Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Bittersweet Departures
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“Then, I’ll be going now.”
Just moments ago, it had been a moment that made his chest tighten with emotion.
But after a few minutes passed, it turned awkward and embarrassing.
As Rianna glanced around cautiously while backing away, Isaac lay back down on the bed.
“Be, be careful.”
She was just heading back to her room anyway—what was there to be careful about?
Isaac himself had no idea, but he was blurting out whatever came to mind.
Rianna gripped the doorknob.
She hesitated as she was about to step out, then carefully turned her head.
Her cheeks flushed red.
Her small voice rang out clear and tentative, like tapping on a stone bridge to test it.
“Um, Isaac…”
“Yeah?”
He wondered if she had more to say.
But Rianna simply stared at him intently, the words never following.
“What’s up?”
“……”
“Rianna?”
Only when he called her name did she finally flinch. She bowed her head regretfully and murmured.
“You’re back.”
“……”
“I-I’ll go.”
Rianna fled like she was running away.
Isaac watched the spot she’d left empty, sighed, and relaxed his tense body.
‘Ria, huh.’
That was a pet name from their old dating days.
It was embarrassing and absurd that he’d let it slip unconsciously.
‘Get a grip, Isaac. Don’t think weird things.’
Rianna’s appearance had been undeniably alluring.
What man wouldn’t be swayed by the sight of one of the kingdom’s famed beauties holding back tears?
But he’d already fallen for it once before.
‘Absolutely not.’
Isaac took deep breaths, clearly sorting through his emotions.
‘As a fellow swordsman. I was just glad, that’s all. She’s the swordsman I admired, after all.’
“Phew.”
As he muttered to himself, chiding his mind to snap out of it—
Click.
The door opened again, and Vivian, the infirmary head, stepped inside.
“I heard you woke up.”
“Rianna told you?”
“Huh? No, Lady Silberna mentioned it.”
Silberna?
He felt a flicker of surprise but extended his right arm toward Vivian to make it easier for him.
“There’s still pain, right?”
“Yes, it hurts even now.”
“Simply put, it’s like smashing a rock with an egg.”
“……”
“Your right arm was the egg. It shattered from an impact it couldn’t handle. I’ll cast healing magic once my mana recovers, but there might be some lingering aftereffects.”
A chill of fear gripped him.
The memory of abandoning everything due to injury was still fresh.
Noticing the shadow on Isaac’s face, Vivian elaborated.
“It couldn’t be helped. If anything, it’s like wielding something you weren’t permitted to touch.”
“Talking about talent again?”
Vivian, whom one could call a talent zealot.
He brimmed with mage supremacy and a sense of privilege in talent, so Isaac displaying such a sword strike despite his extremely low mana must have irked him.
“Yes, exactly. It’s about talent.”
“Didn’t you see it yourself?”
“That’s why…”
Vivian pressed a hand to his forehead and replied with a sigh, his voice laced with unease.
“That’s why it’s so disconcerting. What you showed looked more like effort than talent.”
“……”
“Mages don’t usually bend their convictions. Because we think and deliberate more deeply than others to reach our conclusions!”
He twisted his body hurriedly, organizing the medicines in a clumsy attempt to hide his embarrassment.
“So keep that in mind! Bending a mage’s conviction is no small feat. I’m not some fool who gets swayed easily or flips opinions on a whim!”
Vivian snipped away the splint and old bandage on Isaac’s right arm, then wrapped a fresh one.
“Come in regularly for treatment. That way, I can see how far that ‘effort’ of yours takes you. How wrong I really am…”
Once the bandage was secure, his thoughts seemed settled.
Stepping back, Vivian’s gaze on Isaac held genuine seriousness.
“Your back as you climbed the wall—”
The powerless steps challenging the impossible.
“It left a profound impression on me, in more ways than one.”
As Vivian turned back to his tasks, Isaac called out.
“Um—”
“Yes?”
“No matter how strained things are, it’s not weird to use a pet name for your wife, right?”
“……”
Vivian stared at him mid-motion, then sniffed and nodded.
“You didn’t hear a single word I said.”
Sorry, but he hadn’t had the bandwidth for it.
The great horde had been resolved.
The royal family sent supplies to celebrate the victory and offer condolences.
Mallidan Wall buzzed with festival energy for days under the guise of a victory banquet.
A massive bonfire blazed in the training grounds’ center, allowing rest for all but minimal duty staff until it burned out.
They’d stuffed it with firewood and long-burning fossils, so it had raged nonstop for a full three days.
To the point where Uldiran posted sentries, suspecting someone added fuel at dawn just to extend the break.
Anyway.
Mallidan Wall, having endured the ordeal, spent its days in a mellow atmosphere.
But with the great horde gone, parting was inevitable.
Scout Team 5 had gathered.
As various dispatched nobles departed, Meladic Drakemoor’s time had come too.
The Drakemoor family had urgently summoned him, so he left without even sharing a few reminiscing drinks.
“Actually leaving feels bittersweet.”
He’d come north as Drakemoor’s rising star for real combat experience.
Not only had he gained combat experience beyond his years, but he’d gained insights in many areas.
“You worked hard, Meladic.”
“You too, Captain. Feels like yesterday we scrapped on day one.”
“Lucky you shaped up after the beating.”
Meladic grinned and shook hands with Silberna.
After handshakes all around, he stood before Isaac and gripped both his hands firmly, unlike with the others.
“Thanks to you, I learned so much. Not Drakemoor swordsmanship, but what Meladic’s sword truly is. Feels like you opened my eyes.”
Meladic’s heartfelt thanks for all the advice and lessons.
Isaac smiled back.
“Don’t mistake learning for mimicry. When you swing the sword, it’s you alone there, purely.”
“Hm?”
“Something someone I know said. It stuck with me.”
“……”
“Remember you’re a Drakemoor. Don’t force yourself to fit it—the path you carve is Drakemoor’s way.”
Sniff.
“Ah, the wind.”
Pretending a gust had brushed his eyes to hide the surge of emotion, he grumbled.
And so.
Meladic Drakemoor departed.
Many dispatched nobles had fled the north early, calling it suffocating, but this was Scout Team 5’s first farewell.
Just over a month together, yet it carved an unexpected void in their hearts.
“You said that to me too, didn’t you?”
On the way back from seeing him off.
Silberna sidled up quietly and asked.
“Don’t forget you’re a Caldias.”
Advice not to bend herself to Caldias spear arts, but to become Caldias herself and forge ahead.
It lingered deep in her heart—a source of pride and a spur to greater diligence.
“Who said it?”
“It was in a book.”
“A book? What book?”
“Please recommend some. Let the lady read already.”
Anna chimed in from the side, making Silberna pout and grumble.
Isaac gave a hollow laugh.
“Can’t. It’s a book that doesn’t exist anymore.”
Digging deeper, it had been an autobiography.
And a will.
“Hmm?”
Silberna didn’t press.
She doubted she’d read it much even if handed to her.
“More importantly, Father wants you.”
“The Margrave?”
“He kept asking about your condition.”
Isaac’s right arm still bore splint and bandage.
He got treatments as needed, but no healing magic yet.
It guzzled mana, needing days to recover, so he stuck to basic care for now.
“Did I worry him?”
“Nah, more like he’s itching to thrash you soon.”
“…This?”
Isaac gestured to the silver taedo at his waist, mimicking an ice crystal.
Silberna, arms crossed, nodded with a pout.
“Right?”
“Ahem, Silberna. About this thing.”
“‘This’? You said ‘this’? I named it, you know.”
“……”
“Don’t like it? Hand it over then. I’ll tell Antonio to melt it—!”
“Got it! I got it!”
Isaac cleared his throat awkwardly.
Anna giggled from the sidelines; Sharen and Jonathan glanced over.
Rianna had slipped away unnoticed.
“This… ‘Respected and Beautiful Goddess Silberin’ is why?”
“Yep. ‘Respected and Beautiful Goddess Silberin’ might as well be Frost Silver Light leaking out.”
“Uh, Silberna. I’m super grateful, but maybe tweak the name?”
“Nope.”
Silberna shot him a displeased look and strode past.
“No, Silberna. Wait—!”
Anna watched Isaac chase after the sulking Silberna, inwardly impressed.
‘Lady really nailed his weakness.’
A serene sunset bathed the Helmunt mansion.
Arandel’s desk held letters proclaiming the north’s triumph in florid prose.
With the great horde quelled, the Sword Festival would proceed smoothly.
A slight delay, but given the extraordinary circumstances, it felt fortunate instead.
“You called, Father?”
Eldest son Roengreen Helmunt entered.
Confident smile, buoyant steps.
He’d clearly heard the news of the horde’s defeat.
“Truly fortunate. I fretted the Sword Festival might be delayed, but now it’ll go off without a hitch—”
“You—”
Arandel dismissed the chatter.
As if the words hadn’t registered, he cut in without pause.
“What are you wielding?”
Shoulders squared, back straight, brimming with confident smile.
“The Helmunt sword.”
“……”
Had he answered wrong?
Under Arandel’s weighty gaze, Roengreen swallowed and added.
“O-Of course, compared to your sword, Father, I fall far short—!”
“Hoo.”
A brief sigh.
Eyes closed, Arandel delivered a curt rebuke.
“Don’t become a mere imitation.”
“…Pardon?”
That was all.
Arandel fixed his gaze back on the desk reports, done speaking.
Roengreen stood dumbfounded, bowed, and left.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Grit!
Fist clenched till bones creaked, he muttered through a twisted scowl.
“Isn’t Helmunt you, Father?”
Burying the frustration deep, Roengreen headed out for training once more.
Mother returned tomorrow.
He’d ask her then to sound out Father’s impenetrable thoughts.
‘Mother wants me to be family head.’
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