Chapter 181 - Toward the Duty Left Undone (1)

Last night had been a very hard one.

The ground had shaken beneath their feet, and wyverns had howled above the sky.

Yet even after a night like a nightmare, today's sun was bound to rise without fail.

As dawn broke from the distant, snow-white plains, the residents of Bastopol finally began poking their heads out toward the city that had grown quiet at last.

"... We really should have killed him back then."

"We should have."

"It's because you didn't drive properly."

"Sure. Let's say that."

As the rising morning sun drove away the darkness, the first things visible were the ruined walls and the ruined city.

And in the most chaotically collapsed part of all, Rutiger and Vlad lay sprawled out.

Today's sun touched the two of them as they hung their heads, as if they had exhausted every last bit of strength.

"Still, it felt good to land a hit on that bastard."

"..."

Listening to Rutiger, Vlad turned his head and looked toward the city wall.

A deep, enormous rift had been carved into it.

That rift, which had begun at the estate, reached precisely as far as Bastopol's wall.

"I bet it did feel good."

Vlad nodded as he looked at the Sword Path Rutiger had unleashed so cleanly.

Well, if anyone had vented their rage to that extent, they could only have been satisfied.

"You're going to Sturma now?"

"Yes."

"To see Joseph?"

"... Yes."

A knight who had now risen under his own name.

Vlad was free now, belonging nowhere any longer, and for that very reason, he had decided to leave for the sake of what he wanted to do.

Because he thought there was still something left undone for the man who had first recognized him.

"We worked pretty well together yesterday, didn't we?"

"You said just now that I didn't drive properly."

Knowing what Rutiger was trying to say, Vlad needlessly nudged a nearby stone with his foot.

He could not see because his head was turned, but perhaps Rutiger was making a disappointed face right now.

"Right. Take care of yourself."

"You're not coming with me?"

At Vlad's question, asking if he would not go with him to Sturma, Rutiger shrugged and continued as if it were no big deal.

"The mother there isn't my mother."

"..."

"Neither you nor I have much family to lean on."

Rutiger brushed off his seat and stood, as if it was time to get up now, then playfully ruffled Vlad's hair and walked toward the estate.

Rutiger's world was a world like a volcano.

Watching his back as he trudged away, Vlad felt as though he could understand, at least a little, why the rage lodged within his soul was so fierce.

※※※※

A gorge that could be reached only after crossing a snow-white field.

The groups gathered there had their heads lowered, at a loss for words.

"The damage?"

"A total of four wyverns were shot down during the operation."

"The knights?"

"..."

Mircea, who was standing against the cliff, understood his adjutant's silence.

Even at a glance, half the knights were nowhere to be seen.

At the bitterness of having lost elites chosen and chosen again, Mircea swallowed a bitter mouthful.

"I should have brought the Death worm instead."

Ten wyverns and fifty elite knights.

It had been a surprise attack using the sky that the northern knights could not reach, and a plan using a dragon that became more complete the closer it came to the piece.

But even though it had been carried out under the Dragonblood Duke's full support and even used spies inside the city, what lay before them now was nothing but a disastrous failure.

"The young Ravnoma is still in Soara, was it?"

"We did receive a telegram saying he had just left for Sturma, but..."

Not every plan could be perfect, but Mircea was not a man who tolerated such variables.

That was why he had been cautious upon cautious, and yet the problem had burst out from a completely different place.

"The Pact moved even though the young Ravnoma was not there..."

Sarnus Dragulia, the oldest dragon, had been someone who had watched the scene from the very moment the sealing caskets that would hold the pieces were made.

He knew well that the Guardian of the Pact could never be changed without the Swordmaster's permission, yet in reality, the Pact had moved from Ravnoma to Bayezid, and in the end, that had led to the present failure.

If only Ravnoma's casket had gone berserk as originally planned, Mircea and the wyverns would not have retreated this easily.

'... It wasn't the Swordmaster's sword.'

As Mircea reviewed this failure, he came to realize it.

The Swordmaster's energy his father said he had sensed in the North had not been merely a trace left by a sword.

Somewhere in the North now, there existed someone who had inherited his bloodline, or else his will.

"... Impossible."

Even the Court Duke had searched desperately and failed to find one, so it would not be the bloodline.

Then that meant it was a successor who had inherited his will, and when Mircea's thoughts reached that point, he imagined a possibility that could never happen and ended up letting out a hollow laugh.

"What is impossible, Captain?"

"Nothing."

Surely not.

A knight born as a dragon, yet inheriting the Swordmaster's will.

There could be no such contradictory being in this world.

"Gather the wounded. We are returning."

"Understood, Captain."

After giving the order, Mircea looked down at his own palm, burned black.

A black scar left atop the word perfect.

Clenching both hands tight, Mircea engraved that scar, along with one name he must not forget, deep into his heart.

※※※※

Inside the estate that had become a wreck, Timur and Peter were drinking tea.

It was a meeting between a noble duke and count, yet the atmosphere was far too peaceful, and also familiar.

"Everything collapsed, so there was no liquor to serve. Even this tea was barely found."

"Well. This is more than enough."

Holding his teacup, Peter shrugged as if he understood Timur's difficulties.

Was it because he was before the Iron Duke, an old acquaintance?

Somehow, he looked relaxed, and when he smiled, he resembled Rutiger, while when he drank tea, he resembled Joseph.

"In a way, perhaps this was for the best. Through this incident, we will be able to unite firmly."

There had been an unpleasant incident, but rather, thanks to it, the northern council had been able to end successfully.

After all, nothing was more effective than an external threat when it came to uniting as one.

"I can see him out there."

Timur jerked his chin as if telling him to look over there.

Peter, who had been drinking tea, looked through the half-broken window at the procession leaving through the gate.

It was the group of lords returning to their respective territories after the meeting.

"Their destination is the same, so why are they not leaving together?"

"There is no need to provoke the dragon's blood unnecessarily, is there?"

Peter recognized the blond knight leaving among that group.

That knight, riding a black horse as he departed, was likely on his way to Sturma, Peter's own territory.

"Because from now on, a dragon piece will be sealed in Sturma."

A knight born as a dragon, yet who chose to stand against dragons.

Looking at the small flag passing through the distant gate, Peter gave a faint smile.

That flag hanging behind the black horse had certainly been made by my wife.

"By the way, how is your second son? I understand the next Family Head has already been decided."

Peter did not answer Timur's question right away.

He merely tilted his empty teacup with a bitter expression.

"... He says there is something he wants to do until the very end."

No finger hurts any less when bitten, but there must be one finger that hurts especially.

For Peter, that finger was Joseph, and that was why he could not bring himself to refuse those words, that he wanted to burn until the very end.

"Even though he could rest a little now."

He could only hope that the blond knight leaving the city now would reach you as a comfort.

The last sip Peter tilted back was that bitter.

※※※※

Long ago, our ancestors made a promise with one man.

That we would stand beneath one banner to drive away the most perfect dragon.

The promise of that time was true, and it was honorable, and so we, the lords of the North, have striven to keep that promise even now.

But what of the Empire today?

Does it remember the promise of that time, when we vowed to become one?

Does it remember the city that protected the pride of humanity until the very end?

Is the emperor of today truly one qualified to inherit the Founding King's promise?

Therefore, here and now, we resolve.

We will no longer obey the commands of an Empire that has betrayed its promise with the North through discrimination and contempt.

From this moment on, we will not recognize an emperor connected by false blood.

The Founding King and great Swordmaster.

Until the rightful successor of Quijano Frausen, who killed the most perfect dragon, appears, the North will stand wholly in the name of the North alone.

This is the resolution the seven lords of the North send to the Empire.

※※※※

A deep forest in the east.

There was a deep and vast forest there that did not allow humans to approach.

A forest where a young World Tree stood, and where young spirits born from that World Tree lived, Aushrina.

But now, that forest was frozen stiff with tension that felt as if a blade had touched it.

"... Stand back, stand back. Everyone, hurry and stand back."

All the elves of the village had gathered before the young World Tree.

Because of the killing intent the elves gave off, the atmosphere felt as though anything might be cut down.

This time, the elves' will to protect the World Tree, no matter what price they had to pay, was clear.

"But Elder."

"It is a revelation."

Before the World Tree now stood sinister beings spread out in black.

Whether human or monster, all of those headless things said nothing, yet by their mere existence, they were defiling the elves' forest.

"Even if it is the Divine Maiden's revelation, are you truly going to hand over the Swordmaster's sword? To that ominous human?"

"We absolutely cannot!"

The elves looked ready to rush at the man before them at any moment, but Elder Geronimo was desperately holding back their clash.

'... Why have you returned in such a state?'

He was a man Geronimo had seen in his childhood, hundreds of years ago and more, yet Geronimo remembered him clearly.

The clothes he wore were terribly worn, and the hair he possessed was a faded gray.

Even the look in his eyes had grown old, like that of a corpse.

Seeing him, who had been great, return in such a shabby state, Geronimo could not help feeling a turmoil that could not be put into words.

"... Everyone, please move aside."

In that instant, a voice came from behind the elves who had been murmuring so loudly.

The voice was not loud, but it rang out to everyone, flowing along the will of the World Tree.

"Divine Maiden!"

"You must not! Anything but that sword!"

The Divine Maiden of the World Tree wore only cloth so thin it was winter.

As she looked at the scene before her, the scene she had seen in a dream, the Divine Maiden's two eyes trembled as if tears might spill from them at any moment.

"Please clear the way, everyone."

If they did not clear the way, everyone here would die.

That was what she had seen in her dream, and that was what the World Tree had warned her would happen.

Even now, the ominous woman looking up at the World Tree was smiling as she watched the young spirits playing there.

"Take it. You are its original master."

"..."

The Divine Maiden of the World Tree, holding up the silver knight neatly in both hands, looked at the man before her with an expression as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

For the Divine Maiden to cry meant the World Tree was crying.

Even though it was midwinter, the World Tree's leaves, still green, were scattering in the wind.

"Can you hear it? The sword is weeping at your current state."

Even at the Divine Maiden's tearful voice, the man merely picked up the Swordmaster's sword with an expressionless face.

The way he creaked like an old device somehow looked pitiful.

"... It does not matter if I cannot hear it."

Just as the Divine Maiden said, the silver knight was weeping sorrowfully as it looked at its master, who had returned in such a shabby state to fulfill the duty left undone.

Yet the one who actually grasped the sword was only indifferent, as if he could hear nothing at all.

"Because this time, I must kill every dragon."

There was once a great Dragon Slayer who had killed the most perfect dragon.

His name was Quijano Frausen.

But the man who had now dried up completely had forgotten the name before him, and remembered only his duty.