Chapter 106
Chapter 106
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 106
Chapter Title: A Birthday and a Fiefdom
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“Dale of Sachsen, reporting to Your Grace, the Duke.”
When Dale returned from the Guild City, and when he finally reported on what he had obtained.
“……!”
It was a report that made even the great Lord Black unable to hide his shock.
He thought he had grown somewhat accustomed to the boundless talent and resourcefulness of his son, Dale. Yet what Dale showed him was always something beyond the horizons of his own imagination.
The Shadow Church, the City Master's ledger.
“...So the rumors were true.”
Above all, Lord Black murmured calmly as he gazed at the obsidian box resting on the table. Inside the box, a living human heart was beating.
“...How is this possible?”
Dale asked the greatest black magician on the continent.
“It's a Life Vessel.”
“Do you mean the Drowned Duke has become a lich?”
Dale asked back, unable to comprehend. A lich—a forbidden magic through which a black magician attained eternal life through the power of darkness.
“The principle is similar, but it's slightly different.”
Lord Black said. It was an assessment that matched exactly what Dale had felt.
“He said he made a deal with a sea devil to attain immortality.”
At Dale's words, Lord Black remained calmly silent. As the greatest black magician on the continent, it wasn't as if he had no inkling of what that might entail.
“For now, let's focus on fulfilling the contract you made with him.”
“I understand, Father.”
Lord Black deliberately changed the subject. Dale, too, nodded without pressing further.
“I am truly glad you have returned safely.”
After their discussion, Lord Black finally smiled a father’s smile.
* * *
Not long after, Dale's thirteenth birthday arrived.
* * *
“Congratulations to Lord Dale on his thirteenth birthday!”
In the Great Hall of Castle Sachsen, Lord Helmut Blackbear knelt to celebrate the boy's thirteenth birthday.
“Congratulations!”
Simultaneously, all the Night Raven Knights in the hall knelt in unison, planting their swords upright before them.
“Please, rise.”
Dale smiled, looking slightly sheepish.
“It is only thanks to the loyalty of you all that I am who I am today.”
“Lord Dale...!”
Helmut, Lord Baskerville, and the other Night Raven Knights gasped, unable to suppress the overwhelming loyalty welling up inside them.
“This occasion today is not to celebrate my birth into this world.”
Dale continued calmly.
“It is to remember and express my gratitude for the devotion of everyone who has made me who I am today.”
He spoke with a dignity befitting the eldest son of the ducal family, the heir of Sachsen.
His mother, Elena, beamed at her son’s proud demeanor, and while Duke Sachsen showed no outward expression, he could not hide a father's smile.
“Happy birthday, big brother!”
“Thank you, Lije.”
Finally, having left her mother's embrace, a proper little lady smiled at Dale.
The people of House Sachsen who had made him who he was. Before them, Dale smiled, finally feeling the warmth of family.
He left behind the world of a winter's night, filled with chilling cold and darkness.
* * *
Dale's thirteenth birthday was celebrated more grandly than any before.
However, unlike the grand festivities typical of the Empire's great lords, he did not invite influential figures from across the continent, and it was far from the social gatherings filled with the empty formalities and pretension of the nobility.
The festival held in the Duchy of Sachsen was strictly for the people of the ducal house—in other words, for everyone in the duchy.
The entire city of Sachsen was swept up in festive cheer. Furthermore, the serfs in the duchy's territories, by 'the will of Lord Dale on his birthday,' had their taxes for the month specially reduced (such as eggs or other harvests reaped from Sachsen's frozen soil) and were given a considerable number of days off.
Throughout the duchy, modest festivals were held, each in their own way. All of them celebrating the birthday of Dale, the eldest son of House Sachsen.
In a way, it was very unbecoming of a noble, yet at the same time, it was more befitting a noble than anything else.
* * *
In the early hours of that day.
Though night had fallen, the festival flames enveloping the city had not died down. But in the darkness of Castle Sachsen, a lone girl was engrossed in her training until the late hours.
“Charlotte.”
“Dale!”
At the unexpected sight, Charlotte gasped in surprise.
“Still swinging your sword this late at night, I see.”
“Yeah.”
Beneath the shattering moonlight, Charlotte nodded.
“I have to get stronger.”
Strength. As she said this, Charlotte readjusted her grip on her sword's hilt. With a glance at her form, Dale spoke.
*Shing.*
He picked up a knight’s sword that happened to be in the armory and drew the blade from its scabbard.
“Shall I test just how much stronger you've become?”
“Alright.”
Charlotte nodded with a smile and immediately settled into her stance. There was no hesitation.
*Thwip!*
She closed the distance with a near-instantaneous rush. Charlotte lunged before Dale, swinging the Sachsen greatsword. It was fast. So fast that even Dale couldn't react in time. He had intended to lightly test her growth, but an unimaginable blow stormed him by surprise. Dale urgently accelerated his four circles.
By the time he realized it, it was already too late.
“Heh.”
Charlotte smiled triumphantly, her sword pointed at him.
“You've gotten stronger while I wasn't looking.”
Seeing her, Dale smiled as well. For a moment, a flicker of unease crossed Charlotte's face.
“What's wrong?”
“Uh, it's nothing.”
“I've never seen someone who says 'it's nothing' look like it's nothing.”
At Dale's words, Charlotte puffed out her cheeks and turned her head away. A moment of silence fell.
“It's just...”
After the silence, Charlotte began to speak hesitantly.
“Lately, I feel like you're growing more distant.”
“Me?”
“...I-I don't know, you idiot!”
She tried her best to suppress her embarrassment, pretending to be unfazed.
She wasn't entirely wrong. While he was busy acting as the proper eldest son of the ducal house, Charlotte was left alone, swinging her sword... It was certainly nothing like the old days when they would spend all day crossing swords in the castle.
“That's why... I want to get stronger.”
Charlotte said.
“So I can stand by the side of the 'Black Prince,' who is active all across the continent, even just a little more.”
Just to protect Dale. At her words, Dale held his breath.
He was suddenly reminded of Charlotte’s father, the Divine Sword Lord Badel, who had fallen by the Hero's hand. And now his daughter, before the one who had plunged a sword into her father's heart... was pledging her knightly loyalty.
His beloved daughter had been reduced to a puppet dancing on her enemy's strings. How would her father, Lord Badel, feel about this sight?
“Charlotte.”
An inexplicable sense of depravity tightened its grip on Dale's heart, and he opened his mouth to speak.
“Yeah?”
“...It's nothing.”
“What was that all of a sudden?”
Dale trailed off and smiled.
“By the way, your birthday hasn't passed yet, has it?”
“No, not yet. Why?”
Dale, who had just turned thirteen, spoke to the twelve-year-old Charlotte.
“Then I guess you'll have to call me 'big brother' until then.”
Dale muttered as if it were someone else's business, and Charlotte's face flushed as she slammed her sword's pommel down. It hurt a little.
* * *
A few days later, while the festive heat still lingered, a band of a thousand mercenaries returned to Castle Sachsen. But they showed none of the vulgarity typical of mercenaries, armed instead with ironclad discipline and order.
A unit of heavily armored infantry, each soldier clad in expensive black armor.
“Yones of Kennet, reporting the Black Armor Company's battle results to the Captain!”
“Go on, what happened?”
It was none other than the continent's most elite mercenary company under Dale's command, the Black Armor Company.
“We report a successful victory in the territorial war of Count Wilhelm! As for our casualties...”
After receiving the full report of the battle from Lord Yones, Dale nodded.
The company was now operating independently to some extent under the command of Vice-Captain Lord Yones, having moved beyond Dale's direct control. And yet, they had overcome a nearly two-to-one disadvantage in a desperate battle to seize victory.
“You used your head quite well.”
It was a flawless and satisfying strategy, and as a mentor, he felt an undeniable sense of pride.
“You have done well, Lord Yones.”
“It was all thanks to the tactics made possible by your teachings, my lord!”
He was Dale's own protégé, taught everything from commanding soldiers to grand strategy and tactics. Lord Yones was more than worthy of being entrusted with the Black Armor Company, which Dale had so carefully nurtured.
After all, no matter how capable the soldiers, if the commander was incompetent, it was all too easy to lead the entire unit to ruin.
“There's still a mountain of things left to teach you.”
In that regard, Lord Yones was a man who knew the joy of learning and possessed the wisdom to match. Every time Dale taught him a new strategy, tactic, or principle of warfare, he would ask questions endlessly.
“But the time is not yet right.”
After saying that much, Dale shook his head.
“My birthday festival is underway, and we've saved a share of the ale and meat for you all.”
“L-Lord Dale!”
“We'll talk after you've had your fill.”
Dale said, and Lord Yones knelt, planting his sword before him, his loyalty beyond any doubt.
* * *
“Haha, damn! The quality of this silver-spoon stuff is just incredible!”
Master Baro laughed heartily as he downed a mug of Sachsen ale.
“Heehee, congratulations on your birthday, O Apostle of Black.”
The Shadow Saint, her vision obscured by black bandages, smiled beside him.
The Grand Courtroom was no longer located in the neutral territory of the Guild City.
While it was true that the 'Shadow Court' still administered justice in the Guild City, it was also the continent's foremost organization of assassins... and to command their every move, it was necessary to keep its leadership close to Dale.
The leadership of the Grand Courtroom, led by the Killing Sword, Master Baro, and the Shadow Saint. Their organization had established a new nest in the frozen lands of Sachsen, under the protection of the Black.
The Black Armor Company, the Shadow Court. The countless forces Dale had built.
“Master Baro, I have a favor to ask of you.”
“What, is there a neck you want me to fetch for you?”
Master Baro said, sipping his ale. Dale shook his head.
“There is someone I wish you to train.”
“Ah, I'll work 'em to the bone. Just say the word.”
With Master Baro's reply, a silhouette emerged from beneath Dale's shadow. The silent sword that was always by Dale's side, protecting her master from the shadows.
“As the greatest assassin on the continent...”
The Holy Maiden, Orelia.
“...I want you to erase the 'chivalry' embedded in Lady Orelia's sword and reforge it into the blade of a thorough assassin.”
“Well, I'll be damned. What am I supposed to do now?”
Seeing Orelia, Master Baro muttered in feigned perplexity.
“She hasn't got anything to work off.”
* * *
Not long after that, for his thirteenth birthday, Dale was granted a 'fief' in the name of his father, Duke Sachsen.