30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?!-Chapter 284: What Justifies a Knight’s Battle? (7)

The old knight, who had been calm and kind throughout, suddenly spoke with a stern tone.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding, so I’ll clarify: our knight order has never practiced necromancy.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I’ll say it again—we do not practice necromancy. And certainly not black magic!”

“Yes, yes....”

“That armor is made using only alchemy and medical techniques. Although the material is made from monster bones and muscles, it’s been purified through holy water. By the way, the power that moves the armor comes from the spirits we’ve subdued. For the ghost horses, think of it as a contract with the spirit of an animal still attached to this world. So I’d appreciate it if you would not misunderstand.”

“I thought you kept saying there were no misunderstandings...”

“Hmm, did I? I see...”

“...Did you have a lot of misunderstandings?”

“...Yes. A lot... many, in fact...”

“....”

The old knight’s murmurs revealed a deep sorrow, filled with years of injustices.

It seemed he had often been mistaken for a necromancer, or someone practicing black magic, like an evil sorcerer.

Well...

‘It’s not an unfair assumption, given the appearance.’

Subtly, Ihan glanced at the enthusiastic White Ghost Knights in the distance.

Though it was armor, it had the unmistakable feel of cursed, living ghost armor. Made of various animal bones, the ghost horses had blue flames swirling around their feet and tails.

Where in the world would that look like a knight order?

‘A cursed knight order or a death knight order would be more fitting names.’

But one thing was clear: while it might look menacing, the aura they gave off was as pure as could be.

There was none of the discomfort or disgust that typically came with sorcerers, nor the foul smell of necromancers.

It was just the familiar smell of metal and sweat—just like any other knight.

So, it wasn’t really...

‘They were just ahead of their time.’

About 100 years ahead, maybe?

If subculture and cosplay culture ever took off in the future, maybe it would be somewhat acceptable then.

“Maybe I should start drawing comic books when I retire.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s something like that. But more importantly, why aren’t you wearing that armor? You said you were part of the same knight order, right?”

Ihan had heard that this man was the deputy commander, but seeing him alone in thick plate armor, he felt like he was looking at a black swan among white swans. It seemed odd.

Curious, Ihan asked, “Is there a reason?”

“I cannot accept help from such a contraption!”

“...Ah.”

That was quite the response, and Ihan gave up on understanding this man for good.

...How could one understand a man who seemed to have been stuck in the past for a century—or maybe several?

It made Ihan wonder just how hard it was to find any normal knights among the great noble families.

***

The awkward journey between Ihan and the White Ghost Knights ended in less than ten minutes.

It wasn’t that they had parted ways.

[The Commander has returned!!]

[Open the gates!!]

Boom!

The military camp, a vast stronghold housing Mordred’s knights, greeted # Nоvеlight # them.

Even with a quick glance, it was clear that the numbers were impressive.

From the feeling alone, there seemed to be about five hundred soldiers, fifty knights, and about eighty others who weren’t soldiers or knights.

Altogether, a force of 630 people occupied the large base, and given that they’d been stationed here for five years, it was rough but still quite substantial.

And with such a massive force...

Whoosh!

They immediately showed sharp vigilance at the presence of outsiders.

Although they didn’t show outright hostility or malice due to being with Garnok, the air was tense, orderly, and full of sharpness.

‘No weaklings here.’

The soldiers were elite, and the knights were no less impressive—top-tier warriors in their own right. Even the non-soldiers, who seemed like servants, weren’t weak either. They just didn’t have armor or weapons.

‘This is the real deal.’

The forces Ihan had dismantled in Wales just a week ago, the lesser noble families and their troops, would have barely been average on a test, but these people seemed like the top scorers on the national mock exams.

Ihan thought that if these people had been out there, the Game of Thrones in Wales would have lasted not a week, but seven years.

“Wait here for a moment. I’ll go meet my son—cough, I mean, the lord, and then I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time. We’ll stay here quietly.”

“You can relax, though.”

“I’d like to live, thank you.”

“Heh, you're acting like you’re dying.”

“...?”

“That was a joke.”

Tap.

Garnok gave Ihan a playful tap on the shoulder as he walked off, and Ihan tilted his head.

He didn’t remember making a joke, though?

Before he could think more about it, Garnok had already left for his business.

‘Wait, is it really fine for him to just leave like that?’

Thinking about it, Ihan realized he hadn’t said anything with any clear purpose.

He had just nodded and agreed, and that was that. In the end, he hadn’t really said anything himself.

So what did this mean?

‘Does that mean these guys don’t know anything?’

Ihan looked around subtly.

[----.]

It was eerily quiet.

Had it always been this quiet?

I don’t think so—his instincts could tell that much.

It was the result of the tension and vigilance, and Ihan wondered what would happen if he were left alone like this.

So...

Thud.

“Say something, would you?”

“Hm?”

“Everyone’s on edge.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Oh, that’s what you meant. Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing but weaklings around here. The strong ones are meant to stay alone.”

“Stop with the nonsense.”

“?”

“Forget it. I’m sorry. I should’ve chosen a better person to talk to.”

Ihan, feeling like he’d picked the wrong person to talk to, turned to one of the knights who had been with him earlier.

“Did you also get my information through spiritual sight?”

“...The spiritual sight we have is weak compared to Mordred’s bloodline. We can see spirits, but we can’t hear their voices or converse with them.”

“Aren’t you all part of Mordred’s bloodline?”

“Besides the lord, the commander, the deputy commander, and the nine young masters, no one else here is of Mordred’s bloodline. We are merely those who’ve gained spiritual abilities, either naturally or through training.”

“.......”

“By the way, those who have the spirit medium physique tend to live unfortunate lives. Evil spirits tend to attach to them, or those around them often suffer accidents. Mordred, however, takes care of such people. Take me, for instance—I was an orphan, but the commander took me in and made me a knight. Because of that, Mordred’s knights are usually very loyal, so you needn’t worry about anyone here trying to harm you, even if they’re a guest of the commander.”

“...Thanks for the detailed answer.”

“You’re welcome.”

It was probably information he didn’t really need to know, but it wasn’t bad to have.

So...

“By the way, what’s your name?”

“?”

“Your name... Oh, is it a secret?”

Ihan decided to give a ‘gift’ in return first.

“Oh, no, Sir Santa. My name is Denny.”

“Denny... wait, is your son’s name Denny Junior? And your wife’s name is Hanna?”

“How did you—!”

“Just a coincidence. It was the first letter I received.”

Thud.

Just as Ihan set his backpack down, a loud rumble shook the ground.

It was a strange sound coming from a small bag—how could it cause such a powerful vibration? People’s eyes widened in surprise.

Swish.

“Here, your son asked me to give you this. He’s been practicing swordsmanship lately and wants to become a knight.”

“......”

“And here’s your wife’s letter and a lunch. She said you like the mashed trout sandwiches?”

“......”

“Your son says you pretend to like the sandwiches, but your wife doesn’t notice. I’ve tried them myself, and I respect it. Looks like you’re henpecked, huh?”

“......Ah.”

Denny, the knight called Denny, stared blankly at the lunchbox and the two letters Ihan handed him.

His expression was blank, almost as if he didn’t recognize reality, but then...

Swish.

He nervously took the lunchbox, opened it, and examined the sandwiches.

The bread was hard rye, with mashed trout and lots of olive oil and wine vinegar, a sandwich that looked questionable.

The smell of vinegar filled the air, and he wondered if the sandwich had gone bad, but he...

Chew, chew.

Without hesitation, he devoured the sandwich quickly, as if he were starving.

In less than a minute, all four sandwiches were gone, and he chuckled bitterly.

“...Her cooking still hasn’t improved, huh?”

“Your wife thinks she’s an amazing cook. She should’ve said something earlier about how bad it is.”

“...You’ll understand once you’re married. Sometimes, love means accepting everything, even the bad.”

“Hahaha!”

Ihan laughed heartily, and Denny, clutching the two letters tightly, embraced them as if they were priceless treasures.

[....]

The silence returned.

Where the tension had been earlier, now everyone was fixated on Denny’s letters and Ihan’s backpack, and Ihan, noticing their gaze, spoke.

“Alright, let’s go. One by one, tell me your name. And it’s first come, first served.”

[!!!]

The hope that they might have their wish fulfilled lit their faces, and they eagerly shouted their names with full force, their expressions filled with excitement!

And thus began the first page of the “Santa” culture that would spread across Wales in the future.