To the North
Sunlight spilled warmly across the corridor.
Rodeban followed Liana toward the reception room.
"I've heard the North is terribly cold. Is that really true?"
Liana asked as she walked ahead.
Rodeban nodded.
"Yes. Freezing, dry—the posting officers hate most of all."
"But you went there quite often, didn't you, Lord Rodeban?"
"I spent a little over four years there."
Rodeban had served in the military for twelve years in total. Four of those years amounted to a full third of his career. Liana seemed startled by how long that was.
"Uh… is that normal for everyone?"
"It is if you have no backing, or if you've been demoted."
Of course, both applied to Rodeban. No backing, and frequent demotions—all because he was a commoner. At his matter-of-fact reply, Liana fell silent for a moment.
"……"
Elise had never once left the capital's vicinity, so the idea would naturally throw her. She was an elite among elites, after all.
A short while later, Liana stopped before the reception room and bowed her head.
"You may go in."
Rodeban took hold of the doorknob. Inside was the Third Princess. Her name was Crucias von Seria. They were already acquainted—though they had met when she was so young that he had no idea whether she would even remember him.
Creeeak—
He opened the door and stepped inside. A silver-haired young woman stood by the window, dressed in the classic blue-toned attire of a noble young lady. She must have been watching the entrance the whole time; the moment Rodeban entered the reception room, their eyes met.
He lowered his head on pure reflex.
"I present myself before Your Highness."
He bent at the waist and folded his hands with perfect deference—the flawless posture of a commoner of the lowest rank. A flustered voice answered at once.
"L-Lord Rodeban. Th-there's no need to stand on ceremony like that. We're already acquainted, aren't we?"
The princess hurried over and straightened his bowed back. Her eyes held a mixture of admiration and embarrassment. Fortunately, it seemed she did remember him. Only then did Rodeban raise his head and reply.
"Is that so. I assumed Your Highness wouldn't remember—you were so young at the time. It's been nearly eight years…"
"There's no need to lower yourself like that. You're a hero of the Empire, after all… and you saved my life once, too. Please, treat me comfortably."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
Even with permission to relax, Rodeban's expression remained a little stiff.
As if I haven't been burned more than once or twice for getting too comfortable.
Distrust of the nobility was rooted deep in Rodeban's bones. Calling Elise "Commander" to the very end had come from the same place.
Seria let out a small sigh.
"I've come to escort you, just as Father instructed. Please, have a seat first."
"I've already heard the situation. You came here because of the Information Bureau, correct?"
She had grasped most of Rodeban's circumstances—even the attack from a few days prior. But what she said next was something even he hadn't anticipated.
"Magic Sword recovery?"
Seria nodded.
"Yes. The fifth Magic Sword has appeared in the Lepiere Mountains. The knight order is locking down the area, but magical beasts appear there so frequently…"
"Then it needs to be recovered quickly. If someone touches it by accident, it'll be a disaster."
In this world, Magic Swords were treated almost like natural disasters. They granted immense power—and at the same time seized control of the wielder's mind, driving them to attack every living thing until they died. Weapons under the strictest national control. And Rodeban, through his Magic Eye, could wield them freely. He was the perfect man for the job.
Rodeban rose from his seat.
"Shall we leave at once, then? It would be better to discuss the details on the way."
Seria's eyes went round.
"Th-there's no need to rush that much…"
Rodeban shook his head, his expression set.
"No. If anyone so much as brushes against that Magic Sword by mistake, another tragedy will unfold."
The truth was, the moment he heard the words Magic Sword, his whole body had started to itch. A primal craving for power. He was a broken, retired hero now—but the instant he gripped a Magic Sword, he could reclaim his strength whenever he wished.
"Ah…"
Seria's face turned serious. She stood as well.
"You're right. Then let's head out by carriage first."
Rodeban followed Seria out of the mansion.
"Lord Rodeban. Please take care."
At the sudden voice he looked back. It was Liana. Not only her—the household staff he had spent these days with had all come out to see him off. Rodeban raised a hand in farewell.
"Please give the Commander my regards. It seems I have a mission, so I'll have to be going."
"Don't worry. Young Miss will understand!"
And so he left the mansion behind. As he was about to climb into the carriage, Rodeban paused. Every suspicious presence he had sensed around the estate these past days had vanished completely. A sigh escaped him of its own accord.
So this is the power of House Crucias.
Power really was convenient. The surroundings were so thoroughly cleaned up that hiding for ten whole days suddenly felt pathetic.
"……"
Rodeban swept his gaze once around him. Elise's mansion stood in the heart of the capital. He looked out over the bustling streets spread before him and thought,
I'm leaving because I'm too dirty for this place…
In any case, he had no intention of setting foot near the capital for a good while. There were things he needed to extract from the Grand Duke's house as well. Spending some time in the North wouldn't be so bad. He had been posted there often enough that it was hardly unfamiliar ground. The man being driven out spent a while rationalizing it to himself.
"……Lord Rodeban?"
"Forgive me. I was lost in thought for a moment."
Only when Seria's voice reached him from inside did Rodeban finally climb into the carriage.
Creeeak—
The door shut, and the carriage set off at once. Rodeban surveyed the interior.
Nice.
Spacious, plush, fragrant. As he settled his back against the seat, Seria held something out to him. A bouquet.
"……"
Rodeban accepted it with a blank look. She spoke.
"A little late to say it, but—congratulations on your retirement."
Soft purple lilacs bloomed brilliantly. The scent filling the carriage must have been coming from them. Rodeban blinked once or twice, then offered his thanks.
"……Thank you."
It had been so long since anyone gave him flowers that he was slightly flustered. Thinking about it, of course it had been. For the past several years he had simply gone from front line to front line like a weapon of war, fighting and nothing else. Only a month ago, after receiving the title of hero, had he finally been granted a little breathing room.
"Honestly, someone of your standing ought to have a grand retirement ceremony… I can't begin to guess what Central is thinking."
Seria sighed as she spoke. Every previous figure the Empire had called a hero had been sent off with a dazzling ceremony. Rodeban shook his head as if it didn't matter.
"It's fine."
The truth was, he was thoroughly sick of events. The victory tour alone had dragged him across the entire Empire for a month, nothing but ceremony after ceremony. He was almost grateful they hadn't bothered. But then Seria said something strange.
"Don't worry. Father said he will hold a splendid retirement ceremony for you himself."
"Pardon?"
"You can look forward to it. He said it will be even grander than the retirement of Sir Zerugo, the Knight Commander from a few years ago."
Seria nodded with a proud little smile.
"Ah… how wonderful. I can hardly wait."
Rodeban turned his gaze to the window. Just imagining it sent exhaustion flooding through his whole body; he needed somewhere to hide his face.
"We've arrived."
The carriage stopped in front of Litroben Station. The fastest way north was by train. Rodeban stepped down and looked around, frowning.
Where is this?
It looked nothing like the Litroben Station he usually used. An unfamiliar back alley stretched before him. Seria pointed deeper into the alley.
"Ah—this must be your first time, Lord Rodeban. There's a passage only members of the Grand Duke's house use."
In other words, a VIP-only route. Freshly reminded of the gulf between their stations, Rodeban answered flatly.
"Ah. Yes."
"Shall we?"
With that, Seria held out her hand. An escort was the most basic etiquette among the nobility. Rodeban stared at her hand for a moment, then silently exhaled five consecutive sighs inside his head.
Why do I hate physical contact this much?
Keeping any distaste carefully off his face, he took her hand and started toward the passage.
"……"
They walked in silence for a while. It was a thoroughly secluded alley—dark enough that someone leaping out of the shadows would not have been surprising. Still, an ambush didn't frighten him. Five escort knights surrounded them. Instead, another thought drifted through Rodeban's mind.
What if they attacked me instead…?
His imagination kicked in without warning. What if their real mission wasn't to take him north at all, but to dispose of him right here? One washed-up hero against five active knights and a princess.
A battle erupted inside his head at once.
It began when the knight at the rear suddenly thrust his sword in a surprise strike.
Whoosh—!
But the retired hero already knew. One of the escorts' killing intent had been far too thick.
—Kyaaak!
He started by using the Third Princess as a cowardly human shield. His Magic Eye's side effects left him unable to use mana; he made do with whatever he had.
—Tsk!
Forced to pull his blade back, the knight recovered—and the retired hero shoved the princess straight into the escort on the right. She had been about to draw her own sword; he had struck first.
Thud—!
—Ack!
The instant the princess was separated from the hero—
—Now! Attack!
—the remaining knights launched a coordinated assault. The cowardly hero did not draw the sword at his hip. Instead he surged upward in a flash and vaulted the wall. There was no reason to fight one against many.
—……We can't let him get away.
The princess, already back on her feet, set her hand on her scabbard. A pure white mana bloomed around her body—and she unleashed a sword draw toward the wall.
White sword-energy shot forth and smashed the wall to pieces.
KRAKOOM—!
The blast tore through three or four more walls beyond it. Frosted scars were carved into the rubble wherever the energy had passed—the mana of the Crucias bloodline carried a freezing chill. The problem was that no one stood beyond those walls.
One of the escorts shouted.
—Where did he go?
The truth was, the cowardly hero had extremely quick feet and was already long gone. Over the walls, across the rooftops. His keen senses had let him map an escape route in advance, which only made him faster.
—He can't have gone far! After him!
The escort knights diligently chased his trail—but the hero had already left Litroben Station far behind. Betrayed, the hero swallowed his fury and once again reminded himself never to trust the nobility.
—You bastards. The second I get that Magic Sword, I'll kill every last one of y—
…
…
"……deban."
Rodeban suddenly lifted his head. Had he sunk too deep into the fantasy? Someone had been calling his name over and over, and he hadn't noticed at all.
"Lord Rodeban."
Only then did he look at the owner of the voice.
"Ah, Your Highness. You called for me."
"Is something troubling you? You had such a serious look…"
"Uh, well…"
Rodeban chose his words carefully. He could hardly admit he had been imagining beating her up. He improvised with whatever drifted into his head.
"……I was thinking about the bouquet Your Highness gave me. Lilacs, I believe. Do you happen to know the meaning of the flower? I'm afraid I don't."
Seria hastily averted her gaze and stammered.
"Ah, th-that… I-I don't really… know. I just picked ones that looked pretty… Ahaha!"
"Ah, is that so? A shame."
Rodeban tilted his head. Seria was clearly flustered.
I'll look it up later.
She claimed not to know—but something about her manner suggested she already did.
"In any case, it seems we've arrived."
Rodeban pointed ahead. The familiar face of Litroben Station was gradually coming into view.