Master, Do You Have Friends Too?
"I'm glad you've made some friends."
"Of course I have friends. That's only natural."
"True enough."
Today, as always, I was talking with Sera through the Orvillon, the long-distance communication artifact developed by the master craftsman Stephen Orville. The deeply moving story of Sera making friends was something I could hear a hundred times and still find touching.
They were other Hero candidates, she said. Their names were Leo and Misha—the latter being the Sword Ghost's disciple. From the names alone it was clear enough: one was a boy, the other a girl. I had already thought it praiseworthy if she managed to befriend even one person. That she had made two friends was nothing short of astonishing. Disciple or not, I could not help but feel genuinely moved.
As her guardian, I was so happy I could have cried.
If I could have, I would have brought them here at once and treated them to a meal. But that would only put pressure on the kids, so I held myself back. Nothing terrifies children quite like an adult making a spectacle of himself.
"I'm relieved to hear you're doing well."
"I'm your disciple, Master. Of course I'm doing well."
"Look at you, even flattering me now."
I had worried she might struggle to adapt once she stepped out into the world. Clearly that worry had been wasted. She seemed to have adapted far too quickly.
Friends… Friends, huh.
Something that had always felt impossibly distant from me.
Balik had been more like a little brother than anything else.
That did not mean I had never had friends at all.
People without friends are the ones who insist, "I had friends!"—but the truth was I really had had them. They had simply all died.
There was a reason for the old saying that you should never make friends with a mercenary.
That was why I had always hoped fewer mercenaries would die.
Every time I lost a friend and someone muttered, "See? That's why you shouldn't befriend mercenaries," it twisted my guts even worse.
So I had thrashed about in my own way, trying to change things.
Even so, the ones who were going to die still died.
It could not be helped.
That was simply what it meant to be a mercenary.
Come to think of it… I wonder how that guy is doing.
The talk of friends had brought someone to mind. To be precise, I thought of him as a friend—though I had no idea whether he thought of me the same way. Only he would know the answer to that, and the only way to find out would be to ask him. The problem was that I did not even know what he was up to these days.
No—what he was doing was obvious enough. The question was where. Surely that stubborn rock of a man had not actually climbed the promotion ladder and ended up in the imperial palace?
"Nah. No way."
"Pardon?"
"Hm? It's nothing."
…Anyway, he was probably doing fine.
His body, at least, was ridiculously sturdy.
More importantly, he had never been a mercenary. So the old warning about not befriending mercenaries did not apply to him. He was surely eating well and living well somewhere.
"This can't be! This can't be! This can't be! This can't be! This can't be! This can't be! This can't be! This can't be! This can't be! I am the Emperor! I am the one and only master of this empire!"
The Emperor was collapsing. He was a man who had lived his entire life at the center of power. No one could sense the flow of that power more accurately or more keenly than he. And so he felt it now.
Not in an hour. Not in a minute. Not even in a minute—in a single second. With every second that passed, the current of power that had once revolved around him was being stripped away and handed over to his eldest son. Like water draining through a shattered glass in an instant, the flow was being stolen from him with insane speed.
It was something that should never have been allowed to happen.
He had devoted his entire life to seizing this power, to becoming its sole and absolute master. So why should he be the one to lose it? Why was this happening to him?
Every day he had thought of power, striven for it, and staked everything without reservation. Did that not mean he, of all people in this world, possessed the right to hold power? Was he not the one who deserved to possess it? Yes! That was the natural order of things! Therefore what was happening now was unnatural! It was wrong!
And so it had to be corrected!
"Is anyone there?!"
"Y-Your Majesty… What is the matter? Sh-Shall I bring wine?"
The First Prince—soon to become Crown Prince—had left a few attendants in place. Even for an emperor like this one, it would not do to strip him of every last retainer. There were still those who followed him, after all. If the First Prince tried to take everything at once, they might push back. With the Hero candidate Sera's existence making it possible to seize imperial authority swiftly and cleanly without bloodshed, the First Prince had chosen to minimize resistance wherever he could.
"Summon 'Steel' at once!"
"B-But His Highness the Prince has not authorized—"
Crash!
"Kyaa!"
"Shut up and do as I say! I am the Emperor! I alone hold the power to order the execution of the likes of you with a single word!"
"I-I beg your pardon!"
"If you understand, then hurry and summon 'Steel'!"
"Y-Yes, Your Majesty!!"
In the end, the attendant fled the room in a panic to carry out the Emperor's command.
A twisted smile spread across the Emperor's face.
The Knight of Steel, Galahad Patton.
True to the name, he was a man who had devoted absolute loyalty to the Emperor and carried out every order without fail. In other words, even in a moment like this, if the Emperor commanded it, he was the one most certain to obey to the letter.
Knock, knock!
"Your Majesty. You summoned me."
A knight of enormous build entered the chamber.
Even looking down on him from the elevated throne, the Emperor never found that bulk small. Every time he beheld that absurdly violent presence, he felt a thrill. The knowledge that even a knight of such overwhelming force would kneel before his power and offer absolute loyalty never failed to fill him with exhilaration.
"Come closer, my knight."
"That the Holy One of this world should welcome me—it is an infinite honor."
"Hahaha. You always know how to please me."
Yes—the Knight of Steel!
A man who paid no heed to the shifting currents of power and kept his steel-hard loyalty solely to the Emperor himself!
Therefore, if given an order, he would carry it out without the slightest regard for the First Prince's gaze!
"As the one who sits upon the sole and absolute throne of this empire, I hereby issue a command to my knight, Sir Galahad Patton, the Knight of Steel."
"So long as this soul of Galahad Patton endures, I shall devote my full loyalty to any command."
"An excellent attitude! Then hear my order. It has been confirmed that the mercenary named Jade, master of the Hero candidate Sera, has slain an imperial knight. As a proud imperial knight of the empire, you will bring me Jade's head as punishment!"
No one understood the flow of power better than the Emperor, and no one analyzed it more carefully. That was why he knew. At the center of this intolerable, unnatural reality stood the Hero candidate Sera. He had to show her that he would not be so easily broken. He had to drive the point home to the figure at the heart of it all. Without that, returning this abnormality to the natural order was impossible.
And so he aimed for Jade's head.
Conveniently, the imperial knight he had sent to abduct Jade had failed in the most pathetic fashion. One imperial knight—not even a superhuman—was a sacrifice he could afford. He had written the man off as a regrettable loss… but in truth it had worked out perfectly. If he used that as justification to issue an order to the Knight of Steel, this man would surely carry it out with the ironclad faith of one who had received a divine oracle—
"I refuse."
…That was how it was supposed to go.
"What?"
"I said I refuse."
"H-Have you forgotten who I am?!"
"How could I forget, Holy One of this empire?"
"A-And yet you will not obey my command?!"
"I have always told you: 'So long as this soul of Galahad Patton endures, I shall devote my full loyalty to any command.'"
"Y-Yes! Exactly! So obey my command! Keep your word!"
"And that is why I am telling you I cannot keep it."
BOOM!
"Hic!"
The Emperor hiccuped involuntarily.
An enormous surge of energy had erupted from Galahad Patton's body—something the Emperor, who had used him like a dog for so long, had never once witnessed.
"Holy One, you are mistaken about something. I did not follow you out of loyalty. 'A knight is simply that kind of being, and so I acted accordingly.' As a knight of the empire, offering loyalty to the Holy One of the empire and obeying his commands is what a knight must do—and so I performed that duty. You have labored under a tremendous delusion. I merely did what a knight must do. I have never once possessed anything resembling loyalty toward the Holy One."
"I am still the Emperor! Why will you not obey my command?!"
"Is there anyone who can live without a soul?"
"What?"
"If your soul breathes within that power you so desperately cling to, then my soul, too, has something in which it breathes."
Thud. Thud.
"D-Don't come any closer! That is an order! Can you not hear the words of the one who sits upon the sole and absolute seat of this world?!"
"It is called friendship. He may not think of me the same way—but I am certain of it, and I regard him as a friend. And my soul can breathe only within that friendship."
"I-Is anyone there?!!!!!!! Enter at once!!!! Stop him this instant!!!!!! Can you not hear the Emperor's words?!!!!!!!!"
"The name of the one whose friendship lets my soul breathe is Jade. A man who, like me, bears the name of 'Steel.'"
"Is anyone there?!!!!! Obey me!!! I am the sole and absolute—! Guh!"
Galahad's thick, scar-covered hand sealed shut the mouth of the man who had spent his entire life drowning in power and living only for its pleasures. The Emperor's soft, unblemished hands—hands that knew nothing but wrinkles of age and the absence of any scar—clutched desperately at Galahad's rough fingers, trying somehow to pry them free. But those frail hands could accomplish nothing at all.
"I have already entrusted my sword to His Highness the Prince. Do you truly believe I would continue to leave my blade in the hands of a man who sought to scar my soul?"
"……?!"
"Everything was planned. You merely danced to the tune without even realizing it—a hollow man trapped inside the cage of power, unable to escape."
BOOM!
With those words, the doors of the Emperor's bedchamber—which had stood open as if waiting for this very moment—slammed firmly shut.
In the imperial palace, even the smallest noise was customarily recorded. Yet strangely, it is said that on that day alone, not a single record was left behind.