The Weight of a Name
Six were dead, and seventeen wounded. Among the fallen was Sir Mallon. He was the old knight who had overseen my sparring whenever I visited the barony. It had been a dangerous journey, and they had accompanied us knowing the risks. Even so, the death of another still left a bitter taste in the mouth.
The injured weren't in much better shape. As soon as they arrived in the capital, the Baron took everyone straight to the Pantheon. Thanks to the basic first aid Sirien had administered, no more lives were lost, but there were still far too many critically wounded. Mary didn't wake up for three days due to the side effects of overusing her abilities. Hakon was diagnosed with a shoulder injury requiring at least a month of recovery, while Galedin, whose body was battered all over, was ordered to rest for over three months. Some of the soldiers were forced to retire from the front lines entirely. The Baron himself had suffered three broken bones.
"Ah, Sir Rajen. You've come. I owe you my life."
"Should you really be walking around already? I'm pretty sure the priests told you to stay in bed."
"I can't just lie around doing nothing. Besides, I did ask for permission first. Though the Priest of Mercy did look at me like I was a madman. Well, I'm used to that look by now."
Divine power is not omnipotent. In this era, where technological advancement lags far behind, divine power is a miracle that surpasses even modern medicine. However, that doesn't mean a person's body is instantly mended the moment they step into a temple. Perhaps the pain lingers, or perhaps the body simply remembers the trauma of the injury. Typically, even after receiving divine healing, a patient still requires a period of recovery. While pouring in massive amounts of divine power could bypass this, it was highly inefficient. Not to mention, it wasn't a luxury just anyone could afford. This meant the Baron was currently walking while feeling the raw pain of his fractured bones. His expression, though masked with casual ease, was subtly stiff.
"Sirien is going to oversee the funeral. You don't need to push yourself so hard."
"No. I must attend. They are my people, and they died for me. It would be shameless of me to just lie in a temple bed while they are laid to rest."
"Alright. Then I'll go with you. Do you need a hand?"
"I'm fine. I can walk on my own."
The Baron insisted on walking all the way to the wide courtyard of the Pantheon where the funeral was being held. When we arrived, Sirien was in the middle of consecrating the deceased. The gentle warmth unique to the Divinity of Rest enveloped the area, and her voice quietly echoed as she chanted the prayers. Because this was a formal funeral rather than a makeshift service on a battlefield, it went on for quite some time. Sirien guided the souls with solemn dignity, and the Baron watched in silence, taking in every moment. He only spoke again once the souls had finally found their peaceful rest.
"Have the departed found their peace?"
"Yes. All that's left now is to cremate the bodies and send them home."
"Thank you. I owe you both a great debt in many ways. If not for the two of you, I wouldn't have made it back alive either."
Baron Isquente bowed his head. Knowing how deeply he cherished his people, his gratitude felt incredibly sincere. It wasn't as if the deceased were complete strangers to me, either. I had owed quite a bit to Sir Mallon in particular. But more than that, we had matters to discuss. We needed to sweep away the ashes Nezra had left behind. Sirien let out a sigh.
"We all have things to say, don't we? Let's move somewhere else."
Though she suggested moving, we didn't go anywhere particularly special. The Baron was practically a walking corpse of a patient, and we had been ambushed just a few hours prior. Our destination was simply a room in our quarters that we used as a makeshift meeting room. Besides, the conversation wasn't going to be overly complex. The Baron slowly poured the tea. Sirien caught a whiff of the aroma before taking a sip. Her brow furrowed slightly. It didn't seem to be to her liking.
"To be honest, I had a vague inkling. The two of you are simply too extraordinary. Even if it weren't me, no ordinary person would have looked at you and seen commoners."
"And yet you remained so cooperative. Even without knowing what was tied to our backs. It didn't seem like you dug into our pasts, either."
"Because I decided to trust you. I must admit, I felt a chill when you asked to restrict information, but a man like me has to at least keep his promises if he wants to avoid making enemies."
Nezra. That damn demon had mentioned my father before fleeing. Along with the name Bertus. And neither Sirien nor I had denied it. Generally, the children of noble families aren't well-known to the public. To be precise, not until their debutante. Before that, only nobles with personal connections to the family would know of them. It was a sort of unwritten rule. It wasn't treated as a state secret, but families rarely enjoyed exposing their young heirs to the public. This tendency was even stronger for high nobility with many enemies. They didn't want to risk any potential danger. In truth, by the age of twelve or thirteen, the social circles would gradually become aware of them, but we had experienced our tragedy before then. That was why Sirien and I hadn't bothered using aliases. Unless someone had met us face-to-face at Leheim Castle, it was safe to assume no one knew our names. Since we hadn't committed any crimes, we figured we might as well use our real names proudly.
"I'm incredibly relieved that I never acted rudely toward you. Though, I truly never imagined it would be to this extent."
"Mmm."
"I'll just look on the bright side and consider myself lucky to have secured such a massive connection."
However, our last names were a different story. Needless to say, everyone knew the Ilensia Grand Duchy, and very few were ignorant of my own surname, 'Bertus.' To begin with, the Bertus county where I was born had no actual fief. Strictly speaking, it wasn't entirely nonexistent, but it was merely a nominal piece of land tucked away in a remote corner of the Ilencia territory. My father had never set foot there, and neither had I. Instead, we received a portion of the taxes collected from the Ilencia Grand Duchy. My father, a knight who had spent his entire life doing nothing but swinging a sword, had no ability to manage an estate—and even if he did, he would have preferred to spend that time swinging his sword once more. A family with no territory and no subjects to rule, existing only in name. Yet, the reason Bertus held the title of 'Count' was purely due to military merit. My father was a Swordmaster. People often called him the Sword of Ilencia. Or the Mad Dog. The Wild Blade. Arzen Bertus was my father's name. Therefore, exposing my surname was equivalent to exposing Sirien's. After all, the only house the Bertus family would ever pledge loyalty to was the Ilencia Grand Duchy. Furthermore, silver hair was one of the defining traits of the Ilencia family. While not every silver-haired person could be linked to the Grand Duchy, when the circumstantial evidence piled up like this, it became an undeniable certainty.
"Though this might not be the timing you intended, allow me to formally introduce myself once again. I am Nelloa Isquente, caretaker of a small estate on the northern border."
"Rajen Bertus."
"Sirien Ilensia. The sole remaining direct descendant of the Ilencia family."
"Excuse me?"
The Baron froze, as if time itself had ground to a halt. His arm, which had been lifting his teacup, froze mid-air. His expression remained paralyzed for a long moment before giving way to sheer bewilderment and terror. No. It can't be. Please tell me it's not true. I could practically hear the unspoken plea screaming from his eyes. The Baron's words rushed out in a panic.
"W-what do you mean by that? The sole direct descendant? From what I know, the Lady of Ilencia is currently confined to Leheim Castle, never stepping foot outside."
"That's what they say. I've heard it too."
"I was under the impression that the Grand Duchess is still alive... and the young master is studying abroad. That's why I was absolutely certain the two of you had simply come to gain experience on the battlefield against the demons..."
But Sirien remained completely unperturbed. She simply stared at the Baron, silently prompting him to continue. The Baron's shoulders slumped.
"I was planning to act all cool and say I'd keep your identities a secret forever..."
"It's all a lie. The 'me' currently in Leheim is a body double they dragged in from god-knows-where, and my brother died right before my eyes."
The Baron turned deathly pale. He looked even more bloodless than when he had spoken of Marquis Eloran back in his territory.
"I can't say for certain beyond that, but I suspect both of my parents passed away together. Which means the current Grand Duchess is likely a double as well. Right now, the traitor Count Roxen holds all the real power in the Ilencia Grand Duchy."
"To call him a traitor... *cough*."
"There was a rebellion within the family. It happened when Rajen and I were twelve. That was when I lost my brother."
Sirien took a slow sip of her tea, perhaps to soothe a dry throat. Feeling a sudden tightness in my own chest, I took a sip as well.
"You understand why we're telling you this, right?"
"I assume... it means you want my help."
"Exactly. As soon as we wrap things up here, I'm going to reclaim my land. I will kill the demon who is Rajen's sworn enemy, bring down Marquis Eloran, negotiate with the Imperial Court, and slaughter every last one of the traitors. When that time comes, I'll be needing your hand."