Chapter 103
Chapter 103
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 103
Chapter Title: Like Father, Like Daughter
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Ching-!
Esther took in both Kallias and Emily at a glance.
At first, she couldn’t believe they were father and daughter, but the more she watched, the more they truly resembled each other.
She had sensed it faintly even in everyday moments, but it stood out starkly during their spar.
They said parents were mirrors of their children.
Emily’s swordsmanship was Kallias through and through.
As she watched Kallias and Emily spar with the children, Esther couldn’t shake the thought from her mind.
“It’s heartwarming to see a father and daughter like that, isn’t it? I couldn’t believe it at first myself.”
“And you are…….”
“I’m Orphin.”
“Ah, yes. Sir Orphin.”
“Anyway, the more you look, the more they resemble each other, don’t they?”
“Emily takes after him a bit too much, I think.”
There was a saying that daughters took after their fathers.
Emily truly seemed like Kallias’s daughter—in her speech, her mannerisms, and even her swordsmanship.
Her expressionless face, so unchildlike, and the way her eyes gleamed when she spoke were exactly like his.
‘If only she didn’t resemble him in certain ways….’
For instance, the way she subtly curled her lip when mocking or criticizing an opponent, just enough to rile them up.
Anyone watching their spar would see it: father and daughter.
Watching them, Esther felt a complex, subtle breeze of emotions.
“It’s truly worrying.”
“What’s worrying?”
“You still need to marry someday. You’re young, so shouldn’t you find a partner and have more heirs for the family?”
In this era, war could erupt anywhere at any time. For a noble, wasn’t it their duty to have two or three children, at least for the sake of the house?
‘Well, he is a noble.’
Among Karpe’s nobles, the noblest.
One of the four great houses, with the darkest Jerban blood and Reyan’s beauty, praised countless times by poets and bards.
For such a noble to have a bastard child wasn’t much of a stain.
There had never been any formal marriage proposals anyway, so ladies truly interested in him wouldn’t mind.
Moreover, he had inherited the count’s title, and upon returning north, he would become its lord.
He was precisely the marriage prospect that refined young ladies dreamed of for a comfortable life.
“But the Count seems utterly uninterested in marriage.”
“……Is that so?”
“Yes, he flatly refused once in the north.”
It was less a flat refusal and more a total meltdown.
She recalled Kallias flipping the table—a memory still vivid—and smiled faintly.
“It was when Lady Helena visited. He said he already had an heir, so don’t bother with nonsense. It was the first time I saw him that furious.”
Esther’s brows furrowed slightly.
It was the moment Helena’s name was spoken.
Orphin’s keen eyes caught that fleeting change.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, no. Nothing. Maybe he has someone in mind. If he got that angry about it.”
“……?”
Something was off about Esther’s expression.
Oddly pleased, perhaps.
Orphin found it strange but saw no need to voice it.
“Then that’s fortunate. I hope I didn’t ramble inappropriately as a stranger.”
“No, I enjoyed the interesting story. We’ll see each other often, so let’s share more tales like this.”
“Yes. It was an honor to meet you, Lady Esther.”
Esther’s steps were strangely light as she returned to teach the children.
“Something good happen, Instructor Esther?”
It was Flora.
Was she grinning?
Esther touched her face briefly and denied it.
“I wasn’t grinning.”
“You were, though.”
Perhaps Sullivian’s words kept echoing in her ears.
Ahem. The weather was fine, so her mood was good.
“The weather’s nice today.”
“Really? Perfect day for laundry.”
“Nice weather, so let’s run to the mountain peak.”
“Huh? What does good weather have to do with running to the peak!?”
Esther looked at the sulking Flora and children with confidence.
“The power of the sword comes from the lower body. Last place does a hundred downward strikes.”
Esther took off running at the front.
* * *
Tang- tang-!
The church’s forge.
It held only ingots and a smelter.
And Gregory hammering them—but a sudden rising shadow halted his hammer.
“Already back?”
“Yes. It wasn’t difficult.”
The shadow rising like ink was Helena.
She carried a wooden box under one arm, and he knew what it was without asking.
After all, Gregory himself had entrusted the task to her.
“I can travel back and forth quickly via shadows. Plus, someone was already there.”
Helena was a bit puzzled why Kallias had been there.
Bad luck or good?
They’d said he’d exposed Count Valentin’s corruption and killed him, but who knew the count would die and turn into a sword to slaughter his own knights.
The world was unpredictable.
“Hmm…….”
Gregory sighed deeply at the wooden box Helena handed him.
Various emotions flickered in his eyes.
“Gide is dead.”
“……How did he meet his end?”
“Well, by the time I arrived, his head was already severed.”
Gregory and Gide.
Gide had been his fellow disciple, their friendship deep, but it fractured at some point.
“Gide changed at some moment.”
Gregory still vividly recalled him gleefully sharing research he’d obtained somewhere, comparing the Empire and Karpe.
So pure before the sword.
“Let’s make a sword together, he said.”
“Did you?”
Gregory shook his head.
The Empire’s method they’d stumbled upon was horrific.
“Even death-row inmates deserve better than torture to etch a single emotion deep into their bones. No matter how doomed they are, that’s something humans shouldn’t do.”
But Gide accused Gregory of cowardice for refusing.
“Swords offered to the gods mean different things to each.”
“True. How could we offer swords made from executed criminals to the divine? They must be forged in tribute to the death of one truly worthy.”
Gregory peeked into the box, nodded, and asked Helena.
“Did he complete the sword?”
“Yes, after all that commotion.”
“And the sword?”
“I left it. It felt ominous, and it wasn’t something I could take. From what I heard, he forged it with the lives of a hundred knights…… That’s no normal sword.”
Sword collectors weren’t immune to greed for blades. Yet Helena found that sword truly unsettling.
“A sword made from a hundred knights. How could he even think of that?”
“Old church records of human-forged blades mention such things occasionally. Humans repeat the same mistakes…… And the Empire still does it.”
“That’s why I hate the Empire. No romance in it.”
“From their view, that’s the romance. They gather defeated enemy generals from conquered nations and forge them into a single spear.”
That’s why the Empire had so many grotesque, impure spears.
But it was a lesson.
The ruthlessness that made the Empire the Empire.
“They must be that ruthless to swallow nations whole.”
“Anyway, I didn’t touch it. Felt like it’d corrupt me.”
“Wise. It’d likely consume the wielder’s mind. A demonic sword needing church management or sealing.”
Gregory set down his soot-stained hammer and asked.
“Who took the sword?”
Helena tilted her head slightly toward him.
If spoken lightly, he’d surely try to reclaim whatever sword Kallias had.
It wasn’t good for Kallias to have it…… but no need to take it forcibly.
‘He took it for a reason.’
From what she’d seen so far.
He wasn’t the type to do something stupid.
Three years ago, the man she’d rescued—who’d even swindled her out of gold—wasn’t one for folly.
“A reliable person took it. Should be fine.”
“A reliable person?”
Gregory’s eyes widened at Helena’s ambiguous words.
“Even if they hold it, it won’t drive them mad. That’s the kind of person.”
“Hmm…….”
Gregory tilted his head, unsatisfied, but leaned toward trusting Helena, the foremost of the Five Saints.
“……I’ll trust your judgment.”
“Then the payment?”
“As discussed, entrust the ingot escort from the west to the Volibian Merchant Group.”
Helena’s lips curved to her ears.
* * *
“Gide? So that fool finally died.”
A dark space lit by a single lonely candle.
An aged voice and a young one mingled there.
“Yes. Cleanly done.”
“Hearing it from you means it failed, then.”
“Yes, the sword’s completion was successful enough, but the timing was poor.”
“Timing?”
The sword was complete—why complain about timing?
It was baffling, but the man’s next words had him stroking his half-severed beard.
“The sword was finished, but a lion and wolf were nearby, and a serpent finished him off in the end.”
Lion, wolf, and serpent.
An ill-matched trio.
“Tch, rotten luck. He should’ve caused more chaos. Just when the bait I scattered was about to pay off…… Shame.”
The middle-aged man stroking his beard.
Bishop Milliman clicked his tongue in regret. He had prepared for so long.
One of his many contingencies was on the verge of blooming—yet Kallias ruined it again.
“The worst possible alignment. Even Count Valentin’s fall gave us no pretext to check Kallias.”
“Worry not, Your Excellency. We have the prince, do we not?”
Yes, the prince.
The once-proud prince, driven mad by mishandling a single sword—thoroughly insane now, ripe for use.
“Power is seductive. Even that fine prince became a monster, bent to our will.”
“It’ll happen soon.”
“Yes, soon. The great event is at hand.”
Karpe would fall once.
And rise again.
“War at last. The war we’ve longed for. Exciting, isn’t it?”
Bishop Milliman said to the young-faced man.
“Orkal.”