Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: Interlude: The Name of Happiness
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Shiled, the Vicar of Radiance. One of the three core deities forming the pillar of the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods, he was the state religion of the Dane Kingdom. Veiltein, priest of Shiled, was a capable man who had risen to diocese head at a young age.
*Knock knock.*
“Priest Veiltein. It’s Albert.”
“Oh, Knight Albert! Come right in!”
Veiltein set down his tea and clapped his hands with a smile. Soon the old wooden door creaked open, and a young man with an expressionless face entered. His sturdy gaze had been forged by harsh, grueling travels. Yet he was a slender youth with delicate features that bespoke noble blood.
Veiltein recalled the feats this faithful knight had accomplished. He had rescued a merchant caravan kidnapped by devil worshippers, fought and defeated a demon single-handedly, and dealt with the monsters plaguing the nearby highways. From what Veiltein had witnessed personally...
‘The very model of a knight...’
To save mountain villagers, he disregarded his own life and ventured into a forest teeming with undead. His figure embodied sublime sacrifice and justice—the epitome of knighthood. Veiltein bestowed a warm, benevolent smile upon this faithful knight.
“I heard you called for me.”
“Yes. Knight Albert. Have you ever heard rumors that Sir Bayemier is staying in this city?”
“I’ve heard whispers from merchants...”
“After hearing of your exploits, Sir Bayemier has taken an interest. Any thoughts on the matter?”
“It would be a great honor. To meet a knight of the Round Table.”
Fernandez couldn’t suppress a smile at how smoothly things were progressing beyond his expectations. For a member of the kingdom’s de facto ruling political elite to take interest in him...
‘An audience with the throne can’t be far off now.’
The current king, Helga III, was infamous as a foolish ruler—not so much in the present, but in the judgment of posterity. This apparent era of peace was likely the work of the Round Table of the time. Maintaining national strength without major decline under the arbitrary and arrogant Helga III proved their competence.
In contrast, during the reign of Vicente II, famed as a wise king in his past life, the overwhelming royal authority had left even the powerful Round Table knights with little political sway. But the current Round Table was effectively the kingdom’s leadership.
-I wouldn’t compare it to the Round Table from my past life. These guys are more politicians than knights.
‘And “competent” politicians at that. Easier to handle than competent knights, even.’
Fernandez took a sip of the tea Veiltein offered and chuckled inwardly.
*
Kirhas stared blankly at a butterfly flitting over flowers. The city, directly governed by Count Jest, was well-maintained and peaceful. From the perspective of a torchman—or Fernandez’s retainer—peace meant nothing but boredom.
“Yawwwn...”
Kirhas’s tail swayed in a gentle arc. Watching butterflies dance in the warm sunlight was enjoyable enough, but she had nothing else to do. Lately, her life’s goals were dictated by Fernandez’s actions.
“Bored, are you?”
“Eek?!”
Kirhas’s ears perked straight up. Abel appeared silently behind her and sat beside her with a soft smile. Kirhas flicked her ears repeatedly, glaring at Abel.
“Don’t look at me like that. I came to hear more about that village.”
“You’ve already heard everything my benefactor had to say.”
“Fernandez. Hehe, that boy always hides so much. Makes him all the more intriguing.”
Dragons loved riddles, after all. Abel stroked Kirhas’s hair and smiled. Kirhas narrowed her eyes briefly. Spinning tales of adventure was fun. Annoyingly enough, Abel was a great listener, making her a pleasant conversation partner.
“My benefactor... caught a ghost!”
“Yes, yes. A village of cannibals, was it? Horrific.”
“Exactly! And they strung people up on poles...”
Kirhas paused mid-sentence. Tales of human sacrifices touched on her trauma. Abel smiled warmly.
“Sounds like you’ve been through hardship. We all have. But look, Kirhas.”
Abel plucked a tiny flower bud at Kirhas’s feet and placed it in her hand. Not from the vibrant bushes where butterflies danced, but a modest bloom under the porch. Kirhas hadn’t even noticed it there.
“Happiness is always there—beneath your feet, behind shadows, somewhere between hardship and indifference. Even in moments we fail to recognize or see. It’s always there. So...”
She stroked Kirhas’s head.
“Don’t drown in sorrow. And even if your interests and goals are always as flashy as those bushes, always watch for the wildflowers at your feet as you go.”
“...Yes...”
Kirhas blushed and bowed her head. Abel’s blue eyes sparkled as she smiled beautifully. Her soft golden hair fluttered in the warm spring breeze.
Kirhas nodded inwardly. Yeah. With someone like her... it couldn’t be helped... But even as she thought that, a sharp pain stabbed her chest.
‘This... it’s possessiveness. Not a feeling for my benefactor.’
At that instant, Kirhas’s ears and tail shot up fiercely. Benefactor?! Her ears caught the footsteps before her body reacted. Heavy, balanced steps brimming with reliability. It was her benefactor!
“Eh?”
Abel pulled her hand from Kirhas’s head in surprise, but Kirhas ignored her and thumped the porch with her tail—tap, tap. The door opened soon after, and Fernandez appeared. His usual weary, somber eyes were visible. She suppressed the urge to rush to him and simply gazed.
“Ah, Kirhas. Sorry, but could you help me...”
“Yes, benefactor!”
Before Fernandez could finish, Kirhas dashed out like the wind and supported his left shoulder. Fernandez’s wounds hadn’t fully healed. Objectively, he should abandon the mission and rest.
A sword wound piercing the abdomen—in inadequate conditions, in this harsh foreign land—would have been fatal for any ordinary person. Only the Religiosa Demonica-blessed body kept him going, but Fernandez sighed and sat on the porch.
“How did it go?”
“We should be able to head to the capital soon. Sorry to keep you waiting so long.”
“Don’t say that. If you owe me an apology, it’s not for making me wait.”
Abel shot Fernandez a glance and spoke.
“Value your body more. I knew you were reckless, but to come back with such grievous wounds every time...”
While Kirhas folded Fernandez’s cloak, Abel fetched fresh bandages and peeled away the blood-crusted ones clinging to his abdomen. The scab tore slightly with the dried blood, and fresh blood trickled out.
“Ahh... We need a healer among us.”
“No need.”
Fernandez broke out in cold sweat but steeled his expression. He doubted the Order would permit expanding their numbers further. Besides, a healer wasn’t a necessary expense.
Kirhas’s role was combat support only, and Abel was sturdy enough to dismiss wounds treatable by ordinary healers as mere scratches. As for himself...
‘Worst case, I just die.’
-Weren’t you preaching against getting used to death just yesterday?
‘Seeing myself like this, I should’ve died back then instead.’
-You’re a riot, really.
Feizashi snickered. The Religiosa Demonica’s flesh could naturally heal all but the most severe wounds, and even if a fatal blow ended him, the stigmata of immortality would protect him.
“It hurts me when you say that. Don’t.”
Abel’s blue eyes drooped roundly. That expression in those big eyes made him feel like a reckless child. Fernandez cleared his throat awkwardly and changed the subject.
“Ah, looks like we’ll be tangling with the Sepulcher Church. That alright?”
“Hehe, worried about me?”
Abel’s eyes curved softly. Just as the underground aqueducts and human sacrifices were Kirhas’s trauma, Abel had spent her life as the kingdom’s guardian dragon defending against the Sepulcher Church—and her end had come at their hands.
Yet Abel gazed at the wildflower tucked into Kirhas’s hair and smiled.
“I mourn my dead children not because their lives were fleeting, but because they shone so brightly.”
Singing the words, she wrapped fresh bandages over the wound. Her arm circled Fernandez’s waist from behind, and a sweet fragrance wafted from her hair. Through the wide collar of her robe, her porcelain skin gleamed, forcing Fernandez to avert his eyes hastily.
“But if you end up like that, I’ll mourn you. So please, live long and prosper.”
“May I ask why?”
“You’re no child, are you?”
She blushed faintly and brushed her fingers lightly over his bare torso. Kirhas swiftly draped the cloak over him, her face furious.
Beneath the warm spring sun, the inn’s porch was peaceful.
*
Bayemier was an old knight in the twilight of his years. Yet everyone who dealt with him cautiously used “seasoned” instead of “old.” Helga chuckled, eyeing the veteran’s thick forearms in a light tunic.
“Old timer, aren’t you at the age where a cold could kill you? It’s early spring—nights are still chilly.”
“Haha, Your Highness. If this old servant catches a cold and dies, that’d truly be the end.”
Helga watched Bayemier pack with a wistful smile. He deserved better treatment than this.
“Sorry you’re suffering in your old age because of me. Didn’t you say your grandson’s around my age?”
“Say no more, Your Highness. I volunteered for this—how could I complain? And that young panelist... the boy’s still a wild rascal compared to you.”
Bayemier finished packing with a warm smile. A Round Table knight and a crown prince packing their own travel gear—what a sight. Bayemier admired this young prince who never lost his smile amid it all.
“Ah, I heard from Priest Veiltein about a knight who single-handedly subdued a troll. Your Highness, mind meeting him before we head to the capital?”
“Of course. But taking down a troll alone? That’s child’s play for you, no?”
“Haha, true. But they say he’s a very young man. Makes me want to meet him.”
In these turbulent times, Bayemier believed in securing every usable knight he could. On wandering pilgrimage, the man hadn’t pledged to any lord yet—judging his character and inviting him along to the capital seemed worthwhile.
“...It won’t cause trouble for our journey?”
“Worry not, Your Highness. I’ll take responsibility.”
“If you say so, I trust you. But why? The palace is overflowing with young, promising knights. Why risk it with your personal guarantee?”
At any other time, perhaps. But Helga couldn’t afford to draw attention now. Officially, he was touring the kingdom on pilgrimage. The royal family and Church knowing of their journey wouldn’t help.
“His name is Albert.”
“Common enough.”
“They say he carries identification vouched by the Beitasser Church.”
“Expected for a wandering knight.”
“He hails from the Cerned Barony.”
“...Cerned?”
Bayemier nodded. Candlelight cast deep shadows over his craggy, rock-like face.
“They say he’s Lucas’s son.”
“No... But the Beitasser Church... Right. I heard the rumors. Then that knight is...?”
“Yes. If the Church’s identification holds true. I want to confirm it.”
Lucas of Cerned. He had only one child: Fernandez. If the Beitasser Church’s papers were genuine, then “Albert” was Fernandez in disguise. He’d need to uncover what the boy was up to while hiding his identity.
But if the papers were forged...
‘He’ll pay dearly.’
To impersonate the son of a Round Table knight—a friend.