Chapter 190: My Sword (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 190: My Sword (2)
Soft, white bread made with plenty of milk.
A soup simmered with delicate white mushrooms, and sparkling water mixed with a generous amount of sweet strawberry syrup.
And…
Red bell peppers stuffed with chicken breast and roasted to perfection; green bell peppers baked with fluffy scrambled eggs; red bell peppers pan-fried in olive oil alongside round, grilled pork patties; and a heap of green bell peppers with just enough cabbage scattered in to barely pass as a salad.
Franz swept his gaze over the table and muttered a single word, his tone laced with an unmistakable sigh.
“Again.”
Lately, bell peppers had been served every single day.
To be precise, they had started appearing the day after he had played the part of the troublesome older brother. That day, Calian hadn't said a word about his conversation with Chase; he had simply served bell peppers at the table with a beaming smile. The chef, who had once thought the princes were obsessed with strawberries, must now believe they had gone mad for bell peppers.
In short, the menu was a message:
‘Oh, look at my dear brother acting like a proper older brother. But what can we do? Grown-ups don’t pick the bell peppers out of their food.’
Franz barely suppressed the urge to lose his mind. His younger brother's antics were going to drive him insane. Just then, his attendant, Relic, spoke up hesitantly.
“Prince Calian asked me to convey that he had to leave early without eating, as he couldn’t adjust his schedule with Count Manasil.”
So he’d laid this trap and hadn’t even bothered to show up.
“……Is he picking a fight?”
Seeing Franz mutter with the expression of a king who had just received a sarcastic declaration of war from his lifelong nemesis, Relic spoke up again.
“If it displeases you, I will have it cleared and bring something else, Your Highness.”
Franz’s brow furrowed slightly. He knew Relic was only offering because he was aware of his dislike for bell peppers.
To be exact, he hated bell peppers simply because they were bell peppers.
Unlike other foods he disliked for their strong aromas, he just hated them for no particular reason. Calian knew this, which was precisely why he was playing this prank with the menu.
“No, it’s fine.”
Relic, who was a year older than Randel, had become Franz’s attendant after the matter with Silike was resolved. In a way, his situation was somewhat similar to Yan’s.
It was a well-known story that no one but Yan had volunteered to be Calian’s head attendant. The same went for Relic. Franz knew that while everyone else was keeping their heads down to avoid getting caught up in the Brissen affair, Relic was the only one who had stepped forward.
Furthermore, Relic was the first attendant who didn’t monitor Franz’s every move to report back to someone else. Thus, Franz had no intention of making him go through extra trouble over something as trivial as his own preferences.
After staring down at the table for a moment, Franz spoke again.
“Sit.”
“……P-Pardon?”
Relic, whose daily routine consisted of walking on eggshells and asking for clarification, looked utterly bewildered. Franz elaborated.
“I said, let’s eat together.”
A table full of bell peppers.
And the portions were absurdly large.
Looking at Relic, who seemed as if he might burst into tears at any moment, Franz added, “If you don’t want to, then don’t.”
“No, Your Highness! I do want to!”
Relic quickly sat down, practically shouting that there was no way he would dislike it. Franz let out an irritated sigh as he watched Relic look at him with an expression of overwhelming gratitude.
For some reason, he felt like the number of bothersome people around him was growing.
Oblivious to his thoughts, Lucy, who was occupying Franz’s lap as usual, let out a soft meow.
* * *
It was a beautiful day.
The sunlight shone brilliantly, and a gentle, warm breeze blew.
A black horse and a brown horse stopped at the entrance of the Kairis Royal Forest. The two riders dismounted and stepped into the woods. They were Calian and Kyrie.
The rustling of leaves was a constant whisper as the wind swept through the forest.
Ever since Calian had returned the sword to Kyrie, the two had sparred in this forest almost every day. While Kyrie genuinely loved this forest—a place that suited both him and Calian—the bigger reason was that as his skills improved, the enclosed training grounds had begun to feel far too cramped.
As they walked toward the clearing, a perfect spot to clash swords without worrying about prying eyes, Kyrie kept thinking about what had happened earlier.
—Now, you should be something other than my shield.
Calian’s sword.
Naturally, it was what he had always dreamed of, and he had worked tirelessly to achieve it. However, he hadn’t expected the offer of knighthood to come so suddenly.
That was why Kyrie hadn’t been able to rejoice or feel deeply moved when he heard the news. He had simply sat there with a dazed expression before following Calian out.
“Your Highness.”
After a long silence, Kyrie called out to Calian in a cautious voice. When Calian turned to look at him, Kyrie spoke again.
“If I become a knight, won’t it be difficult for me to serve you? Princes are not permitted to have guard knights.”
Hearing this, Calian replied in a casual tone, as if it were no big deal.
“His Majesty has already made a mockery of that rule anyway. In fact, I’m the only one without a guard knight right now.”
Though Calian didn’t have one, guard knights still accompanied Franz and Randel. Even if they were technically Lemain’s knights, a knight was still a knight. If Kyrie acted as a guard knight in their stead, there wouldn’t be any particular issue.
“But I have not yet achieved any great merit worthy of knighthood. It would not be too late to bestow it upon me after I have honed my skills further and become truly qualified.”
Kyrie felt he was still far too lacking to be Calian’s sword.
“To hone your skills, you need to become a knight. You can’t keep learning only from me forever, can you?”
There was a clear limit to how much one could grow alone.
Although Calian sparred with him almost daily, and he occasionally sparred with Franz or Arsen, that alone was not enough.
Since Arsen was a mage, fighting him was less about learning swordsmanship and more about learning how to react to unpredictable situations. As for Franz, Kyrie had to hold back during their spars, making it difficult for those matches to significantly improve his own skills. To be precise, it was more an exercise in improving his patience—learning to suppress his killing intent and take a step back.
Therefore, it was absolutely necessary for him to face the swords of various other people, but his current position made it difficult to find such opportunities. In the ‘past,’ Bern’s knights had been there, and Kyrie had been able to mingle and train with them.
“No matter how well you wield a sword, in the eyes of those knights, you are just an attendant. Not everyone in the world is like my brother.”
Just as Arsen had explained earlier, to compare his skills on equal footing with other knights, Kyrie needed to hold the same status. After all, Prince Franz, who learned swordsmanship without caring about Kyrie’s status, was the exception, not the rule.
Pointing to his own red eyes, Calian continued.
“Kyrie. There are many in this world who judge a person’s worth by what they see on the surface. I don’t want to see you undervalued because of such things.”
Just as Lemain had bestowed a countship upon Alan, and just as Calian wore splendid formal attire to banquets, there was a clear necessity to care about appearances.
“I understand your reasoning, Your Highness. But even so, it feels too early. Furthermore, if His Majesty bestows the title…”
Kyrie trailed off.
“Ah.”
Calian let out a soft sound of realization. He had finally figured out the real reason Kyrie was reluctant.
“It’s because of the oath of loyalty, isn’t it, Kyrie?”
“……Yes.”
Hearing Calian’s words, Kyrie hesitated for a moment before answering.
If Lemain directly bestowed the knighthood, the ceremony where a knight kneels before their lord to swear loyalty would be omitted. Kyrie had been making other excuses because he couldn’t accept that.
Calian stopped walking and turned to face Kyrie, who was following behind. He tilted his head up slightly to look at him.
“I’m not going to accept it. Not from you.”
The oath Kyrie had made to Bern, and Bern to Chase.
The ritual where an aspiring knight kneels before their lord, promises loyalty, and begs permission to die before them.
—I grant it.
“Because I know I could never grant you that.”
It was undoubtedly a sacred and noble ritual, and for Kyrie, who had no memory of the past, it should have been the most important ceremony of all. Yet, Calian knew he could never bring himself to utter that simple response.
Sensing what it was that Calian could not permit, Kyrie’s eyes grew quiet and dark.
“Kyrie. The answer I heard from you here is already more than enough.”
The moment Kyrie had said that the last thing he must have shown the Calian of the ‘past’ was his back—that moment alone was enough.
“You already became my sword that day. What more could we possibly need?”
Calian was saying that the moment he returned the sword to Kyrie had been their true oath.
Hearing those words, Kyrie only smiled silently.
To Kyrie, whose hearing was far sharper than others, even the quiet royal palace was always noisy. This place, far removed from such clamor, was a sanctuary.
The ever-present sound of flowing water. The whisper of the cool breeze. The soft rhythm of Calian’s breathing. He felt as if even the sunlight pouring down was making a joyful sound.
In this perfect place, his heart filled with a willingness to do anything, Kyrie spoke.
“Once, Hina said something. She said she would live to help you, Your Highness, until she grew old and died. Back then, I didn’t realize how important those words were, but now I finally understand why she called me an idiot.”
In truth, she had called both Kyrie and Calian idiots, but he couldn’t very well tell him that.
At any rate, having broached the subject, Kyrie stood facing Calian directly.
In the middle of the forest, on a wide, ruined clearing that had been crushed, cut down, and burned—much like their own hearts—he stood before Calian.
“I have not yet memorized the full oath for a knight’s investiture.”
And then, he quietly knelt.
On that blackened, faded earth, he knelt before Calian.
“Kyrie.”
“But there is still something I wish to say.”
Kyrie interrupted him. Calian fell silent and looked down.
—I don't want to make stiff, formal greetings like everyone else.
Kyrie would obey Calian’s words unconditionally in any other matter, but he refused to accept Calian’s refusal of his oath. That was why he was being so stubborn.
—I will hold the sword and raise the shield in place of the Royal Brother. I will die in place of the Royal Brother.
—What is this? In the end, it's the exact same thing as any other knight's oath.
—I believe it is enough to speak from the heart.
A memory from a distant day surfaced once more, and Calian smiled silently.
—Just admit you don't want to memorize it.
—Even without fancy rhetoric, isn't it enough to say what I truly mean?
Kyrie probably didn’t know.
Even back then, he had already made a knight’s oath of his own design.
Watching Calian reminisce, Kyrie spoke again, beginning another promise of his own making.
But this time, it was a very different kind of promise.
“If there ever comes a time when you are exhausted or drunk, I will carry you on my back and hold you steady. I will become strong enough that you do not have to walk ahead alone, Your Highness. I will become a person strong enough that you do not have to worry about or protect me.”
Instead of the grand, flowery words of highly trained knights, Kyrie quietly laid down the promises he could actually keep.
“I will protect you, so that you are never left alone, and never forgotten.”
That was Kyrie’s oath.
At those words, promised without a single tremor, Calian looked down at Kyrie and closed his eyes for a moment. He smiled softly.
They were words even more beautiful than the ones he’d heard back then.
“……Very well.”
The sound of a soft chuckle, followed by a quiet breath, drifted through the air once more. Kyrie, who never let a single sound from Calian escape him, listened closely to that faint breath.
“I grant it.”
On a beautiful day.
A day when the flowing water was refreshing and the pouring sunlight was warm.
Kyrie became Calian’s knight.