Chapter 171: It Won't Be Peaceful at All (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 171: It Won't Be Peaceful at All (5)
Winter in northern Kairis is harsh.
Ages ago, Hatsuara built a city in the north of the vast continent for Sispanian, who loved the snow. One might think Sispanian was a wicked dragon who took advantage of a human man, but that was not the case at all. Sispanian had merely mentioned once that she found the falling snow beautiful; it was Hatsuara who remembered her words and established the capital in the frigid northern region of Kairis. When she had told him she would never marry him because human dwellings were too cramped and suffocating, he took her words literally and built the royal palace on a colossal scale. What else could one expect from a man like that?
Anyway.
That freezing place was Kairisis. In the dead of winter, the Senyu River froze solid.
But if one were to lightly tap the frozen Senyu River, would it shatter? If one stepped on a frozen rock, would it break?
Of course not. No matter how cold Kairisis became, the river and rocks never froze so rapidly or to such an extreme temperature that they would shatter into pieces.
“W-what on earth is…”
Margrave Gray Brissen, who had blurted out in shock at the sight of the shattered marble table, quickly snapped his mouth shut. Showing surprise in this situation would do him no favors.
“Do you have any idea how much that cost before you went and smashed it?!”
He redirected the conversation, feigning a natural tone. It was better to look like a petty miser who cared too much about his belongings than a coward who was terrified. However, the grim look Arsen shot him in return made him instantly regret his choice.
“Please answer me, Margrave,” Arsen said, ignoring the cost of the marble table and the extraordinarily luxurious teacup, which clearly bore the touch of a master craftsman. Back when he was willingly acting as Calian’s lackey, he might have used Calian’s name or brought up his salary, but this was not a matter Calian could handle for him. Besides, nothing more could be deducted from a salary that had already plummeted to a single florin.
Gray let out a low groan. He had known the mage wasn’t sane ever since Arsen had blown up his carriage, but he hadn’t expected him to go this far. Arsen, who had been waiting silently for Gray’s answer, spoke again.
“As you know, this is your last chance. It won’t be long before the 1st Prince turns twenty.”
The matter of the Crown Prince would be decided soon. If things remained as they were, Gray would gain nothing, regardless of who became the heir. Even if Franz became Crown Prince, it would only benefit Evan; it had nothing to do with Gray. He had to jump on this bandwagon now if he wanted to secure a path back to the capital.
“I will think about it first.”
Gray was a man who agonized for at least three days even when summoned by Silike or Randel. He might be foolish, but he didn’t live his life on impulse. Hadn’t he shown a fair amount of patience even when facing Calian?
“How much time do you need?”
“Three days should be enough.”
Gray asked for three days, the exact same amount of time he had spent deliberating in the past. Arsen nodded readily.
“Then I will return tomorrow.”
He had absolutely no intention of accommodating Gray’s demands. The upper hand had to remain firmly in his grasp. It wasn’t as if mages being impatient was anything new, so Gray would just have to understand. When faced with a mage who could freeze him instead of a table at any moment, even a non-existent understanding would surely blossom.
Of course, that was strictly from Arsen’s perspective. Gray, who was not fine at all, frowned. “I said I needed three days.”
“Why waste time? The conclusion seems to have been reached already.”
Arsen was right. Gray could never refuse his offer. He knew better than anyone that this was his last chance.
“Tomorrow. I will return.”
Having said his piece, Arsen stood up. He gave a light bow and walked out without even asking for permission to leave.
*
As it grows lighter, it must grow heavier.
That is the sword, and that is how a sword must be.
The dark red sword that had intervened between Kyrie and Franz twisted slightly. It was a small movement, but it guided Kyrie’s blade, deflecting it harmlessly toward the ground.
Franz, standing behind Calian, silently sheathed his sword. Though his expression remained unchanged, the events of a moment ago replayed vividly in his mind.
It was different.
There had been a distinct change in Kyrie’s eyes.
Immediately after, the sword had lunged forward at a speed Franz couldn’t follow. By the time he had tried to block it, Calian was already standing in front of him. Had Calian not intervened, Franz’s heart would have been pierced on the spot, but he wasn’t overcome with emotion about his near-death experience. He figured that since Calian was there, he would have been kept alive no matter what. Since he hadn’t actually died, that trust didn’t feel unreasonable.
In any case, Franz didn’t know exactly what had happened to Kyrie. He only assumed that since something had changed during their spar and Calian had offered congratulations, Kyrie must have achieved some sort of breakthrough.
“…Kyrie.”
But the atmosphere was slightly different from usual.
Even at Calian’s playful remark, Kyrie offered no response. Franz hadn’t expected an apology for the killing intent—an intent so intense that Calian had to intervene—but Kyrie was not the type to ignore Calian’s words. Yet he remained utterly quiet.
Furthermore, even though the spar was over, Kyrie had not sheathed his sword. Above all, his killing intent had not subsided.
Slide.
As if to prove Franz’s suspicion, Calian shifted slightly to the side, moving just enough to completely shield him.
This meant Kyrie was still in a dangerous state.
He must really hate me.
Franz let out a dry chuckle at the thought. Calian, not seeing this, kept his eyes fixed forward.
“Kyrie.”
Calian called his name once more, staring at him in silence for a moment. Then, with a short sigh, he tapped Kyrie’s sword with his own. A brief metallic clink rang out.
At that sound, Kyrie, who had been staring forward but seeing something else entirely, finally turned his gaze toward Calian.
“Kyrie.”
“Yes.”
Only then did a response come.
Calian spoke. Smiling with the exact same expression as before, he repeated the exact same words.
“I said congratulations. To you.”
“Ah…”
The reply did not come immediately. Kyrie’s face wore an expression that was both disbelieving and preoccupied, as if his mind were crowded with other thoughts.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Only after a long pause did the belated thanks arrive. Calian gave a brief nod, then stared into Kyrie’s eyes.
“I know what you see.”
It was a phenomenon Bern had experienced before stepping onto the Path of the Sword, but not everyone saw it. After hearing Bern’s explanation, Chase had given it a name: ‘Garm.’ He suggested calling it that, as it was the line dividing life and death—a path that would inevitably end a life.
In the past, Kyrie had seen Garm only a few months before his death. This time, he had encountered it much earlier. Because of this, Calian was thrilled enough to jump for joy, but he couldn’t simply celebrate.
He knew how crucial and dangerous this moment was.
“First, I’d like you to sheath your sword, Kyrie.”
Calian pointed to the sword that still hung loosely in Kyrie’s hand. He spoke to Kyrie, who was still unable to dispel his killing intent.
“…I am sorry.”
Only then did Kyrie offer a brief apology and slide his sword into its scabbard. Calian watched the process in silence. Once he heard the sword click fully into place, the blade in Calian’s hand finally vanished.
Franz didn’t know it yet, but Calian did. That killing intent had not been directed solely at Franz. Franz had simply been the one standing in front of him; once Calian stepped in, the same aura had reached him as well. A moment ago, Kyrie had been trying to kill without distinguishing his target.
“Give me your sword, Kyrie.”
Calian held out his hand. He was asking for the return of the sword he had bestowed. Kyrie knew exactly what it meant for a swordsman to have his sword taken away. It meant he was being forbidden from holding a blade.
“Yes.”
Even knowing this, Kyrie replied without hesitation. He handed the sheathed sword to Calian, his actions free of doubt. Since Calian asked for it, he returned it.
“Let’s go somewhere for a moment,” Calian said, taking the sword with a gentle smile.
*
Euria’s brow furrowed.
Four glasses of beer.
How on earth could a person get drunk off just four glasses of beer? If they were large mugs, she might understand, but she couldn’t help the irritation in her voice as she looked at the ice mage, who was dead drunk on four glasses barely larger than water cups.
“I should have known when you asked for alcohol.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t know Arsen was a lightweight. Still, it was her own fault for not stopping him when he came out of his meeting with Gray, complaining that the whole affair left a bad taste in his mouth, and insisted on getting a drink.
Euria, who was perfectly fine even after emptying a bottle of high-grade Himolica, spoke.
“Hey, kid.”
“As for meee, Association President…” a half-slurred voice answered. And so it began.
“I didn’t mean for things to go this way, Association President. I only did it because the Prince ordered me to. I really hated that guy, Association President. But telling him to side with the Vice-Commander, who is the Prince’s older brother, Association President… I didn’t want to do that, Association President. I still did it because I was ordered to, but I just really hated saying those words, Association President.”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
Arsen didn’t care about Euria’s half-hearted responses. He reached for the french fries they had ordered. As soon as his hand touched them, the fries froze solid.
Seeing this, Arsen said in wonder, “Ah, they’re frozen.”
“Because you froze them.”
Euria endured it. There were still unfrozen french fries left.
“But you see, Association President…”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
His hand, attempting to grab an unfrozen fry, kept freezing new ones. As the creases on Euria’s forehead deepened, the number of frozen fries multiplied.
“When I think about it, it’s just so annoying that the Vice-Commander, the Prince’s older brother, is entangled with people from a family like that, Association President. I know the Vice-Commander isn’t a completely bad bastard, but our Prince keeps looking out for him, Association President. I know it’s not the Vice-Commander’s fault, but it’s still annoying and I hate it.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“Ah, they’re all frozen.”
“Because you froze them!”
Arsen downed the rest of his beer and spoke again, having confirmed there were no more edible french fries left.
“It’s all because of that damn family, Association President. Do you know how good of a person our Prince is, Association President? Ah, I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore, Association President. But when I blew up a carriage, he said I did well, and when I destroyed a building, he raised my salary, Association President.”
“I think your criteria for a ‘good person’ is a bit skewed.”
“No, it’s not. He’s just as good of a person as my master.”
Euria listened up to that point and simply gave up. Unable to bear Arsen’s rambling any longer even with Silent active, she deactivated the spell and cast Sleep instead.
Thud!
Finally, it was quiet.
Euria turned the head of Arsen, who had fallen face-down on the wooden table, just enough to ensure he wouldn’t suffocate. She picked up one of the french fries he had frozen solid, tried to bite it, then gave up and tossed it aside.
Pushing all the frozen fries next to the blue-faced mage, Euria stared at the sleeping man slumped over the table and let out a chuckle. The rain had stopped, and the moon was bright outside the window. With a lightweight ice mage asleep beside her and nothing but frozen fries on the table, what else was there to do?
“Another bottle of Himolica and an order of fried chicken here, please.”
To hell with black stones, red power, and politics. Tonight, she was just going to drink.
*
Around the time Calian’s crazy lackey was freezing french fries, two horses carrying Calian and Kyrie entered the forest.
Calian didn’t say a word during the ride. Kyrie followed beside him, just as silent.
Because it had rained so heavily, the forest still smelled of damp earth. Calian took a deep breath of the pleasant scent and spoke.
“How is it?”
Kyrie, who seemed to have calmed down slightly, answered quietly, “It is a peaceful place.”
“In a moment, it probably won’t be peaceful at all,” Calian replied with a quiet laugh.
He was right.
Upon reaching a clearing with a large rock bathed in moonlight, Kyrie looked around with a startled expression. The soil was dug up everywhere, trees were felled, rocks were shattered, and the ground bore clear scorch marks. It was an absolute mess.
Calian’s laughter grew a bit louder as he quietly observed the scene, knowing full well that he was the one who had caused this havoc.
“You saw that line because you learned my swordsmanship.”
A sword must grow heavier as it grows lighter.
As one becomes so familiar with a blade that its physical weight is no longer a burden, one keenly realizes that a sword is, in the end, an object created to take life. As Demirea had once said, a sword is a tool for murder; thus, understanding the truth of the sword is no different from learning how to kill. Therefore, the lighter the sword became to lift, the more one had to feel the immense weight it truly carried.
Yet, to Bern, the sword had been endlessly light. It grew lighter and lighter. With the sword he had learned in order to protect, he had to end countless lives before he could ever save anyone. Consequently, the blade became weightless. He couldn’t even feel the weight of the lives resting upon it.
Training with a sword that had become so light, he had seen Garm. He saw the path that would inevitably end his opponent’s life—an awakening that was perfectly suited to Bern and his sword.
“I know it still hasn’t disappeared,” Calian said. The problem was that it was not easy to escape that world once you encountered it for the first time.
“You must see it over me, too.”
Not distinguishing between targets was also a problem. Recalling how the blood-red line had once appeared over Chase, Calian quietly looked at Kyrie, who must have been confused to see that same line drawn toward him.
“You’ll be fine if you rest for a while. I will return your sword once Garm is no longer visible to you.”
Having reassured Kyrie, Calian looked around and let out a short sigh. He knew that Kyrie had seen the same thing not simply because he had learned Bern’s sword, but because he had walked a path similar to Bern’s. He realized only now that Kyrie had ended up on this path because he had stained his hands with so much blood from the tasks Calian had given him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention sooner.”
He had lived so long forgetting what it was like to cut people down.
“I didn’t realize your inner self was a mess like this place.”
Because when asked if he could do something, Kyrie always replied that he could. Because he always showed a peaceful exterior, Calian had assumed he was fine. He hadn’t realized that Kyrie’s inner world, like this forest, had been turned into a complete mess because of him.
“I’m sorry, Kyrie.”
Sorry for thinking you would be fine even after wielding your sword like that.
Sorry for making you bear such a heavy burden all by yourself.
Following his words of congratulations, Calian offered his apology.