The Owen Kingdom's Envoy
A thread of silver wound through the white snow that poured down like a torrential rain. Knights in full armor, marching in column.
"Your Highness, are you all right?"
A middle-aged knight of such enormous bulk he could have been mistaken for a bear looked down at the boy walking beside him.
"I'm quite all right for now. The snow is heavier than expected, though. The trainee knights seem to be struggling."
The boy they called prince turned to look behind him. Unlike the prince's composed expression, the trainee knights were visibly exhausted.
"Is it still far to Zieghart?"
"Seeing how the blizzard keeps growing fiercer, I'd say we're almost there."
"Almost there? Then the swordsmen of Zieghart endure this kind of snowfall every day?"
"That's not quite the case."
The middle-aged knight shook his head with a faint smile.
"The weather does grow harsher the closer we get to Zieghart, but…"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the cascading snow ceased, and the sun, which had been hiding behind gray clouds, revealed itself.
"The weather inside Zieghart is crystal-clear. The temperature itself, of course, drops even lower."
"Huh…"
The prince let out a breath of amazement and looked up at the sky. It was so clear that the endless snowstorm might as well have been a dream.
"Wow!"
"Th-the snow just stopped all at once."
The others gaped in astonishment as well.
"Duke Tartan. This weather is…?"
"It looks like magic, but it isn't. It's because of this bizarre natural environment that people call Zieghart a fortress blessed by heaven."
The middle-aged knight called Duke Tartan smiled and pointed to the massive walls visible ahead.
"Of course, even this Zieghart has been breached before."
"Mm…"
The prince knew when that had been, so he nodded calmly.
"They're waiting for us over there, so let's go in for now."
Duke Tartan pointed to the people standing beneath Zieghart's walls.
In front of an iron gate large enough for a giant to pass through, swordsmen in red coats were watching them with sharp eyes.
"Understood."
The prince gave a short nod and headed toward the iron gate where Zieghart's gatekeepers stood.
Raon finished lunch and was heading back to the training ground when he stopped.
What is that?
He sensed a great many people from the direction of the main gate. The clash of armor against armor. A metallic noise rarely heard in Zieghart.
A moment later, Outer Chief Butler Iliun appeared, followed by knights clad in silver armor.
Owen Kingdom…
A lion's head was painted on the left side of the silver armor. The emblem of the Owen Kingdom.
Other trainees and swordsmen stopped as well, watching the Owen Kingdom's knights pass by.
"It's a diplomatic envoy from the Owen Kingdom."
Dorian approached from the side, letting out a low whistle.
"An envoy?"
"We've been cleaning every corner of the estate for days because the Owen Kingdom's envoy was arriving. You didn't know?"
"I didn't. But for an envoy, the scale seems a bit small."
Raon narrowed his eyes at the small-framed children behind the knights.
"Ah, those are the trainee knights who came with the Third Prince of the Owen Kingdom. They probably came along to gain experience."
"You know a lot."
"The rumors have already been circulating. Everyone else looks like they already know."
"That's true."
The only ones who didn't know seemed to be himself, who'd been absorbed in training, and Runaan, who was usually just spacing out.
Raon looked over the kingdom's envoy.
They're quite strong.
As expected of fellow members of the Six Kings, the trainee knights' martial prowess was comparable to the trainees of the Fifth Training Ground.
Strong or not, it has nothing to do with me… Hm?
As he turned his head to go to the training ground, his eyes met those of the one standing at the very front of the trainee knights.
Blue eyes that seemed to hold the sky, filled with a steadfast presence.
Martial power beyond his years.
He knew just from meeting that gaze. That trainee knight was the strongest among them.
But still.
That was only an evaluation at the teenage level. He was still far from catching Raon's eye.
As expected, the blue-eyed boy couldn't read Raon's energy. After staring for a moment, he turned his head away.
No time to worry about that.
He was busy raising the completeness of his footwork and swordsmanship. He wouldn't have any reason to clash with the kingdom's envoy, so a brief look was enough.
Raon walked toward the training ground, thinking only of the flow of his footwork.
What is this…
The Third Prince of the Owen Kingdom. Grier de Owen felt a thrill for the first time in his life, as if his spine were standing on end.
He slowly raised his head. The higher his eyes climbed, the more his breath caught in his throat.
All of it was because of the man seated above.
The Northern Hegemon King, Glenn Zieghart. Just receiving the gaze of the man said to be the continent's strongest swordsman made the strength drain from his limbs.
"You've done well to come."
"We thank you for your hospitality."
Thanks to Duke Tartan's voice from beside him, he barely managed to collect himself.
"Even if you said you were the late king in his youth, I'd believe it. I can see why he dotes on you."
Glenn Zieghart slowly nodded after looking at his face.
"Th-thank you."
His mouth had gone dry; the words wouldn't come out properly. He hadn't even released a shred of presence, yet that kind of presence… He'd never felt this even when facing the kingdom's greatest sword.
"I-I have a letter from His Majesty."
The Third Prince took a gold envelope from his coat. He forced strength into his trembling legs and stood.
"Ugh…"
Trembling, he approached the dais and held out the letter to Glenn.
"Hmph."
A faint gleam flickered in Glenn's eyes at the sight, then vanished.
"As you requested, I've arranged for you to observe the trainees' training."
Glenn set the letter aside and spoke slowly.
"We've prepared an evening banquet, so rest easy today and look around starting tomorrow."
"We thank the Family Head for his consideration."
"Then I'll see you later."
"Yes."
The Third Prince took three steps back, bowed at the waist, then rose.
"As for the Duke…"
"I have something to say to the Family Head. Please rest first."
Duke Tartan smiled faintly and lowered his eyes.
"Understood."
The Third Prince gave a short nod and left the Audience Chamber.
"A child of exceptional talent. He'll reach the Sword Throne faster than the royal throne."
After a brief silence, Glenn spoke first.
"As expected, you grasped it at a glance. His Highness the Third Prince is called the next greatest sword of the kingdom."
"It's certainly a rare talent."
"Not just talent—his will is firm as well. He even went south to observe House Robert's swordsmanship."
Duke Tartan looked at the door the Third Prince had left through and smiled with satisfaction.
"Hrm."
Glenn's lips curved slightly.
Talent, effort, and will…
Just looking at the Third Prince's eyes, he could see what talent the boy possessed and what effort he'd put in.
He must have accumulated much experience and effort at a young age. But Glenn knew someone who had done even more.
Raon Zieghart.
Knowing the effort and will Raon had poured in, the Third Prince's greatness didn't particularly catch his eye.
"You didn't come just to boast about the prince, so let's get to the point."
The letter in Glenn's hand burst into flame with a crackle.
"You burn it without even looking."
Even though the letter had burned, Duke Tartan's expression barely changed.
"That man would never have entrusted an important letter to a youngster."
"Indeed."
Unlike when he'd been boasting about the Third Prince, Duke Tartan knelt with a solemn presence and bowed his head.
"I convey the words of King Lexros Alburn de Owen II of the Owen Kingdom."
When he raised his head, his eyes were filled with gravity.
The Five Demons have begun to move.
Thump!
Raon's right foot advanced as smoothly as a salmon cutting through the current. His left foot followed. The movement of his lower body was as graceful as a deer weaving through the undergrowth.
Not fast, but smooth. Not powerful, but elusive.
The twelve forms of Garam Footwork he displayed held a light freedom, like a leaf riding the wind.
Boom!
Raon ended his Garam Footwork training with a ground-shaking stomp.
"Hah…"
He exhaled his excited breath, straightened his back, and raised his head.
They're still watching.
When he looked back, the trainees who'd been watching his footwork training flinched and turned their heads.
Ever since the first day he'd learned Garam Footwork, the trainees had been practicing their footwork while watching him, not the instructor. That included Burren, Runaan, and Marta.
"Hmph!"
"Hmph."
Burren and Marta, whose eyes he'd met, snorted and turned away.
"Mm."
Of course, Runaan didn't look away, as if to say, so what? She even came closer and performed the footwork. It was a request to be taught.
"Honestly."
Raon shook his head and pointed out the deficiencies in Runaan's footwork.
"Young Master. Could you take a look at mine as well?"
Dorian approached, gently scratching his belly pouch, and demonstrated his footwork.
"First of all, your stance is too high. Lower it a bit more…"
As he was telling him the problems, the training ground door opened and Rimer entered.
What's this about?
Raon wrinkled his nose at Rimer's hurried steps. This was the first time he'd come during a break.
"You all know the Owen Kingdom's envoy arrived today, right?"
"We do."
Burren stepped forward to answer. He too widened his eyes, surprised that Rimer had come during a break.
"There's a banquet for the envoy this evening. Since there are trainee knights as well, they said you all, being the same age, can participate."
"Oh!"
"A banquet?"
Having seen the Owen Kingdom's knights, the trainees' faces brightened at the thought of building connections with the trainee knights.
"However!"
Rimer slowly shook his head.
"You still haven't even properly mastered Garam Footwork. If it were me, I'd be too embarrassed to go. That's right!"
"Ugh!"
"Th-that's…"
The trainees bit their lips at the unexpected words.
"Huh? Don't tell me you were actually going to go? You've still got so much training left. You haven't even finished your swordsmanship or your footwork?"
He stuck his face out and scanned the trainees as if mocking them.
"D-damn it!"
"Haa…"
The trainees couldn't find words and hung their heads.
"There's only one person here who could actually go."
Rimer's gaze turned to Raon.
"What will you do?"
"I'm not interested."
Raon shook his head and picked up his training sword. Garam Footwork was nearly perfect, but he still had a long way to go to harmonize it with his swordsmanship.
This wasn't the time to go to a banquet and build connections. It was the time to train with everything he had.
"That's the right attitude."
Rimer grinned. An expression that said he'd known as much. A smile filled with satisfaction.
"Well, if you really want to go, I suppose I'd send you. Anyone who wants to go?"
He put a hand on Raon's shoulder and looked around at the trainees.
It was a look that said, even the strongest one, Raon, is staying to train—are you lot going to go?
"Hmph!"
"…No."
Marta and Burren turned their heads and stepped back to train.
"……"
Runaan hadn't been listening to Rimer from the start and was just practicing her footwork.
"Then keep training. Once you get stronger, you'll have countless opportunities to attend banquets! I'll be going, then."
Rimer waved his hand as if teasing the trainees and left the training ground.
"Hmm…"
Raon scratched his cheek as he watched his retreating figure. Given Rimer's usual personality, he'd have let them go to something like a banquet. Blocking them was a bit strange.
What's he thinking this time?
The Zieghart Main Mansion Banquet Hall, where brilliant light cascaded down in place of a violent blizzard.
The Third Prince of the Owen Kingdom, Grier de Owen, smacked his lips and sat in his assigned seat.
Tiring.
After hours of conversation with Zieghart's people, his head was spinning. As expected, these kinds of occasions were uncomfortable. He just wanted to swing a sword.
The reason he'd come to this atmosphere and place he didn't even like wasn't solely because of the king's command.
Zieghart's sword.
And to see the swordsmen who honed that sword.
"Haa."
The Third Prince downed the drink on the table in one gulp and frowned.
They really are remarkable warriors.
The presence the Zieghart swordsmen possessed was lofty and intense. It was enough to make his heart race—martial power that didn't fall short of the Owen Kingdom's knights in the slightest.
But.
The martial power of Zieghart's young swordsmen, the ones he'd actually wanted to see, was disappointment itself.
They were children who would certainly be called outstanding talents in other families or kingdoms, but they fell short as trainees of the Six Kings.
They don't even match House Robert.
The young swordsmen of House Robert, the southern masters he'd visited before coming to Zieghart, had seemed more outstanding.
"No need to look around tomorrow."
Glenn had been considerate enough to let him observe the trainees' training, but at that level, there was no particular reason to go.
"You seem disappointed."
"Huk!"
He hastily turned at the light voice from behind.
"A-an elf?"
An elf with red hair and deep green eyes was smiling with his hands behind his back.