The Masterless Sword
Kadrian stared through the gap in the door without saying a word.
Whoosh, whoooosh—.
The air around him was thick with nothing but the ring of blades drifting out from the training grounds.
She was so deeply absorbed that Freya had all but forgotten the door stood open, her whole being poured into the movement of her sword.
Kadrian's gaze narrowed as it swept across the training hall.
Because he had recognized the sword in Freya's hand.
The delicate, slender figure of a woman and a blade that mirrored her perfectly moved as one body.
A trajectory that carved through empty air like silk in one instant hurled devastating force the next, shattering the silence.
Thunderous slashes split the moonlight, and each step she planted on the floor was light and precise as a footfall on clouds.
She might drift with the ease of a falling feather, only to plant her heel with the crushing weight of an anchor sunk in deep sea.
Every motion of her swordsmanship was measured and restrained, and yet each was as seasoned and cunning as a knight who had spent long years carving her way across battlefields.
Kadrian watched in silence for a long while.
More time slipped past.
At last, Freya lowered her sword and steadied her breathing.
The aura that had filled the training hall to its corners thinned considerably.
Then, shortly after—creeeeak—.
The doors of the training hall swung wide, and Kadrian stepped inside.
Whew….
I steadied my breath.
Perhaps it was because I hadn't held a sword that fit my hand this snugly in so long.
I got way too into it.
I'd only meant to loosen up a little, but this sword suited me far better than I'd expected.
Like being handed the reins of my prime all over again.
Wooden swords really can't hold a candle to this.
I must have shattered thousands of wooden swords by now. There were days I broke through dozens of them at a time.
This one endures, doesn't it. My aura….
Truly a greedy sort of sword.
Just then, the door opened.
I turned my head toward it.
"……."
"……."
Our eyes met. Deep, enigmatic violet ones.
Maybe it was the particular mood the color carried.
The Grand Duke's gaze was remarkably calm.
Holding the inscrutable eyes of the Grand Duke with my own, I finished gathering my breath.
Into that stretch of silence, the Grand Duke spoke at a leisurely pace.
"Do you like it?"
"…Pardon?"
Oh—the sword!
Wait, was this actually something he'd set out here to practice with?
I slid the sword into its sheath and bowed my head.
"Forgive me for using it without permission."
"It isn't mine, so it doesn't matter."
"……."
Huh? It's not even his sword, but he keeps it in his private training hall?
I looked at him with a questioning gaze. The Grand Duke stared at the empty spot where the sword had hung and said,
"The one I meant to gift it to can no longer receive it. So it can only be called a masterless sword."
"……."
Ah…. I raced through the implications of his words.
There's quite a heavy story behind this one, isn't there?
I glanced down at the sword in my hand.
What do I do with this.
From the tone of his voice, the person meant to receive it had either left for somewhere far away….
Or… they'd died.
Oh dear. …That's a real tragedy.
At that moment, the Grand Duke turned and began walking toward me.
Flinch. The fingertips gripping the sword twitched.
N-no reason to be scared.
If the sword were so precious that lending it out warranted killing me over, he wouldn't have left it lying in a shared training hall in the first place.
He'd placed it there knowing I used this space too, so maybe he'd even anticipated something like this.
Even so, I—who was honestly unnerved—shuffled backward, step by furtive step.
"I-I'll wipe it down so there's not a single trace I've used it, and hang it right back—"
But before I could finish, the Grand Duke spoke.
"If it doesn't bother you, you may keep it."
"…Pardon?"
I stopped mid-step and stared up at him, wide-eyed.
I'd assumed that even if he wouldn't kill me, he'd at least chase me out of the training hall.
But he was giving me this sword?
The Grand Duke went on.
"The person who was meant to wield that sword is already dead."
"……."
Ah. Just as I thought.
…So they really did die.
I looked down at the blade. The death of one who lived by the sword is never a peaceful one.
I had no way of knowing who this sword's master had been, but my chest ached dully all the same.
The Grand Duke said,
"If that troubles you, then that's simply how it is."
At his words, I quickly pulled the sword to my chest and hugged it close.
"Not at all! It doesn't trouble me in the slightest!"
It was true that the death of the sword's original owner grieved me—but that was a different matter from being uneasy about it.
They died before they could even receive it, so it's not even a proper memento, technically.
On the battlefield, when my sword broke, I'd snatch up the blades of fallen enemies and keep fighting. This hardly compared.
"I'm hardly in a position to be picky. If you'll give it to me, I'll gratefully accept, my lord."
"……."
What waste could compare to letting a sword this fine sit gathering dust?
He's offering. Refusing would make me an idiot.
I looked down at the sword.
You're happy too, right? Yeah, so am I.
It's the two of us now, you hear?
In an instant, the sword in my hand became mine.
"Hehehehe."
[….]
"Heheh, heheh."
[…That's terrifying, Butler. Would you quit the laughing. What on earth are you doing with that face?]
"Eheheh."
[….]
Where did such a gorgeous thing ever come from?
So the Grand Duke had offered me a sword—but I'd never dreamed he'd hand over one this magnificent.
To his own people, he's not a villain at all. He's an angel. An absolute angel.
Even though days had passed since I received it, I kept slipping into my room at every spare moment to take the sword out and tend it.
"Aigoo, you pretty little thing."
I wanted to press my lips to the blade, too, but I held back on that one count, worried my snout might get sliced off by the keen edge.
[Wait, that's not a demon sword, is it? Watching you lose your mind over it, I'm pretty sure it's a demon sword.]
"Oh please, a demon sword? It might well be a holy sword, is what it is."
That faint radiance seeping from the silver blade. There was no way a sword could possess aura, so….
At this point, wouldn't calling it a holy sword be entirely fair?
Finished with the sword's upkeep, I took out stationery and a pen and sat down at my desk.
I could polish that blade from dawn to dusk and never tire of it—but attending to my actual duties alongside it was the mark of a proper butler, no?
Right, first a letter to our dear old man.
How is his journey faring, I wonder.
My master, the old scholar Norbert, had not come by the Grand Duke's residence even once since departing.
He said he'd travel, and apparently it's that good, huh?
I mean, his disciple is locked up in the Grand Duke's residence because of a dog collar and can't even set foot outside!
Hmph. …Still, if he's trotting around the world at his age, I suppose it means he's still hale and hearty.
Then that's all that matters, really.
He spent two years tied down to this place because of me—this is his time to enjoy himself.
Smiling to myself, I set pen to paper.
To my esteemed Master,
While you have been away, Master… . And so this happened, and then that happened because of it, and… . (passages omitted) …In any case, please do stop by the Grand Duke's residence at least once. —From your most treasured disciple, Freya.
Having briefly written my well-wishes and my business, I sealed the letter.
I'll just ask Ed to send this off for me later.
I stood before the mirror and inspected the figure reflected there.
Perfect.
Grabbing the hem of my shirt, I gave it a couple of tugs downward, then left the room.
It was still the dark of pre-dawn, the sun yet to rise.
First I stopped by the kitchen, where the lights had been switched on earliest, and ran through the ingredients and the menu one by one. At the menu that required a little extra effort than usual, I smiled quietly to myself.
At that, Chef Patrick scratched his cheek and asked,
"What're you smiling at? Did something come out wrong?"
I shook my head.
"No. I like it very much, actually."
"Ah, is that right?"
What a relief! Patrick heaved his enormous frame around and set to preparing the ingredients.
Once my attendance at the Hunting Festival was settled, the Grand Duke's residence threw itself into a whirlwind of preparations for the event.
And today—exactly one week since Lady Annette's letter had arrived.
For this day alone, the worry over the Hunting Festival was set aside, and a different sort of tension hummed through the estate.
For today was the day Lady Annette, the Grand Duke's own mother, would visit the residence.
By the time the preparations to receive Lady Annette were complete, the sun had climbed to its zenith.
Every servant of the Grand Duke's household had gathered before the main manor.
Just as they had on the day the Grand Duke returned from a year at war, they stood in formation, clothes immaculate, postures composed.
The Grand Duke was present as well on this occasion—apparently his mother's visit had him on edge.
The day could not have been more radiant, and for once, the sharp winter wind that had been howling for days had fallen still.
"She approaches."
At the single words I uttered, the tension in the servants' faces deepened.
Soon the great iron gates of the residence swung open on both sides, and a single horse galloped through the front gate.
A horse approaching at no great speed—and the rider upon it.
Ah. That person is….
Silver armor flashed with the reflected sunlight, and above it a deep violet cape trimmed in gold rippled in the wind. Her black hair streamed behind her, and a razor-sharp gaze crushed everything in its path.
Something in that figure conjured the grandeur of a legendary hero returned from conquering the continent itself.
I knew at once. That the rider upon that horse was Lady Annette, the Grand Duke's mother.
I couldn't take my eyes off her. My whole body prickled.
That knight is the Grand Duke's mother.
The female knight of the Cadea Empire—Lady Annette….
Noble grace and majesty radiated from her in equal measure.
As the Grand Duke stepped forward to receive his mother, Lady Annette—who had closed the distance before anyone realized—reined in her horse and halted.
For a moment, she looked down at her son with sun-gold eyes.
"It's been a while."
Those eyes were a completely different color from the Grand Duke's, yet the air they carried was strikingly alike.
"Welcome. Please, come inside and dine."
"I suppose I shall."
Only then did Lady Annette dismount.
No wonder people say the Grand Duke takes after his mother. Look at how even their manner of speaking matches.
Despite a reunion long overdue, the speech between mother and son was curt to the bone.
The Grand Duke and Lady Annette walked side by side through the rows of assembled servants. Along the way, her gaze and mine met.
I quietly bowed my head toward Lady Annette.
Then, her voice dropped onto the crown of my head.
"You… . Why are you here?"