A man clad in pristine white cloth walked down a path that looked like it led somewhere, though "somewhere" was a concept that currently eluded him. He was simply going… forward.
He stopped for a moment, his blue eyes scanning the horizon. Even though he was hopelessly lost, and even though he could not recall exactly how he had arrived here, he felt no panic.
He tried to retrace his steps mentally, to pull at the thread of memory leading back to the Kingdom of Lugnica, but there was nothing. It was as if a fog had descended over the last hour of his life.
"How troublesome," he murmured, his voice carrying on the wind.
He stood on the grassy shoulder of a dirt road, worn deep by the wheels of carriages, wagons and all.
The world here felt... different. The air was thinner, the mana in the atmosphere stale and sparse compared to home.
If a traveler were to pass by, they would immediately realize one thing: this man did not belong here.
The dirt of the road refused to cling to his boots for some reason. Any dust refuse to stick or go near his white uniform, his red hair vibrant against the dull greens and browns of the forest.
He looked like a painting placed in the wrong frame.
Reinhard resumed his walk on the road. He didn't mind walking. In fact, he found it quite relaxing.
The forest air, while strange, was fresh. He walked with a perfect stance, his breathing even, his expression serene, as if his return home was not a question of if, but simply a matter of when.
He had been walking for perhaps twenty minutes when the surroundings broke the silence.
The creaking of wood under strain. The heavy, rhythmic plodding of hooves.
Reinhard turned his head slightly. A covered wagon pulled by two weary horses was trundling down the road behind him. The canvas cover was stained with travel dust, and the wheels groaned with every rotation.
Reinhard stepped further to the side of the road, halted, and raised a hand with a polite, welcoming smile.
The driver, a heavyset man with a thick, graying beard and eyes that darted nervously toward the tree line, saw the figure and immediately pulled the reins hard.
"Whoa! Easy there!"
The wagon ground to a halt a few meters away.
The driver glared at the man in white clothes, his hand drifting instinctively toward a loaded crossbow resting on the seat beside him.
In this part of the side, a man standing alone on a forest road was usually one of two things: a bait for bandit to lying in ambush, or a corpse waiting to happen.
But the man in white was neither.
"Lost, pretty boy?" the merchant grunted, his eyes narrowing.
He looked the stranger up and down. The clothes were too expensive and suspiciously too white and too fine.
The red hair was perfectly groomed. And his posture, it wasn't the slouch of a peasant or the swagger of a mercenary.
It was the posture of someone who had never carried a heavy burden in his life. A noble. A very confused, very lost noble.
"I am afraid I am," Reinhard replied. His voice was melodic, carrying a natural warmth that seemed to cut through the merchant's suspicions like some wind. The bearded man's hand loosened slightly on the crossbow grip immediately for some reason.
"I seem to have lost my way," Reinhard continued, offering an apologetic bow. "I cannot recall exactly how I came to be lost. I would be most grateful if you could allow me to accompany you to the nearest city... if you are comfortable with that, of course."
The merchant squinted, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "You a noble? You sure talk like one."
"I am merely a knight," Reinhard corrected gently. He paused, as if the name had momentarily escaped him. "Ah, I almost forgot to introduce myself. My name is Reinhard. Reinhard van Astrea."
"Hmph. Oh surname huh?! Name is Bale. Just Bale." The merchant sighed, looking at the empty road behind Reinhard.
"Well, 'Sir' Reinhard, this is a trade wagon, not a royal carriage. I don't know what kind of luxury you're expecting. But... I can give you a ride. If you don't mind the smell of spices and horse sweat."
Reinhard's smile brightened, genuine and blinding. "Not at all, Sir Bale. Why would there be any problem with honest work? I am in your debt."
….
Ten minutes later, Reinhard was seated on the wooden bench beside the merchant, watching the scenery roll by.
"So," Bale asked, keeping his eyes on the trees. "How exactly did you get lost? Knights usually have maps. Or squires."
Reinhard rested his hands on his knees. "That... is a difficult question. I do not know. And I do not recall what I was doing prior to finding myself on this road."
Bale snorted. "You know that sounds like rubbish, right? Extremely suspicious."
"Haha… Well… Now that I say it aloud," Reinhard admitted with a laugh, "it certainly does. But nonetheless it is the truth."
Bale glanced sideways at his passenger. The kid didn't have a weapon drawn even though he had one, didn't seem to be checking for loot, and looked about as threatening as a glass of warm milk.
"Well, I don't know about the truth. But you don't look like a bandit. And you certainly don't look... strong. If you looked dangerous, I wouldn't have let you up here."
"Are bandits a common sight in these parts?" Reinhard asked curiously.
Bale let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Common? More than common, kid. If you see a group of bandits, you run. You run fast before they gut you for your boots. And you look like a safe with loot waiting to be looted."
Bale pointed a calloused finger toward the dense treeline known as the Great Forest of Tob. "And that's not to mention the monsters. Goblins are pests, sure, but in numbers, they're quiye dangerous actually very dangerous. And Ogres? Bad news. Out here, you pray to the gods you don't run into a…"
CRACK.
The sound was deafening, like a lightning bolt striking the earth.
A massive tree trunk, snapped cleanly in half, came flying out of the forest. It slammed into the road just meters ahead of them. The horses screamed, rearing up in panic, nearly tipping the wagon onto its side.
"Whoa! Whoa, dammit!" Bale yanked the reins, his face draining of all color.
From the shaken brush, nightmares emerged.
"T-Trolls!" Bale shrieked.
Two of them. They stood nearly three meters tall, their skin the color of moss and vomit, rippling with grotesque muscles. One held a crude tree trunk as a club.
Between their legs, scurrying like rats, were Goblins, hideous little creatures with rusted blades and yellow eyes, cackling with a sound like grinding glass.
Bale turned to look behind them to reverse the wagon, but his heart stopped.
Two more Trolls had stepped out from the rear, blocking the retreat. They were surrounded.
"Oh gods... oh gods no..." Bale fumbled for his crossbow, his hands shaking so violently that the bolt slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the floorboards. "It's an ambush! Trolls! And a goblin pack! We're dead!"
The stench of the monsters, rotting meat and unwashed fur… washed over the wagon. The Trolls roared, a sound that vibrated in the chest, preparing to smash the wagon into splinters to get at the meat inside.
Reinhard stood up.
He didn't draw the ornate sword at his hip. He didn't scream like one would at such an unlucky thing upon a sign of a monster like people usually do, especially this many. He simply hopped off the wagon, his boots landing softly in the dust but not getting dirty.
"Please, Sir Bale," Reinhard said, his voice calm and polite, as if he were asking for the salt at a dinner table. "Stay in the wagon. I will take care of it."
Bale stared at him, eyes bulging. He looked at the massive, regenerating monsters, and then at the slender, unarmed supposedly a "knight."
"Are you crazy?!" Bale screamed, spit flying. "Get back here! No actually we have to run… You can't fight them! You need fire! You need a whole party of adventurers! You're just one kid!"
Reinhard didn't turn back. He didn't even seem to hear the protest. He walked toward the lead Troll, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve.
Bale cowered in his seat intending to run the chance he get here… he already tried to save the kid. But he didn't listen so it wasn't his problem. He by clutching his empty crossbow, preparing to run.
….
A/N: This fanfic has been in my Discord for too long, so I thought, why not share it with you all. I can't seem to write more chapters unless I get more reader feedback, so I'm posting it here.
I'll be posting one chapter daily, with a mass release on Sunday. If this fic enters the rankings, I'll continue with one chapter daily for that week. After that, it will all depend on your comments, power stones, and the support like you showed on the Gojo × MCU/Re:Zero and Reinhard × Tensura fics.
Don't forget to add this fic to your library and comment on how the chapter was.