#36. In This Place Where the Era Devours Convictions
Dubel left Isel's room and descended the stairs with a troubled expression. He hadn't known back then. Back then, he'd simply believed it was the right thing to do. For Hurion's oath, for the kingdom, he'd thought he had to grit his teeth and see it through no matter what.
But now, he thought he understood. That everything had gone wrong. He couldn't say exactly when it had started, but at the very least, he knew he had been there at the beginning.
The words he'd spoken to Saint Yuria were right—he'd realized that the moment he faced Emilia. "Isn't it better to guide and educate than to punish for a future that hasn't even come to pass?"
Those words he'd uttered behind the saint's back. Education over punishment. He'd come to fully grasp their truth through the Emilia of today—and through Rosel on that first day.
It had been nonsense from the start, of course. Condemning a future that hadn't happened yet was absurd on its face. But in a world where the era devoured convictions, it was no easy task to gain such enlightenment and reclaim one's beliefs.
Just as one soaking in a pond of red petrification fluid could only realize, upon rising, that their submerged body had been dyed... If you simply conformed to the era and sat still, you could never tell if you were tainted.
Without Rosel, Emilia, and that boy Roden, he himself might never have realized that he—the one pretending at nobility and hypocrisy—had already been stained red. Even on the day he'd set out for this place, he'd thought only of his "duty" as knight commander.
It didn't matter when he'd begun to tarnish. Protecting the king as royal knight commander was his mission. If the king strayed onto the wrong path, the knight commander's duty was to stand ahead and guard him steadfastly.
He wasn't some great sage, holy foundation leader, or saint—just a mere knight commander. When his lord walked a thorny path, the knight commander's role was to walk beside him and protect him. Enlightening him that the path was wrong? That was for those above.
And so Dubel had silently stood by Brikal's side all this time. His hands had been stained with filthy blood for it. He'd even pointed his sword at the neck of the disciple he cherished.
Though he'd stepped forward himself to force Emilia to her knees—and she'd suffered no grievous or fatal wound—that didn't erase what had happened. And now he regretted it all. But if he could go back to that day... honestly, he couldn't say what choice he'd make.
Only this: now he knew what choice he had to make.
Click.
Instead of leaving the mansion, Dubel entered the infirmary on the first floor. He approached Roden, who was still awake.
"Were you reading, Roden?"
They knew each other, so Dubel spoke to him with easy familiarity.
"Eh? D-Dubel?"
Roden, absorbed in his book, snapped it shut and jumped in surprise at the unexpected visitor.
"...Don't be startled. I came because I have something to tell you."
"To me... something to say?"
"I heard about you from Head Butler Gellion. That you threw your life away for your lord."
"...What? N-No, that's not—"
Roden denied it first, as that incident had to remain a mistake. But Dubel's next words, laced with regret, made denial impossible. He'd never imagined the royal knight commander—shining emblem of duty, hope of the commoners, and his idol—could harbor such remorse.
"I'm envious, Roden... To have a lord you'd truly give your life for... I'm insanely envious."
"D-Dubel..."
Dubel unfastened the small ceremonial sword at his right hip, scabbard and all. The water above must be clear for the water below to be clear. The lower pool merely collects what flows down from above; if rot comes from upstream, the lower pool rots too. And a lower pool that mindlessly hoards tainted water can't escape blame for its own murkiness.
That was why he now sought to take responsibility for his own corruption, even if belatedly. He placed the sword on Roden's bed.
"D-Dubel? Th-This is..."
"A sword gifted to me by His Late Majesty King Hurion. He was a truly benevolent sovereign... If it wouldn't be wasted on you, would you accept it?"
"Y-Yes?"
There'd be no issue giving a sword received from the previous king to a boy like Roden. The sword's owner was him, and Roden hadn't committed treason. No one could fault it, and it wouldn't harm Roden—that was why Dubel offered it.
Roden lifted the sword reverently in both hands, his face dazed.
"Y-You're giving this to me...? Why, why...?"
"My pool has rotted through. It can never be clear again."
"What...? R-Rotted? But Dubel, you're everyone's idol..."
"But yours is still pure. So, can you wield this sword cleanly?"
"..."
Dubel's words were still too nuanced for a mere 13-year-old boy to grasp fully. But Roden had a rough sense of it—of where that remorse stemmed from.
He gripped the sword tightly. Dubel Temidro, idol of all commoners like Duke Rosel and hope of every aspiring swordsman. Especially the man who'd reached the nirvana realm through pure physical might—he was Roden's eternal hero. There was no reason to refuse a ceremonial sword from that hero.
"Yes. I'll keep it clean."
"...Good. Thank you... And if the waters above turn murky, don't stand by like I did and let yourself be tainted too."
He didn't fully get the metaphor yet, but it seemed like advice to serve Duke Rosel well, so Roden nodded.
"Yes. You're smarter and braver than I ever was, so I trust you'll do well. And... I'm sorry."
"Y-Yes? Why would you apologize...?"
It's the adults' responsibility to build a good era. For failing in that duty, Dubel offered his apology—then silently stroked Roden's head once before leaving the infirmary.
Now it was time to fulfill his own responsibility. Toward the moment fast approaching. For this place where the era devoured convictions, he set forth.
Left alone, Roden could only stare blankly after him.
"Master..."
Not just Roden watched Dubel's retreating figure. Isel, sitting alone at the round table clutching her diary, murmured blankly.
The brief meeting had ended, but Isel no longer yearned for the master she'd once revered. She didn't even resent the knight commander who'd gazed at her with pity from the royal throne that day.
Everyone had their circumstances, after all—and those circumstances meshed like gears to drive the world. Of course, that didn't apply to her party members or Brikal, who'd condemned and slandered her; theirs was a different caliber of guilt, one she did resent.
Even if he'd pointed a sword at her, the meaning behind his blade held a mercy utterly unlike theirs.
If Dubel had branded her a traitor and shown disappointment, forgiveness would have been hard. But he hadn't. He'd conveyed that it was an unavoidable choice for the sake of duty.
What some might call a cowardly choice didn't seem so to Isel, who'd shared trials and triumphs with him for months. Dubel the knight commander had been a rebel against the era, brimming with love and conviction for the kingdom.
Unlike her party members, he hadn't lied. She'd felt his sincerity in the words that he'd carried this diary in his breast pocket every day just to deliver it. With choked eyes, Isel opened it.
Records from her summoning to this world up to the expedition ceremony. Memories she'd forgotten—or had to forget—revived through those pages.
Pages brimming with dreams and hopes. Her revitalized lips curved into a gentle smile, and with warm eyes, she began reading from the first page.
And suddenly, she missed her. The self from that day. The self who'd dreamed freely, without a care.
Page after page, Isel's fond smile deepened.
"When I returned... I was going to make Master a bouquet..."
Of course, her smile sometimes turned wistful and melancholic. She'd hoped Dubel would realize every dream recorded there—but in their changed relationship now, those dreams had lost their meaning. They could no longer be called dreams.
As if shaking off the sadness, Isel turned the page, and her smile returned.
"Hee... I was so purely innocent back then."
Thanks offered to the divine, praises sung to the saint. Records left for those who'd granted her this grand adventure—Isel smiled at them. A bittersweet smile, alas.
A poignant smile for the innocence that had chased pure romance in blissful ignorance. Romance was gone now, but those daily chronicles of it tugged a bittersweet smile to her lips.
The thrill before departure. The excitement before meeting her comrades. The thrill of her growing strength, and more.
"Those days were really something..."
Like a retired old woman gazing at the twilight, Isel murmured over her diary.
Knock knock, knock knock knock.
Lady Silia's playful knocking sounded then. Isel set the diary on the table and opened the door. There stood little Lady Silia, who only came up to her waist, holding a tray of macarons and drinks.
"Lady Silia, what brings you here at this hour?"
"Hee hee! Jichel the head maid said to bring these to the hero, so I said I'd do it instead and snatched them away!"
"Ah... W-Well, come in for now."
"Yup! Macarons and juice, entering~!"
Silia bounded in with exaggerated flair, set the tray on the table, and eyed the diary Isel had covered.
"Huh? What's this?"
"Oh, th-that? It's my diary. Dubel brought it."
"A diary? When'd you write it?"
"From when I came to this world until just before the expedition ceremony."
"Whoa... Amazing. It must be super precious."
Silia eyed the diary with keen interest. A hero's secret tales—real stories juicier than any comic.
"It is precious. I'd forgotten... what dreams I used to chase."
"Eeee, the hero's dreams~ I wanna see your diary too!"
"Y-Yes?"
"It has your real feelings and dreams in it...! Can't you show me?"
Isel had to hesitate at the request from her host's daughter, who wanted to peek at this diary full of intimate secrets. Some entries were shady, even embarrassing—no way she could show Silia...
But those sparkling eyes didn't look like they'd back down easily.
"Ah! I have a diary too! I'll show you mine! Let's swap!"
At the unexpected diary swap, Isel broke out in a cold sweat. A long-forgotten embarrassment washed over her.
"Ah... Th-That might be a bit..."
An adult's diary for a child's. It was no fair trade for Isel. But refusing the earnest gaze of little Lady Silia, who cared for her so much... that was nearly impossible.
Of course, agreeing was just as hard.
"St-Still, that might be..."