A Footwork Worthy of You
Raon told Roen he understood, then left the Lord's Palace.
What's he thinking?
He couldn't tell whether Roen had meant it—whether Glenn truly intended to give him the gift that had been withheld, or whether he wanted to ask more questions about Eden.
I still can't get a read on him.
Through countless experiences, Raon had learned to parse people's minds at least a little. Glenn's inner thoughts, however, remained as opaque as a bank of fog.
"Raon!"
The moment he stepped out of the Lord's Palace, a familiar voice called his name. Sylvia came running, her eyes rimmed red, her lip caught between her teeth.
"Oh, heavens!"
She dropped to her knees without a thought for the hem of her dress dragging on the floor, and began inspecting him from head to toe.
"I-I heard you fought Eden! Is your arm all right? And what's this with your waist?!"
"I'm fine. It's almost completely healed."
Raon smiled gently. The medicine Rimer had applied was so effective that he was nearly fully recovered.
"I…"
Sylvia stared at the thick bandages wrapped around his arm, his waist, his thigh, and bit down hard on her lip. Tears hung at the brink of falling.
Ah. That's right…
She had lost her husband and her first daughter to Eden. He had been too thoughtless.
"Mother. I—"
"I regretted it."
Sylvia lowered her head. The hands gripping his arm trembled.
"Before you left on that mission, I told you I wanted you to show me what it meant to be a Zieghart."
"Ah…"
"When I heard you'd fought the Green Lightning Demon alone—that you'd stood in the Blood-Crazed Demon's path to save everyone—I truly regretted it."
The tears that had been clinging to her lashes finally fell.
"I was afraid you'd made that choice because of what I said. I really…"
Her words came out broken through her tears, but Raon felt exactly what she was trying to say—exactly what she felt—settle into his chest.
"I wasn't just a failed swordsman. I was a failed mother…"
"I'm grateful to you, actually."
He took her trembling hands in his. The warmth of his palms seemed to speak for the heart she couldn't put into words.
"G-grateful?"
"Yes."
He nodded, a faint smile on his lips.
"When I was fighting the Blood-Crazed Demon alone, I thought about a lot of things. Should I run? How? Should I give Burren orders and slip away by myself? If I used the trainees and the villagers as bait and fled, couldn't I survive?"
Raon looked into Sylvia's trembling eyes with a faintly embarrassed gaze.
"That's when I heard your voice. The words you said—'I want you, at least, to live like a swordsman of the Zieghart of old.'"
It was the truth. If Sylvia's voice hadn't echoed in his ears, he would have abandoned the village chief and run without looking back.
"Ah…"
"Without those words, I would have abandoned everyone, fled, and died. And even if I'd lived, I would have spent the rest of my life regretting it. I never would have been able to pick up a sword again."
He let the dizzying emotion of that moment out with a cold breath.
"The reason I stood in front of the Blood-Crazed Demon and fought to the end was because of what you said. You don't need to be sorry. You don't need to regret it."
Why am I fighting the Blood-Crazed Demon? Why do I have to be everyone else's shield? What had carried him through that moment of agony was a choice he had made himself—because of her words.
"Hic…"
Sylvia's held-back sobs finally broke. She had been carrying that weight in her heart ever since she'd heard the news about Eden.
"It's all right."
Raon murmured the same words Sylvia had spoken to him since he was small, and gently stroked her back.
Raon stayed by Sylvia's side until she fell into an exhausted sleep, then left her room. Helen was waiting outside the door.
"To think the young master who was once so small and so young would be the one comforting Madam… I could die now without a single regret."
Helen covered the corners of her eyes with her fingers, pretending to cry.
"Regrets, nothing. Live a long, long life. I'll make sure you and Mother live in luxury."
"Your words alone are more than enough, young master."
"I don't intend to stop at words."
Raon waved a hand and closed Sylvia's door.
"Then I shall wait with a joyful heart."
"Do that."
He nodded and went into his own room. In the darkness behind drawn curtains, a slender figure stood waiting.
"Judiel."
He already knew who she was, so he called her name as he sat down on the bed.
"Yes, young master."
Judiel, who had been standing by the window, dropped to her knees before him and bowed. Her expression had gone as hard and cold as marble.
"What's the situation?"
"An order has come down from the Heavy Martial Palace for me to return. It seems I am to be disposed of."
"Hrm…"
Raon looked down at the crown of Judiel's head and clicked his tongue.
Taking it out on her, is he?
It was Karun Zieghart who had sent Judiel to the Annex. She hadn't even managed to bring him the news that Raon had reached Expert, and Raon had thoroughly provoked him in the Audience Chamber just a short while ago. It seemed Karun had decided to dispose of her.
Still…
Even with her life hanging by a thread, Judiel remained composed. After seeing her freeze in terror by the lake, he'd thought she was ordinary—but it seemed her training as a spy had been thorough.
"Do you want to live?"
Raon spoke slowly, in a tone that suggested he didn't particularly care whether she lived or died. Of course, inwardly, he fully intended to save her. He wasn't about to throw away a double agent he'd gone to the trouble of securing.
"……"
Judiel slowly raised her head. Her pupils trembled like a lake under moonlight. Just as he'd sensed the first time he met her, she still clung to life.
"I'll tell you how to survive."
"Pardon?"
"Don't go to the Heavy Martial Palace. Send a letter instead. Tell them you've become Raon Zieghart's personal maid."
"Ah…"
"If you say my mother chose you because she's worried about my condition, they won't suspect a thing."
Raon pointed to the wounds wrapped in bandages. Word had spread that his injuries were far more serious than they actually were, so this approach would work without fail. On top of that, Karun would think that having his planted spy become Raon's direct attendant would make it even easier to extract proper information.
"Th-that is true. But why would you show me such consideration…"
"It isn't consideration. Throwing away a double agent on a whim would be a waste for me, too."
"Mm…"
"I'll even give you a piece of good information. Everyone thinks my injuries are severe, but I've already recovered quite a bit. I plan to train at the Annex while pretending to recuperate."
Without the slightest hesitation, Raon handed Judiel information about the extent of his injuries.
"The only people who know this are the Patriarch and Instructor Rimer. If you take this to them, you can prove you're still useful."
"Th-that would work."
Judiel nodded, her jaw still trembling.
"Then what are you still doing here?"
He pointed at the door with a finger.
"Go write that information on a slip of paper and send it. And if you don't get your expression under control, they'll see right through you."
"Y-yes, sir!"
Judiel cupped her cheeks in her hands, bowed her head, and left the room.
Every last thing you say and do is pathetic. What do you even intend to do with a worthless spy like that?
She'll be the trap that lets me stab Karun Zieghart in the back. And besides…
Raon muttered inwardly as he looked at the door, barely visible in the dark.
She reminds me of who I used to be.
Raon had been lying on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, but the moment the moon reached the center of the sky, he sat up. Not because of the appointed hour—because he'd sensed a presence outside the window.
"I'm glad you were waiting."
He opened the window to find Roen smiling genially.
"After what you said, I could hardly go to sleep."
Raon slung a coat over his shoulders and climbed out the window.
"So what did you mean by what you said earlier?"
He spoke as he looked into Roen's wrinkled eyes.
"How could I possibly know the full extent of the Patriarch's intentions? You'll understand once you see for yourself."
"Hrm…"
He'd asked because he wanted to know what it meant, but Roen, as expected, was not so easily handled. He clearly knew, and just as clearly refused to answer.
They headed toward the Lord's Palace, exchanging light conversation along the way. Strangely, the presence of the swordsmen who normally stood guard in the area had vanished.
There's no one here.
Following Roen, Raon entered the Lord's Palace without encountering a single soul. Even the maids, attendants, and swordsmen who guarded the interior were nowhere to be seen. Roen had clearly dismissed everyone in advance.
"Hrm…"
His chest pounded with a nameless unease and tension.
"There's no need to be so tense. What you accomplished was a proud achievement, after all."
So saying, he opened the doors of the Audience Chamber. The massive doors parted to either side, and light poured out from within.
At the Discrimination Ceremony it had been dazzling; this afternoon it had been sharp and clear. Now the light was soft, a glow that put the heart at ease.
Raon followed Roen into the Audience Chamber. Glenn Zieghart, who had been sitting on the throne as still as a statue, opened his eyes.
Hah…
That alone was enough to fill the once-tranquil chamber with tension once more.
"I present myself before the Patriarch."
"That's enough."
The moment Raon moved to drop to one knee and bow his head, his body froze as if it had turned to stone.
This energy…
It wasn't his own will. Glenn had stopped his body with nothing but his voice.
He really is…
A thrill ran through Raon at this other realm of martial mastery as he lifted his head.
Glenn gazed down at him steadily, then let the hand propping his chin fall away.
"Raon Zieghart."
"Yes, Patriarch."
At the summons, Raon lowered his head, his neck trembling.
"What are your thoughts on footwork?"
Footwork.
Footwork was the art of walking. Attack, defense, evasion, even flight—footwork was what carved the most efficient path of movement in any situation.
"I believe it is the most important martial discipline there is. A warrior's life or death is decided by how far they have mastered it."
"Hrm."
Glenn nodded so slightly it was almost invisible. It might have been a satisfying answer. It might not have been.
"What footwork did you use when you fought the Green Lightning Demon and the Blood-Crazed Demon?"
"I used the Garam Footwork."
He had used not only the Garam Footwork but also the Shadowless Step he'd learned in his previous life—but he didn't mention that.
"The Garam Footwork is fine enough to keep using even after reaching a higher realm, but its lines are too simple."
He was right. The Garam Footwork was an excellent art, but it contained only the most fundamental forms. The Shadowless Step, on the other hand, was a footwork built around evasion and stealth—which made it even more half-baked than the Garam Footwork, except when assassinating someone.
He'd been planning to ask for a new footwork art if he received additional plaques as a reward. That plan had gone completely off the rails.
"Raon."
Just as he was clicking his tongue in disappointment, Glenn called his name again.
"At the noon meritorious service ceremony, I rewarded you with a silver plaque for taking the Green Lightning Demon's head and holding out against the Blood-Crazed Demon. But I gave you nothing for uncovering their purpose."
Raon swallowed without meaning to. From everything Glenn had said so far, he could already guess what was coming next.
"As compensation for bringing back Eden's purpose, I shall teach you a footwork that befits you."
Glenn rose from the throne. It felt as though Mount Elyst—said to be the tallest peak on the continent—had risen before Raon's eyes.
He walked down from the dais and extended his right foot forward, his left foot back. His bearing was as lofty as a noble's, and as fierce as a general on the battlefield.