The Iron-Blooded Lord as a Toy
I am the Iron-Blooded...! The Iron-Blooded Lord.
"..."
A woman obsessed with slaughter. Long, long ago—yes. In an ancient tale no one remembers, the woman once called the Iron-Blooded Lord had become an object of terror to all. Wherever she passed, blood and war never ceased, and the streets were filled only with the grief of mothers who had lost their sons.
—Save my son!
—...
—My son...
People feared her. To raise a hand against a woman of such overwhelming power meant paying the price with one's life. The weak prayed for a hero to appear and strike down evil, and the gods, hearing their prayers, chose a person of pure heart to become that hero and put an end to the woman's atrocities.
Even at the very end, the woman showed no remorse.
—Why...?! I only gave you all what you desired...!
The hero realized he could not sever the woman's powerful will and chose instead to seal her away. She was transformed into a single sword, stripped of the brilliant light she once possessed.
A hundred years. Two hundred. Centuries passed, and just as her story was beginning to fade from the world, the Iron-Blooded Lord was preparing to reign once more.
Yes, and now the Iron-Blooded Lord—
—Don't do that...!
—Gooooom!
"Hihihihit!!!"
She had become a toy.
Watching Gomtangi dash about with Caliburn in his mouth, I could only manage an awkward smile. I never imagined the magic sword would be treated this way.
—Eek? What's this?
—A new sword I acquired.
—Ooh... Pretty.
—Would you like to touch it?
—Mm.
—Here you are.
The young lady, declaring that Caliburn made the perfect toy for Gomtangi, began tossing it across the yard. The delighted bear repeatedly snatched the sword in his jaws and bounded about, and that was how this scene came to be.
—I am the ancient and mighty Progenitor of Blood...!
"Hiiiik!! Ricardo! The sword is talking!"
"It is an expensive sword, after all."
"Oh... I see. Then we shouldn't throw it around to play?"
"Play with it a little longer, then give it back. It would be dangerous otherwise."
"Mm."
—Gom-gom.
"Fetch!!"
Whatever the case, if the young lady was happy, that was enough. I decided not to overthink it.
—I am not a toy. I am an extremely frightening person...
It was fortunate that the young lady had taken a liking to our new family member. After playing in the yard for quite some time, she returned and held Caliburn out to me, her voice sulky and small.
"Here."
"Have you finished playing?"
"Mm."
"Did you have fun?"
"It wasn't fun because it wouldn't talk."
"Pardon?"
—I am the Iron-Blooded Lord... Kkhh... An extremely frightening person... In the old days, no one even dared speak to me...
Faced with Caliburn's thoroughly broken state, I offered a small, awkward smile and nodded.
'I'll have to comfort him later.'
I would need to flatter the wounded sword's pride to mend his feelings. From what I had overheard, he seemed to have been quite renowned in ancient times. Finding a book or two about him might help us grow closer.
Back in the carriage, I had assumed he was merely some minor noble from the frontier... but he appeared to be someone far more significant.
'I suppose I ought to study a bit.'
Sheathing Caliburn, I turned to the young lady and asked how she had been in my absence.
"Did you manage well while I was gone?"
"Mm."
"Did you eat properly?"
"Ricardo's friend cooked for me, so I ate."
"Oh... Well done."
"And I spent time playing with Gomtangi."
"That was well done as well."
"I did leg exercises by myself and walked two steps."
"Now that is truly impressive."
The young lady beamed and leaned her head toward me. Finding her gesture adorable, I smiled and placed my hand on her white hair.
"Heehee..."
"You are remarkable."
"Praise me more."
"Utterly magnificent."
"Hihihit! I know..."
The young lady was still living inside the Ferris Wheel No. 2. Walking with a cane was still too much for her. The nerves in her legs had not yet recovered, and after years of immobility, her legs required time to rehabilitate before they could be used again. It was only natural. Though her heart longed to run about at once, recovery followed its own order. I was already planning a treatment regimen that would gradually restore her senses while also rebuilding her confidence. Stroking her hair, I spoke softly.
"Ah, come to think of it, have you written to the Duke?"
"Mm?"
The young lady looked up at me, a large question mark hovering above her head.
"Why would I write to Father?"
"..."
"Father is busy earning money."
Why send a letter? Hearing such a deeply filial remark, I shook my head and gently countered her question.
"Should you not inform the Duke that you can walk on your own now? That even if you are not fully recovered, you have improved enough to walk by yourself?"
"...Ooh..."
"Is that not so?"
"Mm."
The young lady nodded vigorously and held out her hand to me.
"Give me paper."
"Where has the person who said she would not write gone?"
"She died."
"Puhaha...! Understood. Then I shall bring you a fresh pink sheet."
"Pink...?"
"Then blue."
"Eeeeeeeek!"
"Then red."
"Eek...?!"
"Hmm. Then I shall bring you white."
"Mm."
Receiving the paper, the young lady sat at her desk and began to write. She seemed so focused on the letter—something she had not done in a long while—that her lips puckered slightly as she wrote. I rested my chin on my hand and smiled.
'She looks exactly like an angel...'
"To Father, who does nothing."
'...yet acts like a devil.'
Her elegant handwriting belied the contents. She read the letter aloud as she wrote, letting me hear every word.
"Father. Have you eaten? You must earn lots of money. That way I can play and eat without working."
"How very filial."
"That's right. I think about Father a lot."
"How admirable."
"Mm. And..."
"..."
"You should work my brother harder. If he does well, then I can rest. The newspapers seem to be printing strange articles about him. If they keep it up, grind them finely and scatter them."
"Excuse me?"
"Mm?"
"Nothing at all."
"Okay."
The young lady wore a faint smile as she began the final lines, her lips pressed tightly together.
[Father. I can walk now. Ricardo still has to hold me up, but I will work hard so that someday I can walk with you. Aren't you proud of me? So... stop worrying about me and rest a little.]
She smiled faintly without saying a word. I could not guess the exact contents, but her girlish attempt to hide the letter made me smile as well. I decided not to peek. I already had a rough idea. The young lady disliked embarrassment, so it was obvious she had written something that would make her blush. I simply smiled at her back.
'A filial daughter, indeed.'
Though traces of her unfilial nature still lingered, Duke Desmond would surely be delighted. He was the sort of man who would declare her letter a family heirloom the moment he saw it. He might even come running the instant he read it.
Smiling at the thought of the Desmond family arriving at the mansion soon, I spoke.
"Shall I have the mansion cleaned?"
"Eek?"
It seemed we would be receiving guests, after all.
*
At that same moment, the academy members who had returned from their long journey sat in the conference room with unusually heavy expressions. Shyartia, looking as though a great weight had finally been lifted, flipped through documents with a face full of fatigue, and the other officers did the same, nodding as they read.
Shyartia nodded and spoke.
"Everyone worked hard. You must be exhausted after everything that happened. Did it help?"
"..."
The officers remained silent. They had done nothing during the battle. The faces of those who had believed they would become the protagonists of the world upon graduating from the academy were now clouded with worry. It was their first time suffering serious injuries, and they had witnessed countless people screaming. Perhaps it was strange that they could still smile calmly. The overwhelming display of power. The untouchable strength of a true master. If Ricardo had not appeared, they might have been annihilated. That realization left their faces pale.
Shyartia cleared her throat, trying to lighten the mood. She told them not to look so downcast.
"Don't lose heart. We weren't the only ones injured—the soldiers suffered as well. If anything, we should be grateful it ended with so little damage. We even obtained the Holy Sword."
"..."
"I'll treat everyone after this. Let's lift our spirits..."
"..."
—Creak.
The moment someone entered the conference room, the officers straightened their backs and fell silent.
"Why is everyone so tense?"
Malik had arrived, bandages wrapped around his head and hands, carrying documents with a stern expression.
"..."
Malik let out a dry laugh at their silence.
"It feels like a funeral in here."
"..."
"Why are you all so dejected? The mission was a success."
"..."
"Did a friend die?"
"..."
"That's not it, so why are you like this?"
Malik drew a deep breath and asked the officers a pointed question, inviting them to share their thoughts on what they had experienced.
"How was the real battle?"
"..."
"And how did you feel this time?"
"..."
"Were you scared? Or were you more disgusted by being pushed around by a healer running across the battlefield?"
"..."
"That is why I told you to train and strive harder."
"..."
"The battlefield is not as lenient as you imagine."
"..."
"Do you think that elf you saw would spare you if you begged for your life? We need not even go that far. If luck had been against you, you would all have been wiped out."
"..."
"I hope you learned something from this journey."
With Malik's wry smile, the conversation ended. The student council officers let out sighs and began to stoke their resolve. Malik looked at them and spoke.
"Then let us go for drinks."
Malik knew how to handle people.
"We will be holding self-study time as well, so look forward to it."