Chapter 185 - Dwarf Liberation Front Nidavellir (1)

In the dawn while everyone slept, Vlad and Jager stood facing each other atop an empty training ground.

It was not a battlefield thick with killing intent, but the tense air between them was every bit like real combat.

"Good. Come at me, then."

At Jager's words that he was ready, Vlad quietly steadied his breathing.

He had sparred with Jager countless times before, but today there was a reason he felt especially tense.

["As you know, Jager is the type of swordsman who lays a trap and waits. Be careful of him leading you on."]

'I understand.'

The way he smiled with his sword lowered was full of openings.

But Vlad knew well that inside it was a flash sharper than a snake's fangs.

"What? Want me to make the first move?"

"..."

A battle did not begin only when swords clashed.

There were variables decided before a battle began, and Jager had taught Vlad that he needed to secure as many of those invisible variables as possible.

Just like now, provoking Vlad with that jeering expression.

"I should make the first move. You're getting on in years, so your joints can't be in good shape."

"... You insolent brat."

"Who do you think I learned all this from?"

"No. You were rotten from the start."

The position of the toe about to move forward, the angle of the raised sword, and even the constantly shifting eyes and gestures.

Their swords had not met, but even now Vlad and Jager were fighting fiercely with deceptions meant to bewilder each other.

And at the end of that opening skirmish, Vlad's sword finally began to gleam in the moonlight.

"Then here I come!"

"...!"

Clods of dirt kicked up behind Vlad shot noisily into the night sky.

Unpredictable speed.

Even without using aura, Vlad's explosive charging power was something Jager had not expected at all.

'What the hell!'

CLANG!

With a deafening ring of steel, the frozen ground began to gouge apart.

It was the trace made by Jager, who had been pushed straight back, unable to withstand Vlad's strength.

"You learned quite the cute little trick!"

"This was just me running!"

Through his trembling sword, Jager could glimpse Vlad's eyes.

Eyes that had grown bluer than when he had been a boy had passed beyond the ferocity of his childhood and now reached the realm of savagery.

'They said he inherited a dragon's blood!'

Vlad's world could be felt even without aura.

Vlad had realized who he was and accepted the identity called Dragulia.

Now, not only the squire Vlad that Jager had made, but the many Vlads he had created himself were dwelling in those blue eyes.

"Attack. You told me not to stop."

"Yes. Don't give the flow to your opponent."

Jager nodded as he looked at Vlad's eyes, which were growing bluer and bluer.

If the first strike failed, he must never stop.

Because an opportunity would come only within constant movement.

"Hraaaaaah!"

And so what now filled Jager's vision was the roar let out by a young dragon.

Amid the sword strikes pouring down without pause, Jager's eye patch began to twitch.

'... I can't grasp the flow at all!'

The thrusting strike was as fierce as lightning, yet the direction it extended in was as smooth as water.

Jager could not hide his surprise as he watched Vlad blend a completely different person's swordsmanship into his own footwork.

"You've made a complete hodgepodge of it!"

"What do you think? It's useful, right?"

Knowing it was an insult but also praise, Vlad began to grin brightly.

Seeing Vlad, who had grown far more than expected, Jager also gave him a fierce smile.

"You insolent brat!"

But that smile had not come entirely from joy.

It was more like the smile of a predator that had found an opening in its prey.

CLANG! CLAAANG!

From the tip of Jager's sword, a noble counterattack that only the original could unleash began to burst forth.

At Jager's flowing counterattack to seize the flow, Vlad's sword tip began to waver.

"Your center is still shaking, brat."

"... Grrr."

The world he possessed may have been intense, but there were still openings in the swordsmanship he wielded.

Until now, Vlad had offset that weakness through one-strike sure-kill swordsmanship, but against Jager, who tenaciously enveloped his opponent, he could not help but reveal that opening.

"I'd be disappointed if this was all you had. Wouldn't I?"

"Then... that won't do!"

Using his swinging cloak to block Jager's sight, Vlad quickly widened the distance and escaped Jager's range.

But even though the momentum had turned against him, Vlad could smile because he had been able to confirm that he was completely different from before.

"I still haven't been hit in the shin. Right?"

"Ha. All you've learned outside is how to get cockier."

How much had the person called me grown since the beginning?

Perhaps the only person who could fully answer Vlad's question was Jager, standing before him now.

Because the old marks carved like a child measuring his height would still remain inside the world called Jager.

"This time, I'll split your shin so you can never crawl up again."

"You're saying that, but you're going to aim high instead of low, right?"

The two knights, glaring fiercely yet smiling, raised their swords with truly willing hearts.

Because it was the moment they confirmed, I had grown this much, and I had raised him this much.

Seeing the traces of himself that would continue to remain even after his own existence vanished, Jager stroked his eye patch.

* * *

"So what happened? Did you maybe win?"

"... What do you mean?"

It was morning, and they now had to leave Sturma. Vlad loaded the last of the luggage onto the carriage and tugged Noir along with a limp.

"Didn't you spar with Lord Jager yesterday?"

"How do you know that?"

"How would I not know?"

Portly continued excitedly, his cheeks reddened and puffed up from the cold.

"The sound of you two clashing last night was so loud. If even I noticed, then the knights and squires in the estate probably all know already."

"... Really?"

Hearing Portly's words, Vlad quietly turned his gaze toward the estate.

Sure enough, just as Portly had said, there were knights loitering nearby in droves.

"I wonder what they're all so curious about. Hm, Portly?"

"Heh..."

At Vlad's fierce voice, Portly's fingers, which had been counting the boxes, went back to the place where they had first started counting.

With his shoulders shrinking on their own, his already round figure seemed to grow even rounder.

"I was just curious... If you don't want to say, you don't have to."

"I won."

"Really?"

Portly startled at the word that he had won, but soon he looked at Vlad's limping foot and began to cast a suspicious glance.

"Lord Jager looks perfectly fine, though?"

"That's because he cheated."

Looking at Jager standing far ahead in the procession, Vlad bared his white teeth.

'... We agreed not to use aura.'

Jager's world was a world that rippled green like an aurora in the night sky.

That was the color Vlad had seen yesterday before he was struck in the shin.

["Whoops! I did it without thinking."]

What was this feeling of having won but somehow lost?

Jager's voice, laughing down at him as he writhed in pain last night, still seemed vivid in his ears.

"Vlad, Vlad."

"What?"

"Over there. The Countess is looking for you."

"Hm?"

He had been focused on Jager and had not noticed, but there was a hand beckoning to Vlad from in front of the estate entrance.

It was Oksana, who had come outside to see the party off, beckoning to him.

"Did you call for me?"

"Yes. Vlad."

For some reason, a small teardrop had formed in one corner of Oksana's eye.

Even so, she forced herself to smile out of consideration for Vlad standing before her.

"If you had sent word ahead that you were coming, I could have prepared more."

"..."

Vlad looked at the bundles of luggage Oksana's maids were bringing out.

Every one of them was a bundle filled with clothes.

"In summer, you must wear clothes suited to summer, and in winter, clothes suited to winter. Now that you have become a noble too, you must not dress so carelessly as you do now."

"I'm sorry."

Oksana spoke while smoothing Vlad's collar, which was sticking out.

It was made from fine fabric, but the clothes that looked too thin for the season were the summer clothes Oksana had given him when Vlad had been a squire.

"I had them cut a little larger than before, so they should fit."

"Thank you for your consideration."

"And."

A woman whose gaze was always hard to meet.

Because of that, Vlad had been needlessly lowering his head, but when he felt a heavy sensation wrap around his shoulders, he had no choice but to lift it.

"But what did you do with the cloak I gave you before? Sell it off?"

"... Ah."

At the feel of fur gently wrapping around his shoulders, Vlad found himself stroking it without realizing.

The cloak, much thicker than the one he had handed over to Charles, was warm enough to make him forget the cold of midwinter.

"It is a cloak made of sable fur. This time, don't lose it."

Watching Oksana untie the cloak he had been wearing and personally fasten the ties of the new one, Vlad found himself at a loss for words.

"Please take good care of my son on this journey. Vlad, no, Sir Vlad."

Looking into Oksana's eyes, which somehow seemed sad, Vlad quietly nodded.

Though she was someone else's mother, the warmth spreading from her seeped into him far more deeply than the sable-fur cloak.

"Then I will be going."

"Yes."

Feeling strangely bashful, Vlad bowed deeply and hurried to find the place assigned to him.

He had noticed Oksana's gaze continuing to watch him from behind, but he did not want to take away the time for mother and son to say farewell.

"Oh... That cloak."

"What about the cloak?"

Instead of the donkey he usually rode, Nibelun was sitting on the carriage roof this time, and he began to smile as he looked at Vlad's newly received cloak.

"Could you lend me that cloak just once later?"

"Why?"

"My warmth pouch happens to be empty. I suppose it ran away because I hit it too much."

Nibelun was awkwardly smiling as he shook the warmth pouch he had used before.

Sure enough, just as he said, there seemed to be nothing inside the pouch that had become completely thin.

"Not this."

"Oh, come now, don't be like that."

Despite Nibelun's pleading, Vlad only fastened his cloak collar and did not give him the slightest opening.

"Look for something else. Not this."

Seeing Vlad's firm attitude, Nibelun seemed to realize it was hopeless, and his ears drooped.

"Understood... But I do have a favor to ask."

"What?"

"Could you ask the one-eyed knight over there at the very front to depart a little later? I tried telling him, but he didn't buy a word of it."

"Depart later? Why?"

In this winter, it would not be enough even to leave before daybreak, so Vlad could not hide his puzzled expression at Nibelun saying they should instead leave later.

"Well... Because there are people who haven't arrived yet."

The mage sitting on the carriage looked toward the distant city gate and breathed out a deep white breath.

"I think they will come if we wait just a little."

"... Sometimes I have no idea what you're talking about."

It was incomprehensible advice from a mage who handled mystery, but Vlad decided to do as he asked.

Because he had experienced that world firsthand, he knew well that Nibelun did not speak idly.

"Mother, I'll be going now."

"Yes. Yes."

While Vlad approached Jager, Joseph and Oksana were exchanging their final farewells.

Though Oksana told him with words to go, her two hands were still holding on to Joseph.

But because she knew it was now time to part, her hands slowly loosened.

"I will always be here, so come back whenever you wish."

"Yes. Mother."

Seeing his mother finally shed tears, Joseph forced himself to turn his head and look at the estate.

The morning sunlight shining over the walls was illuminating the estate where he had been born.

"... I will come back."

Though the estate somehow felt distant, unlike his words, Joseph decided to force himself to say he would return.

* * *

In the dim light of dawn, a group was approaching the gate of Sturma.

The men, who had pulled thick hoods all the way over their heads, kept letting out white breaths, as if they were not used to the cold of the North.

"So this is Sturma..."

Among the group, a man who looked like their leader began to look up at Sturma's walls with a deep gaze.

The closer they drew, the more the majesty of the high, solid walls left a deep impression, as anyone could see.

"Halt! Identify yourselves, you there!"

Men standing motionless and staring up at the walls in wonder, even though it was not yet time for the gates to open.

The guards of Sturma sent wary looks toward them, but at the words that soon reached them, they had no choice but to lower the spears they were holding.

No, to be precise, it was because of the pointed ears of the men revealed when they lowered their hoods.

"We have come from Aushrina."

Hearing the humans' now-familiar demand, Varadis, captain of the rangers, searched inside his clothes and held up a document.

On the outside of the finely sealed document was drawn the crest of Heinal.

"... Elves?"

"This is a letter of guarantee written by Baroness Alicia Heinal."

With elves, who were said to be difficult to see even once in a lifetime, standing before them, the guards seemed quite flustered.

That was only natural, for here in Sturma, not only elves but even beastfolk, who were said to wander the whole continent, were almost impossible to see.

"And if Sir Vlad the knight is in this city, we would like you to send word that we have arrived."

Elves looking for Sir Vlad the knight while carrying a letter of guarantee certified by Baroness Alicia Heinal.

The people the far-seeing mage had been waiting for had now reached the gate of Sturma.