Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Empire (7)
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Irena held the Lennon Autonomous District on the northern outskirts of the capital as her viscountcy.
This autonomous district was a special zone granted in recognition of her achievements.
Nominally her viscountcy, but administratively part of the capital outskirts, it fell under the Empress's direct control.
Freya and I, having no home in the capital, were staying at Irena's mansion.
It was both her consideration and her insistence.
The mansion's owner herself was often away due to knight order duties.
Freya was busy with northern distribution networks too, so when she was out, only the head butler and the servants remained in the mansion.
The errand boy she said she'd send regarding the Red Star hadn't arrived yet.
She'd said a few days, so there were probably one or two days left.
In the meantime, I spent my time gathering and organizing information.
Otherwise, there was no particular schedule, but today I decided to visit Irena at the knight order headquarters.
Irena, who had been handling paperwork in her office, brightened up.
"Captain, I've come to see you."
"Ian, it's been a while."
"Has it? It's not even been two days since we last met."
"Even two days is a long time."
I approached her desk and pulled out the dessert I'd bought.
It was the jerky pie we'd eaten together before.
Irena seemed to like jerky pie for some reason.
The shop owner even advertised her as a regular.
"It's lunchtime, so I thought you might be hungry."
"Oh! Jerky pie. I was just about to go buy some. Perfect timing. Thanks, I'll dig in."
Irena stepped out of the office, leading me along.
We headed to the small garden behind the knight order headquarters.
Irena familiarly pulled out a blanket hidden under the bench and spread it over the grass.
Once we set out the food and tea on top, the aroma wafted gently on the breeze.
"This is my first time eating in the garden like this."
Irena shrugged at my words.
"Even at lunchtime, I hate being cooped up inside. The breeze here is nice."
She took a big bite.
As the crispy pie crust crumbled, the rich jerky scent rose thickly.
If you want jerky, just eat jerky—why jerky in a pie too?
I didn't voice such doubts.
I had enough sense for that.
Still, after chewing, tearing, and slurping jerky endlessly in stews back north until I was sick of it, the fundamental question of why make it into pie lingered.
I ate the pie with Irena and shared the teacups.
All the while, I focused on her arm.
Irena used only her left hand, whether lifting the teacup or eating the pie.
Even in situations where her right arm would be less cumbersome, she insisted on her left.
"Hm?"
"How's your right arm doing these days?"
Ever since I'd first noticed her anomaly, she'd mainly used her left arm.
She even wielded her sword improperly, as if her right arm's movements were inconvenient.
That was the reason I'd judged it as a monsterization symptom.
But back then, she still used her right hand sometimes.
Not insisting on only her left like now.
So naturally, such suspicions arose.
Was her condition gradually worsening?
I asked that question while inwardly praying it wasn't so.
The thought of killing a comrade with my own hands was agonizing enough.
When I'd first encountered her in the north, the intent to kill her was gone now.
How could I still harbor such thoughts?
It was something I'd hesitated over for six years.
Now, could I truly resolve to do that deed?
Setting personal feelings aside, it was already impossible for me.
"Why my right arm?"
"...I've been watching for a while, but from five years ago until now, you've mainly used your left arm. I know you've always been right-handed."
"Oh... sharp eye. You've known since five years ago?"
"At first, I thought it was just a temporary issue. But it persisted strangely long. Lately, it seems the symptom has worsened."
Irena's expression looked a bit happy, yet simultaneously sad.
Joy, sorrow, guilt—all tangled into an indescribable emotion.
But only for a moment, as Irena quickly masked it and asked playfully.
"......So, I wanted to check. If you're okay now."
It was unexpected.
I'd only asked about her right arm, but wariness flashed across her face more than relief.
Did she interpret my question differently?
"I'm fine, of course. Then, let me ask something too. Were you interested in me since then?"
"Of course I was interested."
"In what sense... no, forget I asked."
Irena trailed off.
She shook her head, cutting herself short midway.
"You might not realize it, but you have a habit of unconsciously leaking faint killing intent. It might've been fine in the north, but you should fix it in the capital. It can affect ordinary people."
"...!"
Her words immediately brought Silvia Baltazar to mind.
Ian's sister, who suddenly vomited without any provocation.
So it was because of my habit.
'Wait, if Irena knew about my habit—'
We sat cross-legged on the blanket, gazing at the knight order building.
Squire knights, fresh from training and drenched in sweat, were emerging from the field.
Whether they were all close or not, they joked around until spotting me and Irena on the blanket, then hastily bowed.
"I-Irena Captain, greetings!"
"Greetings!"
Irena gave appropriate greetings in return, then turned to me.
Her ice-blue eyes fixed on me.
She looked as if she were about to unearth long-suppressed emotions.
Perhaps she'd wanted to ask someone for a long time.
"......Do you resent me?"
A sudden question: did I resent her?
Through that question, I understood the anguish and torment Irena had harbored all this time.
That she was suffering terribly because of it.
She was asking me.
If I resented her for placing them in the special forces unit and using them as bait against the great beast.
If I wanted to kill her for driving countless comrades into peril and getting them killed.
If my feelings toward her weren't affection, but hatred.
If, consumed by mortal hatred, I'd resolved to kill her.
'She misunderstood because of my killing intent.'
It seemed my unwitting leaks had caused her misunderstanding.
Even if I said it wasn't true, it wouldn't be that easy for her.
If she'd sensed my killing intent early and hidden it, how festered must her heart have become?
It wouldn't be strange if it had rotted long ago.
If a close comrade actually resented you and even wanted you dead?
A hard-to-imagine hypothesis, but undeniable similarities to the situation she'd accepted.
Her question stung.
Her words lodged strangely in my chest.
If I'd never resented her once, that would surely be a lie.
I always saw the dead.
Closing my eyes brought them to mind, preventing me from sheathing my sword.
But to her question of whether I resented her, I shook my head.
"No. That's not it."
She had formed the special forces unit and led others into it—that was fact.
At the same time, she'd operated the unit to subjugate while minimizing knight deaths—that was also fact.
But did I still resent her now?
No.
"I don't resent you, Captain."
She sent all her salary to the bereaved families of the dead.
She helped them settle in her territory to live safe lives.
Rather than evade responsibility, she took it upon herself.
Remembering their deaths without dismissing them as the best choice.
Because she was that kind of person, I'd decided no longer to resent her.
How did my answer reach her?
Humans interact yet can't read each other's thoughts.
Unable to fully know one another, we trust—and thus conversation has meaning.
No convenient mind reading or telepathy exists in my world, at least.
Irena bit her lip.
"......Even though your comrades died because I was late?"
Now I knew Irena as a person.
I knew she hadn't been late on purpose.
I now knew she wasn't the type.
I met her distrustful gaze.
"At least I don't resent you."
Irena fell silent.
The jerky pie lay fallen on the ground.
Irena hesitated, then stood as if resolved, turning to me.
"...There was always something I wanted to ask you, and something I wanted to tell you. But... yeah. Words alone aren't enough. So I'll show you directly."
It was her way: a sword more honest than words.
I had no intention of dodging either.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The training grounds buzzed with usual energy.
Squires swung swords to commands, regular knights paired off to hone techniques—that afternoon.
But as Irena passed through the main gate, the air shifted like cold water poured over them.
"......Captain?"
The first squire to notice knelt reflexively.
The others hurriedly straightened upon seeing.
Swords in hands froze, sweat drops halted as if iced over.
"At ease. Just borrowing the training grounds."
Irena spoke firmly yet softly.
But the weight of 'knight order captain' didn't dissipate easily.
The man entering behind wore a sturdy gray overcoat.
Well-kept black hair, military poise from black leather boots.
Knights recognizing him murmured softly.
"That guy... no way, the Duke?"
"One of the strongest on the Northern Frontline. On par with the Captain."
"For real. I saw it—he pierced the heavens with one sword."
Squires whispered.
Even regular knights cautiously set down wooden swords, focusing eyes.
The Empire's strongest knight order captain and the superhuman who pierced the sky with one blade.
They faced off in the training grounds' center.
"Let's do it here."
Irena pointed to the wide-open central floor.
"Spacious enough, no interruptions."
"Sounds good."
As if prearranged, Irena and I each took sword and spear.
Admiration rippled through the surrounding knights.
"This... they're really doing it?"
"Live spar? Who do you think wins?"
"Be honest. I'm voting Duke. They called him insane in the north."
"Captain's no pushover."
Irena ignored the murmurs.
So did I.
Both fixed solely on each other.
"I always figured something like this would happen eventually."
The vice-captain overseeing the grounds chuckled.
"Make way, make way! Hey, squires! Back off! If a sword drops, you won't handle it!"
Squires and regular knights hurriedly cleared the field.
Soon, a small crowd formed at the outskirts, like reformed ranks.
No one spoke, but all eyes locked on one spot.
The ground air seemed to tremble.
Not practice swords. Both were sharply honed.
"Uh... you're both using real swords?"
Irena smiled in reply.
"I'm fine. Ian is too, right?"
I nodded.
"It's a consented duel."
"......If you say so."
The instructor swallowed a sigh and stepped back.
Behind him, hushed spectators came into view.
Irena said curtly.
"Let's begin."
The moment the word fell, both their toes moved in unison.