A Grandfather's Unspoken Pride
The moment he returned, Raon scrapped his plan to start training and headed for the Lord's Palace instead.
The massive, antique doors of the Audience Chamber of the Lord still pressed down on his shoulders, no matter how many times he had seen them. It was not the size of the doors. It was the presence of the Absolute who sat beyond them.
"No need to be nervous. You'll only hear good things today."
Rimer, standing behind him, grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Hmph."
From beside him came Runaan's usual little hum, no different from any other day. She had trembled when they were saving the children, yet standing before the Family Head she showed not a shred of tension. She really was an odd one.
A boom like a giant's footfall, and the doors of the Audience Chamber swung open. A storm of overwhelming presence surged out as they parted fully.
Enduring the pressure that poured forth like the flames of a furnace, they stepped inside.
Glenn sat as he always did upon the golden throne, looking down at them.
"We present ourselves before the Family Head."
Following Rimer's greeting, Raon and Runaan dropped to one knee in unison.
Didn't he say this was about praise?
Raon wrinkled his nose. For a summons meant to deliver praise, the pressure rolling off Glenn was ferocious.
"Rise."
Glenn's voice rang with authority as he waved a hand.
"Raon Zieghart. Runaan Sullion. I am told you distinguished yourselves on your first mission."
"We merely did our best."
Raon bowed his head again. Runaan followed suit in silence.
"I have heard the reports. Tell me yourselves what you did."
"Yes, sir. When we arrived at the outpost, there were four locations where the bandits were likely to be hiding. Bandits in the mountains display a beastlike talent for the terrain, so I considered the possibility that they had left the mountains entirely in order to throw off pursuit. And so…"
He recounted everything that had happened on the mission to a Glenn who looked thoroughly uninterested. The man neither nodded nor so much as flickered an eyelid. He listened to every word with a silence so complete it was almost embarrassing.
"It matches what I was told. To eliminate the enemy without freezing on your first mission, and to rescue the hostages besides—that is no ordinary achievement. However."
Glenn's gaze sank, cold and still.
"It was haphazard. A single mistake—if the bandits had been stronger, or if the two of you had failed to work in concert—those children would be dead, and the two of you would have been badly wounded."
His heavy voice seemed to press down on the top of Raon's skull.
"Planning matters. Trainees with no experience, like the two of you, must lay your plans two and three layers deep before you move."
"Yes, sir…"
"In truth, the moment you found those tracks, the proper course was to consult the other Trainees and issue them instructions. Your experience and your martial power are still too meager to handle everything alone."
"I apologize."
Raon bowed his head once more.
This is praise?
He had been told it was praise, yet after a handful of kind words at the start, it had been nothing but criticism.
"That said, however flawed the method, the fact remains that you succeeded."
Glenn jerked his chin to the side. His butler, Roen, approached with a golden tray and came to a halt before them.
"You have done well."
Roen smiled gently as he presented the bronze plaques to Raon and Runaan.
"Thank you."
Raon and Runaan received the plaques with both hands and bowed to Glenn.
"Ah—if I may, there is one more matter."
"What is it?"
"What should be done with this elixir?"
Raon produced the Two-Tone Flower he had taken from the Snow Tiger Bandit Chief. The unopened bud was still tightly furled.
Glenn looked down at the Two-Tone Flower for a long moment, then shook his head.
"You obtained it. It is yours. Take it."
"…Yes, sir."
Raon tilted his head slightly. It was a fairly rare elixir. He had not expected Glenn to simply hand it over.
"You may go."
As if he had said everything he intended to say, Glenn leaned back against the throne and propped his chin on his hand.
Raon and Runaan bowed, then withdrew from the Audience Chamber, stepping backward until they were through the doors.
A brief silence settled over the Audience Chamber, now occupied by only three people.
"Pfft."
Rimer could not endure the quiet. He burst out laughing.
"What is so funny? And I did not even summon you. Why did you follow them in?"
"Oh, come now. If you wanted to hear how Raon performed with your own ears, you should have just said so instead of inventing excuses."
Rimer smirked at Glenn, whose face had already soured.
He really cannot be honest to save his life.
The report had already been submitted. Glenn knew everything that had happened on the mission. Watching him pretend to scold his grandson while actually giving him advice, Rimer could not keep a straight face.
"Is this a grandfather's spite, then?"
"Hold your tongue."
"Mmph!"
Rimer clapped both hands over his mouth.
"It seems even the Family Head is beginning to consider Raon as one of the successor candidates."
"What?"
"The Trainee years are a time when the individual matters more than looking after one's comrades. And yet you told Raon to try leading his peers. Was that not in preparation for the distant future—for the day he challenges the throne of House Zieghart?"
Glenn did not answer Rimer's pointed observation. He merely looked down at him in silence.
"You really do dote on him, don't you? You were never like this when you were raising the young masters…"
"Enough."
"Perhaps it is time you were a little more honest? Something like, 'Well done, my grandson. Come here and let Grandpa hug you. There, there—' Raon would love that…"
"Ri. Mer."
Glenn's presence surged. The Audience Chamber was not the only thing that trembled—the entire Lord's Palace began to shake.
"Mmph!"
Rimer wiped the grin off his face and shuffled several steps backward.
"Heh heh."
Just as Glenn's energy was about to boil over, Roen slipped between the two of them with a gentle laugh.
"A pleasant sight."
"What, exactly, is pleasant about this?"
"It has been nearly thirty years since I last saw the two of you teasing each other like this. And it has been a very long time since the Family Head reacted that way, too."
The memory of old years gathered in the creases at the corners of Roen's eyes.
"Hrm…"
"See? Lord Roen understands."
Glenn reined in his presence. Rimer put his smile back on.
"Ah—and there is something Raon did not mention."
"The South-North Alliance?"
"Yes. A young camp leader from that organization heard Raon's name and left."
"Why did you not stop him?"
"Raon's presence made the man back down first. It was not our territory, and he had acknowledged Raon, so I was reluctant to seize him."
"Hmph."
Glenn snorted, but he did not look particularly displeased.
"The last thing I want is nothing complicated. I simply wish you would be a little more honest with your grandson."
"I am always honest with everyone."
"Oh, please. If you were going to be honest, it would have to be at least this much."
Rimer clasped his hands behind his back like an actor taking the stage and cleared his throat with a theatrical ahem.
"Raon. You completed the mission so splendidly that I am bursting with pride. Now come give your grandpa a kiss. Just like that! Raon would be happy, the Family Head would be happy, and I, watching, would be happy! Everyone wins!"
"Hah…"
Glenn exhaled a long sigh and rose from the throne. A terrifying pressure, vast enough to swallow the world, flooded the Audience Chamber.
"I—I will be going, then. I have a drinking—no, an important appointment."
Rimer scratched the back of his head and edged backward out of the Audience Chamber.
"Tsk. He grows more shameless by the day."
Glenn clicked his tongue and lowered his hand.
"Even so, I found it a pleasure to watch. It was like seeing the two of you as you were when you used to take the continent to task."
Roen stepped aside, smiling faintly.
"Hrm."
Glenn said nothing. He folded his arms and leaned back.
"I suspect young master Raon is the reason things have come to this, so I find myself growing a little fonder of him as well."
"Fondness in private is one thing. But the successor candidates, and the children beneath them, must all be treated equally. That is the proper way."
"As you say."
Roen bowed with a smile, then straightened and looked at Glenn. Contrary to the words that had just left his mouth, the corners of Glenn's lips were curved a little higher than usual.
The moment Raon left the Lord's Palace, he headed for the Annex.
He had considered going straight to training, but putting Sylvia and the maids at ease came first. They would be worrying.
I have changed a little, too.
In his previous life, he would have ignored whoever was waiting and gone to do whatever needed doing. After being reborn, it was different. The people who had given him affection for the first time in his life deserved to come first.
When he arrived at the Annex, a noisy clamor spilled from inside.
This is how it should be.
The Annex was supposed to be loud and full of life. Already, he could feel himself settling.
Raon opened the door with a brighter face than usual—and his eyes flew wide. There was someone inside he had not expected at all.
"Dorian?"
Dorian was standing in the lobby, surrounded by Sylvia, Helen, and the maids.
"Oh, young master, you have returned?"
"What are you doing here?"
"Ah—well, my lady asked me to stop by once the mission was over and tell her what happened."
"Then that means…"
"Yes. I told them every last bit of your stirring exploits. Khk—"
Dorian wiped a tear that had been hanging at the corner of his eye.
"Young master."
"Ah, our young master Raon…"
Judging by the way the maids were dabbing at their eyes with their sleeves, he really had told them everything.
Oh, for…
He had planned to gloss over the details so Sylvia and Helen would not worry. He had never imagined they would summon Dorian themselves.
"Raon!"
"Young master!"
Sylvia and Helen came toward him at the same time, hands at their waists.
"Ah—it was not as if I went looking for trouble…"
"Well done!"
Before he could finish the excuse, Sylvia pulled him into a tight embrace and patted his back.
"Huh?"
The reaction was so far from what he had expected that Raon's eyes went wide.
"Did you really think I was going to scold you for that?"
"You are always telling me to be careful, so…"
"The first ancestor of the old House Zieghart took up the sword to protect the weak. From that day on, Zieghart has protected the powerless and the people who live in our domain."
A light like ruby flashed in Sylvia's red eyes.
"My own goal was to become a swordsman who carried that old Zieghart spirit. As if I would ever scold you for risking your life to save hostages."
She squeezed his hand. The warmth of it seemed to melt the fatigue right out of him.
"Mm-hmm!"
"It is true!"
"I have business at the Main House tomorrow—I will make sure to brag about it!"
Sylvia hugged him once more. Helen and the maids nodded beside her, eyes shining with tears.
I will never understand this.
Raon let out a faint sigh.
Emotions really are difficult things.
That did not mean he disliked their warmth.
And as for Dorian, that little—
He turned his head to look for Dorian, but the boy was nowhere to be seen.
That coward bolted a while ago.
That little—!
The boy really did have fast feet, if nothing else.
After finishing his meal at the Annex, Raon changed clothes and headed for the Fifth Training Ground. Sylvia and Helen had told him to rest for the day, but he wanted to move his body.
"Is that the boy?"
"That's him. Raon Zieghart."
"His build is nothing special, and his presence is so mild…"
"Still, it is a fact that he took down those bandits by himself."
"True enough. Rimer may be full of bluster, but he would not lie about something like that."
On the way to the training ground, the stares of the swordsmen were blatant. Word of the mission had already spread through the entire family.
That man, I swear…
It had Rimer's fingerprints all over it—the red-haired elf's handiwork, without a doubt. Raon sighed.
"Thirty bandits, including a mid-to-upper Intermediate swordsman, handled alone. That is no ordinary feat."
"They used to say he was dying of illness. Luck must have played a part."
After a lifetime of insults and dismissal, hearing words mixed with actual praise for nearly the first time felt a little strange. But a man's heart and mood were his own to decide. There was no need to care what anyone else said.
Raon let the swordsmen's muttering slide off him and entered the Fifth Training Ground. As expected, it was empty.
He loosened up lightly, then drew the sword at his waist. He raised it slowly and set it before his dantian—the middle stance. Holding the fundamental posture of a swordsman, he replayed the last fight in his mind.
I was a little slow.
The bandits had become a wall, but the chance to take the Snow Tiger Bandit Chief's head had been there from the very beginning. He had spent too much time because his reactions had lagged, his attention split between the children and the bandits.
What mattered in real combat was how fully you could bring out your original ability. By that measure, this battle could fairly be called a failure.
But…
Now he knew. He knew what the problem was, and he knew how to fix it. All he had to do was fill the gap, starting now.
My aura and my body are slightly out of step.
His body moved as he intended, but the aura followed a fraction late. Aura and body had to move as one, like the two blades of a pair of shears.
Raon steadied his breath and slowly raised his sword. Aura blooming from his dantian traveled along the blade. The movement was slow, yet the empty air split without mercy.
He had barely moved, and already his back was soaked with sweat. Because the motion was slow, it demanded even more strength.
Raon swung that slow sword until the energy of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames was completely spent. When the aura ran dry, he went into the Secluded Cultivation Chamber, cultivated, then came back out and swung the sword again. And so the first day of his return was wrung out in sweat.
A small tavern tucked into a back alley of the Zieghart Domain. A place that ought to have been noisy with many voices held only one man's.
"…And that is how our kids rescued the children the bandits had tied up. The bandit chief's blade was thick with aura, but Raon split that blade clean in two!"
The red-haired elf had climbed onto a table and was holding forth on Raon and Runaan's exploits as if delivering a speech. His face was flushed; he was thoroughly drunk.
"Ohh!"
"Has Rimer finally found his calling? He trained those kids well."
"Nah—he just got lucky with his students."
"True. That elf was never going to make a good teacher."
The people chuckling were not swordsmen, but ordinary townsfolk by the look of them.
"It is both! Both! My students are the finest Trainees in all of Zieghart right now. No—they would not lose to anyone from the Six Kings!"
Rimer grinned and dumped beer down his throat. An argument broke out at once between those who agreed as a matter of course and those who insisted the Sixth Training Ground and the other factions were nothing to sneeze at.
"Hey, no fighting. You heard a good story, so pay for it. I put everything on number five and lost it all. Today's revenge match is…"
He was setting down an empty mug with a scowl when a single gold coin dropped onto the table with a crisp clink.
"Hm?"
Rimer looked at the coin, then lifted his head.
A man with a fierce face, shoulders like a fortress, and the bearing of a general on the battlefield. Metun, chief instructor of the Sixth Training Ground.
"Metun? It has been a while."
"It has."
Metun nodded slowly.
"Well, thanks, anyway."
Metun reached for the gold coin he had set on the table, but it would not lift. Metun's finger was pinning it in place.
"Uh. You can let go of that now?"
"Can you stand by what you just said?"
"What did I say?"
"That the Fifth Training Ground is the strongest among Zieghart's Trainees."
"Of course my kids are the best."
"You always did love a wager."
Metun's eyes burned hot.
"How about a bet with me."