The Weight of Fenris
“Father...”
He'd just been scolded, so he tried calling him Father once, but it was a title he'd never used except in his childhood. It felt awkward on his tongue, and his voice wouldn't come out properly.
“...Family Head. Are you really going to give him Fenris?”
Kartan asked in a cautious tone.
“Of course. I've already said I would—do you think I'd go back on my word now?”
Kartan's rising sigh caught in his throat at Julius's impassive expression.
“You know full well what kind of meaning that sword holds, Family Head. Even that mad elf from the Sword Church sends envoys every year demanding Fenris back. And that's not all—the Crows from the west...”
“If we're comparing the two, the Crows are better. At least they're offering to buyFenris with money.”
Five hundred years ago, the Sword Ghost never married or had children.
But in a way, both the Sword Church and the Crows could be called the children he'd left behind.
The Crows would humbly deny it, claiming mere respect—but the Sword Church truly acted as if they were the Sword Ghost's offspring. After all, their leader, who'd dominated the church for five centuries, was the Sword Ghost's devoted follower.
“When that 500-year-old Sword Church leader finds out you've given the sword they ranted and raved for to a five-year-old grandson, she might just burst a vein and drop dead from rage.”
“A-are you serious?”
“What else would I be?”
“Family Head...!”
“My son.”
Julius's eyes darkened coldly. A piercing gaze like flashing sword light shot toward Kartan. He gasped and stumbled back a step under that stare.
“You—pure-blooded Alastor, my firstborn and Family Head. What on earth are you so worried about? Are you actually afraid of the Sword Church?”
“...”
“Fenris is a trophy our founder claimed after slaying the Sword Ghost. It became the Alastor family's property. The Sword Church leader may be unhinged, but she's not so far gone that she disrespects him.”
Julius spoke in a frosty voice as he stared at Fenris, embedded in the floor of the Sword Apex Hall.
“Five hundred years ago, when the Sword Ghost's followers weren't yet called the Sword Church and she wasn't their leader. That crazy elf challenged our founder to reclaim Fenris, lost, and retreated. Since then, she's never once come to Gladiheim herself to take it back.”
“That's...”
“Even after our founder ascended. In the five centuries she's lived, the Alastor Family Head has changed over ten times. Naturally, some were weaker than her. But as I said, she's never come demanding Fenris back. What do you think her reason is?”
“I... don't know.”
“Respect.”
Julius clicked his tongue at his eldest son's denseness and spelled it out.
“Unhinged or not, the Sword Church leader is a martial artist. She understands and respects why our founder took Fenris and never returned it. I haven't asked her directly, but she won't come for it herself until she's convinced she has the qualifications.”
“Qualifications...”
“Reaching the level of our founder, who defeated her and the Sword Ghost five hundred years ago. Or attaining the Sword Ghost's own sword realm—that would be her proof.”
“I-in that case, shouldn't we safeguard Fenris even more carefully?”
“Kartan. Kartan Alastor.”
Julius let out a deep sigh. Whoosh! A massive aura erupted from him, crashing over Kartan. Unable to withstand it, Kartan dropped to one knee.
“Safeguard? Did you just say safeguard? She's not the unhinged one—the mad one is you.”
“Urk...!”
“If the Sword Church leader came demanding Fenris, would you hand-deliver it to her on a platter?”
“N-no...!”
“Of course not. If she shows up and I'm still Family Head, I'll face her myself. If you're Family Head by then, you will.”
“...”
“I've given Fenris to my young grandson today, but that changes nothing about the Family Head's duties. If anything, it makes them clearer because I, the Family Head, bestowed it. Kartan Alastor. My grandson—your nephew—what's his name?”
“Kyle... Alastor.”
“Right. An Alastor, just like us. If the Sword Church leader tries to harm that boy over Fenris, what do we do?”
“We... follow the Family Head's decision. If an outsider defies it and insults the Alastors, we fight the Sword Church.”
“Now that's more like it.”
Julius withdrew his aura.
“Of course, nothing that extreme will happen. She's not that kind of lunatic. But she might drop by out of curiosity.”
“C-curi...osity?”
“Wouldn't you be? Fenris, gathering dust as a display for five hundred years, handed to the family's youngest. And a spirit summoner to boot... No way she ignores that. Even I'm intrigued.”
Julius quietly watched Kartan steady his breathing.
The eldest of nine siblings, Kartan Alastor.
Exceptional talent, but too soft—that was his flaw. Kindly put, compassionate; harshly, spineless. Still, you couldn't entirely blame him; his presence had kept the nine siblings from major conflicts, maintaining a fragile peace.
Kartan had never lorded his position over his younger siblings. He always looked out for them and distinguished major from minor matters well.
He occasionally showed excessive fear toward untouchable entities, like just now. But Kartan was essential for peace in the Sword Tower. And he took a firm stance on family rules, accepting he might not become Family Head despite being the eldest.
That's why Julius had included him to verify Kyle's potential.
“Arian.”
“Yes, Father.”
Even as her eldest brother dutifully called him Family Head, Arian still called Julius Father. In fact, among his children, she was the only one who did.
“How do you think we should raise my grandson?”
“You're... asking my opinion?”
“He's your son too.”
“...”
Arian hesitated, never expecting to be consulted on child-rearing.
“To be honest, I assumed you'd raise him as you saw fit.”
“Did I raise you as I wanted?”
“...”
“I show the path but never force you down it. That's why I didn't complain when you set aside the sword.”
“Wasn't it because I had greater talent for spirit arts?”
“That's true too. Without that talent, you wouldn't have stayed in the Sword Tower. It's only natural.”
Julius's words were cold, but Arian no longer felt they were heartless like in her childhood.
Julius was both her father and the Alastor Family Head.
“Kyle... loves swords. Even before coming to Gladiheim, he kept asking me for one. Did you know? At one year old, his first word to me was ‘sword.’”
“Born for it. Maybe the memories of our 500-year bloodline are etched into him.”
“I think so too, but... Kyle has talent for spirit arts as well. Communing with a spirit in an object—something even I can't do. Rare even among elves.”
“So. You want to raise Kyle as a spirit summoner?”
“I already told you—he loves swords.”
Arian gave a wry smile and shook her head.
“If Kyle wants to hold a sword, we let him. But if he wants to learn spirit arts too... I'd like to help.”
She couldn't commune with goblins, but ordinary spirit arts she could teach. If Kyle showed interest, she'd pour her heart into it for her son.
“Mastering one path is hard enough for humans.”
“Kyle's no ordinary child. You've seen it yourself, Father.”
“Better than I was at his age, that's for sure. Makes me greedy. I wonder how far he'll go with just the sword.”
“So... you'll raise Kyle how you want?”
“No forcing. But I can ask. Fortunately, your son approaches me calling me Grandfather.”
“What if Kyle wants to learn spirit arts?”
“A little persuasion wouldn't hurt.”
Julius's lips curved into a sly smile. Arian inwardly sighed in relief.
She'd worried Kyle's displayed talent might make Julius overbearing, or that his other gift might be trampled.
But Julius didn't seem inclined to raise his grandson so brutally. He intended to respect Kyle's ‘talents.’
“Then... will you personally guide Kyle, Family Head?”
Kartan, finally catching his breath, staggered to his feet.
“I can play with my grandson, but formal guidance is too early.”
“Shall I select a sword instructor from the vassals?”
“Hm...”
Julius pondered briefly before speaking.
“I'll think on it more. While playing with my grandson.”
His curved eyes glanced at the closed doors of the Sword Apex Hall. Kartan couldn't help feeling confused.
It was absurd, but right now, Julius seemed like an ordinary grandfather eagerly awaiting his grandson's visit.
He's never made that face for my kids...>
But he couldn't resent Julius for it. Kartan himself had seen him more as Family Head than father since childhood, and so had his children and the other nephews and nieces.
Sigh...
Feeling a mix of disappointment and guilt, Kartan bowed his head.
Thud.
Following Lucia out of the Sword Apex Hall, Kyle found the relatives waiting in the corridor.
“What? Why are just you two out?”
The burliest uncle, Barkas, demanded arrogantly. A petty jerk who'd envied Arian's red hair and golden eyes since childhood.
“Grandpa said to show me around the castle.”
Kyle deliberately said ‘Grandpa’ loud enough for all to hear. Barkas's mouth fell open dumbly. With his bearish bulk and big head, the gaping maw made his face look even larger.
“G-Grand... Family Head? You called the Family Head that?”
“Yeah.”
“You impudent brat, daring to call the Family Head...”
“Is calling Grandpa ‘Grandpa’ impudent?”
Kyle blinked innocently. Barkas flapped his lips, at a loss for words.
“The Family Head ordered me to guide Kyle through the Sword Tower.”
Lucia, tears wiped clean, spoke maturely.
“Lucia.”
Barkas's massive frame was shoved aside.
It was Katarina. Eyeing the two wooden swords Lucia carried, she asked:
“Who won?”
“...Kyle did.”
Her steady voice shrank. At the hesitant answer, Katarina's eyes widened, and the other relatives mirrored her shock.
“Lucia lost?”
“No way...”
The cousin kids Kyle's age whispered. Under everyone's gaze, Kyle puffed out his chest proudly. Victory over an eight-year-old wasn't shameful—even Kyle was only five now.
“So many questions, but...”
Katarina recovered first, glancing at the Sword Apex Hall doors before stepping aside.
“The Family Head's command comes first. Go on.”
“Thank you, Katarina.”
“Thanks, Aunt Katarina.”
Katarina's eyes shook again at Kyle's beaming grin. Amid the stares, Kyle followed Lucia down the Sword Tower's first-floor corridor.
Why do these stuck-up nobles freak out every time I use family terms? What's the deal with how they address each other?
Grandpa shocked at ‘Grandpa.’ Uncle at ‘Uncle.’ Aunt at ‘Aunt.’
This family's got zero human warmth.
He'd known noble houses were dysfunctional and cold from his past life. Even in this post-dark age era, in the very family that ended it.
At least no fratricide. Small mercies.
Thinking back, Ruin Alastor descended the mountains due to imperial fratricide over the throne. The Alastors might taboo it.
Still... as long as it's not killing or true hatred, a little sibling rivalry's fine.
Among the relatives they'd passed, plenty he wanted to spar with someday.