Chapter 329
Chapter 329
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 329
Chapter Title: Side Story 13. Wedding March
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“The Empire's Sword Saint has changed?”
“Yes. It was truly magnificent back then. To think it's already been over half a year.”
Adeshan chuckled as she reminisced about the past. The Sword Saint selection battle that had taken place in the Grand Circle that day was an unforgettable memory.
Sitting before her was an elf woman with white hair, her hands demurely clasped together as she listened intently to the story. It was Elysia, who had once served alongside the Savior.
She had finally finished the reconstruction work in Adren after nearly two years and visited the continent. She'd been so busy that she hadn't even heard about a major event like the change in Sword Saint.
Elysia's eyes sparkled as she asked,
“So what happened to Zaifa? Did he die?”
“No. He was released after receiving a promise of freedom from His Majesty the Emperor. I didn't know this either, but apparently, it was agreed that the blood oath would be broken upon stepping down as Sword Saint.”
“Huh? Then couldn't he have just lost to anyone and stepped down ages ago?”
“I thought the same... but as my husband said, it seems the world of swordsmen truly has standards that ordinary people can't understand.”
Adeshan scratched her cheek. She had harbored the same doubt and asked Zaifa the exact same question. His response had been, 'I'd rather die.'
“I see... Sigh, the world of mortals is so hard to adapt to. So many things happen in such a short time.”
“Hehe, that makes sense from the perspective of a long-lived race like Elysia. Especially after spending time with dragons.”
“Still, the most surprising thing is that child. What's their name?”
Elysia's eyes sparkled again as she asked. Her gaze lingered on the baby cradled in Adeshan's arms.
Wrapped snugly in a swaddling cloth and sleeping soundly, the baby was adorably irresistible. The jet-black hair, like the dead of night, resembled Adeshan a bit more than Ronan.
“Lanse. It means 'sword' in the southern natives' language. Instructor Naviroje named him. Isn't it nice?”
“It's too cute. A girl?”
“A boy. The long eyelashes do cause some confusion, though...”
“Auuung.”
“Ah, he's awake.”
Lanse opened his eyes upon waking from his nap. Elysia flinched.
Beneath his thick eyelashes, Lanse's irises shimmered a crimson like a sunset glow.
It was an ancient hue passed down from time immemorial. Memories of days spent with the Savior suddenly flooded back, blurring Elysia's vision. She leaned close to Lanse's face and smiled brightly.
“Hello, Lanse. Your eyes really take after Grandpa.”
“Uung?”
Lanse tilted his head. Adeshan watched the two with a pleased expression. Then, with a creak, the door suddenly opened, and the Grancia household butler entered.
“It's almost time for the entrance.”
“Ah, thank you.”
The butler bowed politely and left the room. They were in the bride's waiting room at the Grancia estate. Confirming the door was closed, Adeshan looked toward the back of the room.
“Sister, are you ready?”
“W-Wait! Just a moment!”
Iril stammered in a fluster. She sat before a massive mirror, endlessly adjusting her attire. A pure white wedding dress, matching her snow-white hair, adorned her.
Even though the maids had already prepared her perfectly, her behavior showed just how nervous she was. Adeshan approached Iril with a gentle smile.
“Don't be so tense, Sister. It's really nothing much.”
“R-Really? No need to worry too much?”
“Of course. My wedding with my husband was over in a flash.”
“B-Back then, I was crying so much I barely remember... but yeah, you're right. I'm jealous you went first... You looked so beautiful then, Adeshan.”
Iril pouted. At Ronan's wedding, Adeshan had appeared not in a wedding dress but in her Allied Forces commander's uniform.
She had been so stunning that it caused a real uproar, and compared to that, Iril felt her own appearance was downright shabby. She checked her attire once more and asked worriedly,
“Hey, do I look pretty right now?”
“...Pardon?”
Adeshan was momentarily stunned. She and Elysia blinked at each other in silence.
It was probably the most absurd question in the world.
The autumn sky stretched high and clear. The neatly grown trees burned themselves brightly, resisting the impending winter. Every gust of wind scattered leaves heavy with the colors of fall.
Schlieffen and Iril's wedding was held in the garden of the vast Grancia estate. The expansive, beautiful territory had transformed into a perfect ceremony venue for the day.
The lavishly decorated garden bustled with guests from across the continent. Nobles and royals from various nations mingled with Phileon affiliates led by Kratir, as well as Archmage Rorhon and Emperor Balon IV himself, all gracing the occasion. Asel, spotting familiar faces, gasped.
“D-Dragon King?!”
“Ah, the mage who saved the City of Dragons. How have you been?”
Dragon King Azidahaka waved. His golden-maned hair and distinctive build stood out even in his polymorphed human form. Beside him stood a black-haired middle-aged man holding a large trunk.
“It's been a while. Mage Asel. Seeing humans after so long feels enjoyable.”
“Alibrīhe...!”
Asel's eyes widened. It was the black dragon Alibrīhe, with whom he'd bonded in the City of Dragons. Like Elysia, he had descended to the surface after nearly two years.
He suddenly sat and flung open the trunk.
“Where's Ronan? I brought a gift, but no matter how much I look, he's nowhere.”
“Hieeek!”
Asel yelped in horror. Inside the trunk were a pair of prosthetic arms and legs neatly stored. Their length and shape seemed tailored to Ronan's build.
“Wh-Why such a thing all of a sudden...!”
“I owed him a great debt before, and this was the only fitting gift I had. One never knows what lies ahead... Ah, I've prepared one for you too.”
Alibrīhe chuckled. He said this would stand in for the wedding gifts to the groom and bride.
The artificial skin made them look exactly like severed human limbs. Asel swallowed hard and nodded.
“Th-Thank you... The ceremony's about to start, so I'll come find you after. Ronan is the officiant today, so if you head up front...”
As he spoke, a familiar voice boomed from the central stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Please pay attention!”
“Hic...!”
“You can eat and drink later. It's not like your legs will run away. This is an important moment, so focus!”
It was a boisterous shout unfit for the occasion. Asel and the two dragons turned simultaneously. Before the golden podium, Ronan stood in a suit, hands in his pockets.
“Hello. I'm Ronan, the officiant. I assume no one here doesn't know my face, so I'll skip the introduction.”
“The end times have come.”
The Dragon King sighed. It wasn't wrong, though. At least among those gathered, no one didn't know the swordsman who had cut down a star.
As if to prove it, most of the guests burst into laughter. Once the surroundings quieted, he pointed toward the mansion with his index finger.
“Without further ado, let's begin the wedding. Groom and bride, make your entrance.”
All eyes turned in the direction Ronan indicated. Soon, the mansion doors opened, and Iril and Schlieffen emerged, hand in hand.
Normally, they should enter separately, but this was Ronan's idea to escort Iril, who had no father to give her away. As the pair stepped onto the virgin road, silence fell over the crowd.
“...Wow.”
For a moment, everyone forgot to breathe. Schlieffen in his wedding attire was arguably the empire's finest dresser, but unfortunately, beside him was Iril in her wedding dress. Watching their entrance, the Grancia Duke muttered to himself.
“...Thief.”
“How did that stoic boy manage to snag a girl like Lady Iril? What luck.”
His wife chimed in from beside him. Even as his own son, she couldn't defend him. Iril's commanding presence rivaled Navardoje descending in her true form.
The long, ornate train of her wedding dress, like a tropical fish's fins, trailed along the path. Two flower girls ahead scattered blue petals five steps in front.
Finally reaching the podium, the pair stopped. Ronan glanced at them alternately, both tense. Meeting his eyes, Iril whispered softly.
“R-Ronan... hurry...”
She was overwhelmed by her first taste of such shyness and joy. Her face was visibly flushed, but far better than the fool beside her. Schlieffen, tense to the extreme, looked on the verge of fainting.
'What a sight.'
Ronan chuckled inwardly. Having been married himself, he understood, but this was a bit much.
He needed to lighten the mood. After a moment's thought, Ronan nodded.
“B-Before we proceed, a few words.”
“Hm?”
The Grancia Duke raised an eyebrow. This wasn't in the script. Ronan stepped forward and spoke.
“Honestly, I was filled with rage until this morning. I was pondering how to kick this guy's ass. Because he's the thief who stole my sister. My stomach still twists just looking at him.”
“R-Ronan...!”
“We have to acknowledge this. My sister, Lady Iril, is the most perfect woman in this world. Her looks go without saying, and her vitality is unmatched. The reason I'm still alive, standing here pretending to be great, is thanks to her changing my dirty diapers through all sorts of hardships. Honestly, I'm still tempted to whisk her away right now.”
Laughter erupted here and there again. Iril's face turned beet red. Ronan sauntered over to Schlieffen and quipped mockingly,
“In comparison, what about this guy? Sure, he's not bad-looking, but that's it. If you look closely, his delicate side—barely able to pee properly—is noteworthy, I suppose.”
Ronan snickered. Schlieffen's face flushed crimson. Unable to bear the humiliation, he started to retort.
“Ronan. You bastard...”
“Still, he's a decent guy.”
Cutting him off, Ronan turned back to the guests.
“Truth be told, he's a really good one. The best male I've seen, regardless of race. Schlieffen's greatest virtue isn't anything else—it's that he keeps his promises flawlessly. About five years ago... I was away for a long time once, and he kept that promise even then. The promise to protect my sister.”
“Y-You made such a promise?”
Iril's eyes widened. It was news to her. Ronan continued.
“And Schlieffen kept it. Through brutal winters and the chaos of war when the baldheads rampaged. In truth, all his titles—heir to the empire's most prestigious house, the swordsman who defeated Zaifa Terken, called the strongest Sword Saint in history, the hero who saved this world from the baldhead zealots' familiars—they're nothing compared to that virtue. Keeping a promise no matter what is that remarkable.”
By now, the guests had fallen silent. Not even the clink of utensils sounded. Everyone focused on Ronan's words.
“So, using this occasion, I'll extract one more promise. Perfect, with so many witnesses. Hey, that's fine, right?”
“...Yeah.”
Schlieffen nodded. He had no idea what was coming. Muttering to himself, Ronan faced him.
“Make my sister happy... No, scratch that. Something better.”
Choosing the words was surprisingly hard. After a pause, Ronan spoke.
“Be happy together. Until death.”
He smiled. No reply came. Iril covered her mouth with her hands, her shoulders trembling faintly. After seconds of silence, Schlieffen slowly nodded.
“......I swear it.”