Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Doubts of the North
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Clink.
Bernard set down his teacup and gazed at the man before him, sharp as a finely honed blade.
Though middle-aged in appearance, his bearing and the dignity he exuded were no different from those of a king of a nation.
The overlord of the North.
Elberton von Jervan.
The Jervan Count.
"Thank you. For following my will."
"Not at all. How could I refuse the lord of the North?"
However.
"May I ask why you insist on keeping me in Jaybarshu...?"
"Patalite's Wheel brings great profit to House Jervan under the guise of a hunting tournament. But it's not always a pure gain, is it?"
"...You're keeping something in mind."
"Just an old man's caution."
The count kept his words brief.
Yet Bernard seemed to understand what weighed on his mind.
"You're suspicious of Killaban."
"The weight of the name Jervan demands as much. If he brings shame to the house, I must cut down even my own son. If he threatens the North's survival, I must wield the sword myself."
No matter what it takes.
Only then can he protect the house, the North, and the realm.
That is the role of House Jervan's head.
Since the founding of Karpe, House Jervan had always been thus, and it would continue that way.
"One son I cast out, and another left the house of his own accord. Yet still, I must protect House Jervan and the North. So I have no choice but to be cautious."
He suspected Killaban.
Bernard couldn't guess what exactly, but he knew it wasn't in the best interest of House Jervan or the North.
"Then what of Emily...?"
At the mention of Emily, deep furrows formed between the count's brows.
"...That child bears Jervan's blood too. It's unavoidable."
"Will you leave her as she is? Her sacred blood is blocked; she can't even wield Jervan's power properly."
"Even so, she is of Jervan's blood. Emily's hair and eyes are pure Jervan. I cannot favor one side."
Bernard let out a deep sigh at the count's stubborn words.
"Emily will die. Before she even blooms. The last direct descendant with true Jervan lineage—do you think he'll leave her be? You know this full well...!"
"Death is surprisingly fair and natural. It comes at ten years or twenty. It's merely the law of nature, commonplace as can be. The weak die, the strong endure."
The words sounded cold, but both he and Bernard had rolled through brutal battlefields under merciless blades for far too long.
Thus, Bernard felt the truth in the count's words down to his bones and could not refute them.
So he chose another path.
"...Kallias is in the North."
The count's hand trembled as he lifted his teacup. A drop of black tea rippled like waves and dripped down the cup with a *plink*.
"He's no longer a Jervan."
"But that blood can't be denied. I've entrusted Emily's protection to him."
"You've done something foolish."
Bernard had heard he'd become a pilgrim.
But what difference did it make if that wastrel had become a pilgrim?
"As long as he doesn't get caught in the North's Wheel and die, that'll be fortunate enough."
A genius who can't use sacred power and a wastrel dullard at swordplay.
At the absurd pairing, Jervan Count could only smirk.
Shaking his head, the count rose and walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back.
It was a sign to leave.
As Bernard stood, he added a plea.
"Your son has changed quite a bit. The day he takes my sword isn't far off. This Wheel will bring great change to the North."
Creak—thud.
Confirming Bernard had left, the count gazed wistfully at an old, small sword hanging beside his bookshelf—one a child might wield—and murmured.
"...Why did you come back."
This winter.
Felt especially cold, piercing to the bone.
* * *
Finishing his audience with the count, Bernard headed for the chapel but turned at the sight of the fading crimson sunset.
A whirlwind of thoughts clashed in his mind, weighing his head down.
Staring endlessly at the ground, he came to his senses to find night had deepened.
Yet his feet had carried him to the inn where *he* was staying.
"Isn't that Sir Bernard?"
"Hm? You know me."
"How could I not? You wrecked my inn. Hahaha!"
"Ah, right. Come to think of it, I haven't compensated you yet. My apologies..."
"Not at all. Your disciple already paid in full."
Is that so.
Bernard chuckled wryly at the thought of Kallias.
"Come to see your disciple?"
"Yes. Well then."
"Go on up. I saw him bring in all sorts of things from outside and head up for dinner."
"My thanks."
Bernard climbed the stairs and reached Kallias's door.
Knock knock—
He rapped, and the door opened as if anticipated, ash-gray eyes glaring down sourly.
"What is it."
"You were waiting with the door cracked, yet you make that sour face so well."
"If senility's set in, why not just leave your sword quietly and go."
"You rascal! I've got a good ten years left in me."
Grinning cheerfully, Bernard entered and sat in a chair.
"So, preparations going well?"
"I'm handling it."
Patalite's Wheel.
The hunting tournament lasted seven days.
Plenty to prepare.
Provisions, camping gear, and the like.
"And Emily...?"
"That impudent brat came earlier, swinging her sword to 'test' me."
Bernard burst into full-faced laughter at Kallias's incredulous expression.
"Keukekeke! The girl's a bit bold. Doesn't she resemble you?"
"Nonsense."
"Well, true—she's no match for you, the wastrel of House Jervan. Suddenly feel sorry for Emily. Compared to the world's trash... Oh dear. I'd better apologize tomorrow."
Bernard cackled nonstop, clearly delighted at teasing his disciple.
Kallias, however, met it with a sullen glare.
"If you're here for idle chit-chat, leave. I'm quite busy as is."
"Tsk tsk tsk. Can't you spare a moment for your master who wants time with his disciple before a long journey?"
"You're the one sending me on that long journey. What nonsense."
"Such cheek. You're just like the count—stubborn as a rock."
Bernard subtly insulted Jervan Count, saying he was just as annoying.
"The door's open."
"Can't even joke around."
Bernard wiped the smile from his face, pressed his knees, and spoke gravely.
"I've been confined to Jaybarshu—not a step out. For the duration of the Wheel."
"What do you expect me to do."
Utter nonchalance.
"It was the count's request."
Kallias's brow twitched.
Guarding the castle at the count's request.
During Patalite's Wheel? Something was up.
He couldn't think otherwise.
"The count doesn't fully trust his adopted heir Killaban. And with strange signs afoot, he asked me to guard the castle."
"That's none of my business."
"How is it not! You're the eldest son, bearing Jervan's blood thickly!"
Bernard shouted fervently, staring piercingly into Kallias's ash-gray pupils.
"You still can't forgive your father? That incident back then..."
Bernard hesitated, his mouth twitching before stopping.
"It's irrelevant."
"Khm... The count fulfilled his duty as count. He bore an inescapable fate."
"Irrelevant to me."
Tch. Bernard shook his head at his obstinacy.
Three years ago.
Bernard and Kallias wandered the North. They spent most time in the White Forest hunting magical beasts, but not exclusively there.
To give Kallias varied experience.
'My fault.'
But that greed led Kallias to cross paths with someone he needn't have, and he was gravely injured.
'The cast-out son prowling the North must've irked him. Still, the count went too far then.'
Sighing, Bernard clicked his tongue thinking of Kallias and the count.
He carried needless guilt, blaming his own ambition for that event.
After, Kallias set off alone on pilgrimage, and Bernard entered Jaybarshu Castle of his own accord—him, who never left the White Forest.
"...Then at least protect Emily."
"Why should I guard the count's hidden child?"
"She's your sister."
"I'm no Jervan."
Bernard groaned.
But this time, he was firm.
"Think of it as fate. Has your master ever asked something pointless? It'll benefit you—get along with her."
"...What the hell is she to me anyway."
"She'll be important to you too. So quit griping and do it."
Scrape.
Kallias stared blankly as Bernard rose from the chair.
"Leaving?"
"Said all I came to say."
Grabbing the doorknob, Bernard grinned at him before leaving, then sighed deeply and shook his head.
"I'm off. No need to see me out."
"Wasn't going to."
"You thunderstruck rascal."
Hmph! Snorting, Bernard left the inn.
Outside, thick snowflakes fell.
*Cough cough.*
Bernard coughed harshly, his mouth growing wet.
He cupped snow from the pile, wiped his lips, and hurried away.
Where he had coughed, the pristine snow was eerily stained red.
* * *
Bwooooo—
The horn resounded through the North.
Wandering knights crossing the border and Jervan troops headed one after another to the White Forest.
Their numbers easily surpassed a hundred.
A grand procession.
No special reason.
Today was Patalite's Wheel.
The hunting tournament's opening day.
"So, hunt magical beasts, bring back their proofs, and it's counted by number. Lasts a full week."
Brans, rushing up breathless, explained the rules.
Seven days.
Camp in the White Forest, hunt as many magical beasts as possible—that decides the winner.
"The one with the most gets honor and reward from House Jervan."
Honor: a knighthood.
Reward: a sacred power cultivation method handed down in House Jervan.
'Neither useful.'
To Kallias, both prizes held little appeal.
He was a pilgrim needing no knighthood, and he'd long mastered the legendary Manhwabongyuk.
"They'll even forge a sword if you win."
It was Emily.
A short sword hung at her waist. Gone was the flowing dress; she wore practical, warm attire.
Light armor over it gave her a cute air.
"Still just a church-commissioned sword at best. Named blade level, tops."
Kallias scoffed.
No need for that caliber.
He already had two named blades.
"Artifact too. Hard for a wastrel like you to get. Heard they put real effort into this one."
"You want to win or something?"
"Not aiming that high. Jervan blood excludes us from contention, but everyone's betting Killaban—the next heir—takes most kills anyway."
And that Killaban aimed for magical beasts *and* Emily's life.
"Perfect setup to die hunting beasts."
"Wastrel, you don't die either. No loyalty to erect a tombstone."
"Same to you."
And shortly after.
"What? This halfwit who can't even use sacred power shows up with what face?"
"Right? But hey, he dragged a knight along. Who are you anyway? Don't you know escorting Emily means falling out of favor once Dad becomes head?"
Before them, not beasts but annoying ash-gray-eyed twins chattered.