Chapter 2

Within the Empire stood five kingdoms, four merchant republics, and hundreds of minor domains and noble houses.

Among those hundreds of noble houses, House Kaldebern traced its roots to the royal house of Adelorn. The great ancestor who established its cadet branch was the heroic knight Chaldebert, and the family name meant that they were his descendants.

Chaldebert distinguished himself on the eastern expeditionary front and received a domain from the emperor. A hundred years passed after that.

It also meant that the Empire's first Sword Master had appeared a century earlier.

They say that killing a few people makes you a murderer, killing hundreds makes you a hero, killing thousands makes you a conqueror, and killing beyond that makes you a god.

In an age when people believed that thunder and lightning from the heavens and floods that destroyed their homes were the will of the gods, the first Sword Master was regarded as a kind of natural disaster—or a warning from some god.

People remembered that steel-and-blood past in those terms: divine judgment, punishment, and condemnation of sinners regardless of status.

They also believed he would inevitably return someday. Whether his return would bring salvation or destruction, however, remained unknown.

Unlike the ignorant commoners, powerful figures such as emperors and kings seemed to view that past differently.

They thought of the first Sword Master not as an angel of salvation or an envoy of the apocalypse, but as a strategic weapon.

If only they could acquire that overwhelming strength—if only it could become theirs....

Some things had to change with the times, but there were values that had to be preserved.

Heavy cavalry remained powerful on the battlefield, and the knights' duty was not yet over.

Nobles had to defend their territories and fulfill their military service according to their contracts with their lords.

Keeping one's honor as a noble meant never avoiding a fight, refusing to yield to unjust threats, and treating courage as the greatest virtue—even at the cost of one's life.

Many people still lived by those values. It was an age in which being a noble implied being a warrior.

As generations passed, House Kaldebern's lands were divided, for partible inheritance was customary law at the time.

Eventually, when not even a small scrap of land remained, House Kaldebern settled on a small manor called Stormhertz.

It was around the time when the sweltering summer had passed and the weather was beginning to turn chilly. The harvested fields lay fallow, while large stacks of dry straw stood here and there across them.

But Lord Abelich still had work to do. From early morning, the Kaldebern manor in Stormhertz was bustling despite the chilly air.

The lord's attendants hurried about gathering various things, and judging by their equipment, they seemed to be preparing for a hunt: nets, crossbows, excited hounds panting away, and spears for hunting boar.

Abelich, lord of Stormhertz, sat atop the family's greatest possession, a stout brown warhorse, and surveyed the attendants as they prepared the equipment. Then he realized something important was missing.

"Where is Riki? Where is Riki?"

"Probably hiding somewhere quiet again, staring blankly at nothing."

His eldest son, wearing sturdy leather armor, stood beside his father and replied listlessly.

"Boar hunting is both our family's duty and an important occasion. Riki is ten now, so he must take part. Find him."

Hunting was not merely a simple pastime enjoyed by nobles. Boars, in particular, had to be driven off because they ruined fields and dug up graves.

A lone goblin separated from its group could easily be chased away by a sturdy adult man, and wolves, possessing some sense of danger, would flee if merely frightened. Boars were different. Their reckless charge would not stop unless they were killed.

In a noble household, turning ten also meant that children began to be raised with a clear distinction between boys and girls.

Until then they were raised simply as children; from ten onward, even their hair and clothing began to be differentiated, while boys took part in hunts or trained in martial arts.

It was an age when mothers raised boys, fathers raised men, and warriors were raised by fate.

Having received their father's order, the eldest son naturally looked at his younger brother. His gaze carried a silent command: You go.

But his younger brother deliberately avoided his eyes. Annoyed, the eldest son, Graut, twitched a brow.

"Hey."

"Father ordered you."

"And I'm ordering you."

"Why should I listen?"

"Because I'm the eldest son and you're the second son."

Being born first or second was not something one could change through effort, nor was it something one chose. Yet there was no escaping that strict chain.

The second son, Bilter, was fourteen and would become an adult next year. Like boys nearing adulthood, he had grown somewhat more rebellious with time.

The three brothers had once been close, but no one knew when or why their relationship had soured.

"I'm leaving this miserable house on my own two feet."

Bilter spoke loudly enough for his father and brother to hear, then started walking.

His blunt father ignored him as though he had not heard, his brother frowned, and the other attendants merely smiled as if amused by a child.

Yet Bilter could not find the youngest no matter how thoroughly he searched the watchtower, barn, and every other corner of the estate. He even asked his sister-in-law, whom he would rather not encounter, but she did not know either.

"Could he be in the underground crypt? He may still miss Mother."

His sister-in-law spoke while embroidering the hem of her cloak with a young maid beside her. The lady of the manor had died of a fever two years earlier.

"If he isn't there, then I suppose he followed Mother."

"Don't say things like that. He's only ten. You must look after him. I'll help too. By the way, do I really not have to go out?"

"Father told you to stay somewhere warm. But he said that not because he was worried about you, strictly because of the baby in your belly."

Even when something was not untrue, some words were unpleasant to hear. Bilter always spoke like that, crooked and bristling with barbs.

Yet his sister-in-law, though still quite young herself, simply laughed it off.

That was precisely what Bilter disliked: everyone treated him like a child.

Or perhaps the source of his irritation, unknown even to himself, was the feeling that his family was being taken from him. This house, his family—it would all become his brother's. There was no place for a second son.

Bilter left the room that had once been his mother's bedroom and now belonged to his sister-in-law. Then, as she had suggested, he descended to the underground crypt.

A chill peculiar to the underground brushed the back of his neck as soon as he began descending. By the time he reached the bottom, darkness filled the crypt.

Yet in the distance was a faintly glowing place, like a frail candle lit in the heart of the underworld.

Beneath a torch hanging on the wall stood the youngest son. He was gazing at something, looking as though he stood on the boundary between this world and the next.

"Riki!"

Bilter's shout echoed through the crypt. The younger boy, whose baby fat had not yet disappeared, turned to look at his brother.

He was Ricard, the third son of House Kaldebern, with blond hair and hazel eyes. Riki was his nickname.

Bilter approached him. Depending on the angle of the light, his younger brother's eyes, which stared directly up at him, appeared green or blue, sometimes brown. Now, under the torchlight, they were reddish and tinged with blue.

"What are you doing down here? Don't you know we're hunting today?"

"Nothing. I came down here. Today is the anniversary of Mother's death."

Before Ricard stood a stone coffin with the deceased's likeness carved into its lid. It was their mother's coffin.

"You remember things like that? At ten, shouldn't you be old enough to accept it calmly? And shouldn't you start worrying about your future?"

Ten was not an age of pure childhood. It was the age when children began serious knightly lessons or were expected to fulfill the role of an adult. For commoners, it was even harsher.

Under his brother's prodding, Ricard lowered his eyes and fell silent. Bilter felt guilty for no reason, and his heart softened.

Ricard spoke.

"Being raised in Mother's arms already feels like having everything. So I'm not particularly worried about the future."

Bilter did not understand what his brother was talking about.

"... I can't tell whether you're an old man in a child's body or simply deficient. People are waiting outside. Let's go."

Bilter roughly ruffled his brother's hair and took his hand.

"Okay."

Led by his brother's hand, Ricard left the underground crypt as though stepping beyond the boundary of the underworld. When they climbed the stairs, the deep indigo light of early morning enveloped them.

By the time they reached the courtyard, the people who had finished preparing were already waiting.

"What took you so long to find one child?"

Graut, the eldest brother, muttered unpleasantly.

"Then you should have gone looking for him."

"Why, you little—just wait."

These days, the eldest and second brothers quarreled whenever their eyes met. Abelich easily subdued both sons.

"Enough. Riki, stay beside Billy. This is your first hunt, so just watch from a distance. Butch, look after the two boys."

"Yes, my lord."

After giving the simple orders, Abelich spurred his horse and rode alone out of the courtyard. The splendid feather tucked into his hunting hat shook violently in the wind.

The clop-clop of hooves soon faded into the distance.

The others followed on foot. Lord Abelich soon disappeared beyond the hill, but that did not matter because they knew where they were to gather.

The hunting party consisted of a dozen or so able-bodied men from the village and several people who were something like retainers.

They were called something like retainers because they were not paid a separate wage; they were merely granted tax exemption. In effect, they were independent farmers.

One family had been connected to the house since the great-grandfather's time, while the others had ties reaching back to the grandfather's generation.

It was a poor domain, so it relied more on loyalty than money. Several families clustered around the lord's house. Enlarged on a grand scale, it was also a miniature version of the feudal society headed by the emperor.

When war broke out, the lord served as both knight and officer, the retainers as noncommissioned officers, and the remaining men as soldiers of a sort. In other words, these people formed the smallest unit of combat.

Hunting was also combat training. Prey could not be caught merely by having a large crowd rush after it.

They had to move as an organized group, and that required practicing together regularly.

Tracking, driving, and finishing the kill took place across wide spaces where they could not see one another. They relied on the direction of sounds and on knowing how a particular companion would act.

It was not something learned in a day or two. Fathers taught sons, and sons taught grandsons across generations. It was both combat training and field instruction.

This was Ricard's first time taking part in such field instruction. Even so, the boy showed none of the usual excitement or fear. He was as impassive as ever.

The men carrying various pieces of equipment went ahead, while Ricard followed Butch with Bilter.

It was the agricultural off-season. The air was somewhat chilly, and not only the fields but also the grasslands were drying yellow. The trees had turned red and gold with autumn leaves.

"Riki, you've seen a boar before, haven't you?"

Butch asked. Butch was the son of one of those 'retainer-like people.' He had grown up in the neighborhood alongside the lord's sons and had been close to them since childhood.

Several boar spears rested on his shoulder. Their long, broad spearheads were almost the size of a human face; anything smaller could not pierce a boar's tough hide.

"I wonder. Have I?"

"Wasn't it about two years ago? Weren't you there then?"

"He was staying beside Mother because she was sick."

Bilter corrected Butch's inaccurate memory.

"Oh, right. Don't be too nervous, Riki. All we do is set up camp and live there for a while. Three days at the shortest, maybe two weeks at the longest. You'll probably see a dead boar. It isn't dangerous."

At the words telling him not to be nervous, Ricard merely smiled faintly.

"It was docile when I saw it. I wonder why adults needlessly frighten people by saying it's dangerous."

Bilter swept the grassland with the stick in his hand as he spoke in his usual grumbling tone.

"It is dangerous. Animals know their lives are precious too. Once one starts rampaging, it becomes truly dangerous."

"Butch, have you ever seen a boar rampage?"

Bilter asked.

"No. I've never seen one either. But Rian's father was gored to death by a boar. You wouldn't know about it—I was young then."

"Well, people die from one thing or another. I will someday, too."

Mother, and Rian's father—death was close in this world. Disease, unexpected accidents, war, and hunger.

Stormhertz was at least somewhat better off when it came to food. It was not prosperous, but there was just enough for the people living there to scrape by.

"By the way, are you practicing with a sword, Billy?"

"No. I don't want to go into battle. I'm not the eldest son anyway. Why should I?"

"Still, shouldn't you practice with a sword? You can't necessarily learn just because you want to. At least for self-defense... All right, I won't nag. Then have you thought about what you'll do? When the young master becomes lord..."

"What about it when my brother becomes lord? Are you saying I'll be thrown out of here?"

"Well, these days they don't divide property equally. Why not swallow your pride and accept some support now?"

"I don't want to beg my brother for anything."

"... You really are something."

In the past, the principle had been to divide land and property equally among children, but that was no longer the case. A culture of concentrating inheritance in the eldest son was taking hold because dividing it weakened the family's power.

Thus, anyone not born the legitimate firstborn faced a somewhat difficult life. Noble houses often sent sons other than the heir to monasteries or knightly orders at an early age.

Brothers in a noble family could be its greatest allies and its worst rivals, and if the succession was unstable, retainers and vassals would waver. Factions dividing over supreme power had to be avoided at all costs.

Even so, some worked hard and rose in the world to become bishops or abbots.

Knightly orders were honorable, but dangerous and difficult in many respects: disciplined communal life, grueling training, combat, and, above all, no special treatment simply for being a noble.

In short, anyone not born the legitimate firstborn had to solve the problem of supporting himself. Even Chaldebert, the founder of House Kaldebern, had risen through his own efforts.

At fourteen, Bilter had remained with the family for quite a long time. But his brother had married and would soon have children, so the time had come for Bilter to start looking for a way to survive on his own.

If the baby was a daughter, perhaps he could stay home a little longer. Or what if the baby died at birth?

All pointless thoughts. Now that he was old enough, he would have to leave soon regardless.

These days Bilter could not help feeling conflicted. He had to prepare himself to live alone.

In that respect, there was someone in much the same situation as him: his younger brother, Ricard.

Perhaps because he was still too young to understand anything, Ricard wore his usual impassive expression when Bilter looked back at him. My younger brother—sometimes an old man, sometimes strange, gentle, and kind.

Ricard walked looking at the ground, then raised his eyes to the brilliant blue sky, then glanced into the distance... He seemed to be thinking of nothing at all. It hurt, but should Bilter sharply awaken him to reality?

As they walked, Ricard gazed into the distance, then raised a hand and pointed.

"Isn't that a boar?"

Butch and Bilter turned their heads at the same time and looked where Ricard was pointing. Far away, near the edge of the forest, a boar was running wildly.

"Huh? It is."

Lord Abelich was pursuing it on horseback. But something was strange. The boar turned gradually and began running toward them.

At first the three simply stared because it was far away, but once they realized it was coming their way, Butch and Bilter's hair stood on end and their minds went blank.

The situation suddenly became urgent. The hounds, released by their master, barked frantically.

WOOF! WOOF!

"Butch! Butch! Protect the young masters!"

Butch's father, one of the men who had gone ahead, hurried back and shouted. Protect them? How?

"Uh..."

The boar drew closer. Its size had not been apparent from a distance, but it was far from ordinary. Its shoulder seemed higher than Ricard was tall, and it was fast.

Startled adults threw spears from a distance, but the weapons merely sliced through empty air.

"Butch! Butch!"

Butch heard his father's voice as though through a fog. He simply froze in place. Bilter did the same.

Then someone snatched one of the spears Butch was carrying and shoved him hard. Butch collapsed sideways into the dry grass. Riki came into view.

The child, whose baby fat had not yet disappeared, held the spear backward, rested the shaft against his shoulder, and aimed its tip at the charging boar.

He spread his legs wide, front and back, and shifted his center of gravity onto his front foot as though he were about to fall forward.

Before anyone had time to say anything, the house-sized boar charged into the child.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

CRACK!

Ricard was sent flying backward and rolled over and over through the grass. Butch and Bilter, standing right beside him, could only stare in shock, unable even to understand what had happened.

"Riki! Riki!"

Lord Abelich hurried toward the fallen Ricard.

He dismounted at once and examined his third son. Astonishingly, the child had not lost consciousness. He lay in the yellow, dried grass, staring at the sky. His palm had split open and was bleeding.

Abelich's heart had lurched so violently that he instinctively pulled Ricard into his arms.

"M-My lord. My lord."

Someone called from behind. Abelich turned his head reflexively.

There, he saw the dead body of the boar, its brow pierced precisely by the spear. Huh?

No one spoke. Only the sound of the wind and the barking of dogs could be heard across the field.