Volume 3 Chapter 237 New Friends, New Journey (End Of Volume ③)
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Out of the corner of her eye, beyond the crowd of nobles, Sarah—disguised beneath the mask of an old man—slipped soundlessly into the background like a wraith.
Meanwhile, just half a step ahead of Kian, Louis, acting in Maribel’s stead, calmly addressed Oswald with the preordained words.
”────Lord Oswald,” Louis said, his tone measured yet heavy with formality. “You led an army of one thousand to attack Izerland, wreaking havoc both inside and outside the castle. Such crimes cannot be forgiven. However, due to the previous Thorn Demon incident, our vital food reserves in the borderlands—particularly in Ramsey’s town and streets, as well as the surrounding villages—have suffered severe damage. The only one who can mend this dire situation is you, former Lord of Ramsey, whose governance was exemplary.”
”────────” came Oswald’s silent response, his stillness unbroken.
The late-afternoon sun, deep-hued and just past five, glinted off the gold of his armor. A crisp wind drifted through the salon, tugging at the rich red cloak billowing behind him.
”Therefore,” Louis continued, “as an extraordinary measure, you will be urgently tasked with the reconstruction of Ramsey. You may not call upon your own magician or subordinates. My magician—Lishena—and ten others will accompany you. You are encouraged to employ them as necessary.”
Unfurling a scroll adorned with the Danofen Family crest, Louis added, “I will now provide the details of the contract. First—”
Of course, no one here was hearing about Ramsey’s reconstruction for the first time. Oswald had surely received the official document in advance, and Kian had reviewed its contents not long ago.
Every noble present, along with the Church Forces, already knew the terms. Louis’s reading was more ceremonial than informative—a public reaffirmation of the widely accepted fact: Oswald had been temporarily released under specific conditions.
As the reading dragged on—tedious enough to lull an ordinary person to sleep—Kian felt Oswald’s golden eyes settle on him.
A cold, detached gaze. Chin raised slightly, Oswald looked down on him with an aloof air.
Anyone might imagine such a look hinted at animosity between them.
However—beneath the frost, Kian caught the pulse of something hotter, thicker. Oswald’s gaze roamed—from Kian’s broad chest, to his lean waist, to the curve of his hips—before returning to his face.
Kian met it without flinching, and in the silent duel, their stares tangled, smoldering with heat entirely unlike that of sworn enemies.
”I will respectfully accept,” Oswald said at last, voice calm and courteous.
Turning back to Louis, he accepted the scroll. As Louis passed it over, he leaned closer, murmuring, “I’m sorry, Oswald. I’d like to take a little time after this.”
Oswald gave the smallest nod, and the two separated.
The ceremony continued with Oswald receiving a seal marking his position as ‘temporary reconstruction officer,’ followed by Maribel’s words of encouragement. By the time Louis concluded the unexpectedly long recitation, the sky had already shifted into the warm hues of sunset.
”Lord Oswald,” Louis called.
With Lishena, Guy, and Blumer in tow, Louis guided Oswald toward the East End of the salon—a flowerbed lush with subtropical plants like cycads—where they began a grave discussion.
The border nobility, cowed by Oswald’s presence, hurried to descend the salon steps once the Sword Saint of the Sun moved away from the staircase. Their earlier bluster toward Maribel dissolved into a meek, subdued retreat.
When the exodus had thinned, Kian made his way back to Sarah, who stood near the railing with Rufna.
”Sarah, I have something I want to ask,” he said.
”What is it?” she replied, removing her mask. The backlighting hid her expression, but Kian still wondered whether it was wise for her to unmask. She had some history with Oswald, after all, and lowering her guard might be dangerous. That, no doubt, was why she had kept her disguise until now.
”If you’ve got something to say, make it quick,” she urged.
”Ah.──After becoming Head Magician for Maribel, what will you do about taxes?” Kian asked.
”It’s predictable,” Sarah said flatly. “We’ll continue to impose taxes nationwide. If we do as the people of the salon demand, the Izerland government will fall into financial ruin. When that happens, local nobles and powerful merchants will step in, and the Danofen Family will be reduced to mere puppets.”
Kian’s brow furrowed. “Assassination attempts will only grow more frequent. Even if you’re capable, time is given equally to all. Can you protect everyone while also tending to your duties?”
”I can. I’ll see it through,” she answered without hesitation.
”I see. Then persuade Linca to join you,” he said.
”…Are you serious? She’s your magician.”
”I never said I was giving her to you. But as an adventurer, Linca’s too talented to waste. She hates running around in the sewers—said she’d sooner die. If left alone, she’ll probably buy land east of the Franz Kingdom and spend her days farming and reading. Better for you to put her skills to use than let her rot in leisure.”
Sarah frowned. “But… it’s dangerous work. The hours are brutal, and I can’t pay anywhere near what Lord Jibril did.”
”I can’t either,” Kian said with a shrug. “It’s not about the money. She’s always wanted to work alongside you. If she can face this near-impossible quest—restoring a shattered Izerland—together with a friend she respects, she’ll be glad to help.”
”…You really think so?”
”Rufna,” Kian said, turning to the dark elf, “help persuade her.”
”You sure?” Rufna asked.
”I am. I can’t handle Linca.”
Kian imagined, for a fleeting moment, Linca clinging to him in tears—‘Sir Kian, are you abandoning me just like Sir Jibril? Nooo, please don’t cast me aside!’—but quickly dismissed it as an overactive fancy.
(She’s free-spirited, jealous, and difficult to manage.)
With Aliona joining soon, he’d also need to pre-sort any dangerous reagents that might react badly.
In Izerland, he’d have Sarah, Linca, and Christy—a trio as volatile as explosives.
In the eastern outskirts of the Franz Kingdom, he’d station Natra and Rufna—women unlikely to produce metaphorical toxic gas when mixed with Aliona.
”――――――――”
Kian thought he caught Talia’s look of genuine dismay, but decided that too was probably his imagination.
”Sarah, I wish you success,” he said. “Earn well.”
”Yes,” she replied solemnly. “Not just financially, but so I can support you in the future.”
Turning to Rufna, Sarah asked, “Would you lend me your hand as well?”
”Pass,” Rufna said bluntly. “No offense, but serving you or the princess doesn’t interest me.”
The Dark Elf Head Magician’s voice was like frost. She rested her hand lightly on Kian’s shoulder.
”I only follow Master. If I had to work under you, I’d rather go on a magic collection journey.”
”I see. For a supposed Head Magician of Nakash, that’s remarkably unambitious,” Sarah said coolly.
”…”
”Both of you—stop,” Kian cut in.
They both shook their heads almost in unison, muttering, “We’re not fighting.”
”Well then, I’m off. Excuse me, Kian,” Sarah said.
”Yeah. Goodbye.”
She nodded once and walked toward Maribel, who sat beneath the triangular roof, head bowed in despair. Sarah placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.
”Your Excellency.”
”Eh… You are… Ms. Sarah…?”
”Yes. I am Sarah Nakash. I have something important to discuss. May I?”
”Eh… y-yes…”
Kian knew he could leave Maribel in Sarah’s care.
Kian signaled to Rufna and descended the narrow staircase from the salon to the back rows where the nobles had gathered.
In an instant, he felt the prickling weight of a lingering, predatory gaze. His eyes shifted toward the potted sago palm without turning his head. Oswald, however, was still engrossed in deep conversation with Louis and the others.
”Master?” Rufna asked, pausing mid-step to study his face.
”No, it’s nothing,” Kian replied, his voice low, eyes still scanning.
”I see. Well then,” Rufna said with a shrug, “I’m going to tell Linca about the situation at the Witch Dormitory. What are you going to do?”
Kian heard the unspoken voice in his mind, almost like an echo: It will soon be six. I need to meet Mrs. Camilla. After that, I have a meeting with those people at seven.
”I’ll pick up Mrs. Camilla first,” he said aloud. “After that, I’ll stop by the Old Renaud Residence.”
At the mention of Old Renaud Residence, Rufna’s pointed ears twitched sharply.
”…You’re going to see them?” she asked.
”Yeah,” Kian said. “The two of them. Her and him.”
”They’ll only throw resentful words at you,” Rufna warned. “It’ll just make you feel worse.”
Kian shook his head. “That resentment may be what’s keeping them alive—at least until the trial is over and the executions come.”
”Fine. Then I’ll eat something at the Witch Dormitory,” she replied.
”I’ll be back in A Town on the eastern outskirts of the Franz Kingdom by tonight. We meet at the main gate at nine. Bring Natra and Serena too.”
”Roger that,” Rufna said with a half-smile.
’Being able to come and go at nine is surprisingly convenient. Being recognized is great.’
(After gold, fame comes next. No doubt about it.)
’Hey, Kian. Since being an adventurer is boring, why not try business? You can earn money and fame, too’
(Business, huh…)
Walking alone toward the front gate of the Old Oswald Residence after parting with Rufna, Kian’s thoughts spiraled inward. Once, he had been obsessed with adventuring—especially as a swordsman. But ever since Erynys had severed his right arm, his perspective had shifted. Though he still clung stubbornly to the romance of adventuring, some part of him admitted that business might be… interesting.
No concrete ideas came. A half-formed ambition was nothing more than idle rest.
(If I come up with something, maybe I can do it alongside adventuring. I need funds for Mrs. Camilla’s food…and to replenish my depleted armaments.)
He exhaled sharply. Mrs. Camilla’s food expenses are an urgent problem.
Beyond meals, the countess had expensive tastes in clothing and furnishings. Troublesome. It wasn’t impossible that, left unsatisfied, the old woman might turn to crime to indulge herself. Yes, money was necessary.
He had moments where he thought he didn’t have the luxury to keep adventuring. But he crushed that weak thought—because a man needed adventure.
* * *
The day dimmed into twilight, shadows stretching across the cobbled streets.
Kian headed south along the main thoroughfare, where shopkeepers were already shuttering windows. By the great stone bridge spanning the aqueduct before the Old Renaud Residence, a black carriage waited.
A massive silver greatsword—Balmung—was strapped to its roof.
T/N: Balmung — legendary sword from Germanic mythology.
On the driver’s bench sat a broad-shouldered man in a mask, eyes fixed on the fortress skyline turning violet with dusk.
The knight landed heavily from the seat, boots thudding against stone, and pressed a hand over his heart in salute.
”I have been waiting for you, my lord,” he said, his young voice steady, words pronounced with an air of seasoned dignity.
Kian’s lips curved in a faint smile. The magic stone lamp flickered to life behind him, backlighting his silhouette—black eyes faintly shimmering with red phosphorescence.
The knight—dark as shadow—continued, “All of Mrs. Camilla’s shopping is completed. The remaining balance is one silver coin.”
”Understood. Thank you,” Kian replied, pocketing the coin.
He glanced back at the knight, who stood rigid at attention. “Relax, Isthbaran.”
”Yes, my lord.”
Isthbaran, the black panther–tribe warrior, shifted into a looser stance. A trace of dark fur peeked from beneath his mask.
”On the way back, use the teleportation gate at Rufna or Natra,” Kian instructed. “You won’t have to ride on me. This—” he produced a bottle “—is a souvenir. High-quality wine from Châtillon. Please accept it.”
”My thanks,” Isthbaran said simply.
From inside the carriage came the faint sound of snoring, then a hoarse, imperious voice.
”—Ah!? You’ve returned, haven’t you?” Mrs. Camilla croaked.
Before Kian could answer, the carriage groaned on its axles, the horse tossing its head with a sharp whicker.
”Easy now, boy,” Isthbaran murmured, stroking the animal’s neck.
Inside, there was a muffled grumble. “Ugh… cramped. This carriage is so narrow. Ugh—here we go, heave!”
”Heave-ho sex?” Kian deadpanned.
”Enough with the dirty jokes!” Mrs. Camilla barked, landing heavily on the cobblestones with a thud that made the horse start.
She was plump and gaudily dressed, her bright pink hat crowned with lurid bird feathers. Leaning on a cane, she waddled toward Kian.
”Mrs. Camilla, you are too fat,” Talia’s cool voice remarked from Kian’s side.
”With all due respect, Princess Talia,” Camilla said, fluttering her lashes, “fat is a symbol of wealth!”
”And also a symbol of the ruin of us vampires,” Talia replied evenly.
Camilla pushed up the brim of her hat, pointing a fleshy finger. “Slaves are expensive!”
”That’s to be expected,” Kian said mildly. “But considering what I gave you this morning, you should’ve been able to buy two.”
”With just twenty gold coins?” Camilla scoffed. “You can only buy a scrawny woman! I want a young, healthy, handsome slave—about your height!”
”Isthbaran, didn’t you find such a man?” Kian asked.
”We did,” Isthbaran said, stepping forward. “But the lady’s standards were… exacting. She demanded the most advanced rank—an Azraelian beauty. The trader refused to sell for less than a hundred gold coins, citing his high magic power.”
”That’s impossible,” Kian muttered.
”What good is a dying female slave?” Camilla retorted. “Make her wash dishes?”
”I have unfortunate news, Mrs. Camilla,” Kian said with a sigh. “I’m broke. If I spend more, we’ll be eating bean soup twice a day next month.”
Camilla’s round face puckered like a bear cub’s belly under pressure. “This is not what we agreed!”
”Look at that custom-made dress and hat before you complain,” Kian said, gesturing. “They cost a fortune—enough to make your eyes pop.”
”Tch, this is why poor commoners are so—”
”Lady.”
Magic surged from Talia’s right arm, a bright red eye blooming at her bicep like a terrible flower.
”No matter who you are, I will not tolerate disrespect toward my king,” she said icily.
Camilla froze.
”…Isn’t calling me a pig’s genitals disrespectful?” Kian asked dryly.
”I have no recollection of that,” Talia replied flatly.
”You’re starting to sound like an old politician,” Camilla muttered.
”My lord, it is almost time for your audience. I will accompany you,” Talia said. “Mrs. Camilla, what will you do?”
”I’ll go too. The Western Church has people in town—what if something happens?” Camilla replied.
”Then, Isthbaran, escort the lady,” Kian ordered.
”Yes,” the knight said.
”Lady, please apologize to Kian first,” Talia added coldly.
Camilla clicked her tongue, then inclined her head. “…Forgive me, my king.”
”I’m not a king,” Kian replied.
”You did receive Dacia, didn’t you?” she countered.
”Well, yes, but… Lady, when you lower your head like that, it’s unsettling. Raise your face like you usually do—with that defiant look.”
”What do you mean, ‘defiant look’? Oh, goodness—”
Her massive frame swayed; her foot caught in a dip in the stone. Isthbaran caught her before she toppled.
”I can’t get up the stairs in front of the Old Renaud Residence,” she complained.
”It’d be a disaster if I broke a bone carrying you. No choice. Isthbaran, guard here. Mrs. Camilla, wait in the carriage—you can drink the wine.”
”Why did I even get out of the carriage!?” she huffed.
”I’m afraid we’ll need a new body for you, my lady,” Isthbaran remarked while easing her back inside.
”Damn it, Kian! This is your fault for destroying my doll,” she snapped.
”I regret that. I’m searching for a replacement,” Kian said.
(Well, if I’m willing to go all out, there’s always Lyritisse’s body—no hope of her soul returning. Priscilla still manages it. The body’s potential is excellent, and it’d be less likely to leak if we get it through her.)
However, Kian knew there would be problems—Lyritisse was only twenty-two, her youth making her instantly recognizable. Even with Camilla’s soul inhabiting it, the appearance would barely change—perhaps a touch more glow to the skin, but nothing more.
If only there were a woman near forty, about to be executed, Talia thought aloud, her tone layered with meaning.
Kian ignored the implication and started across the stone bridge alone.
* * *
Old Renaud Residence was enclosed by eastern-style walls and a tiled roof.
The white earthen walls bore blackish tiles, their matte finish stark against the fading light.
Beyond the roof’s edge, a dense bamboo grove swayed gently, its deep green hues darkening with dusk.
Compared to the Old Oswald Residence, the wooden gate here was plain—Linca once said this was the essence of “wabi-sabi,” an aesthetic of rustic simplicity and impermanence cherished in the East.
As Kian stood before the gate, the small latch on its inset door clicked softly, releasing its hold.
In the encroaching twilight’s hush, the ancient wooden door creaked loudly as it opened.
The groan of the hinges seemed to deepen the silence around them.
”Welcome, Lord Kian,” the Beastmen Knight said with a faint smile from behind the door.
”Good to see you again, Lord Bertrand,” Kian replied.
Bertrand du Guesclin—the boar Beastmen who had accompanied Maribel into battle—now served as the guardian of Old Renaud Residence by the unanimous decision of the Salon nobility.
Once a mercenary captain roaming countless battlefields, Bertrand’s new post was a safe but dull assignment, a fall from his former glory as Maribel’s knight.
Especially since the residence was now used to detain two defendants awaiting trial. In essence, Bertrand’s title had been reduced from honored knight to mere jailer.
”Do you wish to return to mercenary work, Lord Bertrand?” Kian asked as they walked through the garden, the white gravel arranged like a flowing river beneath their feet.
”Not at all,” Bertrand said firmly without hesitation.
”I see. Hopefully, the princess will summon you back one day.”
”Lord Kian, I am not dissatisfied with this job,” Bertrand said, turning to glare at Kian briefly before motioning toward the inner chambers. “Please, this way.”
Ahead stood strong guards—Louis’s subordinates—lined with massive curved swords resting on their shoulders.
”The meeting lasts thirty minutes. No provisions are allowed as a rule. If you must hand anything over, we will inspect it here.”
”I’m only here for a meeting. Thank you for the guidance.”
”Please, take your time.”
With a nod, Bertrand turned and strode back past the bamboo grove, leaving Kian to watch the broad, armored back of the boar Beastman fade into the shadows.
Once Bertrand disappeared, Kian bowed to the guards and stepped inside.
The sliding doors opened in sequence at the guard’s command, revealing a narrow corridor lined with ten armed sentries.
The guard gestured to two rooms on the left.
Kian entered the nearer room first.
Inside, a woman in a leaf-green nightgown sat shackled, her hands bound.
”Good evening, Lady Eleonora,” Kian greeted softly.
The red-haired woman leaned against the corner, staring at him without a word.
”I hear the trial is imminent,” Kian began. “All evidence of the money transfers after you purchased explosives from Katyusha has been collected. Your debt has ballooned to nearly five thousand gold coins, supposedly for the ransom of Abbas Shakerdoust, currently held in Châtillon.”
Eleonora remained silent, her gaze sharp and unwavering.
”It seems you put up the ancestral lands of Sunlightland and heirlooms of the Knights of the Sun as collateral. The Salon is discussing revoking your title due to mismanagement concerns.”
”What about my grandfather?”
Eleonora finally spoke, her voice reluctant and heavy.
She seemed to struggle with revealing more.
”…What will happen to my grandfather in Sunlightland?”
”If the mortgage is enforced, the land will change hands, and he’ll likely be evicted. He might have to sell the villa in Izerland and use those funds to buy a rural estate, relocating with only a few servants.”
”And me?”
”Haven’t you heard from your advocate?”
”…”
”Your charges—attempted murder and arson of the uninhabited mountains—will make this a long trial. We may meet in court. I ask for your understanding.”
”What is there to understand?”
A throbbing pain in her temples betrayed her anger.
”It’s your fault. Because of you, everything is ruined! You, you, you… it’s all your fault! It’s unforgivable!”
There was no rebuttal—only the acceptance of her rage, a stillness to stop the storm.
Eleonora’s curses were her desperate salvation.
By embracing her pain without retaliation, Kian offered a rare form of mercy in this fractured world.
It was Eleonora herself, more in need of rescue than the exalted Maribel, who held true value.
”What are you laughing at? It’s disgusting! You’re not human! You’re a monster wearing a human mask! Disappear! Vanish from my sight!”
”Is that your wish?” Kian asked quietly, raising a hand to halt the guards rushing in.
Eleonora gasped at the calm in his eyes.
”Visiting time is over. Thank you, guards.”
Leaving Eleonora trembling in fear, Kian exited the tatami room.
Her sobbing echoed softly behind him.
* * *
He stepped into the second room.
A futon lay on the floor, and an old man with white hair stared at the ceiling without turning toward him.
”Father, how are you?”
The man—Umar—opened his eyes but said nothing.
Unlike Eleonora’s fear, Umar exuded a quiet, lethal defiance.
Though aged and weakened, he was once one of the Twelve Divine Generals, and his spirit still burned fiercely.
”Perhaps the sunset has given you a faint glow of color,” Kian observed.
No response.
”Is there something you wish to say to me?”
”…”
”I see. Then, I shall take my leave.”
Kian turned away from the dying man.
”…Why don’t you kill me?” Umar asked, voice low and sharp.
”Because there is the law. And I have a position.”
”Your nominal title as Master Knight?”
Umar refused to acknowledge Kian’s rise as Duke of Dacia.
He knew Kian had become a hero not only in Izerland but also in Ramsey, yet he clung stubbornly to the image of the foolish, inferior boy he once was.
”Do you want to see Sarah?” Kian asked.
”Will you let me meet her?” Umar’s voice was fragile but hopeful.
”She does not wish to meet,” Kian replied quietly. “Not since you tried to use strategies to blast me to death.”
Kian turned only his face back toward Umar.
”If you love Sarah as your daughter, she intended to care for you until the very end. That future was possible.”
”…It’s pointless to talk hypotheticals…”
”Goodbye. I will come again when I return.”
”Don’t say things you don’t mean. One day… you’ll regret sparing my life.”
”I hope so. If possible, I wanted to fight you at your prime.”
”Hah. In my prime, not only you but even Jibril wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”
Suddenly, Umar began coughing harshly.
Kian’s vampire senses told him this was no act.
He quickly summoned a guard before leaving the room.
* * *
”Are you okay?”
As Kian approached the stone bridge spanning the aqueduct, Talia—silent until now—asked softly.
Kian, still counting the glowing magic stone lamps lining the path, added and subtracted numbers in his head, as if distracting himself while replying.
Thank you. I’m fine, he thought, masking the weariness beneath.
Eleonora had come to Salon alone, but losing everything had left her in a fragile state of resignation. Even if she won acquittal in court, her hometown was lost to her forever. A conviction meant decades in a cage.
Even if released, no home would welcome her back. Her grandfather was likely gone.
More agonizing was the inevitability of living under the scorn of society—labeled a criminal or incompetent.
Better to remain behind bars.
It was a mystery how she had not taken her own life.
Perhaps she restrained herself for the sake of her remaining subordinates. But with the impending reckoning over the ‘mastermind’ among them, her endurance would not last long.
Though it was her own doing, she was a pitiful woman.
As for Umar, his survival until the trial was uncertain. Without the rare medicine made from the blood of the Bloodsucking Kind, he was fading fast. Already, he could barely move at night, and during the day he was immobile—needing a guard to change his diaper.
If possible, Kian wished Umar could see the certificate naming him a Rank 4 Adventurer. But it seemed unlikely.
”Kian.”
Talia’s voice cut through the quiet again—this time with a slight edge of tension.
Kian caught the warning. Just as he stepped onto the stone bridge, he sensed rapid footsteps approaching from the main gate.
”Kian!”
The voice rang out clear and vibrant.
A warm summer breeze carried the scent of men’s cologne from the gate.
”Sir Oswald.”
Kian turned slowly. There stood a handsome young man with blonde hair and a shaved side, having rushed up to him. The golden armor he wore at Salon was gone, replaced by the same jet-black shirt and pants as Kian’s. His shirt collar was wide open, revealing a muscular chest and a glinting gold necklace.
He stepped forward, the light catching the sun earrings that swung from his ears.
Behind him, Lishena—the red witch and Louis’s magician—arrived with others who had been monitoring Oswald.
”What happened?”
Isthbaran appeared silently behind Kian, Balmung in hand, but a gesture sent him stepping back respectfully as Lishena nodded lightly.
”Shall we talk for a bit? I’ve been searching for you since we left Salon.” Oswald’s voice was calm but eager.
”Of course. I’m meeting my companions at the main gate at 21:00, so there’s time.”
”That’s good.”
Oswald placed his right hand over his heart, nodding solemnly.
”Kian, thank you for protecting Ramsey this time. I truly appreciate it.”
”No. I wasn’t able to protect Ramsey. I’m sorry for my failure,” Kian said, shaking his head.
Oswald caught Kian’s right hand, holding it tightly with both of his own.
For a moment, a flicker of worry crossed Oswald’s face—what if Phoenix purified Talia? But nothing happened. It was simple human connection Oswald sought.
”That’s not true. Wheatfields still stands, seventy percent intact. I’ve heard some three thousand residents survived. Without you, Ramsey would have been annihilated by the Beastmen.”
”But the war could have been prevented if I hadn’t fought you, Sir Oswald.”
”That was the cost of aiming for the borderlands’ throne.”
Oswald released Kian’s hand, continuing.
”I was weaker than you. I’m to blame for losing. Or perhaps it’s my failure not to have brought you into my fold.”
”Do you not resent me? I always felt murderous intent when I visited.”
”If the opportunity arises, I’d like to fight you again. Naturally. But more than that—I want you. I want you as my subordinate. To rebuild Ramsey, together.”
”I’m sorry, but I also hold the title of Duke of Dacia.”
”I knew what your answer would be, but it’s a shame.”
Kian turned toward the railing of the stone bridge. Oswald followed, leaning beside him. Side by side, they stared out at the empty aqueduct, both lost in thought.
”What happened to Ms. Aisha?” Oswald asked.
”She ended up under Louis’s command. All your loyal subordinates are scattered. Though I lead Ramsey’s reconstruction, all I have are borrowed allies.”
No, Kian thought bitterly—they were half enemies.
”She’s still bound by the scrolls and cannot wield the holy sword’s power freely.”
”If she serves Izerland, she might regain her freedom.”
”Hahaha, that would be nice. But first, it might be faster to burn down Louis and Izerland together.”
”What a joke.”
”Hehe.”
Oswald’s grin was dark, unsettling.
Before Kian could ask what he truly meant, Oswald pulled two checks from his pocket.
”I heard Owl repaired the castle wall. Also, this is the reward for the recent defense mission. It’s not much, but please accept it.”
The checks were issued by Oswald’s bank and Aisha’s bank.
From Oswald’s bank: 1,500 Gold Coins.
From Aisha’s bank: 2,000 Gold Coins.
”What!? This much money—I can’t accept it! We don’t even have a contract.”
”Consider it a gift, then. But you’ll have to pay taxes.”
”But…”
”Just take it.”
Oswald said, growing slightly irritated, pushing the checks toward Kian.
”I heard you’ve been spending a lot lately. You must need it. Please use it for Ramsey’s reconstruction. The government and church will handle that—Louis and Homolkacardinal specifically. What matters more is you. You endured so much and were only made lord of some barren land. If you don’t say what you truly want, this is what happens.”
”No, I’m—”
Kian tried to protest, but stopped. It was a sentiment Oswald, a capitalist, wouldn’t understand. Besides, Kian’s finances were so tight, he had even considered starting a business alongside adventuring to survive without a reward.
I was drinking coffee at an expensive shop on a date.
Once your standard of living rises, it never falls. My time as castle lord in Ramsey was the most affluent of my life.
”I’m, Kian,” Oswald said, looking down at the aqueduct again.
”I think friendship and love both depend on money. Without it, life is hard. You can’t properly connect with friends; you drift apart. Without money, you fight with your lover, and love fades.”
”Has that happened to you before?”
”–“
Oswald’s expression darkened.
He was a battle slave who had escaped from the Twelve Divine Generals’ Nizaam.
In the end, Ramsey succeeded in ingratiating himself with his uncle, the nobleman, and took over the country. Yet, reflecting on the time from Azrael to Ramsey, it was clear there had been financially difficult periods.
From that experience, he offered heartfelt advice to Kian.
”I’m sometimes feel like I was earning money for them,” Ramsey said thoughtfully. “At first, it was only for my sake, but as more companions joined, things changed. You, too, will surely change.”
”Do you think so?” Kian asked quietly, his gaze fixed downward at the Aqueduct beside Oswald.
”I feel like I can never change—I’m probably an abnormal person,” Kian admitted, voice low.
Oswald frowned slightly. “You seem really down. Did Eleonora say something to you?”
”Huh?” Kian looked up, surprised.
Oswald pointed toward the direction below the Aqueduct—the Old Renaud Residence—and smiled slyly. “You came from that direction. You went to visit her again today, right?”
”Yes, well,” Kian responded awkwardly.
”Thank you for caring about her. She is my… what would it be, benefactor?” Oswald murmured, a rare softness threading through his voice.
”Don’t ask me. Speaking of which, Sir Oswald, you admired Lady Eleonora, didn’t you?” Kian probed.
Oswald took a small stone from the railing, heated it until it glowed red, then tossed it into the Aqueduct. The stone made a faint splash and sank, cooling in the flowing water.
”She resembled my sister. Kind-hearted, and a little lacking in thought,” Oswald said with a touch of regret.
”Lacking in thought?”
”It’s a fact. A wise beast knows who to challenge and who to leave alone. They understand their limits. After gaining the power of the sun, and even after losing it, she still lacked the sense of what must not be lost.”
”That hits hard…” Kian muttered.
Oswald chuckled, eyes glinting gold. “Heh, you defeated me, and you had a chance to win. You didn’t openly attack me in the daytime either. She’s completely different from Eleonora.”
”It may be there now, but in time, I might forget it. I want to keep progressing without becoming arrogant,” Kian said firmly.
Oswald burst out laughing. “You’re always like that.” He sparkled his golden eyes and extended his right hand toward Kian.
”Even if my subordinates fail, will you be my friend? A friend on equal terms.”
Kian hesitated, silent.
”In addition to your Adventurer life, I’d be happy if you came to visit me occasionally. Is that… not okay?”
”No, nothing like that. I would be grateful to be Sir Oswald’s friend,” Kian replied sincerely.
”Thank you, Kian. Let’s really try to kill each other again sometime,” Oswald said with a grin.
”Sir Oswald, you’re quite unusual, saying that to a friend,” Kian said, laughing.
The golden youth silently gripped Kian’s right hand. A slight chill ran through him, though he wanted to believe it was just his imagination.
Lishena, who had been watching from behind, deliberately clicked her heels as she approached.
”Lord Oswald, it’s about time.”
”Understood. So, Kian. Until we meet again. Let’s have a friendly bout during the day next time,” Oswald said with a playful smirk.
”I would prefer to pass on that,” Kian replied.
Oswald laughed brightly at Kian’s response and turned toward the main gate with Lishena. Apparently, they were departing for Ramsey immediately. It was only natural; there was no reason to let them linger.
”A partner of Phoenix, huh?” Camilla said as she materialized from Mist Form beside Isthbaran.
”I’ve never seen someone so strongly connected to Phoenix before. There really are people like that,” she added in awe.
”He is strong. Even without the power of the Holy Sword of the Sun, he remains an excellent tactician and strategist. That’s what sticks in my memory,” Isthbaran said quietly.
”Speaking of Phoenix, it seems the core of Phoenix ended up unused after all,” Kian said, pulling a black box from the Wraith carrying their luggage.
Turning toward Camilla, he teased, “If you want that much sugar, why not just use this to grow sugarcane or something?”
”Suggesting to start from growing ingredients just because I said I wanted to drink cola… your thought process is breaking through its limits, isn’t it?” Camilla replied with a teasing smile.
”As for sugar, Linca should have been storing some in Mizuchi,” Talia said thoughtfully.
Camilla snapped her fingers. “That’s it!” She tried again but produced only a silly clapping sound, thanks to her squishy fingers.
”At The Boar’s Trot Inn, Mr. Robert is inventing a new drink. Before the year changes, he’s asked all employees to come up with fashionable and cute drink ideas.”
”Cola isn’t particularly fashionable or cute,” Camilla remarked, glancing around.
”It might deviate from the purpose, but there’s no doubt that cola could become a new drink. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to develop it alongside helping my sidekick Esther,” Kian added thoughtfully.
”Then, what about the business talk?” Camilla asked.
”Selling a new drink, perhaps?” Kian suggested.
”Oh, that sounds good, doesn’t it? Cola was a hit product in the Empire of Night!” Mrs. Camilla exclaimed excitedly.
Kian knew well that the world wasn’t quite that sweet. Still, dreaming was free.
(Money is important, huh? But tonight, it feels like I have obtained something even more important.)
He straightened up from the stone bridge’s railing. The three of them returned to the carriage and opened the wine.
”To a new beginning!” he toasted—words that came to mind naturally. Talia and the others joined in enthusiastically.
Above the fortress, beautiful summer stars began to shimmer, silent witnesses to their hopeful night.
Notes:
• Louis – Trusted subordinates from the Châtillon family, part of Guy’s elite force.
• Lishena – Trusted subordinates from the Châtillon family, part of Guy’s elite force.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Camilla – A woman; the subject of the chapter; her body was used to seal Erynys’ soul.
• Serena – Wolfmen Girl
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’
• Bertrand – The recent knight recruited by Maribel from bandit. He is from boar tribe and have goblin-like face.
• Katyusha – A female warrior monk of the black panther race and a follower of Abbas Hashmalik Shakerdoust.
• Abbas – The heir of the Shakerdoust family, a prominent clan within the Twelve Divine Generals.
• Nizaam – A former member of Azrael’s Twelve Divine Generals and the current head of the Malc family, though he has passed both titles to his daughter to return to the battlefield. He is a prominent warrior noble in Azrael, known for his love of beautiful boys and fierce battles.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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