Chapter 176 - The Iron Duke's City (3)

Bastopol, the capital city of the Baranoff Duchy.

Situated atop a cold, sheer cliff, this city somehow gave the impression that it was cut off from the rest of the world.

"Still, the road is better maintained than I expected. Enough for carriages to travel on it."

As Vlad said, because it was situated on a cliff, there was inevitably some slope to it, but it was certainly a well-paved road.

And a well-maintained road that would be hard to find anywhere else at that.

Vlad thought the feeling of the smooth ground coming through the soles of his shoes was rather refreshing.

"When I saw it from far away, I thought the path would be rough since it was in the cliff."

"It is still a duchy, after all. If you look at scale alone, it is a far bigger city than Sturma."

The city of Bastopol was not located in a climate pleasant for people to live in, but that also made it a safe city.

From the most perfect age of dragons to the present age.

The city of the North, said to have never fallen even once over hundreds of years, was a city that had earned the right to prosper by surviving so long.

"But if they make the road this good, wouldn't it be convenient for the attackers too? It feels like there'd be no point in going through the trouble of settling in such a rugged place."

"Is that so?"

Vlad had now begun to think quite a bit from a commander's perspective as well, but Rutiger only smiled quietly.

"Well, I once thought the same."

There are times when one experience is better than ten explanations.

Rutiger, who knew that well because he had experienced it himself, did not bother trying to explain it to Vlad.

"Bring out the flags. We will be at the gate soon."

Once they left the winding cliff road, the gates of Bastopol finally began to appear in the distance.

It had now been exactly three weeks since they left Soara.

The Iron Duke's city, where they had finally arrived, was still sparkling as it reflected the sunlight, just as it had from far away.

"... Hm?"

"You are only noticing now."

But unlike when he had seen it from far away, there were things he could see now that they had drawn closer.

When Vlad confirmed that the surface of the walls looked somehow too smooth to be stone, his eyes soon widened.

"Why is the Iron Duke called the Iron Duke? The answer to that is right there."

The dark gray stones Vlad had vaguely assumed to be stone until now were, in fact, not stone.

All of them were steel.

The entirety of the walls, so vast they were hard to take in at a glance even when looking up, was filled with steel.

"... What in the world is this?"

The dark gray walls that had sparkled even from far away.

Only now understanding the reason, Vlad simply stared blankly up at the walls of Bastopol, unable even to think of taking out his own flag.

The enormous city of steel, approaching beyond the bounds of common sense, was leaving a deep footprint on Vlad's world.

* * *

"So they have all finally arrived."

There was a man standing alone by the window with his hands clasped behind his back, slowly swirling a wineglass.

The Iron Duke, Timur, confirmed the procession crossing the distant gate and coming toward his estate, then brought the glass in his hand to his lips.

"Fortunately, thanks to Baroness Alicia, the council will at least have its proper form."

"That is correct, Your Grace."

Fernand, the mage who was in the office with him, nodded at Timur's words.

The northern council had been composed of seven houses for many long years, but with the destruction of House Uthman, it had lost one of its old pillars.

However, Heinal had happened to fill that disgracefully emptied seat at just the right time, so for Timur, it was certainly a welcome thing.

"... Are the sealing caskets still raging?"

"Yes, Your Grace. It is growing worse as time passes."

However, there was a reason Timur could not smile easily now.

It was because of the pieces of dragon that were rampaging to a degree incomparable to the time of the Lindworm.

This signal, like a warning, was also a warning that an exceedingly dense dragon potential was approaching this city.

"Blond hair and blue eyes... And an approaching dragon potential."

Timur's gaze, which had been lingering on the rippling wineglass, had at some point begun turning toward the procession that had reached the front of the estate.

Where his gaze landed, there was a blond knight extending his hand toward a woman with water-colored hair.

"Well, if that is so, then what has happened until now would be understandable."

Timur, who had been watching Vlad intently, nodded as if he finally understood.

There is no result without a cause.

Becoming a knight only a few years after taking up a sword, calling forth aura.

And the talent to draw out one's own world and paint it over reality was, as far as Timur knew, a talent that had never once existed before.

"Prepare it. I want to confirm it myself."

"Understood."

At Timur's words, the old mage quietly bowed his head and scattered away like smoke.

"... That tree was radiant in color, at least."

However, to dismiss the tree he had seen in Moshiam as the remnant of a savage dragon, it had been far too beautiful.

That golden light, which could never have emerged if it had been painted merely by what he had been born with, still shimmered before Timur's eyes.

"I hope it is not so."

There was one final sip left in the glass he held.

Raising the rippling wineglass and pointlessly framing Vlad far away within it, Timur frowned as if he found it regrettable.

* * *

After passing through the gates of Bastopol and arriving at the Iron Duke's estate, the party had now separated according to their respective flags.

Beside the six flags fluttering above the estate, a seventh flag slowly began to rise.

Heinal.

And at the moment when they had to move not under Rutiger's guidance, but only beneath the banner of Heinal, Vlad flinched as he felt countless gazes clinging to him.

"Baroness Heinal of Deirmar! Welcome to Bastopol!"

The doors of the estate slowly opened along with a thunderous greeting of welcome.

Beyond them was a broad garden path that seemed wide enough for several carriages to move along at the same time.

["Not now."]

"..."

["Think about why you are here, Vlad."]

And as if they had been waiting, knights stood in formation on both sides along the well-trimmed path.

At first glance, they looked like a group welcoming Alicia, but among them there was a sharpness that was not easily ignored.

"Sir Vlad?"

Ahead of him, Duncan, the old knight holding Heinal's flag, quietly looked back at Vlad.

His innocent appearance made it seem as though he had felt nothing at all.

A few of the young knights standing in formation did not bother hiding their sneers as they looked at the old knight, who could not even feel their worlds.

["Anyone who holds a sword is bound to burn with a desire to compete. So do not concern yourself with every one of their provocations."]

If one holds a sword, one is a swordsman.

But if one bears a duty upon the sword one holds, then one is a knight.

To fulfill the duty he bore, Vlad deliberately ignored the provocative gazes and quietly knocked on the door of the carriage Alicia was riding in.

"We have arrived, Baroness Alicia."

"All right."

At Vlad's signal, the carriage door began to open quietly.

The knights' eyes had been blazing until just a moment ago, but the instant the carriage door opened, the water-colored radiance spilling out as though set loose stole the gazes of everyone around them.

"Thank you for escorting me this far, Sir Vlad."

"Not at all, my lady."

Perhaps those now watching with bated breath did not know.

The fact that the radiance of Alicia, from whom they could not take their eyes even now, was unable to shine fully because she was worn out by the long journey.

"Then would you open the way for me one last time?"

At Alicia's request to make a path for her, Vlad quietly nodded.

Because the reason he had stood beneath the banner of Heinal, not under the name Aureo, was precisely for this moment.

"To do that for you is why I am here, my lady."

Though the one invited was Aureo, in this place, at least, he was Lady Alicia's knight.

Beneath the fluttering flag of Heinal, Vlad extended his hand toward Alicia.

["Now you may do it."]

But being flawless was not enough.

If he was to open a proper path for her, as Alicia wished.

"... Kgh!"

"Hmm..."

Duncan, who was holding Heinal's flag, began to look puzzled when he saw the knights suddenly stagger.

However, if he, tense as he was from holding the flag, had looked back even for a moment, he would have understood the situation well enough.

"Everyone is bowing their heads."

"It must be a sign of respect toward Heinal."

"I am glad. I was worried we might be slighted."

A knight who, in accordance with an old tradition, spread out his cloak for a noble lady.

Having cut off every insult that might have reached her through his cloak, Vlad was now calling forth his world through his quietly closed left eye.

"Let us go, Lady Alicia."

Following Vlad's guidance, Alicia slowly began walking toward the Iron Duke's estate.

As she moved forward, the knights of the North bowed their heads.

Looking at their welcome, Alicia began to whisper quietly.

"I was right to ask you."

The tree of Heinal was not here in this place, but Alicia was still standing beneath a tree.

The color of that tree was gold.

It was not large, but it was certainly a tree stretching toward a high place.

* * *

"Master Smith! Master Smith! Come see me for a moment!"

A rough man's voice began to ring out over the island where only seagulls were lazily drifting about.

"Ah! If you're inside, you could at least say you're inside!"

"... I did say so, you bastard. Your cannon of a voice drowned it all out."

The old dwarf called Master Smith clicked his tongue as he watched Sigurson and his sailors run toward him in a hurry.

"I thought getting some outside air might have mellowed that temper of yours, but you are the same as ever."

"I've lived like this my whole life, so would a mere few months change anything? Anyway, take a look at this."

Sigurson, who had returned after completing his mission, should have reported to the tribal chief first, but the person he sought out first was the old dwarf he called Master Smith.

"A furnace? What about it?"

"Now that you're old, it seems your eyes have gone dim too."

As if he no longer even wanted to bicker, Sigurson waved his hand and quickly took the glasses from his chest before putting them on the old dwarf.

"Now look. Can you see?"

"What is so impressive about some old furnace..."

Seeing Sigurson far more impatient than usual, as if something was terribly urgent, the old dwarf began adjusting the focus of the glasses by turning the screw attached to the rim.

WHIRR!

"Hm?"

Then a small tail came into view.

When the old dwarf's eyes met those of the small lizard hiding inside the old furnace, he flinched in surprise.

"What... is this?"

"It's the one, right? I mean, we only saw it in books and have never actually seen one..."

"What is this!"

At the old dwarf's sudden shout, the young lizard quickly hid itself inside the furnace.

Though its tail was still swaying, as if it thought hiding only its head was enough.

"Where did you get this!"

Looking at the old dwarf, who was gradually losing his composure, Sigurson could be certain that he had brought the real thing.

"Looks like it is. A salamander."

Watching the old master smith's hands tremble, Sigurson began to grin.

In the old days, there had been a dwarven furnace said to be capable of melting anything.

However, the heat of that furnace did not come from burning something.

Because it had been born with heat within it, it could melt anything.

"But Master Smith, there is something I want to ask before I go report to the tribal chief."

The confirmation was done, so now it was time to report.

However, the old dwarf, who had at some point hugged the old furnace to himself, was completely absorbed in the young lizard inside it.

"Yes. Yes. What a good little one."

"... Have you ever made daggers or something like that for humans? Back when you were enslaved in the West, old man."

"That's right. That's right. I won't hurt you."

Looking at the master smith cooing as though he were looking at a young grandson, Sigurson scratched the back of his head.

"When I was repairing it, it was faint, but it looked like your mark, so I asked... I'll just come back later and ask again."

When Sigurson snatched up the furnace in one swift motion to go to the tribal chief, the old dwarf's eyes began to grow wistful.

"Daggers...?"

The question had stayed by his ears, but only then did it enter his head, and the old dwarf began digging up very old memories.

"... I did make some once, a long time ago."

Sigurson had already walked far away, so he could not answer him, but just as Sigurson had asked, the old dwarf had once made a few daggers for a human knight.

Though he had been in the middle of fleeing and could not make them properly, they were certainly daggers into which he had carved his mark, with gratitude and thanks.

Along with a promise that if the knight came to find him at any time, he would make proper ones for him again.