"Thank you. You've given me such a generous gift in return for just a few words... I'm at a loss for how to respond. Haha..."
Leben spoke with a polite tone.
"It's not that expensive a spice, so you don't need to feel awkward." Sallin replied casually.
"I just thought it'd go well with the quail or rabbit that Grishula hunts during our travels—like today—so I handed you some of the extra I've got."
"Then I'll gratefully make use of it." Leben said, his gratitude formal yet warm.
After receiving the pouch, Leben stood up from his seat and walked toward the saddlebag placed next to Leska.
"And I'd like to give this to you, Viscount." Leben said, his tone friendly but direct.
"It'd be great if it's a technique I can use in the tournament."
"It's something even better than that."
Leben assured him with a confident grin.
When Leben returned to the campfire, he was carrying a wine bottle with a long, dark neck visible through a net made of twisted fibers, its round body cradled in his hands.
"It's a renowned ice wine from Bucure." he announced proudly.
Leben sat down, removed the stopper from the bottle, and poured the wine into a wooden cup by the fire, then handed it to Sallin.
"Please try it, Viscount Orid."
He said, his voice steady and inviting.
"It's a wine made from the juice of grapes left on the vine until winter, unharvested, so they freeze and are then pressed."
"Haha. You can just call me Sallin."
Sallin replied with a light laugh, easing the formality.
"And this wine... it has an intense sweetness. To think I only now learn that Bucure produces such fine ice wine... I have another reason to thank you, Sir Leben."
Sallin savored the sweet taste of the wine lingering in his mouth and shared his appreciation with Leben, who had drawn closer to refill his empty cup.
"Compared to other wines, it's got a much stronger sweetness."
Leben explained, his tone relaxed yet knowledgeable.
"That's why it's the kind of wine only certain folks seek out. Me, I like this sweetness—it suits my taste—so when I've got the means, I buy a few bottles at a time."
"I don't usually seek out sweet foods."
Sallin admitted thoughtfully.
"But I do like this wine you've poured for me."
As soon as the cup was filled, Sallin poured its contents into his mouth and spoke again.
"I'm glad you like it, Lord Sallin."
Leben said, his voice carrying a note of relief.
"By the way... Sir Leben."
Sallin began, his tone curious yet polite.
"You mentioned you're also participating in the Grand Tournament at Ves-Dinas, right?"
"Yes, Lord Sallin."
Leben replied with a hearty chuckle.
"Like I said yesterday, even if we face each other across the tilt in the joust, I won't go easy on you. Hahaha!"
"Hmm! That's what I was hoping for, so that's fine."
Sallin said, his voice calm and approving.
"But do you know about the lance decorations made from Reich metal used in the tournament?"
"Yes. Anyone who jousts knows about it." Leben answered matter-of-factly.
The 'Reich' metal Sallin asked about, and Leben confirmed, is the name of a metal used in jousting competitions. It prevents participants from reinforcing their lances with mana during a match.
Fitted onto the lance's tip, it blunts the point to reduce lethality and disrupts mana, preventing over-enhanced lances from piercing knights' armor and shields—an accident-preventing measure.
Essential in jousting tournaments across the continent, this metal's softness limits its use to lance-tip decorations. Thus, the word "Reich" itself often refers to the tool attached to the lance's end.
"Yes, that Reich..."
Sallin continued, a touch of worry in his voice.
"I lost it in the forest today, and I've no idea where it went... It's quite a predicament. Haha... I was wondering if you know of a place in Ves-Dinas—or perhaps on the way there—where I could get a Reich."
"Ah... I see,"
Leben said, nodding.
"There's a blacksmith in Ves-Dinas I've known and dealt with for years. They handle Reich metal."
"Phew..."
Sallin exhaled, relief washing over him.
"That's a relief. Thanks to you, I can set aside some of the heavy burden of worry weighing on my mind. Hahaha."
"However..."
Leben hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"There's one problem, Lord Sallin."
"Hmm? What problem is that?"
Sallin asked, his tone sharpening with curiosity.
"Well... it's about the blacksmith's owner."
Leben began, his face creasing with unease.
"He makes helmets, armor, and even lances for jousting—sturdy stuff, all of it. But he's got one flaw... And that is... he's not skilled at the delicate craftsmanship that'd catch the eye of nobles like you, Lord Sallin."
Leben went on, frowning slightly.
"From what I've seen, nobles swap out beautifully decorated Reichs every time their lances clash in a joust..."
"Haha. I thought it was something serious." Sallin interrupted with a laugh.
"It doesn't matter to me. I've always been one to wond er why people bother with such things when a Reich gets dented and misshapen after just one clash, losing its form entirely. So, is there any other problem besides that?"
"No, there isn't." Leben replied, his tone firm again.
"When we reach Ves-Dinas, I'll guide you to that blacksmith."
"Thank you." Sallin said sincerely.
"You've helped me with so many things today, Sir Leben. I'd like to repay you further, but I'm not sure how..."
"If I could get a few more quail from your Grishula until we reach Ves-Dinas, that'd be great." Leben said with a playful grin.
"Alright!" Sallin agreed enthusiastically.
"If there are rabbits in the forest, I'll have those caught too. Did you hear that, Grishula?"
As their conversation paused, the wind blowing through the trees and bushes of the forest tossed a handful of twigs into the campfire. The flames flared larger, their red light flickering more vividly.
In the 'Ghost Spider Forest,' where an eerie cold wind swept through, the two knights' conversation continued.
They spoke of favored jousting techniques, life before knighthood, the ways of nobles, and the daily grind of a minor knight. Leben shared a tale of luck—learning swordsmanship from the kingdom's greatest knight, Gran Tould.
The night in the dark forest grew deeper.
*****
"Kraka! Kraka!"
An unpleasant sound echoed, grating on the nerves. A small goblin, clutching a rusty, toothless old sword, shrieked irritably at the others around it, its voice thick with anger.
Hearing this, a goblin with a flat nose and small, sharp fangs pulled back the string of its crude bow, aiming at the knight in splendid armor among the two human knights encircled by the goblin pack.
-Tick-
The weakly shot arrow struck the knight's armor and bounced off harmlessly.
"Kikaaak!"
Another goblin cried out. With cloudy yellow eyes and skin caked in dirt and dust, appearing grayish-brown, it charged at the knight, wielding an old hand axe.
A charge born of courage it couldn't muster alone. Believing its numerous kin would follow, it raised the axe toward the knight.
"Keeeeeek!"
The sharp tip of a sword pierced the axe-wielding goblin's neck. As the blade sliced through, the small creature's head tumbled helplessly to the ground.
"Kwaaaa!"
A cunning goblin, seeing its comrade fall and the knight's focus shift, seized the moment. Two goblins leapt at the knight's back—one with a small dagger stolen from a raided traveler, the other with an axe crafted from a blade tied to a branch.
"I apologize, Sir Leben!" Sallin shouted.
He drove his sword into the head of the dagger-wielding goblin, pinning it to the ground, and smashed the face of the axe-wielding one with his gauntlet, knocking it aside.
"If I ever travel with you again, Viscount." Leben called out, yanking his sword from a fallen goblin's body.
"I definitely won't let you be in charge of directions!"
*****
Before Sallin and Leben found themselves surrounded by goblins somewhere in the 'Ghost Spider Forest' their day had begun peacefully.
They lazily peeled off the cloth wrapped around them, rose with big yawns, sliced thin pieces of cheese to spread on hardened bread, ate, then stretched their stiff bodies—cramped from sleeping curled up all night—before setting out again.
Thus, Leben and Sallin followed the forest path.
Along the way, they met two wagons and their adventurer escorts, exchanged wishes for a peaceful journey, and continued on. After a while, Sallin suggested to Leben that they leave the path and cut through the forest for a quicker exit.
The confident look on Viscount Orid's face left no room for refusal. Thinking, 'Even if we get lost, we won't just retrace our steps.' Leben agreed, and they veered into the forest where dense bushes cast deep shadows.
Not long after, they stumbled upon a goblin horde in a secluded spot, landing them in their current plight.
Spotting goblins with backpacks and ill-fitting clothes—spoils from raided travelers and merchants—Sallin charged without hesitation. Leben followed, drawing his sword and dismounting to rush after him.
"If we let these creatures live, they'll harm others passing through!"
Sallin declared.
"We mustn't let a single one escape, Sir Leben!"
He snatched a short sword from a fallen goblin with his left hand and hurled it at one aiming a bow from afar.
"I'll do my best, Lord Sallin."
Leben replied, swiftly cutting down two goblins facing him.
With several goblins dead on the ground, the fear their numbers had suppressed began to stir among the survivors.
A goblin backing away was crushed by Leska's hind legs as Leska burst forth with a brave cry, its body flung toward a thick tree.
Another, aiming a bow from a distance, fell to Grishula, who swooped from the sky at blinding speed, striking its head. The battle against the goblin horde seemed won by Sallin and his companions, who'd stumbled into this ambush by chance.
Soon, every goblin facing Sallin and Leben lay dead, not a single one left alive.
To escape the forest before sunset, Leben, risking rudeness, told Sallin he'd lead the way.
The sun dipped low, darkness closing in. Familiar with the forest from past travels, Leben pushed through the bushes with Leska at the fore. Twice, Sallin piped up—'Isn't this the way?' or 'That direction might work'—but Leska's loud neighs gave Leben the perfect excuse to press on swiftly.
Thanks to that, Leben and Sallin reached a small village beyond the forest before the 'Ghost Spider Forest' sank into deeper darkness. There, they washed the goblin blood from their armor and cloaks with water.