BBYW Vol. 2 Interlude Part 4 (WN)


Interlude – Dietrich Maxwell’s Adventure


Part 4 – The Smell of Conflict


“I’m going to stay in this country for one month and use it as a base of operations for my trades. After that, I’ll go back to Lamperouge, so come back then if you want to join me.”

“Gotcha. Hope you make a killing, man.”

Django and I parted ways for the time being; I took the opportunity to explore the foreign city.

The streets were bustling with all sorts of people and stalls overflowing with colorful fruits I had never seen before.

“Hmm, it tastes sweeter than it looks. Not bad.”

I exchanged a bronze coin for a yellow fruit and munched on it whole, then nodded to myself in satisfaction.

I managed to snag a hefty reward from my friend for taking care of the pirates, so I wasn’t going to have trouble paying for my stay. In case of emergencry, I could always work as a mercenary or bodyguard. I could hold my own in a fight and had a decent experience in that kind of business.

“In the end, I always have to rely on you, buddy. I couldn’t hope for a better partner.”

I caressed the sheath of the sword hanging at my waist and chuckled to myself.

I had come all the way to the southern seas on my journey, but did not have a specific goal in mind. I didn’t have anything in particular I wanted to do; I just wanted to stay as far away as possible from home, from House Maxwell.

To run away from home at the “tender” age of 20 was pretty embarrassing — I knew that well myself.

“My older brother will be the next margrave, anyway…this nuisance of a little brother should just disappear, right?”

My older brother, Dylan Maxwell, was an extremely diligent and skilled administrator: he governed the province as heir with a steady hand, and had thus earned the trust of our father, the current margrave.

On the other hand, I was a natural-born warrior: our personalities couldn’t be any more different, but our relationship wasn’t bad by any means. I respected him and he treated me well too.

Because of our close relationship, however, I could tell that my presence was an obstacle for him.

Both House Maxwell and the imperial family of the Baal empire, our neighbor and long-time enemy, highly valued military prowess.

Because of such a custom, many of our vassals preferred me over my brother — more a politician than a warrior — and went as far as openly supporting me as the next margrave.

My brother was tormented by such sentiments, but tried as much as he could not to let me notice his inner turmoil. It was painful to look at.

In the end I left the house, saying I was going to embark on a journey to improve my skills as a warrior. My old friend Django happened to go abroad at the same time, so I joined him.

“The nuisance retreats coolly, as they say. Haha…I might as well build a name for myself in this country instead.”

Me and my trusted blade only, climbing the ladder by mowing down pirates…not as a Maxwell, but just as Dietrich.

The only thing I can trust is my own skill: pretty cool story, fitting a lawless renegade like me.


I was walking around, entertaining such thoughts, when a particular smell tickled my nostrils.

The smell of blood and clashing iron.

For a tempered swordsman like me, it was a smell as familiar as the flowers blooming in my hometown.

“No matter where you go, if there are people, there’ll be conflict. Just crossing the sea isn’t enough for human nature to be different, after all. Well then…I got nothing better to do…might as well take a peek!”

I traced the smell of fighting out of the main avenue into a narrow back alley.

I quietly proceeded in the dark alley — unaware that the encounter that would change my life awaited me like jaws wide open.

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