CHAPTER 147. Could This Be My Gravesite?
After everything was wrapped up, I went to Mount Flick, gathered the party, and returned to Rortel.
For the record, Shine and Parun could be found in Rortel’s underground passage.
“…Why did you go in there?”
“Hmph-hmph. Even if you die, wouldn’t we still need to find the Sword God’s Tomb?”
“That’s a lie. You were shrieking and raising hell, saying it was definitely dangerous. I couldn’t even stop you—khk!”
“Shut your mouth. When did I ever—!”
Shine hurriedly clamped a hand over Parun’s mouth.
Kang! A sound rang out as the gauntlet struck his teeth. It was the moment Parun’s disgust toward Shine rose.
Meanwhile, I looked at Shine with renewed eyes.
‘Raising hell?’
This bastard, seriously…
‘He’s more of a punk than I thought?’
While his companion was rolling around between life and death, he was throwing a fit about finding the Sword God’s Tomb?
Yeah, I couldn’t say I didn’t understand.
If we missed this opportunity, who knew when we’d ever get to visit the Sword God’s Tomb again.
From Shine’s perspective, it was certainly a situation he could call dangerous.
But still—even so…
“Tch.”
They say you’re not supposed to take in a black-haired beast. Anyway, leaving my disappointment in Shine behind, I brought the beast and the people back to Rortel.
Personally, it had been a hair-raising moment.
‘If I’d been even a little later, it would’ve been a disaster.’
When I’d told them earlier to go toward the secret passage, that had been the rendezvous point.
If we were going to flee from Rortel, Mount Flick was the easiest route—and given the terrain we shared of Mount Flick, the secret passage was the only option.
But—
‘If anything happened, I told you not to wait and to run. And you crawl into the secret passage?’
If they got caught, it would be their heads—Infinite Chain or not.
If Shine hadn’t failed to find the small hole halfway through the secret passage, we might’ve ended up in a second chase with Rortel.
For the record, there was no trace at all of the small hole halfway through the secret passage—as if someone had repaired it. That was why they’d gotten lost, which, for me, was fortunate.
Later, Parun told me—
[They hid it with a mechanism.]
[A mechanism?]
[Yes. I found it, but I didn’t bother to say anything.]
A superb choice.
In any case, we decided to stay in Rortel for the time being. That was thanks to Young Lord Sion’s consideration.
Since last night’s commotion would’ve focused everyone’s attention on Rortel, he provided us with a place where we could avoid outside eyes.
Ah—by the way, the matter concerning the Impirga (家) would be handled gradually over time.
I asked whether the inside collaborator wouldn’t notice, but the elder—whether he was a wyvern or Paharen or whatever—was already confined in the underground prison.
But the way they handled it—how should I put it—
“He’s already in the underground Thunder Prison. They say they seized him when you caused the commotion.”
“…Already?”
“That’s right. We didn’t know as far as the Impirga (家) matter, but it seems Father had been watching closely as well. In a way, the information you brought became the fuse.”
Listening quietly, I felt my temper flare.
‘You rotten…’
So you were going to do it my way anyway(?)—and yet you tried to fleece a harmless mage with talk of disappointment and whatnot!
How is it that every Head of House of a prestigious house (名家) is a thief at heart?
And so, after that eventful night passed—
The next morning.
At the summons of the First Sword, Hamellan, I walked to the small garden attached to the So-geomjeon.
“What brings you here?”
Hamellan was no easy man from his very first words.
“You’re speaking awfully casually.”
“……”
“Even so, I think I’m an elder senior of sorts, but your speech is very casual.”
“I’m a mage. So knights are my seniors—”
“Do mages say blades don’t cut them?”
“…Calling you ‘senior’ is a bit much. Then how about ‘older brother’?”
“I don’t think we’re at an age to be calling each other that.”
In the end, the form of address was decided as Sir Hamellan.
Normally, I would’ve tried to bump him up in age, but if I did that, it felt like he might chop my head off—so I humbly submitted to power.
But that aside—
“What brings you here, sir?”
“For now, walk.”
Sir Hamellan took me along as we strolled through the small garden.
It was a languid morning.
Brilliant sunlight, as if last night’s uproar had been a lie.
In the well-tended garden, mountain birds were chirping, and a cool breeze—cool for summer—tickled my hair.
“A fine garden, isn’t it?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Needless to say, the Head of House used to live here as well.”
As Sir Hamellan walked through the garden, he savored old memories.
“Let’s see… one day, an assassin infiltrated, you know. It was right here. The Head of House was collapsed here, and over there the assassins were sprawled out.”
“……”
“Maybe it was around here? The leader assassin’s head was rolling on the ground. And over there…”
How the Head of House was when he was seven.
How at ten he cut down a few assassins.
What happened on that side of the garden, what happened on this side…
They were stories from when today’s Head of House was still the Young Lord, and they were mostly blood-soaked, beautiful stories.
And while Sir Hamellan was explaining the seventh attack beneath a large tree—
I couldn’t help asking.
“Could this be my gravesite?”
“…?”
“If it’s going to be, then rather than here, somewhere with more sunlight—”
“……”
Was I wrong?
Sir Hamellan, who had been staring at me as if I were unbelievable, asked in a drained voice,
“What on earth do you think Rortel is?”
“0.5 Deculan?”
Meaning it was half as gloomy as Deculan.
“…If the Head of House had heard, he would’ve cut your head off.”
“Ah, yes.”
Even I thought it was far too honest an answer.
‘I should’ve compromised at about 0.25 Deculan.’
As the flow of conversation broke, a thin silence settled between us. Sasa-sak— grass blades fluttered in the wind.
It was then that Sir Hamellan, eyes soaked with melancholy as he stroked the big tree, spoke.
“The Head of House has lived that kind of life. Even after being appointed as Young Lord, he fought power struggles with his siblings. Can you imagine? That it all happened under the name of Rortel.”
I couldn’t help being surprised.
Because the Rortel of that time, as Sir Hamellan described it, was very different from the Rortel I knew.
At the very least, the Rortel I knew was, true to a prestigious house (名家), stained, dirty, and petty—yet it still kept a line.
But—
“The Head of House said this. It was after he took the throne.”
- Honor and pride are nothing more than a whip and a carrot.
“Once he sat in that seat, the honor and pride we revered as knights began to look like tools used to move knights.”
In Rortel… there was no romance the knights imagined.
The image of a “house of knights” was merely a mask the leadership wore because they needed it in order to control knights.
But then.
Listening to Sir Hamellan, I found myself thinking this.
“So… you’re telling me to understand the Head of House? To forgive him? Is that what you mean?”
To me, every word from Sir Hamellan sounded like an attempt to package and dress up the Head of House.
However, Sir Hamellan tilted his head at my question.
“Why would you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why would you understand the Head of House? And forgive? Who is forgiving whom? Are you above the Master of Rortel? Forgiveness is the right of the strong.”
It was an oddly unpleasant thing to hear from a knight, but it was true.
Forgiveness is something only the powerful can do.
No—someone without power can forgive, too, but that only becomes possible when their heart is boundlessly wide.
So then—
“Then what exactly are you trying to say?”
In other words: you called in someone who isn’t busy—so what are we doing here?
Sir Hamellan’s gaze changed in that moment.
“I must soon depart for Baidun Village.”
“Yes, I know that.”
Even if the trade was to be canceled, if they were going to notify them on the day of the trade, they would have to leave around today.
But why mention it?
As I tilted my head, puzzled, Sir Hamellan spoke.
And for me, what he said was a rather shocking notice.
“There, I will announce that I handed the Infinite Chain over to the Mage Tower and the Sword Garden.”
“You’ve lost your—”
“Listen to the end.”
Sir Hamellan’s words were this.
“I will protect the Mage Tower and the Sword Garden in the name of Rortel.”
“…Do you understand what that means?”
“Because of the Thousand Origin Art? Puh-huh-huh, that’s not even funny. We merely handed the Infinite Chain over to the Mage Tower and the Sword Garden. Thousand Origin Art? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“But to Deculan, that—”
Then Sir Hamellan’s voice cut off my words.
“Then who are we?”
“……”
That one sentence was enough.
Right. Because it’s Rortel.
Still, I couldn’t understand it.
“No matter what, that’s…”
“From Rortel’s standpoint, wouldn’t it be a useless clash? Either way, the clash is already a set sequence. The Impirga (家). Don’t you know that as well?”
So, since we’ll clash anyway…
“You’re saying you’ll protect the Mage Tower and the Sword Garden and make them owe you a debt?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
It was something I couldn’t understand at all.
Clashing over the Impirga (家) and clashing while protecting the Mage Tower and the Sword Garden—those meanings are very different.
From Rortel’s standpoint, it’s needless sacrifice…
Sir Hamellan answered my question like this.
“The Rortel the Young Lord will create will be a true house of knights.”
So.
“I hope the Mage Tower and the Sword Garden will become steadfast allies to the Young Lord’s Rortel.”
I stared blankly at Sir Hamellan.
“Are you crazy? What are you trusting?”
For us, it was an unbelievably good condition.
But why in the world?
“I’m not trusting you. I’m trusting the Head of House’s eye for people. I don’t know in detail what kind of power the Mage Tower and the Sword Garden possess, but… in the future, you will grow even more.”
So it was like this.
‘Trust the Head of House’s judgment… and place a contrarian bet on low odds?’
Of course—
I know.
This is the favored bet.
As long as I don’t die, the Mage Tower will stand tall in the world, and in the end it will become the greatest library on the continent. Of course, not just any library—it’ll be a library that fights disgustingly well.
In other words, the world’s strongest library.
So, from Rortel’s standpoint, with a single sentence(?) they get to have the world’s strongest library as an ally.
But still.
I couldn’t understand it.
That was when—
“You treacherous bastard! Where are you!”
Shine’s voice came from far away.
“Think about it until around lunchtime. I’ll send someone again then.”
With those words, Sir Hamellan turned away.
I’m grateful for the favor, but…
‘Is it because my insides are twisted?’
A favor with no understandable reason didn’t make it easy to take.
For now, setting Sir Hamellan’s proposal aside—
I met up with Shine, who was looking for me like a colt that had been paid in advance.
“Tch, you’re not even busy—where have you been wandering off to?”
“Ever consider that I’m wandering because I’m not busy? Whatever. Why were you looking for me?”
“The Head of House sent someone. He says he’ll open the Sword God’s Tomb for us.”
No wonder his mood seemed a little elevated. It was because he could enter the Sword God’s Tomb he’d wanted so badly.
But wait.
“Did you, by any chance, meet the Head of House?”
“Are you talking about that little brat who puts on airs? Ah—so you didn’t know because you were passed out asleep. It was around dawn, probably? The little brat has no morning sleep, sending someone at the crack of dawn and—egh, kids these days.”
Shine grumbled, displeased at being summoned at dawn by the Head of House, and I had a “just in case” thought.
“Did the Head of House… say anything to you?”
Sir Hamellan’s sudden offer.
No matter how I thought about it, there hadn’t been any reason for such a thing, so it felt strange—maybe the reason had something to do with Shine?
And my guess was exactly right.
“He didn’t say much, but… ah, he put on airs, flexed his eyes, and told me to show him some swordplay.”
“…Swordplay?”
“That thing—what was it. ‘Can you put everything into your sword?’ Just… full of pointless swagger. You could just tell someone to swing with full power.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, so? I showed him.”
“…And then?”
“I don’t know. He just closed his eyes? I got the hint and left. What a brat… I’ve even crossed blades with his ancestor, you know. Tch.”
Shine complaining under his breath.
I stood there, blankly staring at Shine’s back.
So he wasn’t investing in me—he was investing after seeing Shine?
No—right now, that wasn’t what mattered.
That voice still clear in my ears.
- Disappointing.
Someone is “disappointing,” and someone else is…
As I reached that thought, Shine abruptly turned around.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you coming?”
“Go by yourself.”
With slumped shoulders, I trudged away.
Behind me, Shine shouted something or other, but I couldn’t hear it.
If it was going to be like this, I should’ve sent Shine yesterday, too.
…It was a damn miserable day.
