The Armory Ghost Story

"...Sister."

Luke muttered it under his breath the moment he saw her.

Terre Serverki.

What was she doing here?

While he was still turning that over, she approached with a gentle smile and stroked his gleaming golden hair.

"...Sister?"

"Ah. Sorry. It's been so long since I last saw our youngest—I couldn't help myself."

Terre held out her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Want to head to the armory together? The Family Head asked me to."

Luke hesitated a moment, then carefully took the hand she offered.

"I came back from a mission and heard our youngest had been given his first assignment. So I've been waiting ever since. Isn't that right, Ellis?"

"...That's correct, my lady."

Terre and Ellis fell into easy conversation. It was something Luke had only learned in the last few years: Terre Serverki had been close with his mother, Elli, and with Ellis. That, perhaps, was why she was so unusually warm toward him.

"Luke. How was the mission? It was Stygna, wasn't it? I've been there myself—it's a fairly vicious place."

"...The atmosphere was pretty vicious, yes," Luke said, recalling the grim air of Stygna and Patina.

"I'm just glad it ended well."

A few more exchanges passed before Terre finally got to the point.

"Come to think of it. Today's the first time our youngest is going into the armory, isn't it?"

Luke nodded.

"Hmm. Luke. I don't know if you've heard, but...."

"I know. The armory ghost story."

"Oh my. You already knew?"

"Mikhail told me."

"Sir Mikhail didn't try to scare you, did he? Luke, just so you know—there's no such thing as a ghost in the armory. Officially, that is."

Trying to reassure him, Terre then added a remark that left a little room.

"...Though even I, saying this, have heard the stories myself...."

"Huh? Sister. You actually heard it?"

Terre chuckled and stroked Luke's hair.

"Kids will be kids, I guess. Luke. Showing interest in a place like that. Want me to tell you a little?"

And so began Terre Serverki's telling of the armory ghost story.

"It was.... when I first entered the armory after completing my first mission. Six years ago now. This armory ghost story is older than you'd think."

...That old?

As a veteran of Sacred Souls, he couldn't help but take an interest in a rumor this strange. Luke started paying close attention.

"As a rule, you have to enter the armory alone. That's an iron law of the Serverki family armory. The rule is that you pick one weapon you're drawn to from among that sea of arms," Terre said, stroking his hair. "It sounds a little romantic, I suppose. Well. I wouldn't know. Anyway, back then I was diligently choosing a weapon. I'd heard bits and pieces from the Family Head, or from Mother, or if not them, from the knights. I put in a fair bit of effort trying to find a good one, you know?"

"But every single ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠person who talked about it warned me of the same thing. That an old ghost lives in the armory."

"...An old ghost...?"

"That's right. An old ghost."

She cupped her hands slightly and made a ghost impression at him.

"They say it goes like this? Eheheh. I'm going to pull out our youngest's guts and eeeat them—"

"...That's not funny."

"Oh my. That was my best joke. What a shame."

Terre laughed softly and went on.

"Anyway, that old ghost sometimes weeps pitifully. And sometimes it cackles like a madman. People who've been rummaging through the armory for a while have even fallen over in shock at those shrieks."

"But some of them actually held conversations with the old man, you know?" Terre pointed at herself. "I talked to him too."

"...Really?"

"Of course, of course. Though calling it a conversation is generous—it was closer to the old man's monologue. Now, here's a question. What do you think that old man said? If you guess right, I'll give you a hug, Luke."

"...I don't particularly need one."

"Aww. Too bad. Anyway? What that old man said was.... He told me, 'Barely failed'?"

"...Huh?"

What kind of nonsense was that. Luke stared at her, incredulous, and Terre shrugged.

"It was pretty absurd. Suddenly telling me I'd failed. But you know what, Luke? In the entire history of our family, not a single person has ever heard that old ghost say 'passed.' Or so the rumors go."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"...Failed at what?"

Terre tapped her chin with a finger, thinking, then said, "Probably.... talent, I'd guess. Talent with the sword, specifically."

She moved the finger that had been tapping her chin down to the sword at her hip and gave it a couple of taps.

"I may not look it, but your sister's pretty good with a sword, you know?"

"That's so obvious it hardly needs saying."

"Oh my. Thank you."

She stroked Luke's golden hair for a moment, then continued.

"Everyone who heard words like 'barely' or 'so close' from that old man had outstanding talent with the sword. The Family Head probably heard it too, I'd bet?"

"...Oh...."

Even Luke, a veteran player, had never heard this piece of behind-the-scenes lore. He turned the story over in his mind, and a question formed.

...Wait.

If that was the case....

What happens if I go in?

A sword talent that could reach the heavens. One of the gifts Luke possessed.

At first it had made him purse his lips with a what kind of talent is this supposed to be?—but the moment he actually took up a blade, those lips had gone right back where they belonged. Simple as the words sounded, this was a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠talent that stood beyond the heavens themselves. In RPGs, after all, it was common knowledge that a simple line like throws a spear often hit harder and packed more power than any flashy skill name. The talent Luke possessed was the kind that, if he just picked up a sword, he might truly reach the heavens.

What would happen if someone like that caught the old ghost's eye? Wouldn't its eyes spin in its sockets before it came charging straight at him?

Once the thought went that far, Luke's brow furrowed slightly.

...I don't know if this is a fated encounter or a cursed one.

While he was thinking, Terre saw his furrowed brow and chuckled.

"Oh my. Are you scared?"

"...No. It's not that. I'm just worried it'll be a hassle if that weird ghost starts talking to me."

"Don't worry. Unless your talent is truly exceptional, it won't even speak to you. Ah, but our Luke has truly remarkable talent, so it probably will talk to you, won't it?" Terre said, stroking his hair. "Don't be too frightened. Just ignore whatever the ghost says and look carefully for a weapon you'll carry from now on. Everything from common arms to truly precious ones is lying around in there. You have to pick carefully and well."

"...Can you recommend something?"

"Of course. Let's see...."

The conversation between sister and brother continued until they arrived at the armory.

"Well then, our Luke. Be careful and come back safely. Keeper? Open the door. You've heard from the Family Head, I assume?"

"Of course."

The keeper was a kindly-faced old man, and even as he unlocked the door he offered Luke a quiet word.

"Young master. Please be careful. If a strange old man speaks to you in the armory, you must ignore him at once. I hear the old man's sobbing myself from time to time, and it's no small fright, I tell you...."

"Now, now. Mr. Zigg. Don't go scaring our youngest too much."

"Aigoo. My apologies, my lady. I misspoke."

The lock clicked open at just that moment.

"Please go in. I do hope you find a fine weapon."

The two doors opened, and the interior slowly came into view. Sunlight filtered in softly, and torches lit the space brightly. The place was well enough maintained that the rumors of a ghost felt like an outright lie.

Luke looked at Terre and Ellis for a moment and nodded.

"I'll be back."

"Be careful, Luke."

"Do take care, young master."

Leaving the two behind, Luke carefully stepped into the armory.

Luke entered the armory and began to walk slowly. It was considerably vast. The Repelheim Empire was called an empire even on this enormous continent, and the weapons that had flowed into the Serverki Ducal House—one of the families vying for first among that empire's nobility—were beyond counting. Stacked and stacked over hundreds of years, they had come to occupy the space in staggering numbers, laid out as if to flaunt the prestige of the Serverki family itself.

Walking carefully among them, Luke recalled what Terre had told him a moment ago.

"So.... what did she say was good."

The weapon Luke was looking for was a two-handed sword. A two-hander had better attack power than a one-hander, and it felt better to swing besides. He had always used two-handed swords sized to his height, so he simply hoped to find an appropriate blade. Ideally, a magic sword with a proper center of gravity and various functions enchanted into it. Or a sword forged by dwarves, with excellent cutting power and durability.

He was wandering here and there in search of such a blade when—

"...What."

A mournful sound began to drift from somewhere—more precisely, the sound of weeping. Luke, who had been wandering the armory for some time, paused, and the mournful sound grew louder.

"What? This sobbing sounds like some old man who couldn't behave, got chewed out by his wife, and is now bawling in a corner...."

"What? You little shit? You done talking?"

"...Oh?"

No way. Was this the armory ghost?

While Luke was still listening, the ghost suddenly started talking to him.

"Who are you? Looking at that blond hair. Doesn't seem like a Serverki kid.... No. Looking closer, you've got blond mixed with crimson, don't you? You a Serverki?"

Luke thought for a moment, then opened his mouth. This ghost.... looking at it now...?

"...You're talking down to me?"

"What? Hey, you little shit. I've been here for hundreds of years already! You ought to be speaking up to me, and even that wouldn't be enough...!"

Ah.

Now he understood. This ghost kept talking if you needled it a bit.

Looks like nobody's ever talked to this ghost this way before...?

Well, if you suddenly heard an old man sobbing in a space this vast, you'd scream and run, or be scared out of your wits. Of course, Luke had the soul of a Sacred Souls veteran burning inside him, plus a trait that helped him keep his mind together—and on top of that, he'd already heard about the ghost from Terre, so he wasn't frightened. In other words, Luke was fully prepared to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠talk to this ghost.

While Luke stayed silent, the ghost's words continued.

"Hey! You ignoring me now? Aigoo, what a fate. How did I end up looking like this!"

As the ghost's lament went on, Luke finally opened his mouth.

"Hey, Mr. Ghost."

"Mr. Ghost, my ass. I've eaten enough years to be older than you, you know?"

"Looking at the way you talk, those years don't show at all. Anyway, what are you? Rumors are flying that you've been crying and carrying on in the armory for hundreds of years."

"What, you little shit? I was crying and carrying on? I never...!"

The ghost's words cut off briefly, then resumed.

"...Damn. That's true enough. Whoever came or didn't, I was too busy crying."

"There. Crybaby confirmed. Hey. Mr. Crybaby Ghost."

"What. You rude little brat."

"I asked what you are. Why have you been crying in here for hundreds of years."

At Luke's question, the ghost's voice rang out at once.

"Ha! Now we've even got people who don't know This Seat's reputation.... Aigoo! Aigoooo!!! I'm so wretched, truly! How did I end up trapped in this damn place!"

"Argh! Just spit it out already! What's your identity that you're crying in here like this!"

At that, the old ghost's words followed immediately.

At that, Luke frowned, then muttered under his breath.

"...Bullshit."

"What, you little shit? Aigoooooo! What a fate is mine! What a faaaaate! Now I've gone and gotten chewed out by some dimwitted brat!!!"

Luke couldn't help but press a hand to his forehead at the sobbing of this old ghost who couldn't act his age.