The Flower That Bears a Sword - Chapter 83

Translation: godsn

Had it been his own possession, he would have deemed it extravagant, but watching her draw it forth, it suddenly seemed woefully inadequate.

'I should have put more care into it......'

Compared to her, it felt like far too lacking a gift. Yurien anxiously studied Echinacea. The longer her silence stretched as she examined the sword, the drier his mouth grew. When she traced the letters engraved on the fuller and asked,

"Is 'Amethyst' the sword's name?"

"Yes.......Do you like it?"

Echinacea didn't answer immediately.

Was it not to her taste? It must have been too hastily made after all. Or perhaps the feelings imbued within the blade were too obvious, making her uncomfortable. Flustered, Yurien began rambling whatever came to mind.

"It's enchanted to prevent any foreign matter from clinging to the blade's surface. There's also a spell to maintain the edge's sharpness. You only need to recharge it with mana once every six months. You can ask a mage to replenish the mana, or if you......"

If she knew how to handle mana, she could recharge it herself. Echinacea was certainly capable, but since she was concealing her status as a Master, that wouldn't be possible.

So, she could bring it to him for recharging. The Azure Sky was a place where rare Master-level knights were abundant, but still—he hoped she would ask him, and no one else. He desperately wished for it.

Avoiding her gaze, Yurien tentatively voiced his wish.

"......I could recharge it for you too."

The moment the words left his mouth, shame washed over him. What was he doing, saying such things when she might not even like the sword? At a loss, he clenched his fists under the table.

Echinacea, who had been quietly watching him, smiled. It wasn't radiant—just a small, soft smile—but it was the first genuine one she had ever directed at him. Smiling at him, she said,

"Thank you, Lord. It's truly beautiful. I'll take good care of it."

She smiled. At him.

For a moment, everything around her seemed to blur. Only she remained vivid and clear. He had imagined her smiling at him before, but none of those imaginings could compare to this feeling.

What could he say? Simply put—he was happy. So happy that the emotion overflowed within him, spilling over until it turned into a smile. Yurien smiled back at her.

"I'm glad you like it."

"......Did you have this specially made?"

"Yes. Does it make you uncomfortable?"

Had his hidden intentions been too obvious? He stiffened in alarm. Fortunately, she shook her head.

"No, it's just...... It doesn't seem like something mass-produced, so I wondered."

"I commissioned it when I decided to appoint you as a squire. It was only completed recently. I was waiting for the right moment to give it to you......"

Ah, damn it. He quickly trailed off, but it was too late. Halfway between reality and heaven, he'd ended up saying more than necessary. Why did his words always fail him in front of her?

No—he knew why. There would likely never be a day when Yurien de Harden Kyrie could remain composed in front of Echinacea Roaz.

Her expression turned odd.

"You were waiting for an opportunity to give it to me?"

"......."

"You could've just called me anytime and handed it over."

"You......"

"Or given it to me during the appointment ceremony. There were plenty of chances."

Echinacea eyed him suspiciously. Yurien felt inexplicably wronged. Every time she saw him, she looked uncomfortable, and he had held back, thinking he shouldn't see her if he wanted to steady his heart—yet now she claimed there had been plenty of opportunities?

"You always seemed to dislike me."

"Me? You, Lord?"

"I know ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now that you don't. Last time, you said I was pret——"

"Wait, wait, wait—hold on. You don't need to finish that sentence. No, please, don't say it."

Her face flushed crimson as she hastily cut him off. Good grief, why is she so adorable?

Here stood Zenith, who had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship, a dazzling soul who had nurtured a spark into the sun, a woman who had dragged legend into reality and achieved the miracle of turning back time—yet now, she was blushing like a maiden, bashful ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and flustered. It was wondrous, adorable, unbearably endearing. He didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to pull her close, press his lips to hers. He truly wanted to. But since he couldn't, he could only let out a quiet laugh instead.

Too embarrassed to speak further, Echinacea pressed her lips together and tugged Amethyst toward her waist, attempting to fasten it. Her clumsy fingers fumbled with the leather strap, twisting it this way and that, until suddenly, she startled and dropped it. Then she clapped her hands over her ears before pulling them away and glancing at her right hand.

[Valdergiosa must have said something. Well, I suppose she wouldn't be pleased. If my owner decided to wield another sword as her primary weapon, I wouldn't be happy either.]

The Holy Sword, silent until now, muttered under its breath. Yurien, who had been staring at her in a daze, utterly enchanted by even her smallest actions, snapped back to reality at those words. Even the sword is jealous? It was a detail he hadn't considered at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all while preparing Amethyst, and now it worried him slightly. He hoped the Magic Sword wouldn't take out its displeasure on her and make things difficult.

Lost in thought, he rose from his seat. As he approached her, she startled.

"L-Lord?"

"It seemed you were struggling with the fastening. May I assist for a moment?"

Leaning one arm against the backrest, he looked down at her. Close. The scent of flowers—or something like it—drifted from her body. Sweet. Echinacea, caught off guard, nodded.

"Excuse me."

Yurien took hold of the leather strap at her waist. As he adjusted it, his arms naturally encircled her, pulling her closer. Too close.

The waist pressed against his arm was slender. The exposed nape of her neck was pale. That sweet fragrance seeped from her thin skin. If he just lowered his head a little more, if he exerted the slightest pull—the soft flesh where her neck met her shoulder would brush against his lips.

His intentions hadn't been entirely pure when he offered to fasten the strap. Not that they were this impure either, but the closer he got to her, the more tainted they became. His hands trembled as he tied the leather strap. Hastily finishing the knot, Yurien stepped back.

"This is how it should be fastened."

"Th-Thank you."

Without another word, he turned and strode out of the compartment. Behind him, she called out, flustered.

"Where are you going?"

"......I'm parched. And you?"

"Ah, I'm fine."

"I'll be back."

He answered without looking back, then all but fled the compartment. Staggering down the train corridor, he spotted an empty room and barged inside. Slamming the door shut, he leaned against it and exhaled a long, scorching breath. Then he glanced downward.

"......I've lost my mind."

[Lost your mind? Hardly. A healthy young man spending time with the woman he likes—it's only natural. I'd say it's a perfectly normal reaction.]

"Langiosa."

[Hm?]

"There are times when pretending not to see is the greater kindness."

[.......]

The Holy Sword obediently shut its mouth. Yurien didn't return to the compartment until his desires had settled.

When they disembarked the train and boarded carriages, he deliberately secured two separate ones. They would need to sleep during the ride, and Yurien had no confidence in sharing such a confined space with her. They traveled through the night, arriving at a secluded village by dawn, then climbed the mountain behind it.

In the erased past, the Saintess had been found in a nearby valley—a charred corpse. Inside a scorched hut, the body of a young girl sat curled up, clutching a silver dagger in her arms.

The Healing Sword Elgiosa.

That small dagger, entwined with green vines, had reportedly been plunged straight through the girl's chest—piercing her heart—without a single scorch mark, even as flames consumed everything around her. It was surmised that when the fire closed in, the girl had attempted to take her own life.

The wound proved that the dead girl had been Elgiosa's owner. Only an Elgiosa Owner could inflict wounds with Elgiosa.

The hut where the Saintess had burned to death was a rest stop commonly used by herb gatherers and hunters passing through the area. A hunter who'd come to use the shelter discovered the corpse and, noticing the unusual dagger in its embrace, reported it to the lord. That report eventually reached Agenka, allowing the Azure Sky Knights to recover the ownerless Elgiosa.

The perpetrator of the Saintess's murder was never caught. Little could be discerned from the charred corpse. It had also taken too long for the body to be discovered and the report to reach Agenka.

So Yurien didn't know where the Saintess was now. Based on the few remaining clues and traces, he only knew that around this time, on some night, a girl dragged here by multiple people had been trapped inside the burning shelter to die. Of course, preventing the Saintess's death required nothing more than that.

He took position on a ridge with a clear view of the shelter. Though prepared to stay about ten days, with bad luck he might have to remain for a month. While he'd estimated the timeframe, he couldn't pinpoint the exact date.

Having finished constructing the barracks faster than Echinacea, Yurien immediately began preparing dinner.

[Isn't attending to the Lord a squire's duty? Why are you doing it?]

Langiosa asked curiously. He answered quietly so the woman inside the barracks wouldn't hear.

"I have time to spare."

[From the Magic Sword Owner's perspective, this must be uncomfortable. Letting your superior do the work. You've been a squire yourself—you should know this.]

"...I know. I still want to do it for her."

Echinacea couldn't cook. As nobility accustomed to meals prepared by chefs, her clumsiness in the kitchen was understandable. The problem was that even after nine years of wandering in the erased past, she hadn't improved much. While her food wasn't inedible, it remained barely better than gruel.

Part of the reason was her refusal to carry proper ingredients, deeming them burdensome. The only seasoning she carried during her wanderings was salt. Though she'd grown skilled at hunting and butchering, her cooking methods were limited to either salting and roasting or boiling in salted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠water. She often skipped even those meager meals.

Since basic cooking was part of squire training, Echinacea must have learned some cooking over the past month. But it was only a crash course—focused on filling stomachs rather than flavor. That's typically how new squires cook. As their experience grows, their meals gradually improve.

Of course, some never progress beyond barely edible fuel no matter how much they cook—like Echinacea, who remained the same despite her long years of solitary wandering.

Yurien had about four years of squire experience and was quite competent at cooking—sometimes assigned cooking duty during group missions. So from the start, he'd planned to handle meals during this mission. When procuring supplies, he'd carefully selected ample, quality ingredients.

Ultimately, he wanted to feed her delicious food. He meticulously prepared ingredients, melting butter in a pot to sauté them. The menu was a simple beef stew. As he stirred the pot, he muttered absently:

"If I knew her tastes, I could tailor it better."

[...Do you like her that much?]

"I do like her, but not to the point of it being a hobby."

[Not the cooking—... Never mind.]

The Holy Sword heaved a long sigh.