No one had the time to prepare a sack full of provisions. Moreover, they had last departed from the ancestral tomb, a place that obviously held no food…

So when Amber's stomach growled, everyone realized the urgent reality of their situation.

Surrounding them was a barren wasteland, devoid of even the roots of grass. On the opposite side of the hill lay the now-burning ruins of the Cecil territory. However, a little further down the hill, there was a patch of dense forest.

In this magical medieval setting, forests beyond the towns were synonymous with danger, places where the light of civilization could not reach. They were teeming with ferocious beasts, bandits, and monsters. But the forest also meant something else: an abundance of food.

To reach Tansan Town to the north, they had no choice but to pass through this forest.

The group found a flat and open area at the edge of the woods to rest for a moment, and then began to assign roles for gathering food.

Gawain first glanced at the seemingly dazed maid, Betty, who truly lacked presence. Yet she had a surprising amount of courage; during the dragon's approach, she hadn't burst into tears, which might have been due to being too stunned to react.

At this moment, the young girl was still tightly gripping her frying pan, looking a bit nervous as she stood still. When she noticed Gawain's gaze, she shrank back slightly.

"Betty, Hetty, Rebecca, you three stay here. Byron, you'll stay behind as a guard…" Gawain announced. "The rest of you come with me to hunt. Including you, Amber."

Betty had no combat skills, and while Hetty and Rebecca were mages, they weren't suited for chasing beasts in the woods. Moreover, they were both exhausted from the earlier battle in the castle and hadn't had a chance to meditate and recover, which was critical for mages who needed a good mental state to wield their powers effectively.

So it was better for them to stay behind to guard the camp, ensuring that they would have more combat strength for the journey ahead.

The three loyal family warriors had no objections to these arrangements, but Amber widened her eyes. "Why do I have to go? I'm tired too!"

Gawain shot her a glare. "Touch your ears; you have at least half-elf blood in you. Would it be right to say you're a descendant of tree-dwellers if you don't accompany me to hunt in the forest?"

Amber pouted, filled with resentment. "That's racial prejudice! Who told you elves always have to hunt in the woods? I'm learning stealth, not forest patrolling…"

"You dug up my grave."

Amber: "Alright, fine…"

Gawain led three soldiers and the half-elf who claimed she couldn't hunt into the forest while leaving the loyal Knight Byron and the three ladies to guard the temporary camp.

After using what little magic was left to set up some warning runes, Hetty wearily sat down on a rock. Meanwhile, Rebecca took Betty to circle the area within Byron's watch. She returned, hugging a small bundle of dry branches she had found nearby.

After piling the sticks on the ground, Rebecca stepped back a few paces, raised her staff, and chanted the most basic fire-starting spell. An unstable fireball began to coalesce in the air.

Hetty intervened before the fireball exploded. "Let me do it."

Using a more stable fire spell to ignite the campfire, the chill accumulated from the underground tunnel and the early morning breeze gradually dissipated from their bodies. Hetty sighed, looking somewhat helplessly at Rebecca. "When will you learn magic beyond just the fireball spell?"

"I'm sorry, Aunt Hetty," Rebecca replied, lowering her head in shame.

"Don't show such a defeated demeanor so easily. Even when apologizing, don't bow your head like that…" Hetty rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "You're already the heir to the title, you know? Your performance today… to be honest, I'm afraid the ancestor would be very disappointed, even if he didn't show it."

Rebecca's face paled. "Then… what should I do?"

Hetty paused for a moment, then sighed. "Well, what can we do? Look at the state of the family now; I'm afraid there isn't a single descendant of the Cecil family who could make the ancestor proud. Our current appearance is far from the family's former glory."

Rebecca bit her lip hard. For someone who had grown up following the typical trajectory of a noble child, the series of events she had recently experienced were all vastly beyond her understanding. No teacher had prepared her for how to face these challenges, whether it was the magical tide and the monster attacks or the fact that her ancestor had risen from the coffin; all of it left the young countess feeling at a loss.

After a moment of silence, Rebecca finally mustered her courage. "Aunt, do you think the ancestor… really has come back to life?"

Hetty gazed into Rebecca's eyes, easily guessing what was on her mind. 

"Are you questioning the ancestor or the resurrection itself?"

"I know I shouldn't doubt it, but this matter… is really hard to believe."

"I feel the same way, but the facts are before us…" Hetty shook her head. "Do you remember the first lesson every apprentice mage has to learn? It isn't about theoretical knowledge or magical formulas, but rather a saying: Reality may often contradict common sense, but reality is always reality. 

This saying holds true even in areas beyond magic."

Seeing Rebecca lost in thought, Hetty added softly, "No matter what the reason is for the ancestor's awakening, the fact remains that the ancestor of the Cecil family has come back to life…"

Betty glanced at her two mistresses, finding she couldn't understand their conversation at all. So she lowered her head and continued to daze with her treasured frying pan.

Before long, Gawain returned from the hunt with three soldiers and Amber in tow. The haul wasn't abundant but was still satisfactory; they brought back three rabbits and two large birds with colorful feathers, along with a heap of various wild fruits—enough to fill their stomachs.

Watching Amber deftly and skillfully process the game, Gawain couldn't help but scoff. "You said you can't hunt? Your skills are as good as a gray elf from the Mosswood Forest."

The Mosswood Forest, located along the border between the Kingdom of Ansu and the Oglore Tribal Nation to the west, was a vast woodland inhabited by gray elves, a subspecies of elves regarded as the best hunters in the world. In terms of pursuing prey in dense woods, they even surpassed the woodland elves.

Realizing that he genuinely needed to catch up on the common knowledge of this world, Gawain had taken the time to delve into the knowledge stored in his mind, including this information, and was now applying it.

Trying to pretend to be a bona fide local. jpg.

Amber, while cleaning the innards of the colorful bird, responded without looking up, "You really are a great hero from seven hundred years ago. This joke about gray elves must be hundreds of years old. Did you know that the gray elves are now focused on importing and exporting herbs instead of hunting?"

Gawain: "..."

Amber continued her work, skillfully threading the cleaned game onto a long stick and propping it up beside the campfire. She glanced at Gawain. "I'm telling you, I genuinely can't hunt. Even though I have half-elf blood, I've been living in human society since I can remember. An old thief raised me…"

"Then how come you have these skills…?"

"While I can't hunt, I can steal chickens!" Amber exclaimed, grinning like a child who had just dug up a grave and was still able to joke about it with the owner. "I learned those skills back then."

Gawain: "..."

Hearing Amber's words, Hetty frowned slightly. "That's rather crude."

Amber wiggled her finger. "Yes, yes, I'm crude. What can I do? I'm a thief after all. I can only occasionally pick a few coins from passersby, unlike you nobles who can openly take money from your vassals."

Before Amber could finish, Byron's sword unsheathed with a sharp sound, resting against her neck. 

Cold sweat instantly appeared on the half-elf.

Gawain waved his hand, motioning for Byron to put the sword away. Then, curiously, he looked at Amber. "I'm just wondering, regardless of anything else, how have you managed to stay alive until today with that mouth of yours?"

Before Amber could respond, Gawain mimicked her tone, shaking his head. "A first-rate escape artist, huh?"

Amber: "…"

"Alright, let's put aside any class conflict for now; we're all in the same boat…" Gawain sighed and picked a fruit from nearby, bringing it to his mouth. "Everyone, replenish your energy. The mages should meditate and recover their magic as quickly as possible. We must set off before noon. We've spent an entire night underground and can't waste the daylight ahead."

"Betty, you can put that aside for now…" Rebecca glanced at her little maid, kindly reminding her, "It's not needed right now."

Betty looked at her mistress, then at the frying pan in her hands, seeming to hesitate.

Gawain, curious, asked, "Why do you always carry that pan?"

Betty appeared somewhat intimidated by Gawain, shrinking back and tightly gripping the handle of the pan. "Mrs. Hansen told me I'm responsible for frying sausages and toasting bread… with this frying pan."

"Mrs. Hansen was in charge of the kitchen in the castle…" Hetty quietly explained to Gawain. "But she has already passed away."

Gawain sighed, looking at the freckled face of the little girl. 

"This frying pan is yours; it will always be yours from now on…" he said. "For now, you can set it aside and come over to eat."