Waning Glory
The climate surrounding the castle where ravens gathered was unforgiving. Life was scarce, and bitter winds battered the barren, ochre earth.
Clouds perpetually veiled the sky; even on the rare occasion they parted, nothing lay beyond save a murky gloom—never a sliver of blue.
In the heart of this desolate expanse stood the black castle, jutting out in solitary defiance.
Like the wasteland around it, the stronghold had been swallowed by silence. Scarcely a flicker of light escaped its walls, as if the fortress had draped itself in a curtain of pure solitude.
Yet from one lone corner, a plume of smoke rose into the air.
"Add this here... and then that..."
A woman with tied-back black hair was busy at work, tossing vegetables and chunks of meat into a bubbling pot.
"There, all done."
She wiped the sweat from her brow. For most chores, having undead thralls handle them would suffice, but home-cooked meals required a personal touch. Besides, it wasn't like she had anything better to do.
Ladle in hand, she scooped the simmered stew from the steaming cauldron into bowls. She then directed her undead servants to carry them out alongside the dishes arranged on plates.
"Alright, kids! Time to eat!"
Once the table was fully set, she called out. A swarm of horned demon children came thundering into the room, scrambling into their seats.
"Did everyone wash their hands?"
When the children nodded in unison, her face broke into a fond smile.
"Dig in, then."
The children fell upon the food, devouring it with eager appetites. Grandis's lips curved in quiet satisfaction as she picked up her utensils and began to eat as well.
"Lady Grandis, what is this?"
One child pointed at an oddly shaped dish. She replied brightly,
"Oh, that? I decided to get a little creative—wild boar meat paired with fresh mint and—"
"Everyone, you heard her! Lady Grandis got creative again! One bite and you're dead! Don't touch it!"
At the oldest boy's urgent warning, the others nodded fervently. Another child chimed in,
"Why is it that you're normally a great cook, Lady Grandis, but the moment you get creative, you produce hazardous waste?"
Devastated by the child's innocent brutality, she could only scratch her head in sheepish dismay.
Is it really that bad?
Curious, she scooped up a small mouthful to test it herself.
It was hands down the single most horrific thing she had ever tasted.
Without a moment's hesitation, she flung her culinary masterpiece across the room. An undead servant caught it smoothly midair and disposed of it in the scrap bin.
"Damn it."
She shut her eyes tight, groaning in defeat. How strange. It had sounded so good in theory... Why did it end up such an abomination?
"Don't be so discouraged. Everyone has at least one thing they're bad at."
That lukewarm consolation only grated on her nerves.
"I am good at cooking! It's just... I'm so visionary that my culinary genius is ahead of its time, that's all!"
"Sure, sure, whatever you say. Seems like it was ahead of your own tongue, too."
"Quiet, you."
She shoveled food into her mouth in sullen silence while the children giggled, relentlessly teasing her.
"Good grief, you little brats. You think I'm a pushover, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Pretty much."
Grandis gave up on arguing with them.
Having finished her meal, she stood up and headed toward her study.
"Lady Grandis! Even if you're mad, stop stomping! The castle's going to collapse!"
She bit her lip.
These little pests...
Just because she played with them in place of their absent parents, they seemed to think they could walk all over her. She swallowed her annoyance.
Well, what was she going to do? Punish a bunch of children with military drills?
Entering her laboratory, she took a look around.
...It was a catastrophic mess.
In the end, she had to set her undead to tidy the room before she could even step inside properly.
Once order was restored, she picked up a cold fragment of metal.
Clang— A clear resonance hummed from the piece. She began to scrutinize its surface.
"...This doesn't make sense."
She genuinely found it inexplicable. Spending her days deciphering memories that completely clashed with her temperament had become routine, yet every time she peered into the records embedded in the Holy Sword's shards, a strange unease washed over her.
And after witnessing what she herself had done in that memory, the feeling only grew stronger.
"Why... didn't he kill me?"
She tilted her head. By all rights, he would have been entirely justified in taking her life after what happened.
"Seriously, why didn't he?"
The more records she examined, the deeper the mystery of the Hero's behavior became.
"And this gentle pushover turns into that bloodthirsty madman? Seriously?"
Even after suffering a complete mental collapse, the fact that some lingering trace of kindness still remained within him felt downright bizarre to her.
"Just what happened to drive someone so soft into becoming a monster like that...?"
She couldn't wrap her head around it. What was it? Did being killed by me that one time break him? But if that's true, why spare me later?
A shiver ran down her spine at the memory. He had clearly been far weaker than her, yet his eyes had burned with an unhinged frenzy as he slaughtered her allies. The image remained vivid in her mind.
Drenched in blood, he had snapped his own broken bones back into place when they pierced through his skin, healed the wound with Holy Power, and charged right back into the fray with a grin. She still lacked the words to describe such madness.
She had initially assumed, Ah, we must have grown close in some timeline, which is why he spared me. But now that she had seen herself butcher him in cold blood, she had no idea what to think anymore.
Heavy with questions, she resumed deciphering the Holy Sword.
"...I'm really not cut out for this."
Needless to say, deciphering ancient relics was entirely against her nature.
"I'm... stepping out for some fresh air. Keep watching without me."
Leaving those words behind, Sayne walked out of the white room.
A sudden wave of nausea rose in her throat.
Her face contorted in pain.
"I can't watch this anymore..." she whispered to herself.
Why? Why was it so unbearable? She had already witnessed his death multiple times, but ever since discovering what he had done for her sake, watching him die had become unendurable torture.
Each time he perished, it felt as though a dagger plunged into her heart. She clutched her head in agony.
"Why... why does it hurt like this...?"
She squeezed her eyes shut. Steeling herself, she stepped back into the room and spoke.
"I think I'll head back for the day. I'm really not feeling well."
"Right... take care."
Peria answered, her expression laced with worry. In truth, it wasn't just her; every companion in the room looked at Sayne with concern.
Ever since learning what had transpired between her and the Hero, Sayne had looked utterly haunted. She walked around looking like a corpse, and she had even resigned from her post as Supreme Commander of the Imperial military.
Beatrice recalled the marks on Sayne's wrists.
Countless shallow lacerations scored the pale skin. No matter who looked, they were unmistakable signs of self-harm.
Beatrice let out a quiet sigh. A suffocating weight pressed down upon her chest, rendering her helpless.
"Here, boy, eat this while you work."
"Ah, thank you."
One of the best parts of patrolling the village was that the locals often pressed things into my hands—steamed potatoes and the like. Smiling, I took a bite of the piping-hot potato.
"Hey, where'd you get that?"
The Hometown Lord, walking beside me on patrol, eyed it hungrily.
"Aunt Mary gave it to me."
"What? She didn't give me a thing!"
The Lord began grumbling under his breath.
"...You collect taxes from them. What more do you want?"
"Come now... it stings the pride, that's all. Put yourself in my shoes! Wouldn't you feel left out?"
"Seeing as I'm the one who received it, I can't say I understand the feeling."
"You cheeky little punk."
Resigned, I snapped the potato in half and handed him the clean portion. That alone was enough to spread a satisfied grin across his face.
"Aah, delicious!"
...He looked a little too pleased for a simple potato.
While I was pondering whether it was normal for the lord of any territory—even a backwater village—to beam with joy over a lone potato, a flock of ravens descended from the sky.
"Where'd all those ravens come from? Ptui. Nasty bad luck, that is."
"Indeed."
To someone who had spent decades wading through battlefields, ravens were an omen I always found distasteful.
I ran my tongue across my lips. For some reason, a bitter taste lingered on my tongue.
Unease crept in, prompting me to disperse subtle threads of magic into the air. Yes... a perimeter spanning roughly a week's travel from the village should suffice.
Having erected a surveillance barrier around the village, I resumed the patrol. Naturally, with such a barrier in place, walking the perimeter was utterly pointless.
Returning home afterward, I stuffed my mouth with bread and hearty soup. Surviving endless wars had ballooned my appetite.
"Look at you eat, my boy."
"Aye, it warms my heart to see you eat so well. We worried you might be starving out there."
...Aside from the fact that my duties had been pure hell, I had actually feasted on every imaginable delicacy the continent had to offer. Having no way to explain that, I kept my mouth shut and focused on eating.
"Ah, right. You'll need to lend a hand tomorrow."
"With what?"
"Nothing much. We promised to help Mr. Smith pull weeds from his field."
"Ah, alright."
It really was nothing major.
I smiled faintly to myself.
May days like this last forever.