The 7th Apostle
It had only been a short while since Valt acknowledged Zeke and Milo.
"Low, Kahn, Halo. A word, if you please."
"Yes, Sir Valt."
Valt summoned the Low-Kahn-Halo trio in private and asked them what they made of Zeke and Milo.
In truth, the inquiry was hardly sudden. He had already ordered the two men observed well before the expedition began. What he had not expected was the answer.
"Frankly, their skill is beyond anything we are qualified to assess."
"That high?"
"Yes. They are different from before. I suspect the swordsmanship instruction they received from you is the cause, Sir Valt, but…"
"Kahn. Halo. Do you agree?"
"Yes."
"They used to carry the usual bad habits of mercenaries, but on this expedition they improved considerably."
All three knights were of one mind regarding the pair's ability. Valt was thoroughly astonished.
Already at that level?
He had never doubted their talent. After all, both men had reached the rank of Aura Knight under their own power. Unlike bloodline holders, who treated aura as a mere introductory step, non-bloodline warriors regarded aura as both beginning and end. That alone marked the two as gifted. Had they received proper training from childhood, they might well have entered a renowned knightly order.
But growth this steep? That was beyond anything he had anticipated.
Still—
…Martial prowess alone does not make a knight.
Valt wanted more than that. Especially for a knight who would serve someone as extraordinary as the second young master, raw strength was never enough. What mattered most was conviction.
So he asked again.
"And their character?"
"Their character, sir…"
"You already know this, but those two wish to become Young Master Khtun's knights. And… you three know as well as I do what matters most in serving a man like him."
"Mm."
"Certainly… yes."
"Understood."
The three grasped Valt's meaning at once and spoke over one another.
"We would not dare claim the right to judge their fitness, but from what I saw of Zeke and Milo…"
And so the questioning began.
"They charged into the most dangerous places first."
"Brave, then? But excessive bravery is merely recklessness."
"It was not mere bravery. They knew precisely when to advance and when to fall back."
"So they read the battlefield well. Meaning they only took on risks they could handle."
"Not even that. Take, for example, what happened during the siege against the giant demon…"
How Zeke and Milo had conducted themselves in battle — what dangers they had endured, and under what circumstances they had withdrawn — all of it was vividly reconstructed through the mouths of Low, Kahn, and Halo.
When he had heard every account, Valt reached his conclusion.
If they are this far along… I need no longer worry about another situation like the Mouth of Targis.
They had acquired the mindset of knights, not mercenaries.
And so Valt went to find them at once.
"Zeke. Milo."
"Sir Valt?"
"What brings you here…?"
"I have something important to ask you. But first, one confirmation. Has your resolve to serve Young Master Khtun changed in any way?"
"No, sir. It has not."
"Same for me…"
Milo's answer was somewhat less than inspiring, but Valt knew the man's nature well enough to let it pass. Then he posed the question he had prepared.
"What kind of knight do you believe you ought to become?"
"What kind of knight… sir?"
"What do you mean by…"
Watching the two tilt their heads at the abrupt riddle, Valt spoke in a stern tone.
"Answer me plainly and honestly. Clever thinking will do you no favors here."
"Mm."
"Yes, sir."
Zeke answered first.
"I will be the knight who dies before his lord."
"Before your lord?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Valt's eyes flashed sharply, but Zeke answered without flinching.
"Young Master Khtun will one day rise to a place the likes of me can never reach. The idea that I could protect him then is absurd. But I can die in his place."
"I see. And you, Milo?"
"W-well, I haven't thought that far… I figured I'd just stick close and do my best."
"Even if that place is a killing ground?"
"I won't run, no matter where it is."
"Hmph."
Answers that laid bare both men's characters in a single stroke. Valt considered them for a moment, then spoke.
"A knight weaker than his lord has only one use: to die in his place. Can you do that?"
"Yes."
"Uh… yes. I think I can."
Only then did Valt nod. And he acknowledged them. These two had at last finished preparing to become true knights.
…Though Milo still left something to be desired.
I accepted Sir Valt's recommendation and proceeded with the investiture ceremony.
Well, if I'm being honest, I didn't do a thing. The moment I floated the idea — "I think we ought to hold an investiture…" — Father arranged the entire affair at breakneck speed.
And so, the next day, the two men's investiture was conducted with deliberate simplicity.
"I am sorry we could not give you a grander ceremony. Given the times…"
"No, it's fine."
"You rascal."
Father looked at me with something like pride. But I truly didn't mind.
What would I have to feel shortchanged about?
Dare I say it — I was not the star of this investiture. That honor belonged to Zeke and Milo: a farmer's son and a tanner's son who had wandered the mercenary world and, at last, become knights. They were the protagonists of the day. And both of them seemed thoroughly satisfied.
Just look at them.
"I swear my loyalty!"
"I swear my loyalty!"
Those radiant faces. Throughout the needlessly long and tedious ceremony conducted by Brother James of the clergy, they made no effort to hide their joy.
Once the investiture was over, I presented them with swords.
"Well then — I look forward to working with you. And these are gifts from me."
"These are…"
"Apparently they're forged from some rare steel. Anyway, I was told they're good."
For the record, my brother Bilheim had prepared the blades. He had shown up out of nowhere at dawn, tossed them over with the classic line "I just picked these up on the way," and left. Of course I didn't actually believe he'd found them lying around. Our ancestor's eyes had lit up in a way they rarely did.
Hmm. Fine swords. Your brother put some thought into these.
After the investiture, we finished our preparations at once. Preparations for what?
To leave for Hadion.
Originally I had planned to set out a day or two later, but a letter had arrived from Hadion during the night. The gist? Suspicious figures were moving throughout the Hadion territory.
…And so, the letter continued, they wished to inquire whether the Baron knew anything of the present situation…
In short: "If you know something, tell us." Father, rather than send a written reply, simply advanced my expedition.
Perhaps for that reason, when he came to see me off at the castle gates, he made no effort to hide his regret.
"It seems I am forever placing heavy burdens upon you."
"It's work that has to be done."
"I am grateful you see it that way."
"It's nothing."
Father regarded me with genuine pride, and I accepted that pride as naturally as breathing.
Besides… I was going to stop by Hadion anyway.
The fastest route to House Merlin ran through Hadion. Assessing the situation along the way was no great inconvenience.
Once I had finished my farewells with Father, my brother Bilheim approached.
"Travel safely."
"Yes, Brother."
"The road will be hard, but you will manage it well."
"Of course."
"Winter is coming, so dress warmly. And — you aren't short on travel funds, are you? If you are, I have some money set aside…"
"No, I have plenty."
"Ah, of course you do. You made a fair sum off that core business, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Good. Then go carefully. And do not forget — behind you stand Falaon, and this brother of yours, always."
"Yes. I'll remember."
"I trust you will return safely."
With Bilheim's farewell complete, the time to leave had finally come. The expedition party was modest: myself, Brother James, and Zeke and Milo.
"Then — we'll be off."
I bowed my head, mounted, and spurred my horse.
Hiiing—!
The horse let out a powerful cry. For the record, this was a warhorse gifted by Ahentar, the Grand Prince of Merlin.
And so began a thoroughly magnificent journey — except that, honestly, I had one hope.
Seventh Apostles and whatever else — please, just let this one pass quietly.
Demons and their worshippers deserved to be beaten to death on sight, sure. But did the one doing the beating always have to be me?
…Or so I thought, for about five seconds. Then I realized my wish was never going to come true.
"Ah! Young Master, you've arrived! Always a pleasure!"
"Ah, yes. Sir Bilders. Have you been well?"
"Yes! Quite well, thank you."
Late afternoon. After riding without rest, we arrived at the village of Boderan. Manor knight Sir Bilders greeted us warmly.
Had things ended there, we could have exchanged a few cheerful pleasantries and been on our way again. But—
"You've come at the perfect time. We have a distinguished guest, and I would very much like to introduce him to you, Young Master."
"A distinguished guest…?"
"Yes — haha. I believe you'll be glad to meet him."
Who on earth could it be?
Half-curious, I arrived at the reception room. Waiting for us was a young mage.
"Sir Amos, allow me to introduce you. This is Young Master Khtun, second son of House Falaon."
"An honor to meet someone of such standing. I am Amos."
"Ah. Khtun."
What was this? Some mage of extraordinary rank?
I tilted my head and glanced at Bilders, who explained.
"Since the demon incident, things have been difficult in any number of ways, haven't they?"
"Yes, I imagine so."
"Between winter preparations and everything else, the road ahead looked bleak — until Sir Amos here freely extended a helping hand. He spent his own coin to secure winter provisions and used his magic to resolve all manner of problems."
"It was nothing of consequence. Sir Bilders is gilding my reputation far beyond what it deserves."
"Nothing of consequence? Sir Amos is a benefactor to our entire village of Boderan!"
I narrowed my eyes as the two of them traded compliments back and forth. More precisely, my gaze settled on the mage called Amos.
And for good reason.
A mage who performs good deeds without expecting anything in return?
That sort of thing simply didn't exist.
Certainly strange.
Right?
Every mage I knew was some variety of creature that simply lacked the concept of "good deeds" as a built-in feature. And yet — good deeds?
…I was still turning that over when it happened.
"It seems the performance is no longer necessary. You appear to have some inkling of my true identity."
"Pardon? Sir Amos, what are you saying…?"
"Ah — that was not directed at you, Sir Bilders. Would you mind sleeping for a moment?"
"What…"
Bilders started to ask something, and then his body simply crumpled — like a puppet with its strings cut, sliding bonelessly to the floor.
I stared at the sight in blank shock as Amos's voice reached me. And the identity it carried…
"Allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Amos Perium. As you may have guessed, I am a member of the Apostle Council — though I imagine introducing myself as the 7th Apostle will feel rather more familiar."
The 7th Apostle.
Oh, for the love of—
Was this for real?