The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 106: Return of the Hero (2)

Chapter 106: Return of the Hero (2)

“Come on, clap your hands! You too, clap your hands! Like this!”

“Every night, we clap our hands toward Vikir’s statue.”

“The reason we survived that day in the mountains was because he stopped the monster!”

“Ah, this guy. Young people have no energy! Louder! Clap, clap!”

The guards of Red Castle’s central square clap their hands twelve times at midnight every day in front of Vikir’s statue.

It’s to the point that passersby in the vicinity can tell the time by the sound of the guards’ applause, or so they say.

Vikir looked at the faces of the guards who were forcing him to clap.

Two years ago. The faces during the flood with enemies and the black mountain. Faces fleeing from Madame Eight-Legs.

Some of them even looked like the soldiers he saw that day.

The chubby guard who ordered milk for Vikir chuckled and said, “Anyway, if you don’t know Vikir’s name in this region, you’re a spy. Of course, the rumor that it spread to the Imperial Capital is a bit exaggerated. Still, it’s true that the rumor is widespread. If you were so thankful, would Morg have given that much gold in recognition of his achievements?”

It’s even more absurd that every year, political figures and nobles from nearby cities come to the giant golden statue in front of the fortress to pay their respects and hold ceremonies.

Vikir let out a deep sigh, his hood pulled even further down.

Certainly, he had played a part during the flood two years ago, but… most of his accomplishments had been greatly exaggerated.

Single-handedly killing thousands of natives and rescuing the united forces of Morg and Baskerville, not to mention Morg’s frail(?) Golden Leaf.

In reality, the majority of the achievements that night were undoubtedly due to Adolf Morg.

Vikir had simply expedited the situation, allowing for a nighttime pursuit, that’s all.

‘…Well, in the end, I did face Madam alone.’

Vikir sipped his milk and reminisced about the past.

Anyway, that night, Morg’s Adolf and the united forces of Morg and Baskerville had achieved everything, wrapped up as Vikir’s sole accomplishment.

As Vikir pondered how to make sense of this situation, the tavern’s door suddenly creaked open.

The sound of boiling fish stew, the scent of skewers cooking in salt, the bubbling of pig oil, and the heat emanating from it all dissipated in an instant.

A cool night breeze swept away the stuffy air of the tavern.

The ones who brought in the night breeze were three women in long robes.

With thick eyebrows, eyes that slanted like a cat’s, and beautiful appearances, the three women appeared to be triplets.

The guard soldiers who saw them were momentarily stunned by their beautiful figures but managed not to make any mistakes.

That’s because the personalities of these three sisters were truly terrifying.

“What entertaining stories were you sharing?”

“Obviously, we were talking about Vikir. It’s midnight, after all. We were probably clapping too.”

“Talking about Vikir’s deeds?”

When the three sisters asked, the guard soldiers answered enthusiastically.

“Yes! That’s right!”

In response, the eldest sister, Highsis, came forward and took a cold beer glass in front of her, laughing.

“Hoho, that’s only natural. His achievements are extraordinary. In truth, even I still feel excited when I think about the emotions I felt when I first met him and his achievements.”

At Highsis’s words, the eyes of the new guard soldiers sparkled.

“Has the 1st Commander met him in person?”

“Of course.”

Highsis and the other two sisters squinted their eyes and smiled.

“When I first saw him, I thought he was just a handsome young man. But during our time together in the fortress, I came to know him better. He’s endlessly kind and exudes charisma.”

As Vikir listened to this, he couldn’t help but smirk in disbelief.

The first meeting with them hadn’t been particularly pleasant in Vikir’s memory. However, for some reason, the Highsis, Middlesis, and Lowsis sisters seemed to cherish their memories with Vikir as something truly beautiful.

“He was really amazing. Honestly, I was busy spying on him all the time while living in the fortress.”

“We only bumped into each other a few times in the cafeteria.”

“Still, we saw each other for quite a while at the cotton field boundary. Even though we couldn’t have a long conversation due to the interference of those three dogs from Baskerville. If I knew this would happen, I would have talked to him longer back then.”

The sisters began to chat while the guard soldiers listened.

During this time, Vikir was eavesdropping, hoping to gather some information about the current situation in Morg and Baskerville. The sisters’ chatter was still quite revealing.

Two years ago, after Vikir was declared missing or dead, there had been some surprising changes. Surprisingly, Hugo Le Baskerville had visited Morg several times in a rage.

Moreover, Morg had provided Baskerville with significant diplomatic compensation. However, Hugo Le Baskerville had not vented his anger, which was unexpected.

Lastly, Camus Morg had led a search party and scoured the Red and black mountain just a few weeks ago.

Vikir calmly accepted all this information. Well, Hugo’s anger about his disappearance was likely because he had lost a valuable hunting dog. And the fact that he still hadn’t vented his anger probably meant he found Morg’s compensation lacking.

The only thing that genuinely surprised Vikir was that Camus had not forgotten him even now, two years later.

Just a few weeks ago, Camus had led a search party, persistently looking for him in the Mountains. According to rumors, she had recently disappeared, seemingly hiding deep within her clan for secluded training. Well, anyway.

The sisters chatted about Vikir’s story, subtly bragging about their own experiences and connections to the guard soldiers.

“By the way, that golden statue over there couldn’t capture Vikir’s true beauty. Ah, what a shame. If he were alive, I would have made quite the pair with him by now.”

“Who’s making a pair with whom? You’re funny; if he were alive, I would have snatched him up for sure.”

“Don’t fight, sisters. We would’ve met him together. What man would reject all three of us?”

But soon, all three sisters fell silent.

“Sigh, what’s the point of fighting like this? He’s already gone.”

A melancholic atmosphere settled in the tavern.

Around that time, Vikir got up and headed upstairs.

He wanted to go to his room and lie down. Listening to his own story becoming increasingly heated was tiring.

Then, unfortunately, as he was turning his gaze away, Highsis noticed Vikir’s hood.

“Hey, you! Your attire is suspicious. Come here!”

Maybe she wanted to cause trouble, but Highsis immediately exercised her authority as the fortress commander to order a search and body check.

Vikir briefly paused his steps as he climbed the stairs. Removing his hood here would probably lead to an atmosphere he couldn’t bear.

He briefly considered pretending not to hear and continuing up the stairs, but that would only further provoke Highsis’s dirty nature.

“Hey! Stand still! Can’t you hear me!?”

Then, a guard who was nearby spoke hesitantly.

“Commander. I gave the little guy milk just now… He doesn’t seem suspicious.”

“It’s noisy! What’s wrong at a time like this? Even the natives outside are strangely quiet. We need to be even more vigilant!”

Highsis got up from her seat. She reached out her hand toward Vikir, and a strong mana flow swirled around him.

“Binding!”

Highsis’s signature grass magic caused the wooden railing of the stairs to creak, and long vines began to grow, attempting to entwine Vikir.

However…

Swoosh-

Vikir easily dodged the vines and avoided being entangled. This unexpected move left Highsis, as well as Middlesis and Lowsis, who were watching with curious expressions, astonished. The nearby guard soldiers were also so surprised that they almost sprayed out the drinks they were sipping.

It was no small feat to evade the magical bindings of Morg’s Three Flowers, who had reached Rank 3 in magic.

“…This is unexpected.”

Vikir had a hunch that things were taking an annoying turn. He considered slipping away to hide but realized that Morg’s Three Flowers were not to be underestimated.

Highsis, Middlesis, and Lowsis quickly stood up and channeled their magic. The guard soldiers who had been laughing and talking moments ago also drew their weapons, including swords, bows, and staffs, and encircled Vikir with sharp intent.

At the behest of Highsis’s authority, Vikir, with a sigh, slowly raised both of his hands and began to pull back his hood.

…As Vikir’s hood was removed, revealing his face.

“Oh my.”

“Oh my oh my.”

“Oh my oh my oh my.”

The Three Sisters of Morgga, Highsis, Midelsis, and Lowsis, collectively exclaimed in awe. It wasn’t a reaction to recognizing a familiar face but simply their reaction to Vikir’s appearance itself.

And then, one by one, those who realized that Vikir’s face resembled someone else began to appear.

Some of the guard soldiers turned their heads slowly to look at the golden statue outside the window.

“…?”

And then, they turned their heads back to look at Vikir, who stood on the staircase.

…!

And then, they stiffened.

The shock spread throughout the guard, and everyone in the tavern, and even reached Morg’s Three Flowers: Highsis, Midelsis, Lowsis, and Camu.

Finally, everyone who recognized Vikir’s face stood there with their mouths agape, their index fingers pointing at him, trembling.

“Vi, Vi, Vi, Vi, Vi…”

Vikir van Baskerville, the missing hunting dog of the Baskerville Clan, the hero of the Red Castle, had returned.