The Man Who Was
The winter in the border town of Trent came a full fortnight earlier than it did at the Grand Duke's Castle. When the relief inspection procession reached the village, the first snowflakes were already perching one by one on the roofs. Thanks to the increased relief budget last year, the village granary was full, and the mayor bowed so low his forehead touched the ground in front of the Grand Duchess.
“I will inspect the granary and the well. And……” Elise folded and unfolded the final line of the inspection list.
“The orphanage too.”
St. Michaela Orphanage was an old stone building at the edge of the village, below the hill. A new barn now stood in the place where the side building had burned twelve years ago, and in the courtyard a group of about fifteen children were having a snowball fight. The head nun was a stooped old sister.
Even in the presence of the Grand Duchess, there was no fuss. It was the quiet of a woman who had never had the leisure to make a scene in her entire life.
“Thanks to the increased relief budget, this winter will be much easier. Thank you, Your Highness.”
“The budget is for the village. As for the orphanage……” I heard there is separate patronage.”
“Yes, over ten years now.”
The old sister set out the tea she had brought without anyone asking, unfolding a story she had lived through to the point of wearing it thin.
“At first I didn’t know who was sending it. The remittance came every month, but there was no name on it. The amount was strange. Not a large sum, but… the kind of money that felt like someone was splitting my own bite. The amount changed a little every month, but later I realized it matched the increase in my apprentice’s salary.”
Steam rose from the teacup.
“Only last year did I find out. When the remittance office secretary changed and his mouth got loose. Kael. It was Kael who sent it. Our Kael.”
“……” Do you remember that child?”
“Of course I remember him.”
The old sister’s wrinkles folded deeply. She smiled.
“He was a boy with little words. But he never knew how to rest. He would draw water, chop wood, wipe his younger brothers’ noses. Even though there was no one telling him to do so. That was what bothered me. I believe children should be allowed to work so they have a place.”
Elise’s hand paused above the teacup handle.
“The thing I remember most was the habit of sharing. If a loaf of bread was made, I’d split it and give half to the little ones. If a piece of candy was made, I’d give it to all of them at once. Once I asked her, ‘Why don’t you eat?’ The little one looked at me with wide eyes and said something I still remember clearly.”
The old sister took a sip of tea and pulled out an answer that was twelve years old.
“‘I don’t need my share. I like giving better.’— That sentence still hurts me now, Your Highness. It wasn’t said because she wanted to give. It was said because she had never received anything. She had never known what it was like to keep something for herself. So she only learned how to give.”
Laughter from the children outside the window rattled the glass. Between the laughter, the sound of sticks clashing could be heard.
Looking out, two boys were swinging sticks in the snow. The stance felt strangely familiar.
“Where did they learn to imitate?”
“Ah, it’s from the older kids. Kael-hyung used to do it back then. Feet at shoulder height, the tip of the stick at eye level— that stance has been passed down for twelve years. Even though the person who taught it has never been seen, to the children here it’s a legend. Because the older brother who sends bread money every month.”
Feet at shoulder height, the tip of the stick at eye level. She did not know that a boy in the training ground of Valk had heard the same words twelve years ago. But she did know that the stance passed down across twelve years belonged to a certain person.
Elise opened her mouth after a long silence. Her voice was only half as strong as usual.
“……I remember the day he left.”
“It was a blizzard. About two weeks earlier, a wandering swordsman had been wandering outside the wall. He looked like a beggar, but his eyes were terrifying, so the children weren’t allowed out— but one day he came and said he was taking Kael away. I opposed it. But Kael said he would go. When I asked why—”
The old sister looked at the snow outside the window.
“‘He wasn’t trying to give me anything. He was trying to entrust something to me. This was the first time someone entrusted something to me.’— And he left. That night the side building burned down, all the records were gone… I sometimes wonder if that fire was the price he paid to take the child’s childhood away.”
The teacup was empty. The old sister took it away and asked for the first time.
“Your Highness… do you know that child?”
It was not a question. It was confirmation. An old woman who had seen people all her life would not not know the reason the Grand Duchess had come all the way to the border orphanage to ask about one child’s twelve years ago.
“……He is a debtor.”
“Indeed.”
The old sister did not dig deeper. Instead, on the way back, she left one more word, like a self-talk.
“Children who have only learned to give, Your Highness, cannot learn how to receive until the end. If you wish to repay such a child— don’t repay at all. Just give by his side. That is the only word he knows.”
On the way back, Elise had her attendants buy every single sweet thing in the village. Chestnuts, honey candy, dried fruits. Leaving the patron’s name blank, she had them carried to the orphanage warehouse.
Not to repay, but to give together. It was her first lesson.
* * *
In the carriage heading north, Elise opened the document case she had brought. It was the military record she had brought along with the training records.
Kael Escort, ten years.
Imperial Year 605. Beast extermination.
Left lower rib bruise. Eleven stitches.
Reported as mild per the individual’s request.
What was needed for eleven stitches to be considered mild? One sentence from the individual himself. And a signatory who would accept the report without suspicion, one who had no regard for the pain.
Imperial Year 607. Bandit extermination.
Right shoulder perforation. Reported as mild per the individual’s request—
Elise closed the document case. Opened it again. If reading to the end was punishment, she had to accept it.
The final page was from two winters ago. Frostbite during night duty on the outer wall. Left fifth finger. Decreased sensitivity. Treatment recommended— individual refused. Reason: inability to leave the post. Inability to leave the post.
Whoever had placed him on the outer wall, the record had not noted it. There was no need. Because the reader was the person himself.
The day of Imperial Year 605, she tried desperately to remember. What had she done on the day eleven stitches had been driven into her left rib?
She remembered. And it made her feel worse.
That evening when the extermination team returned, she sent the tailor back because she didn’t like the sleeve of the new dress. She noticed the escort behind her was standing half a step farther than usual— she thought it was laziness. It was not laziness. It was that the eleven stitches in her side could not follow her steps, which the record had taught her only six years late.
“Your Highness. The castle is coming into view.”
Elise looked out the window at Walter’s voice. The castle tower of the Grand Duke’s Castle was approaching through the snowfall.
The castle he had protected for ten years. The castle he had stood in front of for ten years without eating his share. To a person who had only learned to give, she had only learned to receive. The calculation that had been wrong for so long was finally matching, and matching only made it more terrifying.
* * *
Before they reached the castle, rumors had already come out to meet them. The soldiers at the outpost in front of the gate were buzzing.
Walter came first and reported with a trembling voice from the carriage window.
“Your Highness. From Valk…… that guy, Kael—”
“What happened? Is he hurt?”
“He bent the Seven Swords.”
“……What?”
“He won a public duel against Sir Geralt. Sir Geralt himself declared defeat— the whole Empire is talking about nothing but that. The Ash-Blade Swordsman, a commoner, defeated a Sword Master—”
Walter stopped speaking and laughed. The face of someone who had failed to hold back his laughter.
“That kid… in the end.”
Elise slowly leaned back against the carriage seat. Two things happened at once in her chest. One was hot. He had won. The sword that had been blocked, the sword whose name had been forgotten, had bent one of the Seven Swords of the Empire and stood before everyone.
Pride was not the word, but it was definitely hot.
The other was cold. He was getting farther away. The child who had split the bread, the half-step wall, was now a name known to the whole Empire. He had become the target of the crown prince, listed on the princess’s collection, and would soon be summoned somewhere on the ladder of status. She should have been happy that he was rising— but the higher he rose, the higher her guilt for having tied down his ten years rose with him.
“Your Highness?”
“……Well done. Truly, well done.”
It was sincere. She had just learned that sincerity could hurt like this.
When they entered the castle, the knights’ training ground was louder than usual.
“They say he didn’t even show the last move! His sword cracked against Sir Geralt’s!”
“I can’t believe he used the same training ground as that older brother for ten years, really……”
“Hey, I was the one who got scolded for shaking the older brother’s sword tip! I learned sword from the person who bent the Seven Swords!”
The youngest knight puffed out his chest and boasted, and the older knights ruffled his hair. A punishment that became a title. The name forgotten in this training ground for ten years had now become the pride of this training ground.
Elise looked down on the commotion from the corridor. There was no place to join. Inside that commotion, he was Kael the knight, Kael the younger ones, Kael Walter. Her Kael— he had never been. The person who had stayed by her side the longest, he had never belonged to anyone. She had lost him by trying to make him hers. Now she understood the logic.
* * *
The announcement arrived three days later. An imperial decree sealed with a golden seal. Gregor unfolded it on the table.
Imperial Year 612, winter. Proclamation of the Martial God Festival. Revival after twenty-three years. Eligibility— all who hold the Empire’s sword. The winner shall be granted a fief under direct imperial rule.
“Faster than expected. The crown prince must have been in a hurry.”
Gregor slid the decree toward her.
“All the swords of the Empire will gather. The Seven Swords too, the Ash-Blade Swordsman too.”
Elise read the decree. She read it twice. Eligibility— all who hold the Empire’s sword. The dawns at the training ground, the nights of the training records, the broken teacup and empty drawer passed over that one line.
A place she could not reach with power, should not reach with status, but could reach with a sword. The only one in the Empire.
“I will participate.”
“……As the Valenstein name?”
A thorn entered her father’s voice. The family name was both shield and shackle.
Elise lifted her head from the decree.
“No.”
The answer was not cut in half.
“As Elise’s name.”
Gregor held the wine glass and looked at his daughter for a long time.
“You will lose. Right now, you don’t have what it takes. It’s a field where all seven swords are coming out. The Ash-Blade Swordsman too— you have been banging on that wall for ten years and still couldn’t climb over it.”
“I know.”
“You know, and you’re going?”
“I’m not going to win.”
Elise folded the decree and put it in her bosom. The place where the resignation letter had been, now empty.
“There is only one place in the Empire where you can reach with a sword. That is where I am going. Losing is…… I have also learned how to lose.”
The old tiger emptied his wine glass after a long silence. And said shortly.
“Double training is impossible. From tomorrow on, I will watch over you myself.”
“……Father?”
“If the northern star is shamed on the imperial board, my face will be cut. That is all.”
It was not all, but both of them pretended not to know.