Chapter 22
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Wandering Duke Aselheit (1)
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"How about removing the tent from the carriage and traveling like that, Sir Edwin? This massive centipede is bound to draw a huge crowd, after all."
"Is that alright? Though if we do, people will flock to us..."
"Hahaha. Sure, the escort soldiers might have a tough time, but we can compensate them accordingly, can't we? It's well worth the risk."
"Thank you, Count Berger."
The moment Izrelin Tolome's condition improved, both the Tolome Family and the Neuendorf Family dispatched an investigation team toward the white-clawed figure said to have brought the Moonlight Grass for Blanc.
From Neuendorf, Count Berger himself stepped up, his body feverish from the Moonlight Grass. From Tolome, Edwin volunteered as the leader, eager to inspect his disciple's accomplishment.
'This fool! If you keep rushing out like that, who's going to protect me? What kind of knightly escort is that!'
When Edwin, as the investigation team's leader, expressed his desire to examine the centipede Blanc had slain, Bartolomeo Tolome grumbled. But both men knew it was said in jest.
Edwin was fifty-six this year.
Come next year—not far off—he'd be fifty-seven.
Even the Knight of Swiftness had reached the age where retirement from active duty loomed.
Edwin had lived a knight's life without shame, but one regret lingered: he had no disciple to pass his swordsmanship to.
"Then we'll open the tent, my lord."
"The praises for Baron Blanc are already ringing out far and wide. If they see this too, his popularity won't fade anytime soon."
"Hahaha! He's still just a greenhorn with much to learn."
"With such an excellent master at his side, we'll soon have another knight representing the Felix Kingdom."
Yet the boy he'd met in his later years had long dispelled that final worry.
At Berger's command, the soldiers pulled back the carriage tent, revealing a colossal black centipede in all its glory.
Its sheer size demanded it be quartered and loaded onto multiple carriages, but the effort was justified.
No one could pass by such an overwhelming monster without a second glance.
Many would see this centipede, and with it, rumors of Blanc slaying the grotesque, ferocious beast would spread.
"This sturdy exoskeleton is impressive even on second look. Baltimore's armor smiths would drool over it."
"Insect-type monsters' shells are always popular with craftsmen. Knights seek them out for being both tough and light."
The hard yet lightweight shells of insect monsters were in high demand.
They couldn't be repaired if damaged—a drawback offset by their superior qualities.
"The shell is one thing, but who knows? This centipede might harbor an essence it's accumulated over time. For something this size, it's entirely plausible."
"No guarantees, but I agree—it's likely."
Long-lived monsters sometimes formed essences within themselves.
Depending on use, these could enhance a knight's aura or bolster vitality—true treasures beyond price.
This giant centipede looked ancient and extraordinary, so it might well possess one.
The pity was its tough shell prevented immediate dissection.
They'd have to wait until returning to Tolome lands for proper work.
"Hard to believe even now. How did a fourteen-year-old boy pierce that armor with his sword?"
"Ahem, ahem."
Edwin coughed awkwardly and looked away, but Count Berger didn't miss the old knight's lip curl in pride.
More than the shell or potential essence, what swelled Edwin's heart was the arming sword embedded between the centipede's brows.
More precisely, the mark it had left.
Crude, yes—but unmistakably the trace of the Knight of Swiftness Edwin's signature ultimate technique: the Descending Meteor Shower.
"Impressive as this centipede is, it pales next to your discovery, Count Berger."
"It's just a withered seed. I wonder if it's even viable."
Edwin beamed at his disciple's handiwork, but Berger's joy—riding beside him—ran deeper.
While Edwin retrieved the cliffside centipede, Berger had investigated the Moonlight Grass cave.
There, he found withered seeds.
Placed where the Moonlight Grass had been, they were likely its seeds. No other plants nearby supported that theory.
And if these truly were Moonlight Grass seeds?
It would be a discovery for the ages.
The stuff of legends, after all.
Succeed in germinating them?
The entire continent—beyond Felix Kingdom—would be stunned.
"I can only thank Lord Bartolomeo for yielding rights to these seeds."
"They've found their way home. Even the greatest treasure means nothing if unusable, right?"
A master alchemist like Berger was ideal for them, but Tolome had options too: hire their own or sell at a premium.
Yet they'd forfeited all gains, handing the seeds to Count Berger.
"Even so, it's treasure incarnate..."
"Hahaha! If it weighs on you so, why not have Count Neuendorf gift a prized treasure of his own? To Baron Blanc, the original owner."
Yielding the seeds wasn't mere efficiency. It was Bartolomeo's unspoken pressure.
"Truly, young Blanc's future excites. I'd love to watch his growth up close, if possible. Hahaha."
Blanc wouldn't resent Bartolomeo handling "his" seeds. Ultimately, he'd leveraged them for Blanc's benefit.
Though roundabout, Edwin had received positive word on Blanc's marriage prospects—and it lifted his spirits.
"What's going on?"
"Sir Edwin, an old man is blocking the procession ahead."
But that mood didn't last.
Shouts erupted from the vanguard.
Sure enough, a staff-wielding elder barred the way, as the soldier reported.
"Who dares block the path of Tolome and Neuendorf?"
Banners bearing those families' crests fluttered at head and tail.
Near the capital, no one would miss the emblems of Felix's high houses.
So there must be reason to obstruct despite knowing.
"Well? If it's just one geezer, handle it yourselves."
They'd uncovered the tent to spread Blanc's feat. Ideally, without incident.
Yet despite Edwin's sharp order, the soldier dithered.
"What are you doing? Didn't you hear me?"
"It's... the soldiers who charged to remove him were all subdued."
"What?"
This was an elite squad from Tolome's private forces. Subdued by one old man?
"And... he insists on seeing you personally, Sir Edwin. Won't budge an inch."
"Me?"
A mystery elder subduing soldiers while demanding him.
Edwin sensed dire portent in a master seeking him out.
"I'll be right back."
"Go ahead."
Feeling the gravity, Edwin spurred forward.
Indeed, some twenty soldiers lay scattered, subdued by the elder.
'Who is he?'
Non-aura users, yet skilled elites. Overwhelmed solo?
And not one killed amid twenty foes.
Subduing outranked killing in difficulty. The blocker was undoubtedly a master.
Edwin drew his sword and approached the hooded elder.
"State your identity, old man!"
Face obscured, but wrinkled skin confirmed age.
"The Knight of Swiftness, Edwin. It's been ages."
Wizened as an ancient tree.
Yet Edwin felt extraordinary presence belying the rags.
Instinctively hand on hilt, poised for Descending Meteor Shower.
"Who calls my name so freely?"
Sensing mastery, Edwin sought an opening—but found none.
'No gaps.'
Arms dangling naturally like rooted oak—no sword's entry.
Sweat beaded as Edwin gripped his drawn blade without striking. The elder spoke pityingly.
"No need to strain yourself."
"...Who are you?"
Behind, Berger—sensing trouble—readied reagents, chanting and forming hand seals.
Deadlock alone proved the elder superior, but with Berger, Edwin steeled for battle.
"Wait just a moment. I'll show you my face."
Tension taut as drawn bowstring.
A powder keg.
Yet the elder casually doffed his hood. Edwin watched for openings—but froze in disbelief, lowering his sword.
"My God... the Wandering Duke... Lord Aselheit..."
"I must've vanished from the world too long. Only old knights like you recognize me now."
Time flows; eras' heroes fade.
But some transcend as legends.
The Wandering Duke Aselheit.
A swordsman of legend.