Peaceful Days
Camellia could not believe what she was seeing the moment she first laid eyes on Lancelot—no, Raven’s face in the sewers. Accepting that the father she had mourned as dead, the one she had tried to release and move on from, had returned was something she could stomach. After all, the world did not run only on predictable events. But the revelation that her once righteous and mighty father was a member of the very filth that had wounded Werner was something her mind refused to accept.
Even after Werner left for the imperial capital to hold the one responsible accountable, Camellia remained alone in her room, denying the truth with every fiber of her being. How could the father who had cherished peace and order above all else belong to such an organization? She could deny it a hundred times, a thousand times, yet the face she had seen in those sewers was unmistakably her father’s. She could deny it ten thousand times, and still that voice would remain his.
“Father…”
Camellia forced herself to drag up memories she had deliberately drowned in the swamp of oblivion.
In a fragrant bamboo grove, a girl and a man dressed in eastern-style robes practiced swordsmanship. The wooden blade sliced through the air with a sharp whistle before slamming into the straw dummy with a heavy thud.
The black-haired half-elf girl holding the practice sword, Camellia, gazed at her father with shining, expectant eyes. She believed she had succeeded. After all, she had mastered the technique in only a week. There was no doubt in her mind that her father would praise her.
Yet her father, Raven, delivered a single cold remark as merciless as frost.
“Your shoulders were too tense. Begin again.”
With those words, Raven drove his wooden sword into the ground. The impact reverberated through the earth, enough to make Camellia flinch. She had no choice but to repeat the forms he had taught her.
“Your balance collapsed. Begin again.”
He repeated the command.
“Too slow, and you failed to put power into your wrist. Begin again.”
Again.
“A total disaster. Not only is it slow with your posture crumbling, but your flank is completely exposed. There is nothing worth watching. Begin again.”
Again and again.
“Did I not tell you to fix your gaze? Begin again from the start.”
Camellia’s arms had grown so heavy she could barely move them. Swinging an iron-weighted wooden sword from dawn until noon without rest was brutal training for a ten-year-old. Learning Raven’s swordsmanship—fierce as the wind, fluid as water, and solid as the earth—was no simple task.
“If you dislike it, you may quit. You were the one who begged me to teach you, after all.”
Raven looked at her with clear displeasure. He had never wanted to teach his daughter the sword; he only did so because she had thrown a tantrum until he relented.
“I… can do it…”
Camellia used the wooden sword as a crutch to force herself upright. After swinging the blade for more than six hours without pause, her body felt like lead and her limbs trembled, yet she could not stop. She possessed no great talent for magic, so the sword was her only answer. But the training her father—who had reached the zenith of swordsmanship—imposed was never gentle.
She wrung out every last ounce of strength and struck the straw dummy. Raven let out a sigh. For a moment Camellia feared she had failed again and braced herself, terrified she would hear the word “again” leave his lips.
“That will suffice. You have worked hard.”
The moment she heard those words, Camellia collapsed onto the ground, using it as her bed. Her training uniform was drenched in sweat, and not a single ounce of strength remained in her body.
“Haa… haa… I really succeeded, right…?”
“Do not grow conceited. You have only learned one basic technique.”
“Yes…”
Camellia’s voice was barely a whisper. She had hoped for a little more praise, but aside from “you worked hard,” no other words came. After enduring two full weeks of harsh criticism, she had wished for some compliment, yet Raven remained ice-cold.
“This is the second technique.”
Raven swung the wooden sword with an almost casual flick. Though it was clearly wood, the straw bundle tied to the post was sliced into five neat pieces that scattered across the ground.
“Repeat it one hundred times from now on. There will be no rest until you do.”
Camellia had long since realized that complaints of exhaustion or hardship would not be heard. She whipped her unresponsive body into motion once more.
Just before the wooden sword struck the dummy, a gentle voice interrupted.
“Stop this at once, both of you.”
Camellia and Raven turned toward the blonde woman.
“Mother!”
“What brings you here…”
“You two have been out since before dawn, and the sun is already high. What are you doing without eating a single meal?”
The blonde woman stood with her hands on her hips, clearly upset. A basket brimming with food rested in her arms.
“Evelyn, she is still in the middle of training…”
“Training or not, how can you starve a child?”
“Sigh… even so…”
Camellia’s mother, Evelyn, was a strong woman. No matter how powerful her husband might be, she was not the type to kneel in submission.
“Light, burst forth and chastise.”
A pillar of light suddenly engulfed Raven and nearly hurled him into the distance. Had he not used his wooden sword to brace himself, he would have slammed into the wall.
“Now that you understand, let us eat breakfast… or rather, lunch.”
“Sigh… very well.”
Camellia sat quietly and took a bite of the sandwich Evelyn had prepared. Stuffed with cheese, ham, lettuce, tomato, and many other fillings, it was more than enough to satisfy a hungry child’s stomach.
“Our daughter has been working so hard to learn the sword.”
“It’s nothing, Mother. I lack the magical talent you and my sibling possess, so I must at least devote myself to the sword.”
Evelyn had once been a celebrated mage. Yet after falling in love with Raven she had abandoned all her former glory to live as a housewife on a distant continent. At the mention of devoting herself to the sword, Evelyn gave Camellia a light rap on the head.
“Swordsmanship is not a mere substitute chosen because one cannot use magic, my daughter.”
Camellia rubbed her head and answered softly.
“Yes… Mother…”
Evelyn turned to Raven.
“So, is our Camellia keeping up with her lessons properly?”
Camellia’s heart sank. If he revealed that it had taken her an entire week to learn even one basic form, her mother would surely be disappointed.
“She learned one basic technique in a single week.”
“Hmm~.”
Camellia set down her sandwich. She did not want to meet her parents’ disappointed gazes.
“By that standard, she possesses considerable talent.”
“What a relief. One of your previous disciples took half a year to learn a single basic, didn’t he?”
“That boy had talent in his own right, which only made the problem worse.”
“How wonderful. Our daughter is a genius at this rate.”
Camellia sat stunned. She had never once received praise. She had been certain her parents would be disappointed, yet they were praising her instead.
“Am I… a genius…?”
“Sigh… I refrained from telling her because I feared she would become conceited, but Evelyn, it seems the damage is done.”
“Oh, it’s not that much. Besides, our daughter is not the type to grow arrogant from a little praise.”
Evelyn defended her daughter warmly and pulled her into a tight embrace. Raven scratched his head, then finally sat down in front of Camellia and picked up a piece of sandwich.
“I will not use the word genius. I have no wish to insult the results of your week of relentless training by dismissing them as mere talent.”
Camellia was speechless. The usually stoic father who had never offered a single word of praise was suddenly acknowledging her ability.
“However, if you maintain this posture, I can see the possibility that you may one day become a swordsman who surpasses even me.”
“Is it truly that good…?”
“And when that day arrives, I shall entrust you with my sword.”
Camellia stared at the blade Raven always carried at his waist. It was a renowned sword forged solely to vanquish evil and protect the weak.
“Therefore, continue to exert yourself.”
Though Raven’s words were as curt as ever, Camellia answered with a bright, cheerful smile—the first in a long while.
“Yes! I will work hard, Father!”
It had been only a brief respite, yet the memory of that day remained etched in Camellia’s mind for the rest of her life.
Camellia, who had been gazing at the sword she inherited from her father, now stroked its hilt with careful fingers. The father who had once eradicated evil and shielded the weak… had joined that kind of organization. She could not believe it. The reunion she had sought her entire life had proven cruel beyond measure.
“Father… if you ever try to harm that child, then I…”
The sight of her father, changed beyond recognition, and the overwhelming importance Werner had come to hold within her heart left Camellia trapped in endless conflict.