A Knight Does Not Forget a Grudge (5)
The moment Irene's magic came pouring down, the battle swung wholly to their side. The goblins, past any mere rout and deep into a slaughter, broke and ran.
Not that it would save them.
"After them! Run them down and make sure they're dead!"
"Leave even one alive and it'll come back on us...!"
"Charge!"
Against veteran mercenaries who lived for the chase, there was no slipping free. The goblin host had been doomed from the start, and little by little Roen's own sword was coming to rest.
"Hah. Wears a man out."
"It would. You cut down more than a thousand of them by yourself."
"If the students are to come through unhurt, someone has to do the hard part."
"...You do realize you are a student yourself, my lord?"
"Hardly in the same position as they are, am I?"
"..."
Jack wanted to toss something back, even in jest, but the sentence refused to finish itself in his head. Small wonder. Blood threaded from the blade alone, drop by slow drop, while not a speck of it had touched Roen's clothes or his skin. The sight was enough to overwhelm him.
My lord's sword grows more complete with every step.
The skill and the seasoned calm were so overwhelming that Jack could hardly believe they belonged to someone his own age. Watching that sword grow ever more precise, ever more terrible, as if its owner were walking a road he had already traveled once, he could only marvel.
"My lord, the truth is you could have cut down all eight thousand by yourself, couldn't you?"
"What makes you think so?"
"Just from the strength you showed now, I can't shake the feeling you were holding back."
"..."
"As I thought..."
"I didn't say a word."
"They call that agreement by silence, don't they?"
"...Since we came up to the Royal Capital, the only thing you've improved is your mouth."
Roen neither confirmed it nor denied it, but Jack was certain all the same. Left to himself, his lord could have killed the entire goblin host. That he had set the students and the mercenary company at the center of the fight anyway could mean only one thing.
For the sake of the others' growth.
The students' growth, to be precise. His lord, Roen Dmitri de Lionel, possessed a Mystery akin to foresight. Perhaps because of it, he was forever preparing for what lay ahead, and even now he was distinguishing himself by dragging into the light villains who had hidden for decades and the rot festering among the nobility. A remarkable man. And yet—
Sometimes he goes too far.
Toward certain people his composure simply vanished. The rational lord Jack knew would disappear, and in his place a man who could not govern his rage would run wild. Whether it was the side effect of that mighty Mystery called foresight, Roen spat his anger as if he himself had lived through what was still to come. Outside those particular cases, though, he was as cold as he was now, and rather than chasing his own glory he bent his attention to leading others.
As he was doing here.
He sees their growth as something meant for the future.
A generation learning not the Fighting Art, but a method called Muscle Arts—the Gyeong. Roen hoped to open a new age with those called the lower born at its heart, and he did not stint on the investment.
"If word gets out that even the mercenaries were nothing more than a device for their growth, things will turn rather noisy."
"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, Jack."
Again he neither confirmed nor denied it. The faint smile at the corner of his mouth seemed to say yes all the same, and Jack laughed in spite of himself.
A cold lord is something to be proud of, certainly. But this suits him far better.
This human side of him, the part that knew how to look after others, called the instructor to mind.
He pretends otherwise, but...
Of all the students, the one most deeply shaped by that man was surely Roen himself.
Roen had no room just then to see through whatever strange thought his aide was turning over. On an ordinary day he would have read it at a glance. In this place, however, the two of them were not alone.
"Lord Roen."
"...Jan."
"...?"
"Ah. Forgive me. Lady Levi."
"Oh, no. Addressing someone by their house name isn't strange among nobles. If you'd like, you may call me that."
"You have my thanks."
Levi Jeanne d'Arc. She was the only one in the company whom Roen could not treat lightly, and he faced her with a look that was faintly awkward.
"Ahem. So. What is it? Something to report?"
"There is that. But there's also something I wanted to ask."
"Ask."
"..."
He looked entirely ready to answer whatever she put to him, and that, more than anything, made Levi awkward. She felt it now and then.
Why does he find me difficult, and still look at me like that—as if he longed for something?
Was it too fanciful of her to think so? The doubt sat in her like a sense of something out of place, but she decided not to worry over it. What mattered was that he answered, and answered well.
"It's only a personal question. I found myself wondering what your purpose is, Lord Roen."
"My purpose?"
"Yes. You must be busy with the Grand Temple, so it seemed a little strange that you would take to the road yourself."
"..."
"I know you have a promise with the dwarves, of course. Even so, it didn't seem like something you needed to see to in person. Busy as you already are."
"Hm."
"Ah, I-I'm not picking a fight, or interrogating you. Not at all. It's only that I've been given the commander's place, however unworthy I am of it and however nominal it may be, and I thought I ought to understand the employer's purpose at least in part. If I know what you're thinking, there may be something I can do to help."
"...There is nothing I can hide in front of you."
"Pardon?"
"Talking to myself."
"...??"
Roen swallowed a bitter smile.
She sees through me this far already.
He had said nothing. From his actions alone she had read him to that depth, and he thought her genuinely remarkable.
Well. An eye that sees through people was always Jan's gift.
It was still too soon for the full of it. But the further that insight grew, the more it would strip bare not only a person's lies but every tactic an opponent meant to use. That was the gift of the mercenary queen who had set countless strategists and war-planners trembling. Before that fragment of the Mercenary Queen, Roen let longing and awkwardness show in equal measure, and cleared his throat.
"Ahem. You have the right of it. My purpose is not simply to send the dwarves home. My true purpose lies in the dwarves' homeland."
"...I didn't think you'd actually answer."
"It isn't something I need to hide. Still, I would rather you alone knew. If rumor spreads, the persuading will be a headache."
"I'll keep it. I promise."
"...No. You may tell it. Somehow I suspect that even in a crisis you would keep faith, and refuse to speak."
"Th-then what am I supposed to do?"
"Enough of that. The true reason I am bound for the dwarves' homeland is nothing grand. If I had to give it a name... you could call it a treasure hunt."
"A treasure hunt?"
"Yes. You will have heard of it."
The parchment gave a dry flutter.
"..."
Levi blinked. What he had handed her was a map so old it would not have been strange for it to crumble away like sand, and across it ran ancient characters no longer in use.
"...This is ancient Britannian script?"
"You can read it? Impressive."
"I'm taking it as a general lecture."
"The world is full of people who study the thing and still cannot read it. ...Then you know what this map says."
"Yes. But this... is it genuine?"
Levi tipped her head. If she had read it rightly, this was a historic discovery.
The Holy Grail
A sacred relic, so the stories said, bestowed by Pendragon's guardian, the silver dragon—and a legend said to have vanished after the death of the Knight King.
"More precisely, it is a map for finding a fragment of the Holy Grail. According to this, one of the Grail Fragments lies in the dwarves' homeland."
"...You're going to search for it?"
"If I can."
"..."
Nothing about him resembled a treasure hunter dreaming of a fortune made overnight. He only seemed, somewhere beneath the calm, desperate—like a man who had a reason he absolutely had to find the thing. Levi swallowed against a dry throat and shook her head, as if she had been too quick to decide his thoughts for him.
Even so.
Does the Holy Grail really exist?
A little doubt was unavoidable. It was only a legend, after all.
"You seem to doubt it."
"Ah, well..."
"I understand. Told to believe a legend like this, I wouldn't believe it either."
"..."
"But the Holy Grail exists. And the Grails lie scattered, like the pieces of a puzzle. Even as fragments, mind you, no two of them share a shape."
"...You speak as if you've seen them yourself."
"I have seen three of them with my own eyes."
"...!?"
She did not take the answer for a lie. He had no reason to lie to her.
"Even so, the Grail cannot be made whole. There are five fragments in all, and the whereabouts of the last are unknown."
"Then isn't there no point in finding them?"
"They must be found all the same. A time will come when the Grail's power is absolutely necessary."
"...I hope you can find the last fragment, too."
She meant it. Longing showed plain on his face—a longing she had no words for. Perhaps because he had seen that sincerity, Roen nodded and thanked her.
"If the thread of fate reaches that far, it can be found. The texts say it takes the form of a ring. Where it might be..."
"A ring?"
"Yes. A ring. They say it gives off a peculiar light."
"...Ah."
"What is it?"
"Oh, nothing. I just thought I'd seen a ring like that somewhere."
"Where?"
"Well..."
At what the girl said next, Roen blinked once and shook his head, telling her she was mistaken. And well he might.
That a maid should have it was simply impossible to believe.
"Achoo!"
"Caught a cold, miss?"
"No! My nose just tickled. And I've never caught a cold in my life, hehe!"
"I-is that so?"
"Yes! Once I wanted to try catching one, so I went swimming in the winter and even ate ice, and I only got healthier!"
"...Don't do that again. You won't catch a cold. You'll freeze to death."
"My parents already scolded me for it!"
The maid, Layla Winter, smiled with a face of pure innocence. Lee Han looked as if he had no idea what to do with her.
Then—
"Hehe, and the ring Sir Knight gave me is so warm that I think I've gotten even healthier lately! I really love it."
"I'm glad you like it."
She cradled the ring hung from her necklace as if it were precious and held it out to show it off. That she truly cherished the thing left him thoroughly satisfied.
Useful, that.
As a hand-warmer.
Lee Han nodded to himself. Three more of those, he thought, would do nicely.