Rising at the Crossroads (1)
“Who is this Benny?”
“You think that matters right now?”
Of course it does. Some unknown bitch is sticking to my precious junior.
But Aspen didn’t say it out loud. Even someone with her fiery temper had that much self-control. Santra’s eyes bored through the veil, staring as if demanding to know where she had sold Andau off to. Yet Aspen met the gaze brazenly, staring at the ceiling with the attitude of someone who knew what was done was done. Of course, her heart hammered wildly inside her chest.
The elf who looked like a peer was nothing but a shell. Those desolate eyes, like ancient ruins, could not belong to any human. The being Aspen faced was an old monster who had lived for hundreds of years. If her father was right, the Grand Arena Owner was one of the highest powers in the Heavens. For reasons unknown, she had tormented Nathan to his limits, coerced betrayal from her family, nearly killed Aspen only to revive her again. A ruler whose heart was as black as the clothes she wore.
So if Aspen wanted to learn why the woman had done such things, she had to climb high enough to at least overhear the answers. Keep friends close. Keep enemies closer. That was the family motto handed down through the Peres line.
Santra, who had been sizing her up, spoke abruptly.
“You look like hell.”
Aspen glared at the polished ceiling that served as a mirror. A battered woman glared back, as if asking what she planned to do about it. Bruised everywhere and wrapped in bandages, she was little more than a rag. But if there were a contest for who looked the most wrecked, Aspen would not take first place. At least one person in this world was definitely worse off than her.
That was some consolation, but claiming she was fine would be a lie.
“I can manage.”
“I’m truly glad to hear that. But you’re not suggesting you’ll escort me in that state, are you? The escort I summoned was Andau Peres, head of the Peres family.”
In one hour, the woman would head to the eastern center to observe a trial. A visitor could bring only one escort to the courtroom. Aspen had no intention of yielding that single spot to anyone. Because the defendant in that trial was Nathan.
“Then why did a wreck like you show up instead of Andau?”
Why indeed. Aspen fought to keep her face from twisting. She didn’t want to show weakness in front of the enemy trying to reclaim Nathan. But the pain from her broken nose showed no sign of easing. Andau had crossed the threshold of fifty long ago, yet his fist struck with the same ferocity as in his prime.
A father striking his young daughter with the hand that held a sword was hardly something to brag about. But if anyone called him a pathetic father for it, Andau would feel deeply wronged. Andau Peres was a man who loved his daughter. He had simply done everything he could to protect himself. Unfortunately, he had failed. Quite miserably.
“It seems he couldn’t manage. He’s probably lying in bed right now, reflecting on his own weakness.”
“…For words spoken to the father who raised you, that’s remarkably artistic.”
The black veil the woman wore trembled. The corner of her mouth was twitching. The expression was closer to interest than anger. Aspen felt both flustered and relieved at once.
“After I pulled you from the incinerator and saved your life, you immediately helped Nathan Maia escape. When I entrusted your family with punishing you so you would reflect, you burst out of the room and beat your own father. Are you in your right mind?”
Of course not. Even looking back on it herself, every action had been madness. Aspen steadied herself. To survive, she had to choose her words with care. She had sought to seize control of the family, not to turn its members into a band of refugees.
“I apologize for what happened last time. However, I will not apologize regarding Andau. The weak cannot sit at the head of Peres.”
The woman’s eyes glittered with interest. Aspen sensed that a path had opened.
“Explain.”
“The Peres family was once a royal house. A royal house duty-bound to protect its people must be a beast, not a human. That is why the strongest has always led the family.”
It was true that they had once settled leadership through duels. The tradition began when the Peres were military commanders and lasted until the end of their history as a kingdom. But it was also half a lie. After that, the custom had nearly died out.
There were two reasons the tradition faded. After the Peres kingdom joined the Federation, the need arose for a clear representative. And Andau, hailed as the greatest talent in Peres history, had inherited the family. But Peres was no longer part of the Federation, and the strongest of Peres had changed only hours earlier.
“Hmm. What I wanted were combat specialists from the lower world, not a pack of scoundrels committing pathetic little uprisings.”
“Of course this uprising is valid only within the Peres family. Even if the lead dog changes among the shepherd’s hounds, the pack’s loyalty still belongs to the shepherd. The hilt of the Peres sword remains firmly in your grasp.”
She could not yet escape the woman’s shadow. She had aimed to claim dominion over the family, not to turn them into wanderers. This was not the Federation. It was the unfamiliar land called the Heavens, ruled by immortal elves. Humans who belonged to no Eleim here were said to be reduced to wretched slaves, or worse, to food.
So the Peres would follow the woman. Just as the previous head had decreed. Of course, if the day came when that assistance was no longer needed…
Aspen neatly folded her killing intent and hid it behind an expressionless mask. Not yet. Not yet.
The woman, who could conveniently conceal her face thanks to the veil, tilted her head as if deliberately showing curiosity.
“Why should I respect that immoral custom?”
“Because then you can always keep the best at your side.”
“The best?”
Aspen rapped her dented breastplate with a loud clang. The gesture was deliberate, meant to look reliable yet somewhat thoughtless.
“I am now the strongest of the Peres. Would you really use a dull blade to protect yourself?”
A sound like steam hissing from a kettle. Aspen, who had been forcing her gaze to remain on the ceiling, unconsciously lowered her eyes. It was a groan of suppressed laughter. The Grand Arena Owner had turned her head away and was shaking with mirth. Worried her profile might show through the veil, she pressed the fabric tight against her cheek. The woman who had fought her in a battle to the death eventually doubled over, slapping her knee as she laughed.
“Pa-ha-ha!”
Terror flooded Aspen. Would it feel like this if a demon from the abyss entered a monastery and began reading the scriptures of humanity? The enemy was doing something she had never imagined, and doing it openly. Had she made some fatal mistake? Should she have simply stayed quiet instead of challenging for family succession? Unease spread heavily through Aspen’s stomach… or perhaps it was simply the bruise from where she had been kicked in the ribs.
“Oh dear… pfft. I wasn’t going to say this, but the more I look at you, the more I like you.”
The woman, having caught her breath, even dabbed at the corner of her eye. Her gaze, dry only moments before, had grown moist.
“This is why the encounters life throws at you can sometimes be burdensome. The more you learn about someone, the harder it becomes to treat them as a disposable card.”
A chill raced down Aspen’s spine just as she had been about to feel relieved. What?
“Yes. You heard correctly. I said it’s hard to use you as a card to throw away. These words are my reward for the effort you’re making. Facing an unfamiliar environment, what you need most right now is to understand the situation, so this should serve as a small hint. I, Santra, have already staked your life as a bet once before. I intended to use you to achieve my goal whether you lived or died. Now I deeply regret that I ever did so.”
“I see.”
Aspen could not speak for a moment.
“I see.”
She had suspected it. But hearing the culprit admit it to her face was an entirely different matter.
“You probably want to ask whether the same thing could happen again.”
Aspen affirmed with silence. The woman gestured for her to turn around. After a brief hesitation, Aspen obeyed. Slowly enough to avoid showing fear, but not so slowly that she would be vulnerable to a surprise attack. Santra, who had been drawing closer from behind, passed her the instant Aspen’s wrist twitched. Walking ahead, the woman smiled faintly.
“This way.”
----------
“I expected you to be angry.”
“I can punish you, but there’s no need to get angry. There are certainly fools in the world who believe everything must move according to their will. But I am not one of those idiots.”
A spire rose proudly in the rear garden of a mansion covered in green vines. Every kind of battle and death had been carved into its entrance. Only after stepping inside did Aspen realize what the place resembling a king’s tomb truly was. The Grand Arena Owner had brought her to an armory.
Santra told her to choose whatever she wanted, saying it was only proper for the escort of a great noble.
“Choose only what you can carry out in your hands. Nothing more. That is my punishment.”
A forest of cool metallic light. The woman’s suspicious smile. Caught between them, Aspen eventually stopped trying to read the room and decided to select a few blades. They were far too tempting to refuse.
She ran her fingers over every edge and marveled. The level of metallurgy was on another plane. Every piece of iron was as flexible as a living flower yet as hard as lightning. Could it be that the blacksmiths of the Heavens all reached the level of true masters simply because they had lived so long?
“I’ve gathered only masterpieces, so any warrior would be delighted. However…”
Like a child who had discovered a hill covered in blooming flowers, Aspen examined the weapons with frantic intensity. For a Lion Wing Knight and avid weapon enthusiast, the sight was overwhelmingly stimulating. Another weapon lover flashed through her mind. Nathan would have loved this.
Her fingertips curled for a moment before she moved on to the next blade without showing it. Then she stopped dead in front of one particular sword.
“…There are always a few that stand out. I knew you would choose that one.”
“This is…”
Upon the carefully oiled and wickedly sharp blade, patterns of meteoric iron gleamed. Simply looking at it made her fingers tingle with the perfect balance. It was an incomparable work of art, yet what Aspen felt was not joy. It was confusion.
“It’s the Orc’s Guillotine.”
“The original, yes. The meteoric iron longsword that serves as the symbol of the Peres family.”
Aspen touched her own waist. The hilt that met her trembling hand was slightly wider than the one on that sword. Yet when she drew her blade, the edge was like a twin. Without setting them side by side, the difference would be impossible to notice. The faint but beautiful wave-like pattern formed by mixed metals. Both of them.
But now that she looked closely, the Orc’s Guillotine in her hand showed traces of artificial craftsmanship in the pattern on its blade. The sword she had taken from her father was not a true meteoric iron longsword. It was a dwarf-made Damascus blade crafted to resemble one as closely as possible.
“Just what…”
“You want to know why something identical to your family’s sword is in my possession?”
No. What the hell are you?
Aspen glared at the woman, suppressing the tremor in her shoulders while holding the drawn sword. The veiled woman’s pale fingers rested on the tip of Aspen’s blade. For a moment Aspen felt the violent urge to sever those fingers. She could not clearly explain why.
“To be clear, your sword is the fake. The one I possess is the original. The true guillotine that Andau lost during a desperate battle with orcs long ago.”
Aspen crushed down her roiling emotions. Cutting the fingers of an unarmed opponent was not the act of a Lion Wing Knight. Even if that opponent was a mage, the rule held. She moved the blade away from the woman’s hand and sheathed it.
The Grand Arena Owner let out a satisfied chuckle.
“Of course a sword can simply be reforged, but the family history it carries cannot be replaced. So Andau sought out the dwarves and commissioned a replica of the lost blade. However, he ordered the hilt to be made differently from the original.”
The order had been to engrave the severed head of an orc. Aspen nodded. Someone had learned that he visited the dwarves and might ask the reason…
“You deliberately created an excuse. Not that you forged a new sword, but that you modified the hilt to commemorate victory.”
“Yes. As the one who originally bestowed that blade, I find it regrettable. The original hilt carried its own meaning.”
Bestowed? What did that mean? The Orc’s Guillotine had been with the Peres family since the time of its founder. Hundreds of years ago, the ancestor who followed a meteor that fell from the sky…
Oh god.
Aspen fought desperately not to draw the sword again. If she could, she would have kicked the woman’s knees out from under her, forced her to the ground, and pressed the blade to her throat. She wanted to scream, Who the hell are you, Santra?
But Aspen did not threaten her. Therefore the veiled woman did not confess. Instead, Santra told a different story.
“Actually, even calling it the ‘true guillotine’ is imprecise. The name Orc’s Guillotine only came after Andau’s victory. This sword’s original name is Crossroads.”
It had worn slightly from passing through dozens of owners, but the simple pattern made it easy to recognize. On the hilt, a forked road had been carved.
“Just like the one you threw at me this morning. And like the one I threw at Nathan Maia… Eventually we all face trials we never wanted. A pitiful soul dragged before the crossroads on a leash can do only one thing: choose. Will you cower, or will you fight?”
The woman took the scabbard hanging nearby, slid Crossroads into it, and held it out to Aspen.
“You chose to fight, Aspen Peres.”
Defiance flared inside her. Aspen muttered before she could stop herself.
“And Andau cowered.”
“First, cowering is not necessarily wrong. And second, no. Andau also stood up, just as you did, and made his choice. In my eyes, it was an incredibly brave one.”
What could possibly have been brave about it? Turning his back on his country and the battlefield, turning his entire family into deserters. Keeping silent for hundreds of years about the conspiracy you had cast over the family. Which of those counted as a resolute decision?
“Andau tried to save his family and bore the cost. Is there anything more terrifying for a father than to be seen by his daughter as a weak relic, a cowardly runaway?”
The scabbard of Crossroads that the woman offered with both hands pressed against Aspen’s solar plexus, as if asking why she wasn’t taking it.
“Of course there is. To become someone his daughter cannot even bring herself to criticize. Andau did not run from reality. To save the reality left to him, he abandoned everything else. Do you still not understand, Aspen?”
The veil fluttered in the wind blowing in from outside. The Grand Arena Owner’s mouth, revealed for an instant, was smiling with teeth bared. Aspen’s eyes trembled. And only then did she understand why everyone who met the woman feared seeing the face beyond that veil.
It seemed as if the entire world was being sucked into that smile. Then, the next instant, everything around her turned pitch black.
“What the…?”
