Chapter 154 - The Place to Return (2)

The afternoon sunlight streaming through the stained glass was vivid.

"..."

The great chapel of the convent stood empty.

Standing there alone, Vlad quietly held out his hand and tried to grasp the colorful lights falling over him.

But the lights he tried to catch only scattered emptily.

The lights that reached him through the stained glass were splendid, yet inside his clenched palm, only tiny motes of dust drifted.

"What is this, really?"

Vlad gave a hollow smile as he watched the dust scatter into pieces in the sunlight.

From far away, it had looked so large and so high.

"..."

Letting out a small sigh, Vlad turned his head and looked back.

At the far end, where not even the shafts of light from the windows reached, stood the old convent door.

It was also the door that, on that cold winter day, had refused to let Marcella inside until the very end.

"All because of that thing."

Virgins inside, prostitutes outside.

The prostitute, who was not pure, yet cleaner than anyone, had lost even the right to enter.

A standard set not by God, but merely by someone, had failed to see Marcella as she truly was.

It was probably not only Marcella.

Everyone lived that way.

They were judged and cut to size by standards set by others, not themselves.

"No matter how I look at it, I don't like it."

And Vlad hated that.

Whether he was Vlad of the back alleys or Vlad of Soara, Vlad had simply been Vlad.

Knowing that not everyone could have an Andreas as he did, Vlad's gaze began to sharpen as he looked at the convent door.

※※※※

It was the beginning of winter, yet the atmosphere before the gates of Soara was hot.

The sound of spears shaking this way and that in the soldiers' hands and clashing together rang out.

Yet at the end of that sound came not someone's scream, but joyful cheers, loud enough to echo all the way to city hall at the very center.

"You have returned, Father."

"Yes. You have worked hard in my absence."

Before Joseph, who bowed his head respectfully, walked a man with a face resembling his own.

At first glance, he was neatly dressed, but dust fell from his shoulders, hinting at the distance of the journey he had traveled.

"Congratulations on your victory."

"... And I offer the same to you. I commend your achievement in defending Deirmar, my son."

Outside, the air was full of boisterous voices, but here inside the mayor's office of Soara, the mood was quiet.

Advisor Ragmus and Joseph's knight Jager were both holding their breath, and only the gazes exchanged between father and son filled the room.

"How is your health?"

"It has improved greatly."

The eyes that looked upon his son were still full of strength, but the hair that should have been entirely black now seemed to hold more white than black.

Peter was now at an age where he had to think less of the road he himself would walk, and more of the road those left behind would follow.

"Did my older brother not come with you?"

"Rutiger will remain there until the new gate is established."

That was why this was also the time to make a decision.

This war had been short but intense, and it had been a good chance to look back upon his sons.

"... I see."

Seeing Joseph's gaze grow deeper and deeper, Peter guessed what lay inside his son's heart.

Others might not have noticed, but that clever child surely had.

The new fortress to be built in the West was a monumental first step taken by the Northern Alliance, and a place to which Iron Duke Timur, the leader of the Alliance, was paying special attention.

Rutiger, who would remain at the fortress as Bayezid's representative, would meet countless northern figures there, and would also solidify his political position.

"We succeeded in inviting the people of Nidavellir, the dwarf liberation front. At the docks of Soara now, the ship they arrived on is..."

"I know."

At Peter's cold interruption, the pitying shadows beneath Joseph's eyes deepened.

As if he had guessed something from Peter's attitude, Joseph's gaze began to tremble.

"You did well. Splendidly."

Joseph had certainly completed what he had to do splendidly, and had done everything within his power without omission.

But Peter could not congratulate his son with a heart that was wholly glad.

Because while facing the desolate winds of the West, he had agonized over many things, and now it was time to give Joseph his answer.

"... As a reward for that, how would Nassau do?"

Standing one step behind Joseph, Jager flinched despite himself at Peter's words.

Many explanations had been omitted, but there was a current in the air, and it was enough to make everyone present arrive at the same thought.

"It is warmer than Soara, and the air is good there. It will certainly be suitable for tending to your weak body."

"..."

The three cities that represented Bayezid: Sturma, Varna, and Soara.

But Peter was recommending to Joseph not one of those three cities, but a city they had gained from the West.

Nassau was certainly a fine city, but it was not a place that shared in Bayezid's history and tradition.

"... Father."

"I want to give you a choice, my son."

History repeated itself, and that was how Bayezid had survived.

A world of the law of the jungle, where only the strong could survive.

Peter felt as though he could still remember the faces of the brothers who had been pierced by his sword.

"I will give you the post of governor-general of Nassau. You will have more authority and support than you do now."

So give up the position of Family Head.

Only then will you be able to live.

"... Is this the end?"

"Yes."

Hearing Peter's final words, Joseph felt his mind go faint.

The long, long test he had never wanted, yet which had begun from the moment he was born.

He had done his utmost with this shabby body for that test whose end he had never known, but in the end, his struggle had reached only this far.

The test was over.

In the end, the person Father had chosen was not me, but my brother.

"I have spoken at length with your mother as well. She said she would accept this decision too, as long as your safety could be assured."

The deep sense of defeat Joseph had been desperately suppressing all this time began to wrap around his entire body.

It felt as though the emotions he had held down with reason were pouring out violently, like a dam that had cracked.

"I trust you will understand my decision."

"..."

Of course he could understand.

The world now was in an age of chaos, and to overcome such chaos, a strong ruler would be needed.

Joseph had long known that a frail lord who collapsed after one mere defense was not suited for that.

But what about how I feel?

Who in the world will understand how I feel, when the goal I have run toward my entire life has collapsed?

"Once this winter passes, pack your things and go to Nassau. Your mother will go with you."

"Father."

Within Peter's words, which were full of consideration for his son but in the end were nothing more than a unilateral notice, Joseph finally raised his head.

It was Joseph's head, which had been weighed down by despair, defeat, and anger he could do nothing about.

"Was I lacking?"

"... No."

But within the eyes that met his, those sticky emotions had already been stilled.

Though he was not as strong as Rutiger, Joseph had endured much pain and survived until now.

"Was I perhaps a son you were ashamed of, or one you wanted to hide?"

"... No. You are my proud son."

Children grow.

Even if it is in a direction and to a limit different from what their parents decided.

Joseph's soul, made dense because it had been tempered, was more tenacious than Peter had thought.

"Then I will die."

Parents might decide the beginning, but they could not decide the end.

Because my life is mine alone, and the one who can decide its end is also me.

"Among the countless stars floating in that sky, I want to carve at least one star bearing my name before I die."

"..."

Because his body was weak, because his talent was lacking.

He did not want a life where he simply lived as he had been born because there was nothing he could do.

Because I, your proud son, was not born to live that way.

"I, your proud son, wish to become the next Family Head of Bayezid."

Joseph, who had been floating in the night sky yet had never been seen by anyone, now decided without hesitation to burn away his entire life.

Entirely by his own will.

Even if everyone said he could not, he would follow what was worthwhile because it was what he wanted to do.

※※※※

BANG!

A tremendous sound of destruction shook the convent of Soara.

It was such a loud boom that even the floor seemed to heave.

"W-W-Wha! What is this!"

Startled by the great noise, the Mother Superior came rushing down and widened her eyes as if she could not believe the sight before her.

The convent chapel was still filled with pale smoke.

Wooden planks scattered here and there lay rolling in a terrible mess.

"What is the meaning of this, Bishop! Even if I am someone who follows the Vatican!"

"... Heh heh."

Andreas, who had been speaking with her in the Mother Superior's office for some time, had also been startled by the sound and followed her down.

The nuns slowly gathered, buzzing among themselves, and Stefan, the mercenary captain, swallowed nervously as he looked at them.

Yet the man receiving all those gazes merely closed his left eye again as if nothing was wrong.

"They said the door wouldn't open."

He was smiling mischievously, but the golden light flowing from between his closed eyelids was anything but ordinary.

"It wouldn't open for someone who was a prostitute, wouldn't open for people who had nothing, and wouldn't open for people who needed help."

A door built with noble intent, yet opened and closed according to the standards of those holding it.

To Vlad, who had realized how shallow those standards were, the firmly shut convent door was nothing more and nothing less than a target to be removed.

"So I tried to fix it somehow, but it didn't work out."

"... Is that so?"

Beside them, the Mother Superior was shrieking about what on earth he thought he was doing, but Bishop Andreas merely nodded and smiled.

"It's all right! It was a door we were going to replace anyway!"

This was the very reason he, who had wandered the wilderness, had deliberately taken the office of bishop.

He had been planning to break it down anyway.

That high threshold you people made had been something he had been sick and tired of since his days as a priest.

"There are still some parts left, aren't there? There are no men here to put their backs into it, so you break it all down to the end!"

As Andreas said, there was still a door panel hanging loose.

Vlad was surprised to see Andreas telling him, with even more excitement, to break more of it, but now that he had permission, there was no reason to hesitate.

"Understood, Bishop."

Vlad's light began to flow from his closed left eye.

A light all his own, one that even the colored glass shining from above could not erase.

Though he had not surpassed the moon, Vlad, who had formed a world of his own, was at this moment shining brighter than anyone.

The first strike was for the prostitute.

The second strike was for the girl.

Both of them were people who had struggled not to live merely as they had been born.

"...!"

The strike of a knight, backed by the permission of noble Bayezid and the guarantee of the bishop, burst out through the highest hill in Soara.

BOOOOM!

At the thunderous roar that rang out even louder than before, even the soldiers down below now looked up at the convent in surprise.

The convent door, blasted apart by Vlad's furious strike.

Because standards set by someone else cannot judge me wholly.

The boy from the back alleys, who had done what he could according to what had to be done, finally accomplished what he wanted to do.

It was the potential of a boy that only a true priest had recognized.