Sword of Fate 1
"Aaaargh!"
A horrific scream that sent chills down the spine. The severed right arm rolled across the dirt ground, still clutching the sword in its hand. Fresh red blood smeared over the glowing blade.
Licht breathed heavily. His heart burned hot. The five fiercely rotating circles began to blaze like they were on the verge of exploding. The tangled mess of circles was on the brink of bursting.
Damn it.
The three circles he'd forcibly pieced together. He'd originally planned to link three by the investiture banquet. Even that had been as fast as possible. Climbing to the 3rd Circle in just over a month with nothing but his bare body was an unprecedented speed in history. It was possible only because he'd experienced the miracle of regression, his insights far surpassing others.
But he'd forcibly linked five circles. All for that one use of a Mana Blade. The backlash was tremendous. Even now, mana raged around his heart like it was about to burst.
Licht unraveled the five circles one by one. He suppressed them as they were. Raising his gaze, he saw Bail clutching his severed forearm, dragging himself across the ground. His eyes held undisguisable shock.
"Aura... aura blade! You... how could you...!"
He desperately sought an answer. An aura blade was a technique usable only from the pinnacle of Sword Expert. Even in Barbalte, the knights who could use it numbered on one hand.
Licht didn't answer. He turned to the two who had frozen mid-charge toward him.
"...Sebrik."
"Y-yes... Young Master."
"Go to the main house. Tell that woman if she's even a little late, I'll cut off her head."
***
"Just looking at that face makes me want to kill him. It's driving me insane."
"......"
"Am I strange, Melton?"
"I understand, Madam. That black hair and those eyes... they're undeniably ominous every time I see them."
It was a bright, sunny day. White butterflies fluttered between the well-manicured garden paths. Flowers bloomed in profusion.
Amella muttered, and he bowed his head deeply in agreement. Melton Barbalte, the head butler. He handled all the family's major and minor affairs. His position carried immense authority. For an outsider to receive the Barbalte name was something even minor nobles couldn't dream of.
Yet he kept bowing, matching her words. Right and wrong didn't matter. She could have his head with a single word. The woman before him was Barbalte's lady of the house, the de facto head of the family aside from Abel himself.
"Can I help hating the son of my enemy? Every time I see him, I want to tear him limb from limb... If not for his father, I'd have killed him long ago."
"......"
"If not for that damned Lily... How dare a rootless wretch muddy Barbalte's blood? I've hated her since she wagged her tail at another woman's man."
"That was over ten years ago."
"Exactly. Because we killed her."
We. The head butler's body trembled faintly for an instant. We. It was obvious who that meant. The only four who knew were the ones who'd killed Lily Sientia, the woman Abel had doted on.
Amella, who had been turning her teacup idly, fixed Melton with a piercing stare.
"We're in the same boat, aren't we, Melton?"
"Yes. I'll take it to my grave."
"You'd better. Can't sell out and buy a grave before your time's up."
"...I'll keep it in mind."
"Good. I already know you can keep your mouth shut, Melton—no, Head Butler."
Melton reflexively glanced around. A garden meticulously tended by top gardeners. Only Amella and those she permitted could enter. Naturally, there was no sign of anyone nearby. Only the occasional chirp of birds.
He, who had kept his eyes down, finally raised his head to look at her. She seemed lost in thought, then murmured suddenly.
"It should all be over by now..."
"Sir Bail... you mean?"
"Pretending you don't know when you do? That boy from the Crane family. I'd been keeping an eye on him, but I didn't expect him to reach Sword Expert before thirty. That's why I placed him as Evan's exclusive knight..."
Crunch.
Her grip tightened on the teacup.
"Paving the way for that damned Lily's spawn? A Sword Expert? Losing to a guy who couldn't even manifest aura until recently, who groveled under Evan?"
"Perhaps he let his guard down... I hear aura levels aren't absolute in victory or defeat."
"That wretch spent seventeen years swinging wooden swords like a brute and nothing else."
"......"
"How could he lose to someone with no roots, no talent, no skill? Experience doesn't even factor in—make sense, at least. In the heat of battle, carelessness means death... And a Barbalte knight, Evan's exclusive knight at that, making excuses like that."
Amella elegantly savored her tea with a graceful gesture. Disgust flickered briefly in her words.
"Still... I'm not that heartless. No one's perfect. A single mistake is forgivable."
"You're right."
"That's why I gave him a chance. Even if it meant smashing that wretch's limbs to pieces, make sure he never lifts his head again. So he wouldn't dare utter the word 'spar' at Evan's sacred investiture."
"Madam."
"......"
"It won't come to that, but just in case..."
"Melton."
Her voice was like frost. Melton's mouth clamped shut instantly.
"I gave him two chances. Even after one failure. Anyone else would've been cast out immediately. But he's the Crane family's eldest son. I'd taken note of him once, so I gave him one last chance."
"That's exactly what worries me. Silencing has its limits, and if it reaches the family head's ears..."
"......"
Amella lowered her eyes. She knew what Melton feared. Abel's fondness for Lily was common knowledge among the servants. The emotionless Abel had once been utterly smitten with a woman, or so the rumors went. After her death, he'd never shown his inner thoughts again. As if he'd lost something irreplaceable.
Does he still harbor lingering feelings?
Ten years had passed. Any emotion would dull with time. Sending Licht to the annex recently proved it. They'd held back before out of caution.
Can't kill him, but... make him half-crippled at least.
Melton still looked uneasy. Amella spoke soothingly.
"I know what you're worried about. He's a Sword Expert knight, and that wretch just awakened his aura, so no upset is expected. Word will reach him naturally... And if he still clings to any sentiment, we can't escape blame."
"Then."
"So someone has to take responsibility."
"......!"
Melton's face hardened by the moment. Amella let out a small laugh at his expression.
"Even if that wretch dies in an 'accident.' It'd be that boy's impulsive act—nothing to do with us. I'll make sure of it."
"Ha, haha..."
"What's wrong?"
"Madam, really. Your jokes go too far."
"Do they?"
A long sigh escaped Melton's deflated form. He'd nearly lost his head there. Tension released, his body slackened.
That was when it happened.
"Madam! Madam!"
A servant burst into the garden, shouting. He panted heavily, as if he'd run all the way.
"Madam, big trouble. Right now...!"
"You! Do you know where you are, barging in without permission...!"
"Enough."
Amella raised a hand to stop Melton. He glared at the intruder with a sour face.
She asked, "What is it? Running here so urgently."
"Ah, well..."
Unlike his frantic arrival, the servant trailed off. As if the words were hard to say.
It's over.
Quite some time had passed since Bail headed to the annex. News should have come by now. And here a servant comes charging in without a care?
It could only mean one thing.
I told him not to hold back.
He'd been itching to kill that wretch anyway, even without her orders. That's why she'd sent Bail.
Can't cut off all limbs, but he'll never walk again.
That bitch's spawn crippled for life. Amella couldn't suppress her rising smile. All that remained was hearing the details from this servant and pinning all blame on Bail.
"Sir Bail..."
But it was different.
"What about the boy?"
"Tell me in detail, now!"
"Sir Bail lost his duel with Young Master Licht and had his right arm severed..."
The servant bit his lip, then barely shouted.
"He says if you don't come yourself, he'll cut off his head!"
***
"Vicious bitch."
Licht, eyes closed as he stabilized his heart's circles, muttered abruptly. The three temporary circles were gone, and the original two had regained considerable stability.
Didn't expect her not to come at all.
Several days had passed since then. Amella Pavria never came to the annex. Instead, only two men who looked like servants arrived. They'd eyed Licht warily before barely dragging Bail back to the main house.
More painful than death.
That was why Licht had let Bail go so easily. He knew the man's future would be more agonizing than death. A right-handed swordsman had lost his main arm. High-dose Queerix meant no more aura. In an instant, a promising Sword Expert knight became a worthless cripple. He'd be discarded soon. That was Amella Pavria's way. She ruthlessly abandoned even the most devoted once they were no longer needed. He might even kill himself in despair, but that had nothing to do with Licht.
"Young Master. Is your body all right now?"
Sebrik asked as he always did, brewing tea.
"Not yet."
"If you vomit blood again..."
"Enough. I told you not to ask more."
"...Understood."
As Licht said, Sebrik asked no more. He was tight-lipped by nature. Licht knew it came from concern.
The aftereffects linger.
After forcibly linking five circles, Licht had vomited blood. Even after half a day stabilizing them around his heart. Untangling the mangled circles and dispersing the mana had caused severe internal injuries. It was mostly healed now, but he'd need a bit more time.
Tomorrow. Or the day after.
He brought the teacup to his lips. The unsweetened Monet tea had a slightly bitter aftertaste.
Tastes have changed, huh.
His mother had drunk Monet tea without sugar. Sebrik remembered Licht doing the same for that reason. Licht grimaced faintly, about to pour in a heap of sugar.
"Young Master! Big trouble, big trouble!"
Bang! Lena shoved the door open forcefully. Her excited face approached Licht, her small hands cupped with something perched on top.
Sebrik asked with a puzzled look.
"A bird...? Where on earth did you pick this up?"
"I was doing laundry outside, and it just landed on my hand out of nowhere?"
Lena answered brightly. A tiny bird small enough to fit in her palm. Pure white feathers, with striking blue eyes.
"This is..."
"Let me see."
Something was tied to its leg. A small piece of paper. He slowly untied and unfolded it. Inside, elegant handwriting read a short message.
[Main gate by 6 AM tomorrow. I'll leave without you if you're late.]
Just reading it conjured Aila's face. Her personality bled through the words. Strong-willed, saying exactly what she thought.
"...Mages are all the same."
Most competent mages were like that, really.
"What does it say?"
"Young Master, Young Master. Can I keep this bird?"
"...No. It already has an owner."
The little bird that had landed on her hand uninvited tilted its head. Licht watched it briefly, then spoke.
"Sebrik, Lena. I need to step out tomorrow. Back the next morning."
"Going out?"
"Yeah."
"May I ask where...?"
Licht answered curtly.
"Capital Alpen."