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Early DAR Vol. 4 Chapter 12 Part 2
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 15:32:07 +0000 UTCFull title: Starting a New Life for the Discarded All-Rounder
Note: We're looking for an editor/proofreader for this novel!
Translator: Airis
Changes: Servant Beast -> Familiar, Grandpa Gry -> Uncle Gry
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<Brat! What are you worried about? You’ve got nothing to fear! I’m here, aren’t I?>
Uncle Gry wrapped his wing around Roa, as if to pull him into a shoulder hug.
The smell of alcohol made Roa grimace.
<Don’t go making such a gloomy face! Let’s think of something fun… right, I said we’d go when the time was right, but how about tonight? There are rare herbs there you’d love! I’m sure it’ll cheer you up! They don’t call it the “Sage’s Herb Garden” for nothing...>
“Huh?”
Roa let out a surprised sound before he even realized it.
<Hm? What’s wrong?>
“So you really do know someone connected to the Sage!”
<Huh!?>
Uncle Gry froze, mouth agape, clearly realizing he’d let something slip.
“Are you the disciple of a Sage from back in the day? And the Rabbit King is his familiar?”
<I have no idea what you’re talking about...>
He looked away, his gaze drifting off in a random direction, obviously scrambling for something to say.
If he were human, his face would be drained of color and dripping with nervous sweat.
“But didn’t you use that kind of chant the Sage from the Princess Knight Eileen plays uses?”
Princess Knight Eileen was a historical figure so famous that plays about her were still performed to this day, both in grand theaters and for the common folk.
In one such play, a sage who traveled with Eileen used a unique chant—part song, part poem—to cast magic.
As far as Roa knew, Uncle Gry had only used a chant spell once.
It was during the final moments of the Aldon Forest incident, when a massive slime had appeared.
Neither Roa nor the twin magic wolves could defeat it. It had absorbed too much mana and grown far too powerful. In the end, Uncle Gry had taken it down with a chant spell.
The chant he used sounded just like the one from the play.
According to the script, that chant was exclusive to the Sage and couldn’t be copied. No other mage had ever made it work.
Because it was so theatrical and lyrical, many believed it had been created solely for stage effect.
And yet, Uncle Gry had used something nearly identical—and cast a real spell.
So it was only natural that Roa would suspect Uncle Gry had a connection to the legendary Sage.
<Wait! I thought you plugged your ears back then!?>
“Huh? You didn’t notice? Your ‘voice’ comes through even when my ears are covered.”
<Ggh...>
From Uncle Gry’s perspective, using chant spells was extremely embarrassing.
He had told Roa and the twins to cover their ears before he started.
But Roa had heard it anyway. Uncle Gry’s “voice” wasn’t a physical sound—it bypassed the ears entirely.
Roa had assumed Uncle Gry would figure that out immediately. Apparently, not.
Realizing how oblivious Uncle Gry could be at crucial moments made Roa smile fondly.
But to Uncle Gry, that smile looked like a smug grin of someone who had uncovered his secret.
Every feather and tuft of fur on his body stood on end in alarm.
<...I’ve had too much to drink. I’m going to bed!>
Practically yelling the words to cover his embarrassment, Uncle Gry turned tail and fled, leaving Roa standing mid-conversation.
“Is it really that embarrassing?”
Roa tilted his head in confusion.
In any case, the moment of awkwardness had blown away his earlier anxiety.
With his usual demeanor back, Roa returned to his work.
—
Even after Roa and the others finished clearing the wrecked carriage, no call to depart was given.
The sun had risen high enough for rays of sunlight to pierce even the deep forest canopy.
The reason for the delay was a meeting—one to decide what to do next.
Joel had been summoned for this discussion, which had dragged on far longer than expected.
Knight Commander Eileen and the other knights had gathered behind one of the wagons since they couldn’t pitch a proper tent. A soundproofing spell had been cast around the area to ensure privacy.
But with conflicting opinions, the debate had stalled into nothing but wasted time.
The meeting wasn’t about how to reach the Citadel Dungeon.
It was something more fundamental: whether to continue at all, or give up and turn back.
They had been overwhelmed by rabbits—creatures typically considered among the weakest of wild animals.
Everyone except Roa’s group had been completely powerless. Under such circumstances, a discussion like this was inevitable.
Though the attack had been repelled, and total morale collapse was avoided, the experience had shaken many.
They were now seriously considering whether survival was even possible if they moved forward.
In other words, Uncle Gry’s “filter” had worked.
The ones pushing to move ahead to the Citadel Dungeon were the Nemophila Knights.
The ones advocating retreat were Joel and the three other male knights who had been temporarily added to the team.
The men urged a pragmatic approach—survival over fantasy.
The women clung to unrealistic ideals, still trapped in delusions of glory.
“It’s impossible. We’ll just end up dying for nothing. We need to turn back.”
Joel’s voice rang out, loud and sharp.
The female knights responded with dagger-like glares.
“What about the honor of the Nemophila Knights? We can’t return in disgrace!”
The one who spoke was the oldest among them—Evelyn.
She had been with Eileen since the founding of the unit and acted as her right hand.
In terms of actual combat ability, Evelyn was likely the only real knight among them. But her blind loyalty to Eileen clouded her judgment.
She accepted everything Eileen said as truth and never questioned her.
Because her strength was entirely devoted to guarding Eileen, she never fought properly on the battlefield. Despite her ability, she was useless in combat.
“Have you forgotten we couldn’t even handle rabbits? If the adventurer hadn’t saved us, we’d be dead. We were lucky to survive. We should fall back while we still can.”
“...”
Evelyn had no rebuttal.
During the attack, all she had managed to do was guard Eileen’s wagon.
She’d paired up with another mage—one with notable talent—but even then, they had been overwhelmed.
“...We have the adventurer and the Gryphon, don’t we? As long as we have them, we’ll be fine!”
That was the best Evelyn could come up with.
“And you call that honor? Depending entirely on someone else?”
Joel’s rebuttal came instantly.
The female knights’ armor was battered, dented, and missing pieces.
The rabbits had specifically targeted them. Their flashy, light-reflecting gear must have provoked the attack.
Though their wounds had already been healed by magic potions, right after the ambush, their bodies had been covered in cuts and bruises.
And yet they were still adamant about continuing to the Citadel Dungeon.
They had their reasons.
There was no turning back.
If this investigation failed, the Nemophila Knights would be disbanded.
Worse, to make sure the unit wouldn’t be revived, their knightly status would be revoked, and they’d be demoted to ordinary soldiers.
That had been the deal from the beginning.
Most of the female knights were daughters of nobility. If they were kicked out of the army, they’d be sent home in disgrace.
Some might be forced into service as attendants to higher-ranking nobles.
They’d go from glittering ceremonial guards admired by aristocrats to the absolute bottom.
That was what they feared most.
Up until now, they’d clung to Eileen’s promise: succeed in the investigation, and gain glory.
Dreaming only of a shining future, they had completely ignored the consequences of failure.
But that wasn’t just because they were naïve or overconfident.
It was also because Count Amadan had skillfully manipulated them; offering sweet words and guiding their thoughts only toward the positive.
But then the rabbits came.
They were toyed with and beaten down, and finally forced to recognize how weak they truly were.
They saw the reality of their situation.
The fog in their eyes had lifted.
Now they could see failure.
And that fear made them desperate—reckless.
“If we go any further, we’re going to die. Are you really okay with that?”
Joel swept his gaze over the female knights, trying to stop their recklessness even if it meant using fear.
“We’re prepared! We’ve faced danger before and made it through. This time will be no different—”
“And how many people have died because of your reckless decisions?! Do you even understand that?”
Despite Evelyn’s claim of being prepared, Joel could hear the naïveté in her voice and shouted her down.
“...In battle, sacrifices are inevitable! It’s a knight’s and a soldier’s duty to fight!”
The one who snapped back, her voice tight with irritation, was Eileen.
Until now, she’d remained silent, just listening to the discussion.
Or rather, she hadn’t been able to say anything.
Even though she knew Joel was right, she’d cornered herself into a position where she couldn’t back down.
“...That may be true. But sacrifices should be made for something worth protecting. A meaningless death is unacceptable!”
Joel had no fear of risking his life to protect the country or its people.
But this wasn’t that. This was just a scouting mission.
Failure wouldn’t lead to civilian deaths or massive damage—at worst, they’d lose their jobs.
But if they died, that would be the end. It would be a pointless death.
“We’re doing this for honor—”
“And if you die, that’s it. You’ll be remembered as useless fools who got themselves killed, with no chance to reclaim your dignity.”
“...”
“And you couldn’t even issue proper orders when you were attacked by rabbits—rabbits! During the ambush, your commander was so terrified she couldn’t even leave the wagon! Is your so-called honor really that cheap?”
Joel froze the moment the words left his mouth.
He’d said too much again. It was supposed to be persuasion, but he’d crossed the line.
What he said wasn’t wrong, but it was still something he shouldn’t have said.
Again.
And now, as always, he had to figure out how to fix it.
It was this bad habit—speaking too bluntly—that had landed him in this suicidal mission to the Citadel Dungeon in the first place.
As a knight, he was above average in both skill and loyalty, but his tendency to speak out had made him a nuisance to his superiors, even to the knight order’s leadership.
Even if something is true, if you say it at the wrong time, it’s just an insult.
And saying the knight commander cowered in fear and refused to come out of the wagon?
That was flat-out disrespect.
“Shut up!”
Eileen shouted.
Tears welled in her eyes as she glared at Joel.
“Shut up! Shut up! This investigation team is not allowed to turn back! We have no choice but to move forward! That’s final! Anyone who says otherwise will be treated as a deserter! And deserters are punishable by death!”
“But—”
“Quiet! It’ll be fine! I’m Eileen! I’m Eileen, don’t you understand? If anything happens, the Gryphon will save us!”
Eileen proclaimed it with conviction, like she was trying to convince herself.
She was trying to cast herself in the role of the legendary Princess Knight Eileen, who was said to have tamed a Gryphon.
Whether or not she was capable, she was still the leader of the investigation team. The right to make decisions lay with her.
And now that she’d made her decree, no one could oppose it.
To resist her meant being labeled a deserter, and if that was reported back after they returned, they’d be treated as criminals.
Just like that, their course of action had been decided.
They would press on—placing the fate of the entire team in the hands of one adventurer and his familiar.
But they had forgotten something.
Or maybe they hadn’t even realized it to begin with.
The Gryphon Eileen pinned her hopes on had done absolutely nothing during the rabbit attack.
He hadn’t even tried to protect his master, Roa.
He’d just laid there, lounging and watching the chaos unfold.
—
Around the time Roa and the investigation team were preparing to move out of the forest—
The members of the adventurer party Nostalgia were standing in front of a small fortress.
This fortress belonged to the Northern Alliance, located near the border with the Kingdom of Perdu where Roa currently was.
It sat less than half a day’s travel from the neutral zone surrounding the Citadel Dungeon, and served as a monitoring outpost for both the Kingdom of Perdu and the dungeon.
The Northern Alliance, as the name suggested, was a federation of small northern nations united to match the strength of larger powers.
A massive mountain range and the Gryphons’ territory around the Citadel Dungeon separated it almost completely from the Kingdom of Perdu, located to the east of the continent.
The fortress stood on one of the few remaining flatlands still viable for travel between them.
Though small, it was formally designated as an important diplomatic checkpoint between Perdu and the Alliance.
Nostalgia had come here because it was the only route available to enter the Citadel Dungeon’s surrounding region.
That area was managed as a neutral zone by joint agreement between multiple nations.
However, since their homeland—the Kingdom of Nereus—didn’t border the zone, they could only enter through an approved outpost in another country.
This was why Nostalgia had taken a different route than Roa—they had to stop here first.
“You’re the adventurers sent by the Kingdom of Nereus, correct?”
“That’s right. We’re Nostalgia, an adventurer party from Nereus. Pleased to meet you.”
Their leader, Dietrich, extended a hand in greeting—but was completely ignored.
The man standing before him was an official of the Northern Alliance, flanked by two guards.
He didn’t introduce himself—not even a name or title. Based on his clothing and demeanor, he seemed fairly high-ranking.
Thin and unhealthy-looking, he was clearly a bureaucrat.
“You don’t look like you have what it takes to handle the Citadel Dungeon. Are you planning to die?”
“...”
Dietrich frowned but held his tongue.
The insult was obvious bait.
Right now, he was suppressing his usual impulsiveness and playing the role of a calm, level-headed leader. He managed to keep his cool better than usual.
“And with a bruise like that, your skill level’s pretty clear.”
The bruise was from a fight with Kristoff during their journey.
Dietrich had pushed almost all the prep work onto him, and on top of that, asked him to sew a patch into his pants. That had been the final straw.
It was a stupid argument, but the damage had been worse than any monster attack.
The swelling had gone down, but a dark bruise remained.
It could’ve been healed with a magic potion, but since it didn’t hinder him, he refused to waste one.
“And what’s with those ridiculous pants? Adventurers love flashy fashion, but this? It’s far too cute for someone your age, don’t you think?”
He was referring to the red pawprints on Dietrich’s trousers—the result of holes patched from the inside with bright red fabric shaped like the twin wolves’ pawprints.
Admittedly, it did look a little too adorable for Dietrich’s otherwise rugged image.
“...That was his idea.”
Dietrich said flatly, pointing to Kristoff, who stood behind him.
The man narrowed his eyes.
“I figured someone in your group had a flamboyant streak... didn’t expect one with such delicate taste.”
“What—”
“Enough of this. Our entry permit from Nereus should already be here. Let’s get this over with—I want clearance to enter the Citadel Dungeon as soon as possible.”
Kristoff started to raise his voice but was cut off when Dietrich calmly continued.
“Yes, yes. I’m a busy man too. I don’t want to waste time on meaningless paperwork. Let’s make this quick.”
“Please do.”
“Very well. By request of the Kingdom of Nereus, the Northern Alliance grants your party Nostalgia permission to enter the neutral zone surrounding the Citadel Dungeon. This is strictly by Nereus's request. The Alliance assumes no responsibility for your safety. Do you understand?”
“Of course.”
“Then go on—go wherever you like.”
“Understood.”
The approval itself was surprisingly straightforward.
Of course, the Alliance had already received documentation about Nostalgia in advance. If things got bogged down now, it would be a problem.
“Excuse us.”
“Best of luck to you.”
The man’s voice was ice-cold, completely devoid of sincerity.
After casting him a final glance, the members of Nostalgia left the outpost and climbed into their wagon, setting off toward the Citadel Dungeon.
As he watched them go, the official allowed himself a slight smirk—as if all his earlier frostiness had been a performance.
“...That’s the prince, huh?”
One of the guards behind him asked.
“Apparently. A prince, a court mage, and two knights. Quite the fancy adventuring party. Not that you'd guess from looking at them.”
The man didn’t take his eyes off the wagon.
“You think they lied about who they are?”
“Unlikely. Falsifying diplomatic records carries too much risk—especially in cross-border matters. More likely, they were acting in secret, and this incident forced them to reveal their true identities.”
“Got it.”
Entry into the Citadel Dungeon’s neutral zone was tightly regulated under international treaties.
If any deception were discovered, the consequences would be enormous—not to mention pointless.
“More likely, someone used them as pawns, despite their status.”
“A prince? Used as a pawn?”
The Citadel Dungeon was no place for average adventurers or knights.
Anyone sent there might as well be disposable.
“The queen of that country is insane. That kingdom was founded by pirates, after all. There’s no nobility in their blood. The queen’s not even married—the prince is adopted. Think of it like this: a pirate captain sacrificed one of her foster children to further her goal. Makes perfect sense.”
The guards frowned at their superior’s language but said nothing further.
Of course, Nostalgia's mission to the Citadel Dungeon hadn’t been ordered by the Kingdom of Nereus.
It had been Dietrich’s own decision.
“Well then, let’s head home.”
“Yes, sir!”
“I was curious, so I came to see for myself—but there wasn’t much to it. Still, for people from that country, they seemed surprisingly competent.”
With that, the man turned and left.
—
