kscans

CHAPTER 8 PATARAPOZA – Episode 2 The Imposter (Part 1)

1

Bard was about to set off on a journey, taking only Karz as his attendant, when Jurchaga threw a tantrum, insisting on coming along. Just as Bard was wondering what to do, Doriatessa literally grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck and gave him a good talking-to. The commoner lord’s ability to mediate disputes was indispensable at the moment, what with Fyuzarion’s population having surpassed twelve thousand and still growing by the day.

“Please take Seto with you instead,” Doriatessa requested. Seto was around nineteen years old now, a pleasant young man, skilled in negotiation and already a great help to Doriatessa.

“That is precisely why I ask. Seto is one of those who will one day carry the weight of Fyuzarion on his shoulders. I want him to see the wide world while he still can. Who knows how many more opportunities there will be for you to travel like this, Bard. I would accompany you myself if I could. Please, take Seto with you.”

Bard couldn’t refuse such an earnest plea. Thus, this journey would be undertaken by Bard, Karz, and Seto. Karz was clad in new leather armor crafted by Nitei, the leatherworker. Bard, on the other hand, was dressed in the comfortable, casual garb of a traveler. He had passed on his old demonic beast leather armor, which he had worn for fourteen years, to Quinta after having it repaired. Of course, he still carried his ancient sword and Yana’s bracelet. These days, even that leather armor felt a little heavy for Bard. Seto wore typical traveler’s attire, with leather armor strategically placed at key points.

Carla saw them off with a look of longing. Bard desperately wanted to take her along, but since the deaths of old man Pinen and Zariya the apothecary, her burden had increased dramatically. It was also partly because, somewhere along the way, Carla had begun to use her skills without reservation.

They took the western route. In other words, they followed the roads that had been maintained. At their first campsite, Bard realized how much he had weakened. Sleeping on the ground was painful. His body ached. This was terrible. Bard’s body had become accustomed to soft beds. With no other choice, he cut some grass and spread it out to sleep on. But then the smell of the grass bothered him. He tried to ignore it and sleep, but couldn’t fall asleep. When he finally dozed off, the cold morning breeze woke him up. His joints was stiff and aching. Bard sighed in despair.

Seto was not used to camping either, and he had struggled with the preparations, but once night fell, he slept soundly. Bard envied his carefree nature and youth. However, one couldn’t travel if they slept through the night, oblivious to their surroundings. Karz understood this and occasionally kicked Seto awake. Even in sleep, Karz would wake at the slightest disturbance, so there was no need for a night watch. This was simply a matter of training.

After about a week, Bard’s body adjusted somewhat, but he still felt the strain. He decided to keep to the more populated paths for this journey.

On a night of restless sleep, Bard heard that voice again.

“Bard Rowen…Bard Rowen…”

Bard and his companions were currently in the independent territory of Cocochi, within the dominion of the great lord of Yadobalgi. It was a small town, but for some reason, it was home to a number of skilled leatherworkers. It seemed they sold their wares to neighboring towns and were quite prosperous. There was an inn called the Gantz, so they took lodging there. It was there that Bard sighed for a second time. The food was dreadful. Having been accustomed to Kamler’s cooking, Bard found the inn’s fare unbearable. Strangely, it hadn’t bothered him while camping, but in an establishment like this, it was intolerable. Eyeing the bland soup and overcooked meat with a look of resentment, Bard reminisced about Kamler’s exquisite meals.

“Damn Kamler. Damn that man.”

As he drowned his sorrows in ale, Seto gazed at him intently.

“This food is truly awful, isn’t it?” he remarked, as if reading Bard’s mind.

Bard simply grunted and gulped down his ale.

“Even the divine grace of the god Patarapoza’s food virtues can sometimes be missed.”

Bard nearly missed Seto’s words, but something tugged at his mind. He glared at the young man.

“What? You say Lord Bard’s patron deity is Patarapoza? That his oath of allegiance is to the people? And that the virtue he upholds is that of food?”

Bard spat out the ale he’d been about to swallow. Why? Why would this young man know something he had kept secret for so long? That the virtue Bard had pledged upon his knighting oath was that of food? When pressed, Seto readily confessed. He had heard it from the knight, Natz Cajnel.

Sir Natz Cajnel was a knight of House Argolide, and one of Chantillion’s close associates. Bard had borrowed his services from Chantillion during the demonic beast invasion at Lordvan Castle, and Natz had performed admirably as his adjutant. After the dragonoids’ attack on Parzam’s palace, he had come to Fyuzarion as part of the immigrants group escort. Since then, he had spent a considerable amount of time in the frontier, even accompanying them on the expedition to the Wind Hole. Bard had known that Natz had been asking Jurchaga, Doriatessa, and the children about his exploits. But how on earth did Natz know about that?

“It was Cedermont, sir. Sir Cedermont, back in the royal capital. Natz learned a great deal about your past from him. In exchange for telling us about Goliosa and Geriadra, the fire, and the founding of the village, he shared that as his own little secret.”

Cedermont! Bard had forgotten he was in the capital. Cedermont had been Bard’s direct disciple, and knew him well. And since Cedermont was particularly close to his own masters, the Tercia family, it was conceivable that they might have discussed it. But that wasn’t the point. That wasn’t what bothered Bard.

Bard had indeed declared that the virtue of food would be his own, and that he would fulfill his knightly oath. However, he had always meant it in the sense that he would never waste food and savor every bite. Never did he mean that he would magically stumble upon delicious food wherever he went. But his peers and seniors had teased him mercilessly about it, calling him “The Gluttonous Knight”. Bard loathed being ridiculed. Eventually, he became known for fiercely silencing anyone who dared mention that the virtue he had sworn to uphold upon his knighting was that of food. As a result, over time, everyone stopped talking about it. Decades had passed. Those who knew were dead. Bard had thought it was a secret buried with them.

Cedermont knew. He had never told him to keep it a secret. It had never occurred to him that he needed to. That was his mistake. And Cedermont had gone and told Natz Cajnel about it. What if Chantillion’s biography of Bard, which was apparently being published in revisions, mentioned it in the latest volume? Oh, what a blunder!

2

The far end of the common room grew lively. Someone was telling a story. Bard stiffened when he thought he heard the name “Bard” in the narration.

“Alright, everyone. What do you think Lord Bard Rowen did then? This is what he said. ‘My enchanted sword, Stavros, and I will make short work of those bandits!’ Then, for seven days, the old knight stayed in the village of Mime, searching the mountains and fields. Those bandits were so terrified of Lord Bard that they fled like the wind. For fourteen years since, not a single bandit has dared to show their face in Mime! Astonishing, isn’t it?”

Gasps of amazement rippled through the audience.

“See? The old knight’s valor is remarkable! But here’s what I think. I reckon in those seven days he spent searching the wilds, he didn’t actually fail to find those bandits. No, sir. I bet he hunted down dozens of them, maybe even more, and kept his triumphs to himself! That’s just the kind of man he is!”

“That’s right!” the crowd roared in agreement.

“That’s gotta be it!”

“Well, seeing as the man himself never said a word, no one knows for sure. But one thing’s for certain, after bringing peace to Mime, Lord Bard refused any reward and rode off into the sunset. With his two companions by his side.”

“Incredible!”

“Amazing!” came the cries of the awestruck audience.

Bard felt a chill run down his spine and broke out in a cold sweat. He remembered that village. He had stayed there with Godon. Godon had accepted the bandit-extermination job, and Bard had accompanied him. The storyteller’s account, though inaccurate on certain details, was largely true. But the village of Mime was located far to the south, in the great lord of Egzera’s territory. No one around here should even have heard of it. How could someone in this place, after all this time, know about it?

“Now, now, everyone, settle down. Don’t be so surprised. Because tonight, in this very establishment, we have Lord Bard Rowen himself!”

“Oh no,” Bard thought. He’s going to point me out. I can’t be exposed like this in a place like this.

“C’mon, where’s the old fellow? Let’s have a look at the hero of the frontier, Lord Bard Rowen!”

Bard closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable applause and attention. But then, Seto tugged at his arm. Bard opened his eyes and followed Seto’s gaze. He was pointing to the back of the common room. Looking over, he saw another man standing in the center of the commotion, basking in the adulation of the crowd.

“Ah, you’ve got me there. Trying to travel incognito, you see. Hahaha!” the man boomed, grinning.

“Well then, how about we let the poor fellow be?”

The imposter, who couldn’t have been much older than fifty, cut an imposing figure. He wore leather armor adorned with an excessive amount of shiny metal studs. They were cheap, gaudy things, quite obviously offering little in the way of real protection, but they might have passed for impressive armor to the untrained eye. His hair and beard were streaked with white, but he certainly hadn’t been old enough to be called an “old knight” fourteen years ago. Not that anyone here was in any position to point that out.

He was probably a knight, though. His build, bearing, and the aura he projected all suggested it. He even carried a sword. Probably a wandering knight.

“Unbelievable! I can’t believe I met Lord Bard Rowen. My wife won’t believe this!”

“Lord Bard, please, accept this drink!”

“Hey, innkeeper! Bring Lord Bard Rowen the finest meal you have!”

The imposter was a hit, thoroughly enjoying the attention. The storyteller who had introduced Bard’s exploits had also cleverly positioned himself as the imposter’s companion for the night. And so, he continued to regale the crowd with tales of Bard’s valor. While there were exaggerations and outright fabrications, about sixty percent of what he said was rooted in truth. What on earth was going on?

The impromptu banquet, which had begun early in the evening, continued well into the night. Bard, at first terrified to hear what would be said, listened intently. Eventually, however, the conversation became repetitive, and he retired to his room upstairs. Karz went with him. Seto stayed downstairs.

3

“Bard Rowen…Bard Rowen…”

Seto shook him awake. To think that he would sleep so soundly that he wouldn’t notice someone approaching. How careless could he be? But then again, this was what it meant to grow old. Still, it was awfully early. What was it now?

“An official claiming to be a representative of the lord came last night, sir. He invited the imposter posing as you to the lord’s manor.”

A sudden invitation at such a late hour was odd.

“There’s a rumor going around that the lord was murdered last night. And that the culprit is…Lord Bard Rowen. Apparently, the acting lord has summoned the lord of a neighboring territory and is planning to hold a public trial.”

Public trials were typically held for significant cases, to inform the populace of the justice being served and to secure their understanding of the authorities’ actions. They were usually quite theatrical, intended to convince the people of the rulers’ decisions. They were also a way to appease the masses by publicly and gruesomely punishing particularly heinous criminals. They had a certain…entertaining aspect to them. But calling in the lord of a neighboring territory for something like this…it didn’t make sense. There was something more to this, Bard sensed.

“And Seto,” he began, “how is it you were able to gather this much information so early in the morning?”

So far, the information was rather basic. Bard instructed Seto to continue investigating, paying particular attention to who might benefit from the lord’s death and if anyone was acting unusually powerful or strangely celebratory as of late. Bard planned to stay in town until this was sorted out. Seto nodded and left the room. Bard went back to sleep.

After a late breakfast and some tea, Seto returned to Bard’s room.

“It seems the acting lord is the one who called for the public trial, sir. He is the younger brother of the lord’s wife. The late lord patroned his knighthood and appointed him as his deputy. The lord’s wife passed away some time ago. The lord has a son, still quite young, who is currently in Krausk for his knight training. Rumor has it he’ll return next year to assume his father’s position.”

That was the extent of the information for now. Bard sent Seto off to investigate further and settled in for an afternoon nap.

That evening at the Gantz, the lord’s murder was the main topic of conversation.

“I heard Bard killed the lord,” someone whispered.

“They say the lord had imposed some really harsh new taxes lately. I bet that’s what did it. I heard the old knight tried to reason with him, you know, asked him to lower the taxes.”

“Yeah, yeah, and then the lord lost his temper, attacked Bard, and got what was coming to him. Sounds about right.”

As the patrons of the inn chattered away, their imaginations running wild, a lone figure sat slumped over in a corner booth. It was the storyteller who had been sharing Bard’s exploits. Bard, tankard in hand, took a seat across from him.

“Cheer up, friend,” he said. “Have a drink.”

“Wh-what should I do?” the storyteller stammered, his voice trembling.

“One thing at a time. Now drink.”

The man accepted the ale offered by Bard. He must have been beside himself with worry. After a few more drinks, he passed out.

“Well that’s no good,” Bard mumbled. “I can’t very well question him like this. Listen to me, you! You’re to meet me here tomorrow at the same time! Understood?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Seto returned late at night and made his report. Originally, the town had been prosperous, with the authorities governing fairly and providing a comfortable life. However, taxes had increased a few years prior, and recently began to be levied unexpectedly as if on a whim. Consequently, the lord’s reputation had taken a turn for the worse. However, Seto had learned that taxes began increasing only after the lord’s steward had assumed actual control. The public trial was to be held three days later in the plaza in front of the lord’s manor.

4

The first day yielded little in the way of results. Bard drank with the man who had boasted of his exploits and learned the details of the situation. The man had met the imposter Bard in Linz three years prior. Both men held a deep admiration for the legendary Lord Bard Rowen and had hit it off. He had heard many anecdotes about Lord Rowen in Linz, but was told that he could hear even more detailed stories if he went to Mageia. Drawn by their curiosity, the two traveled all the way to Mageia. When they mentioned Bard Rowen’s name to a villager who gave them lodging, the man became unusually talkative and told them the tale of the “Banquet of Traveling Words.” Somehow, the story of these two men who had come all this way to hear about Bard reached the lord of Mageia. They were summoned and listened to Lord Godon Zarkos recount Bard’s legend, and were even given lodging for two nights. The lord was so taken with them that he even gave them spending money when they left, proving just how much of a Bard aficionado the lord of Mageia was. The encounter made the two men even bigger admirers of Bard. Working odd jobs for income, they followed the path Godon described Bard as having taken, hearing vivid accounts of Bard’s heroism from those who had witnessed it firsthand.

One day, while staying at an inn in Gantz, they were overcome by drink and began recounting tales of Bard to the other patrons. The tavern erupted in excitement, for many there had heard whispers of the great Bard Rowen. Not only were the two treated to drinks and a meal, but they even received contributions from those gathered, as if they were storytellers by trade.

That gave them an idea. They continued their travels, but began regaling the locals with Bard’s tales at each place they stopped. Somewhere along the way, the larger of the two began playing the role of Bard while recounting his exploits, mimicking his words and gestures. He wasn’t trying to pass himself off as the legendary knight. He was simply playing a part. That said, he did find it gratifying when people would cheer and shout, “Go get ’em, Lord Bard!”

Their travels eventually took them to Tuorim, the town where three children, having lost their parents, overcame great hardship to avenge themselves upon the cruel former lord. At first, many doubted their tales of Bard’s involvement with the three children. The truth was that the last words of the youngest sister remained a mystery to the townspeople. “Thank you for the raisins. They were delicious.” The three had been hated as if they were wild animals, so no one would have given them raisins. For over a decade, the mystery of who gave them those raisins had been a topic of much discussion.

And then these two travelers arrived with their story. They claimed that the raisins had come from the Zarkos family of Mageia, a land famous for its raisins. Not only that, but they also claimed that Godon Zarkos himself, the lord of Mageia, had witnessed the event with his own eyes and that they had heard it directly from Godon. Come to think of it, the merchant who had met the three siblings on the last night of their lives testified that he had seen two warriors who might have been the travelers when he left them.

Could it really be true? Had the one who gave those raisins to those three children been none other than the legendary knight of the frontier, Lord Bard Rowen? And he had not only given them raisins, but also shared his wine and a variety of dishes. How kind he must have been! The people were moved to tears. From that day forward, they declared, whenever they paid their respects at the grave of the three siblings, they would also offer prayers to The Old Knight of The Frontier District.

It had gone well up to that point. In the town of Krausk, the large man added ornaments to his armor to enhance his performance. There, too, tales of Lord Rowen’s adventures were well-received.

And then they came to the dominion of the grand lord of Yadobalgi. As if by unspoken agreement, they both had the same thought. If simply playing the part of Bard brought such joy, then imagine the elation if they were to claim that he was here in the flesh. Thus, they presented themselves as Bard Rowen, only to be summoned to the lord’s manor and accused of murdering the lord.

“It’s my own fault. I never should’ve pretended to be someone I’m not,” the man lamented, his shoulders slumped.

Bard told him, “Indeed, you would have been better off had you never pretended to be me.”

Four or five years ago, he would have severely rebuked the very act of wandering about spreading tales of his exploits, demanding that they stop at once. But as his physical condition had changed, so too had his state of mind.

‘I myself can no longer bring myself to help people in the way I once did. Life on the frontier is harsh. But if people can find comfort in my tales, then so be it.’ That was the conclusion he had come to.

“Bard Rowen, Bard Rowen…”

5

On the second day, a great deal of information came to light. First, it was the town’s apothecary who had confirmed the lord’s death, and he had secretly revealed that the size of the sword Lord Rowen carried did not match the fatal wound. Next, there was a young woman who worked as a maid at the manor and who had been attending to the steward on the night in question. She had missed work without notice since the following day. Bard ordered Seto to go and visit both the apothecary and the maid. The information they obtained was more than sufficient to deduce the truth of the incident. Bard then instructed Karz to set things in motion. That night, Bard said to the storyteller, “How would you like to tell the story of a lifetime?”