Chapter 106
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 106
At the intensity in Eisen’s eyes, Jordi reflexively took a step back.
The composure he had shown until moments ago was nowhere to be found; beads of cold sweat now dotted his forehead.
“As expected of Sir Eisen. Your skill truly lives up to the title of Sword Saint.”
“That is a fact known to all. I am surprised you were unaware, Second Young Master.”
“....”
“What is even more surprising is the fact that you, Second Young Master, received help from a mage.”
With a complicated expression, Eisen looked down at the mage, who had been beaten to a pulp.
Eisen knew better than anyone the Imperial Family’s obsession regarding mages. Even for someone like Jordi, the revelation that he had employed a mage would not end quietly.
And yet, he had dared to order an attack so openly, in front of everyone.
“Just who is cooperating with you? No—whom exactly are you serving?”
“I...!”
Flustered, Jordi opened his mouth to speak. However, the mouth that had opened as if to scream failed to utter a single word.
Eisen clicked his tongue as he watched Jordi’s mouth snap shut again.
“Can you not even bring yourself to say the words ‘His Majesty the Emperor’?”
“Sir Eisen.”
“Enough. It seems further questioning is useless.”
Eisen tossed aside the broken hilt of the wooden sword he had used to strike the ground and picked up another one. It was merely an ordinary training sword, but in the hands of the Sword Saint, it looked more terrifying than any blade.
“I will say this one last time. Move aside.”
At the warning that there would be no next time, Jordi trembled with humiliation but stepped to the side. The knights following him also scrambled out of the way, clearing a path.
As Eisen walked through the wide-open path, he reached Jordi’s side and paused.
“Ah, Second Young Master. Where are the Third Young Master’s confidants? I shall be taking them with me as well.”
“That is—!”
Jordi froze, his voice rising instinctively. The gaze of the Sword Saint, standing within striking distance of his wooden sword, was chillingly cold.
After sputtering for a moment, Jordi squeezed his eyes shut and spoke.
“...I had them detained in the underground prison a few days ago. Do as you wish.”
“Ho-ho. The underground prison, is it?”
A hollow laugh escaped Eisen’s lips. It meant Jordi had been using the family’s facilities as he pleased even before the rebellion. Eisen had asked the question without much thought, but the more he uncovered, the more he could only sigh.
“Remember this, Second Young Master. The only reason I have not cut you down is because I do not have the permission of my lord, His Grace the Grand Duke.”
“....”
Jordi’s face contorted in humiliation, but he dared not talk back.
Leaving Jordi behind, Eisen quietly headed toward the underground prison. There was no longer any reason to remain here.
*
“...And so, I found them in the prison. I was worried they might have been tortured, but I was relieved to see they looked quite healthy.”
At Eisen’s banter, Hans scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed.
“They actually fed us surprisingly well. It was stifling, but since nothing bad happened to us, it was bearable enough.”
“You should consider yourselves lucky. If His Highness hadn’t become a Margrave, you would have suffered a terrible fate.”
“If that were the case, I think they would have just let us go instead of capturing us in the first place....”
Perhaps having grown closer during the journey to the North, Hans and Ian traded jokes. Eisen also wore a faint smile, seemingly in a good mood.
However, despite the warm atmosphere, Lucian could not bring himself to smile at all.
“Sir Eisen.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Why did you not kill Jordi?”
The warm air froze instantly at Lucian’s words. Eisen, the one addressed, gave a bitter smile as if he had expected the question.
“Because I did not know the Grand Duke’s will.”
“My father’s will?”
“A person is bound to have many thoughts when facing death. It is common for one’s values or beliefs to change after miraculously surviving such an ordeal.”
If Grand Duke Sigmund were alive and well, Eisen might have cut Jordi down in an instant. But the Grand Duke was dead, the successor had not been decided, and no one knew what his final thoughts were. For Eisen, it was simply unclear what the right course of action was.
“It is the privilege of the living to interpret the will of the dead as they please. But as a retainer, I could not bring myself to do that.”
“Do you believe my father would have wanted Jordi to live?”
“I do not know. He might have told me to strike him down immediately, or he might have wanted the Second Young Master to serve as a focal point for the family amidst the chaos.”
“You were afraid that your actions might end up being a self-serving interpretation of your lord’s will.”
“Ashamedly, yes.”
Lucian closed his eyes as he looked at Eisen, who bowed his head in apology. It was a decision made because he was a truly loyal subject who refused to distort his lord’s intentions.
However, for Lucian, who knew the truth, it was a decision that tasted of nothing but bitterness.
“Since you knew nothing, it was an unavoidable choice, but you have made a decision you will regret for the rest of your life.”
“...What do you mean by that?”
“I heard a few things from His Majesty the Emperor regarding my father’s death.”
Lucian spoke quietly, staring into Eisen’s eyes.
“He said that what killed my father were black tentacles that emerged from the shadows.”
“...!”
Lucian explained everything.
The conversation with the Emperor through the magical artifact.
The mysterious black tentacles and Grand Duke Sigmund’s death.
And even Tristan, who was running wild with rage.
“....”
When the story ended, Eisen stared blankly into space. He seemed half-dazed, the shock being too great to process.
Just as someone was about to speak, worried by the Sword Saint’s long silence—
Sizzle.
“Father!”
At Felicia’s shout, everyone, including Eisen, flinched.
The moment they turned their heads to see what was happening, they saw a black energy crawling up Eisen’s thigh.
“Sir Eisen?!”
“Hmph!”
Whoosh!
With a short shout, Eisen tensed his thigh, and the black energy faded away. Brushing off his frayed trousers, Eisen gave a sorrowful smile.
“I have shown you an unsightly side of myself. Or perhaps there is nothing left to be unsightly?”
“Sir Eisen.”
“A single swing would have been enough. To think I let my lord’s enemy slip through my fingers while trying to be considerate of my lord. Ha-ha.”
Eisen burst into laughter, asking where else in the world such a comedy could exist. While everyone stood in solemn silence at the laughter that sounded more like weeping, Lucian approached him.
“What was that black energy just now?”
“It is nothing much. Just a scar left from where that mage fellow got me. A small lump settled in my path of mana and has been trying to eat away at my body.”
“Are you alright?”
“It will disappear in a few days if I keep suppressing it. Though it seems meaningless now....”
Eisen muttered with half-dead eyes. He was clearly putting on a brave face while feeling a gnawing agony as regret tore through his insides—to the point where one might wonder if he would just let that wound consume him if left alone.
“Sir Eisen, take this.”
Lucian pulled the last remaining Nectar from his robe. Eisen, thinking it was an ordinary potion, was about to decline when his eyes widened at the sight of the faintly glowing liquid.
“What on earth is this?”
“It is something that fellow made. It is a treasure with the most outstanding efficacy among all existing potions.”
Lucian pointed to Ian, who was standing behind him. Ian scratched his cheek repeatedly, looking bashful.
“It is the greatest masterpiece of my life.”
“Hoh.”
Eisen let out a short exclamation but did not reach out his hand. Realizing he had no intention of drinking it, Lucian spoke first.
“Please verify its effects yourself, Sword Saint. If you are worried that taking a potion made by a novice might cause you harm, I will not insist.”
“...You certainly make it impossible to refuse.”
With a bitter smile, Eisen reached out. Though their relationship began with Eisen rescuing them solely because they were Lucian’s confidants, a slight bond had formed during their journey here. Eisen was not cold-hearted enough to reject a potion someone had made themselves.
“Then I shall drink it. Since Your Highness praises it so much, it must be a magnificent potion.”
With a formal compliment, Eisen uncorked the potion. In that instant, his half-dead eyes flew wide open.
“This is...!”
The mana flowing from the potion stunned Eisen. What kind of elixir in this world emitted such mana before even being consumed?
The moment the startled Eisen downed the potion with trembling hands—
Flash!
“...!”
A sensation of pure energy instantly exploding and washing through his mana circuits followed. For a Sword Saint whose paths were already as refined as they could be, it was an act of little consequence, yet he knew instinctively.
Just by consuming this potion, an average knight could leap past decades of training.
Sshhh.
‘The lump is...!’
The energy that had been washing through his mana circuits like a waterfall swept away even the lingering trace left by the shadow. While Eisen remained speechless from the overwhelming sense of clarity, Lucian spoke.
“How is it?”
“It is truly... incredible.”
It was an expression severely lacking in vocabulary, but no other words came to mind. Lucian smiled at the dazed Eisen.
“Yes. And the one who made this incredible potion is that fellow right there.”
“....”
“Sir Eisen, you have saved the future of the continent.”
At those words, Eisen closed his eyes. He knew it was meant as consolation, but it wasn’t just empty flattery. This potion truly held enough potential to discuss the future of the continent.
“Third Young Master... what do you intend to do with this?”
Eisen asked with vacant eyes, having even forgotten to use Lucian’s title. Lucian shrugged lightly.
“I could do anything. But shouldn’t I start by avenging my father?”
He was saying he would use his own hands to undo the mistake Eisen had made. Eisen, who had been drowning in regret, closed his eyes like a sinner who had found a glimmer of salvation.
Then, with a half-choked voice, he managed to squeeze out a single sentence.
“...Thank you, Third Young Master.”
Lucian silently gripped Eisen’s hands firmly, hoping to ease the old loyalist’s regret even a little.
There were many stories to share, but the mental fatigue was even greater. From the Grand Duke’s death to Jordi’s rebellion and the mysterious collaborator—the topics were too heavy to reach a conclusion in a single day.
“You must still be weary from your travels, so rest well for now. Pick any room you like.”
“Is that alright?”
“I am the master of the White Palace. Who would dare say anything when I have given my permission?”
At Lucian’s declaration, everyone, including Hans and Ian, let out a cheer. Their master had gone from being the young master of a great family to His Grace the Duke. Naturally, their own status would rise accordingly, so they couldn’t help but be pleased.
“There’s no need to mind anyone else. Everyone here is your junior. If anyone dares to look down on you because you were once servants, set them straight immediately.”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
At Lucian’s words, his confidants answered vigorously and dispersed. Only after everyone else was gone did Lucian follow Eisen with a hardened expression.
“Sir Eisen.”
“Yes, Third Young... Your Highness.”
“Actually, there is something I didn’t mention earlier.”
Eisen looked at Lucian’s face and gave a small smile.
“I am aware.”