The Northern Assembly (5)
Not long after the Northern Assembly, Sir Deri came to Lichtenauer, true to his word. The official reason for his visit was to observe the knights at their training — to see how the warriors of a renowned swordsmanship family honed themselves, and, should he find any shortcomings, to advise them on how those gaps might be filled.
This was, after all, an Imperial Knight — and one who had served for decades at that. The retainers and knights welcomed him with open arms, some even daring to hope he might stay on as an instructor.
"Hmm. You're working hard on your physical conditioning. That's the right attitude. Stamina is the foundation of all vitality and mental fortitude. Excellent."
"There's no need to discuss your swordsmanship. The training grounds, however, are in rather too fine a condition. Considering the realities of the battlefield, I would cautiously suggest that a rougher patch of ground might also be of use."
Sir Deri passed on the know-how he had accumulated over a lifetime — small things, the kind that, in a split second, could mean the difference between life and death. Of course, the real reason he had come to Lichtenauer was not purely for the sake of observation.
"Is the tea to your liking, sir?"
"The aroma is quite fine, and the flavor isn't bad. But it's a bit hard to drink."
At Sir Deri's reply, the steward's face grew awkward. When words like that came from the mouth of so important a guest, even the most seasoned attendant would find himself momentarily flustered.
Then Sir Deri threw his head back with a booming laugh and waved a hand, making it plain he had been joking.
"A joke, a joke. It's just that the fellow sitting with me hasn't so much as touched his tea."
"Ah..."
The steward's expression said he understood. He had deliberately prepared a mild, inoffensive blend that almost no one would dislike — and yet Adel was simply drinking cold water. The man himself claimed he had never quite gotten along with tea, or some such. I really must explain the beauty of tea to Adel someday, the steward of Lichtenauer resolved.
"In any case, thank you truly for your consideration."
"Not at all. Please, do continue your conversation."
Once the steward had withdrawn and Sir Deri had confirmed that no one remained nearby, he looked at Adel seated across from him.
"I've heard all the news of you these past few days, Adel."
Adel said nothing.
"I never imagined you'd gone as far as the Imperial Palace."
"I returned briefly on account of Lady Sien's schedule."
"Then — did you also have an audience with His Majesty the Emperor?"
At that, Adel slowly nodded.
"How did he seem?"
"Still radiant. Still strong."
This was no sycophant's flattery. And so Sir Deri could rest easy. The sovereign to whom he had devoted his entire life still shone — which meant that the sacrifices of himself and his comrades had not been in vain.
"I hear you dueled a knight of the Fiore family."
"They proposed it first. I merely accepted."
"I have no intention of reproaching you. However..."
Fiddling with the handle of his teacup, Sir Deri wore a faintly worried expression.
"Adel. How much do you know about Fiore, I wonder?"
It was a question that would surely yield an all-too-predictable answer. From the look of things, Adel hadn't even known much about Lichtenauer. He had simply become entangled with this place by chance.
"...Only that they are a renowned swordsmanship family, like Lichtenauer."
"I see."
"And recently, I learned that the next head of the house is Etria."
As if he had expected as much, Sir Deri nodded.
"Adel. Have you ever seen Lichtenauer's swordsmanship?"
"Yes."
"And how was it?"
"...Neither too light, nor too heavy. Above all, I felt a very strong sense that it was meant to protect something standing behind it."
"You saw it precisely. Lichtenauer's swordsmanship is, of course, outstanding in offense as well — but it is said to possess the highest efficiency and beauty in its defensive aspects. By contrast, Fiore is exceedingly aggressive."
Adel waited in silence.
"Those who have seen their swords all say the same thing. That they would not want them as enemies. That they have no wish to clash with a blade so sharp, so venomous, and so relentlessly persistent."
Having said that much, Sir Deri paused to catch his breath. He wet his mouth with a sip of tea, then continued.
"Adel. Swordsmanship and those who wield it are intimately connected. The path a blade takes will inevitably differ according to the nature of the one who swings it."
"You mean..."
"Fiore was humiliated in that last duel, I hear. They will certainly prepare a countermeasure."
"A countermeasure? What would they be preparing?"
Adel asked because he was genuinely curious — because he truly did not know. The only fighting he understood was combat against a visible enemy. A struggle of factions, unseen and unfolding behind the scenes — political warfare — was something of which his ignorance was only natural.
"One of two things. They will either try to win you over — or they will try to eliminate you."
At Sir Deri's words, Adel's face hardened slightly. Winning him over was one thing, but eliminate? Were Fiore's enemies not the demonic beasts they so thoroughly despised? Why, then, would they seek to eliminate him — a fellow human being? No matter how he turned it over, Adel could not make sense of it.
"Because you are of no benefit to them. Because you only do them harm."
"Me?"
"You are well aware that Lichtenauer and Fiore are not on good terms, I trust."
Adel nodded. Had he not witnessed that with his own eyes not long ago?
"That poor relationship will no longer end as a mere quarrel."
"Why... is that?"
"Rifts still continue to appear, but the situation is no longer as dire as it once was. Standards have risen, too — even a third-grade rift can be held off well enough, so long as one is thoroughly prepared. Isn't that so?"
"So I have heard."
"Yes. Things have improved. Now that they can catch their breath, everyone will seek to solidify their own position. The great war lasted twenty years, after all. Far too long. Grievances will have piled up, knowingly or not — but they endured them because the situation was so dire."
Sir Deri took a sip of tea and went on.
"Now they will want to settle it once and for all. Which house stands above the other. If there are several renowned swordsmanship families, the prestige of the name is bound to diminish. And so they will want there to be only one."
"That's foolish. The fighting isn't even over yet."
"You wouldn't know, but that is simply how politics works. Even if they must roll in the filth together — even if it might kill them — they will still claw their way over others to stand on top."
Adel had no answer for that.
"Fiore intends to crush Lichtenauer and shine for ten thousand years as the one and only renowned swordsmanship family. In that situation, Adel, you are most certainly in their way. That is why they will try to win you over — or eliminate you."
Having set down his teacup, Sir Deri fell silent, as if to ask whether Adel now understood.
"...I understand what you are saying. And yet I still cannot understand it."
"I imagine so. Honestly, I feel the same. I cannot understand it either, and I have no wish to. It seems we swordsmen are simply not cut out for that sort of thing."
So saying, the old knight gazed at the young man seated before him.
"At any rate, what I mean is that I am worried on account of such matters."
"That I might come to harm. Is that what you mean?"
"No."
As if to say, what kind of nonsense is that?, Sir Deri smiled faintly.
"That is all I worry about."
After the long conversation with his old comrade, the old knight passed through Lichtenauer's castle gates.
If I'd known it would come to this, I should have postponed my retirement.
A year. No — even half a year more, and he wouldn't have had to go through one astonishing event after another like this.
The First Wolf of Ulfhedinn, settling here in Lichtenauer. In a renowned swordsmanship family, of all places.
A small snort of amusement escaped him. Sir Deri found himself smiling despite himself. He, too, was originally from here — the north of the Empire. He couldn't help but look more favorably on Lichtenauer than on Fiore. It couldn't be helped. That was simply human nature.
I hear one of Fiore's knights had his arm cut off.
To a knight, a hand was as precious as life. No — more precious than life. And it hadn't been a mere nick. They said it had been severed clean off. He simply hadn't taken the man's head. In truth, it was as good as killing him.
And so most who heard the news, while marveling at Adel, also pitied Sir Geon of Fiore. How tragic, that everything he was as a knight had come to an end.
Lucky bastard.
But Sir Deri thought nothing of the sort. If anything, he considered it fortunate that it had ended with a single arm. It wasn't just his own opinion. Anyone who knew Adel would understand just how much restraint it had taken to stop at that.
"Hmm."
The old knight reined in his horse for a moment and looked back. There it stood in lofty silence — Lichtenauer, the great and renowned house of the sword. Even the Imperial Knights held that name in high regard.
That was why, when he had heard of the previous head's death in battle, and that of the heir as well, Sir Deri had been unable to suppress a deep sorrow. It was not the head of the house alone who upheld a family, of course — but whether a house had a head or not made a clear difference in its ability to stand. And they had lost even the heir. The sense of crisis must have been all the greater.
But it seems that worry was for nothing.
He hadn't seen everything yet, of course. But for someone who had taken on the family so suddenly, Sien was a fine head of house. She hadn't shown any particular unsteadiness at the Assembly, either.
Of course, that didn't mean he had no worries at all. A person's true ability — their true nature — only revealed itself in the worst of circumstances. Only when you saw the bottom could you see the real person.
I pray you are a vessel vast enough to hold a wolf, my lady.
So thinking, the old knight spurred his horse onward once more. He meant to return as he was and deliver the news to his old friends. If Fiore made a move, they were to stay quiet. They were not to accept any request, any petition of any kind. They were to give no answer at all — only silence.
Well. They wouldn't learn a thing anyway.
Letting out a hearty laugh, the old knight rode for home.