First Meeting
After days of running for my life, night and day without rest, my exhausted feet finally came to a halt in the sprawling slums that stretched along the outskirts of the Imperial Capital.
I crouched beneath a bridge where foul water trickled past and simply let the hours slip by. No pursuers ever appeared to hunt me down, but sadly, that offered precious little comfort to my heart.
Whether they had sent me away or not, the fact remained unchanged: my parents had given up on me.
Perhaps, deep down, they even considered it a stroke of good fortune.
And so began a life at the very bottom—a kind of existence I had never once experienced before. Only then did I realize that this was the first time I had ever truly stepped beyond the grounds of my family's estate.
Ordinarily, I would have begun preliminary society activities well before inheriting the sword and enrolling at the Imperial Academy. But because I couldn't, I had never set a single foot past the mansion walls under the pretext of "training."
It must have been my parents' desperate, tearful effort to hide the family's shame.
Sitting blankly in some alley corner, chewing over my failures again and again became my new daily routine. Yet since I couldn't even begin to guess the reason why, all it did was pile misery atop misery.
When I was on the verge of starving to death, I would rummage through piles of garbage and barely quiet my aching stomach with shriveled meat and rotten fruit. After forcing the food down with a wave of nausea, I would collapse once more into bottomless despair.
After weeks of that, no trace of the Empire's young nobleman remained anywhere.
The figure reflected in the stagnant puddles at my feet was nothing more than an unmistakable beggar.
And as more time passed, I eventually grew so accustomed to drifting through the back alleys that such days had become my ordinary life.
Then, without warning, an explosion rang out loud enough to deafen me, and a pillar of light shot up from the western sky.
The pillar was enormous—so massive and radiant that it could be seen clearly even from a great distance. It poured down light for a long while before gradually dimming, and at last it faded away entirely.
The direction and distance from which it appeared stirred an uncomfortable unease in my chest. As a crowd gathered, murmuring at the sudden commotion, someone came sprinting up, gasping for breath, and shouted:
"A new Sword of the Empire has been born in House Aramis!"
My heart plummeted as this ominous premonition, once again, proved true.
The commotion was short-lived. Joy and celebration settled onto the faces of all who heard the cry. They removed their hats or bowed their heads, each offering gestures of relief and reverence.
"Ah, finally…!"
"Oh Aten, please watch over our Empire…!"
Words passed from mouth to mouth travel faster than the wind.
The rumor that the Successor of Prominence—hidden away behind the curtains of his family estate all this time—had finally emerged spread through the lower classes in an instant.
Noel.
That was the name of the one who had drawn the sword in my place.
The succession ceremony, delayed a full three years, was carried out swiftly and with tremendous splendor.
Those who attended the ceremony held in the heart of the Imperial Capital sang the praises of the young lord of Aramis with a single voice.
A boy with dazzling golden hair and eyes blue as the deep sea—they declared him surely the apostle sent down by God to protect the Empire.
Noel was to enroll in the Imperial Academy at once and continue his education there.
The long-stalled betrothal between the Imperial Family and House Aramis also surged forward at breakneck speed.
As for the rampant rumors surrounding the Aramis family, they had long since melted away like snow under the spring sun.
Before a sword that had already chosen its master, three years of waiting were dismissed as nothing more than a light joke. Over the Empire's clouded future, bright light shone once more.
Happiness had simply passed over one person by.
"Ha… haha…"
I laughed like a madman, a hollow chuckle spilling from my lips.
My father's words about slums and compatibility brushed faintly through my mind once more. I had no idea who this Noel was, but our positions had now been utterly reversed.
Even amid all this, one thing was certain.
There was truly no place left for me in House Aramis anymore.
From the day I saw that pillar of light, I stopped eating and drinking altogether and wandered the slums like a ghost. Those who saw me laughing alone muttered among themselves, casting sour glances at the beggar who'd lost his mind.
By this point, I couldn't even say they were wrong.
All my years had been nothing but stepping stones to claim Prominence. And now it had long since passed into another's hands—along with the honor, the glory, and the duty that should have been mine to bear.
Nothing remained for me now. Having lost even the will to go on living, I was dragging my swaying steps steadily toward death.
Another few days slipped by, and just as I sensed the end drawing truly near—
I was moving my aimless steps through the crowd of pedestrians as always when someone's shoulder slammed directly into my chest.
Thump.
My torso, swaying like a blade of dry grass, crumpled backward from that light impact. No matter how hardened a body I might once have had, I no longer had the strength to hold it up.
It had rained the day before, and the ground was soaked through with damp. I fell caked in muddy water and stared blankly up at the sky.
Beyond my rapidly blurring vision, I could make out a girl wearing an old rain cloak draped over her head. With auburn hair and green eyes, she was brushing off her shoulder with an annoyed expression.
The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was the girl glaring down at me with a face full of disgust, spitting out her words:
"What's with this gutter rat?"
That was how Ellie and I first met.
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a bed somewhere.
I turned my gaze around in a daze.
With a soft crackling sound, the fire in a simple hearth sent out gentle warmth. The feel of a cozy blanket—something I hadn't known for far too long—felt almost strange against my skin.
Thick cloth, not stone, covered the ceiling with its exposed beams on all four sides, and a rug lay spread over the dirt floor to keep out the chill.
Just as I was staring blankly at this unfamiliar scene, someone entered the tent with a light grumble.
"Honestly, that girl Ellie… what on earth got into her all of a sudden…?"
The tall woman who had appeared without warning showed a flicker of surprise when she saw me awake. Then she smiled faintly and began.
"And here I thought you'd never get up again. You were out cold for three days straight, you know?"
"…Where am I, exactly?"
My throat was so cracked and dry that my voice barely came out. The woman, seeming to understand completely, picked up a bottle beside the table and dabbed water against my lips little by little. Only after watching me swallow did she nod and continue.
"Besalak. Our mercenary corps' winter garrison. This is my tent—and that bed you're lying in happens to be mine."
"Mercenary… corps…?"
"Ever heard of the Lenart Mercenary Corps?"
Learning the history and relationships of the continent's major powers was considered one of the essential virtues for a child of the great nobility.
Useless knowledge now, and yet it still occupied its place proudly in a corner of my mind.
The Lenart Mercenary Corps. An unusual mercenary company of elite few operating in the northern territories of the Empire, composed entirely of women.
Unrivaled experts when it came to hunting witches and monsters—and especially their captain, Lenart, who possessed azure hair and beautiful orange eyes—
I stopped there and abruptly looked up at the woman before me. Sure enough, a pair of eyes as brilliant yellow as harvest-season oranges were staring straight at me.
And as if she had read my thoughts, the woman smiled and nodded at once.
"That's right. I'm Lenart, the captain. So I am rather famous, it seems."
I had certainly heard that she possessed skill enough that not even the Imperial Guard knights could easily stand against her.
Here I was, face to face with someone I'd only ever heard tales about—but sadly, I felt no particular joy in it.
There had been a time when I'd dreamed of one day crossing blades with her, too. But the me of now was nothing more than a withered old tree.
Having pieced together the situation well enough, I lowered my head and murmured quietly.
"You did something pointless. You could have just left me to die in the street…"
But my words never reached their end.
A sudden wave of stinging pain shot through me, and I instinctively clutched my forehead.
The woman who had introduced herself as Lenart was glaring down at me, fist clenched tight, as if she might devour me whole.
Only then did I realize she had smacked me on the head, and I fell into a state of shock. Never once in my life had anyone laid a hand on me like that.
"This brat, spouting nothing but nonsense."
Lenart rebuked me in a stern voice.
"Is that really something to say in front of the person who lent you her bed, hmm? Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me?"
"That's not what I—"
I had just opened my mouth in a daze when hurried footsteps came rushing from outside, and suddenly the tent flap was flung wide open.
"Lenart! Stop dawdling and get him to the temple already so a priest can—"
I found myself staring straight into the eyes of the auburn-haired girl who had come tumbling in, shouting. A brief silence settled over the tent.
Her face looked somehow familiar. It wasn't hard to recall the surly girl in the rain cloak from my last memory before I blacked out.
As we held each other's gaze, she flinched and shuddered—then, as if nothing had happened, muttered sourly:
"If you're awake, you could've said so…"
And before anyone could get a word in, the girl swept out of the tent, hair flying. Still dazed by the whirlwind of it all, I heard someone stifling a laugh from somewhere.
"Her name is Ellie."
Lenart's face had grown noticeably gentler at some point.
"The youngest of our mercenary corps. As you can see, her personality is a bit… fouled-up."
"I'd say it's more than 'a bit.'"
"Then allow me to correct myself: completely fouled-up."
She nodded, then spoke in a gentle, deliberate tone.
"How about you go after her and say hello? It'd be good to get acquainted—you two look about the same age."
"…I don't think she likes me. Just now, and at the start too—out of nowhere she called me a gutter rat…"
"Like I said. Her personality is a bit… completely fouled-up. But she's not a bad kid."
Unable to hold it in any longer, Lenart burst out laughing and waved her hand breezily.
"Ellie's the one who carried you all the way here to Besalak while you were out cold. I've never seen that stuck-up girl so desperate in my life."
"…"
"The healer said your insides were an absolute wreck. Said it was like you'd starved for months. If Ellie hadn't brought you in, you'd be well on your way to the side of Lord Aten by now."
"But…I…"
"Ah, ah."
And once again, Lenart cut off my faltering voice.
"I know you must have your circumstances. I do. But still… couldn't you at least offer a word of thanks to the person who saved your life? Hmm?"
"…"
There wasn't a single thing wrong with what she said.
Only then did I reluctantly push myself up. Watching me shuffle unsteadily toward the tent flap, even Lenart's face softened into a contented smile.
"Ellie will be under the big chestnut tree on the south side of the garrison. She always reads alone there. And the rest of your story… we'll save for when you get back."
I opened and closed my fist, over and over. I still lacked a little strength, but my vision was no longer dim, and my legs no longer trembled with every step.
I could tell at once that my condition had improved dramatically.
And I understood, too, why Lenart had called Ellie the savior of my life.
The Besalak Garrison was the name of a modest stretch of flatland spread among low rolling hills.
As I walked down the lane between the barracks that lined it on either side, I could feel furtive glances darting toward me from everywhere.
Was it really that strange to see a man walking through the garrison of a mercenary corps made up entirely of women?
Just as Lenart had said, before long a massive chestnut tree came into view. Beneath its enormous branches spreading in every direction, the girl from earlier was indeed absorbed in her book.
As I drew near, I could make out the cover myself. It was a battered old volume of etiquette titled Baroness Caroline's 101 Etiquette Rules for Imperial Ladies.
Only then did she sense my presence and glance up at me.
And then, in that characteristic surly voice, she scoffed outright:
"What are you staring at?"