Sufficient Preparation
For all his renown as the Empire's strongest knight, Hugo had always worn the label of half-measure.
And yet the word itself never quite fit. How could anyone call a man a half-measure when he could single-handedly butcher the kind of beast that took dozens of knights, all of them unleashing refined sword aura, to bring down?
Even so—
There were still those who looked down on him and called him exactly that.
The demons of Dawn Castle were among them.
Hugo felt no particular fondness for them, but he did not resent them either.
Even the moon, shining brightest in the night sky, grows pale when it stands before the sun.
Glen was the sun.
A single example said it all. When Glen skipped training entirely, loafed about, and slept through the afternoon, Hugo would still swing his sword in silence—and still could not defeat him.
Where that gap came from was a question Hugo had turned over ever since he first took up a blade. He never found an answer. In the end he fled the fortress like a man on the run and came down into the secular world.
It could not have been because they had different mothers.
That was what Hugo wanted to believe.
Glen's mother had been a nobody fortune-teller; Hugo's own mother had been the daughter of one of the Empire's foremost martial houses. The fault, he told himself, had to lie with him—and he drove himself mercilessly because of it.
Even now, nothing much had changed.
"Something you wanted to ask me?"
Hugo leaned forward and fixed his eyes on Shiron. Whenever his nephew came looking for him like this, it was always something difficult to handle.
He had heard the boy had vanished for a while. Whatever this was, Hugo expected it to be heavier than usual. He chose his words with a little care for his bold nephew.
"Is this truly something to discuss in front of others?"
"I'm sorry. But I think it needs to be proven here."
"That much, then. Is that woman someone you can trust?"
Hugo sighed and turned his head toward Seira.
The woman who had barged into the middle of the mansion made no attempt to hide her presence.
As if she had read Hugo's thoughts, Seira merely shrugged.
"Relax..."
"Tsk."
"...please. I have no intention of treating you as an enemy."
"Very well."
Hugo slowly closed his eyes.
If the woman had shown hostility, and if Shiron had looked tense, he would have drawn his sword aura at once and answered in kind. But seeing his nephew's easy manner, he decided there was no need.
Plenty I want to ask, of course.
Hugo let out a long breath.
But—
He looked at his nephew.
Thump-thump— thump-thump— thump-thump—
Shiron's heart was hammering. Since when?
...Since the moment he walked into this room. The whole time.
His nephew kept pretending to be calm, but his body refused to lie.
"Shiron."
"Yes."
"...That's enough. You may go. I have nothing I wish to ask."
"What?"
When Hugo shook his head and dismissed him outright, Shiron's eyes went wide.
"Is it a question you'd rather not speak of in front of others? Then I'll send this one out."
"No. That isn't it."
Hugo stared steadily at Shiron across from him. After a brief pause, as if finishing a thought, he folded his arms and closed his eyes.
"Prophecy is a terrifying power."
"...I don't quite understand."
"You saw my future and came to this room because of it. Am I wrong?"
"You're right."
"I mean that I do not wish to know my future."
Everyone in the room was startled by Hugo's words.
Neither Shiron nor Seira could make any sense of what he was saying.
Shiron ran his tongue once over lips that were growing dry.
Seeing the gesture, Hugo gave a short laugh.
"Do you know what the demons of Dawn Castle call me? Trash. Garbage."
"So you knew."
"Of course I did. But I don't think it's unfair. Perhaps their judgment is accurate. After all, I am a coward who is afraid to pull back the curtain and look at the future."
"A coward? No. Uncle, you're more than—"
"No. I am a coward. Unlike Glen, I am afraid of knowing what lies ahead."
Hugo began to lay bare his true feelings to Shiron with complete candor. The sudden thought struck him that this might be a final farewell.
"The guardians of Dawn Castle stuck the label of half-measure on me. Even after I was saddled with that ridiculous title of strongest in the Empire, it never came off."
Hugo slowly rose to his full towering height.
"If I had known that I would wear the label of half-measure for the rest of my life—would I still have been able to strive? Day after day I swung my sword, practiced restraint, trained, and cut down beasts. But if I had known the end would be failure? Of one thing I am certain: I would never have reached this place. I would have become nothing more than some middling knight."
"..."
"So keep it in your heart alone."
Hugo took a necklace from a drawer and held it out to Shiron.
I will not stand in the way of the path you take.
I will leave you free to do as you wish.
"Now go."
"...Yes."
"I'll say this in advance—before you leave, say goodbye to Siriel. She'll be very hurt otherwise."
"Yes."
"Look after my nephew for me."
Hugo extended a hand to Seira with a smile. Seira took it with a faintly sour look. She had never imagined the atmosphere would turn this heavy. Even so, she deliberately put on a playful air. Melancholy was the last thing she could stand.
"Well, sure. That much is no trouble. I am magnificent, after all."
"Good."
Hugo saw them out with a smile.
When he asked the butler, Philip, he learned that Siriel and Lucia happened to be in the middle of a sparring match at the training grounds.
They walked the path to the grounds in silence until Seira spoke.
"Kid."
"What."
"You going to say goodbye?"
"Of course. I don't want them resenting me later. Wait here. I'll go say hello and come back."
"...Fine."
Seira pouted and watched Shiron walk on ahead.
Have I gotten on his bad side?
That was what Seira thought, but it was not Shiron's intention at all. He simply worried that Lucia might sense Seira's presence.
They can find out later.
It sounded a little absurd even to him, but both Siriel and Lucia were still weak. No matter how great a mage Seira was, the fact that she had fallen so easily to mental domination only convinced Shiron that the time was not yet right.
Clang— clang— crash—
The ring of clashing blades reached him, and in the distance he could see dust swirling through the air. Then a gust swept through and cleared it away.
They must have noticed his arrival and broken off the match.
"Brother...? Brother!"
Siriel came running from afar, covered in dirt and sweat—a thoroughly disheveled mess. Nothing about her looked like a noble young lady. But Shiron liked her that way. It was proof that even without him, Siriel was growing stronger by leaps and bounds.
"Where did you go! I was so worried!"
"Sorry. Some bitch of a woman was the reason."
Shiron took a damp cloth from his coat and beckoned Siriel over.
"Come here. You look a disaster."
"Okay!"
Siriel closed her eyes and offered him her face. Shiron carefully wiped it clean.
"...Trying to smooth things over like this again?"
Watching them, Lucia spoke with a sulky look.
She had already heard a rough account from Encia, who had returned first, so she could not quite bring herself to interrogate Shiron about his sudden disappearance.
From what she had been told, some wicked mage had tried to abduct him. She was simply glad he had come back safely—and yet somehow her face and her behavior refused to match that feeling.
Whether he knew what was in her heart or not, Shiron turned toward Lucia with a light smile.
"Lucia. You come here too."
"...Me?"
"You're covered in dirt as well."
"I—I'm fine!"
"Come here already."
As Lucia edged backward, Shiron closed the distance with a few quicker steps.
He caught her chin as she shrank away and began carefully wiping her face. Lucia could not bring herself to push him off; she only squeezed her eyes shut.
Swish, swish—the cool cloth against her flushed face felt good.
"This might be the last time, too."
"Huh?"
"Looking after you like this. It might be the last."
Shiron shook out the cloth and tucked it back into his coat.
"The last? What does that mean, Brother?"
The word last made Siriel react at once.
"You're not going to wipe my face anymore?"
"Wouldn't it be a little embarrassing to still be doing that once you're grown up?"
"Grown up? What are you talking about? Even when I'm a grown-up I'm going to make you wipe my face!"
Siriel tilted her head and asked, but Shiron did not answer. From the direction of the annex, Encia was walking toward them.
"You've returned."
"Encia. It'll be rough until Ophelia wakes up, but look after the kids for me."
"Leave it to me."
Encia answered with a bright smile.
Thud—
Sensing something strange in the air, Lucia caught hold of Shiron's hand.
"You—where are you going? Why are you acting like we'll never see you again?"
"Brother, where are you going?"
"Yeah."
Shiron nodded as he spoke. At that, Siriel seized his hand as well.
"Are you... leaving me behind again? Don't go... Brother."
"It's not just you I'm leaving. I'm not taking Lucia either."
He said it with a smile, but his own heart was heavy.
Dew was already gathering in Siriel's jewel-bright eyes. His resolve was starting to weaken...
But he had to hold firm. He had met Seira far earlier than planned, so advancing the schedule was the right call.
Even so, the accelerated plan left no room for Siriel and Lucia to come along. Shiron was weaker than they were, but he was confident he could look after his own skin.
And the teleport only seats two.
"Don't go, Brother. Don't gooo."
"I'll write. Make sure you write back."
"Don't go! I don't want to be apart from you!"
"Shiron. Where on earth are you going that you're acting like this?"
Lucia frowned as she asked him.
Even she could not have said why she was scowling.
Watching Siriel cling to him like that, she could feel how deeply her friend cared for Shiron. And yet Lucia's own heart was somehow unsettled.
It was not simply anger at a sudden parting.
Seeing Siriel and Shiron together, something knotted in her chest seemed to catch her breath short—
"At least tell us where you're going if you expect us to send letters."
"...I told you my blood vessels were twisted, didn't I?"
"Yeah."
"Think of it as me going to untangle them. I saw a possibility."
"...Brother. You're going to get treated?"
"That's right. So let go of my hand now."
Shiron broke into a light cold sweat from the pain in his hand. Siriel's grip felt as if it might crush his bones.
"Okay..."
Siriel seemed to notice it too; even with a dejected look she released him. The hand she had been holding was bright red.
Shiron gazed at the admirable sight of her with a fond expression. The pain that had felt like his hand was being crushed no longer mattered.
This much should be enough to put my mind at ease, right?
He would not be able to see them for a while, but even without him, Encia and Ophelia would take care of his little sisters.
He had left Siriel with a strong, positive impression, and he seemed to have built a favorable relationship with Lucia as well.
"Train hard. Eat plenty of everything. Study diligently."
"Okay..."
"You too, Lucia."
"Ah—alright."
Lucia scratched her cheek, caught off guard by the arrow turning her way. It was embarrassing. No matter how often she was treated like a child, she never got used to it.
He said he's going for treatment, so I can't exactly stop him, can I?
Lucia let out a long sigh. Belatedly, she realized she had half-grasped the intent behind what Shiron had just said. She had a feeling he was lying—and still chose not to call him on it.
"I'll write first once I arrive. Give Viktor my regards."
"I—I'll write lots of letters! You write lots too, Brother!"
Siriel called after him as he stepped backward. But Shiron did not answer; he simply turned and walked slowly out of the training grounds.
He did not even go back into the annex to pack. Everything he needed was already stored inside his body.
Five years passed.