Chapter 5 : Chapter 5
Chapter 5: Execution (2)
Beside her was her benefactor, Aran Lubeil.
All around, the esteemed Second Mistress, Lady Janya, and the direct descendants were watching.
“To think he was really in the execution chamber.”
Meram couldn’t help but mutter coldly.
“What are you doing here?”
And of all things, charged with insulting and assaulting a direct descendant. In such a short time.
Meanwhile, she had been searching for a pillar to lean on, worried about the Young Master.
***
One hour ago.
Leaving Simurtr at the west annex, Meram went to meet her benefactor.
“Meram?”
The master of the 6th Sword Order.
The 6th Head of the Sword, Aran Lubeil, looked with curious eyes at the woman who had just burst into his office.
“…It has been a long time, Sir Aran.”
Ill-fitting glasses. Snow-white hair, mimicking someone else. A robe embroidered with a magic seal.
“Indeed. What is it? Have you returned?”
The 6th Head of the Sword, Aran Lubeil, was not alone in his office.
He was with someone.
“What is the matter?”
Aran’s adjutant, who prided himself on knowing Aran Lubeil better than anyone else.
Naor looked at Meram with curious eyes.
His superior was also known as the Mectera Ideology Injector.
And yet, there was a hint of goodwill in the voice of that 6th Head of the Sword.
No matter how he looked at her, that woman was a magician.
“Ah. You must be seeing her for the first time. She is a child I sponsored. Her name is Meram Athor.”
“Ah. I have heard the name.”
Naor nodded his head.
Meram Athor. A 6th-circle magician who had graduated top of her class from the Imperial Capital Academy and earned an honorary title.
And yet, a rare species who had devoted herself to Mectera.
Her name had once been a topic of conversation within the main estate.
Why a magician? Everyone had held that question, and Naor realized the answer today.
“…Don’t tell me she’s of that kind?”
“That’s right. We met around the end of the war. I left her at the orphanage where the Young Master once stayed.”
“I understand.”
The Young Master.
At Aran’s words, Naor got the feeling.
Her reason for coming to Mectera was probably related to that as well.
“Have you returned for good?”
“I have. That is why I have come to pay my respects… and to ask for Sir Aran’s help.”
“Help? Yes, what kind of help do you need?”
“It is not I who need help, but Sir Simurtr.”
“Sir Simurtr?”
Wrinkles formed around Aran’s eyes.
It was because the name Simurtr was quite unfamiliar.
“He is the youngest young master. The fourth.”
“Was there such a person?”
“He is an adopted son. You know, him. The exiled young lord.”
“Ah.”
“Do you remember now?”
“Why did I forget?”
“You were not interested. And when he was being talked about, we were on a dispatch to the north.”
“The north? Ah, was it the matter of cooperation with the Grand Duke?”
“That is correct. It was a six-year dispatch, so it is only natural that we are not acquainted with the fourth young master.”
“And yet, you seem to know him well.”
“It is the 6th Head of the Sword who is ignorant. Should you not be aware of the affairs of the main estate? You are a Head of the Sword, after all.”
He seemed cheerful and simple, but in truth, Aran was pickier than anyone else.
The sword. And the Young Master.
Aran did not easily remember people unrelated to those two.
His connection with Meram Athor was, of course, the latter.
“I feel like a sinner.”
“What’s new? Haven’t you always had a screw loose, 6th Head of the Sword?”
“Ahem.”
It wasn’t because Simurtr was an adopted son.
In the first place, he wasn’t particularly fond of the current direct descendants either.
It was because his standards were so high.
“Have you been with that adopted son all this time?”
“Yes.”
“You should have said so.”
Meram smiled bitterly.
Even if she had, nothing would have changed.
Aran’s goodwill was limited to herself.
“Right. So, what about him? Has something happened?”
“I would like you to become Sir Simurtr’s background.”
“Are you asking me to help him enter the castle? That is difficult. It would have been possible back then, but now there is no justification.”
Naor answered in his stead.
The Head of the Swords remain neutral.
In the current era, there were some who had been won over by the mistresses, but at least the 6th Sword Order was not one of them.
“That’s right. It wouldn’t be good for that adopted son to come to the main estate either.”
Returning to the main estate was the same as saying one had to take up the sword.
“Sixteen? I’m sorry, but it’s already too late. He’s too old. Use my account. You’ll be able to live without worrying about money for the rest of your life outside.”
Naor’s eyes widened.
It wasn’t because he had refused Meram’s request.
In the first place, that wasn’t even a refusal.
“That is too much.”
The goodwill was too deep. It was close to favoritism.
And the other party was just a mere spellcaster.
It must be because of the common denominator of ‘the Young Master.’
That ghost. Naor furrowed his brow.
“What is too much? It’s a request from Meram, of all people.”
“What do you mean, Meram’s request? Honestly, it’s because of that Young Master, isn’t it?
You said you were of the same kind earlier.”
The ‘Young Master’ he was referring to was not the adopted son of the estate of exile, Simurtr.
“What about it.”
“Please stop.”
If it had been, he wouldn’t have been so displeased.
“You’re just saying that because you haven’t experienced it.”
“I’ve heard enough about his achievements to be sick of them.”
“It’s not the same as seeing it for yourself. You didn’t even participate in the war, did you?”
“How many times do I have to tell you I did.”
“It was at the border, wasn’t it?”
The Young Master.
There was only one person in the world that the 6th Head of the Sword, Aran Lubeil, called ‘Young Master.’
The hero, Exa Mectera.
The ghost who was dead, but still clung to Aran.
“If you had experienced it, you wouldn’t dare to doubt.”
“What is there that I wouldn’t dare to doubt? Wasn’t he exiled in the first place? He couldn’t even feel mana.”
“But he achieved great things in the end.”
“He didn’t achieve them in the main estate.”
“Even when he was in the main estate, there was no one who could match him when it came to the sword.”
“What nonsense are you talking about? He was only seventeen when he was exiled.”
The adjutant shook his head.
He was the famous 6th Head of the Sword that all the main estate’s swordsmen praised, but whenever the topic of the Young Master came up, he became a different person.
“And what do you mean, Young Master? How old was he when he died?”
That was the reason Aran was particularly picky among the Head of the Swords.
All his standards for judging talent were set to the Young Master, Exa Mectera.
“I apologize for the atmosphere, but… well… he has already entered the castle.”
As Aran’s face was starting to turn red, Meram said, cautiously observing him.
“Is that true?”
A wrinkle formed between Naor’s brows.
He had returned without an order from the main estate.
“If that is true, it is not a matter to be taken lightly. Leaving the place of exile is comparable to treason.”
“This case is not to that extent. It wasn’t a formal order, was it?”
“Please stop taking his side.”
“Isn’t this an objective fact?”
The youngest’s exile was by the mistress’s hand.
As long as it wasn’t the Sword Master’s order, it didn’t have the same level of enforcement, even if it was broken.
“That must be why you came to me. And you must have brought a valid reason as well.”
“Yes. There is a fitting justification.”
She knew how high the 6th Head of the Sword Aran’s standards were.
Wasn’t the standard of his discernment the Young Master he always spoke of, the hero Exa Mectera?
“You will not regret it.”
But Meram was confident.
***
“……”
Meram’s explanation ended.
Aran slowly nodded his head.
“…It is more than he deserves. If it is true, he has more than enough qualifications to enter the castle. Even if he were a street beggar, he is a talent to be taken in as an adopted son immediately.”
“Do you believe that?”
Naor’s eyes were full of disbelief.
‘Like calls to like.’
Just as Aran exaggerated the achievements of the young master Exa, Meram was also exaggerating the actions of the young master she served.
“Who would believe that?”
“I thought so too……”
“But I believe Meram.”
“……”
“He’s at the west annex?”
Bang!
Just as Aran was about to stand up, the office door flew open.
“Head of the Sword! The Execution Office has been opened!”
It was one of the swordsmen under the 6th Sword Order.
He looked for Aran with a face full of interest.
“The Execution Office?”
“Yes!”
“By whose authority?”
The Execution Office.
It was one of the authorities of the Sword Order residing in the main estate.
This year’s guardian of the main estate was the 6th Sword Order.
It meant that the opening of the Execution Office was currently under the authority of the 6th Head of the Sword, Aran.
“They say it was the second wife.”
“Again?”
“Shall we stop it?”
“What is the agenda?”
“Leaving the place of exile and insulting and assaulting a direct descendant.”
“Who is the target?”
“They say it is Simurtr Mectera. It’s the first time I’ve heard the name… Is he from a branch family? No. Branch families don’t have Mectera attached to their names, do they? As far as I know.”
Aran and Naor laughed in exasperation.
Meram roughly wiped her face with both hands.
***
Aran Lubeil.
The swordsman who had renounced his position as the 1st Head of the Sword, volunteering to be Exa’s escort.
Simurtr clearly remembered that escort, who had always had a wide grin on his face, calling him ‘Young Master, Young Master.’
Even after Exa was exiled from Mectera, Aran still called Exa ‘Young Master.’
‘But the 6th Head of the Sword?’
As far as Simurtr knew, there were a total of five Sword Orders.
The 6th Sword Order must have been created after the war.
He didn’t know why Aran was serving as a Head of the Sword, but.
‘Well. As long as he’s alive, it’s fine.’
The Doom War.
Exa at the time had met Aran, but not that often.
It was because Aran was under Gerehk’s command.
And Exa and his unit had been guaranteed independent command by the Emperor.
‘That petty bastard.’
Gerehk was reluctant to let Exa meet the Mectera swordsmen.
The more the swordsmen showed goodwill, the more he tried to cut off their contact.
That was the reason Exa had rarely fought on the same front as Mectera.
‘Well.’
Anyway. That wasn’t what was important right now.
“Since when did the Mectera Execution Office deal with assault?”
Thanks to Aran, whom he had met after a long time, the situation was reversed.
He was repeating the exact words Simurtr had said.
“…The injury of a direct descendant is an important agenda item.”
The Execution Head was sweating profusely.
He glanced at Janya, but there was nothing she could do to help.
‘Why is the 6th Head of the Sword……’
The one who had served as his escort when the hero Exa was an adopted son of Mectera.
A giant tree who had held the position of Head of the Sword for half a century.
And Aran Lubeil had come to defend an adopted son who had just arrived in the capital?
“Such a thing is an important agenda item. Since when?”
“It has been quite a while.”
Adjutant Naor spoke in his defense.
The Execution Head let out a sigh of relief at his words, which seemed to be taking his side.
“This is the first I’m hearing of it.”
“Since after the war. The fratricide that was secretly happening now leads to the death penalty if caught.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“Because you are not interested. It is also imperial law. It was revised after the war.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it the aftermath of the war? Many families have had their bloodlines cut off. Hasn’t the main estate’s branch families also decreased significantly? Even now, the main estate is looking for adopted sons to establish new branch families.”
Aran nodded his head. It was a new piece of information.
“But isn’t that a bit far from an injury? Does that look like a serious injury to you?”
Aran pointed at the back of Beden’s head.
Just a bump.
Naor barely held back his laughter.
“Does the Head of the Senate of Elders also know of this fact?”
“He would know if it is imperial law, but I am not sure if he would be positive about the main estate taking such a stance.”
“I will ask him myself.”
“Yes.”
Naor nodded his head.
“An injury. A natural byproduct of a duel. Shouldn’t the victor be praised instead?”
“That is not wrong.”
This time, the Execution Head answered.
“Then why is this happening?”
“It was not a proper duel. Sir Beden Mectera was ambushed.”
“An ambush? What kind?”
“He was attacked before he could even draw his sword.”
“Isn’t it the fault of the one who got hit?”
“From our perspective, yes.”
Naor retorted.
It was a matter of course among swordsmen.
“What do you think the Head of the Senate of Elders would think?”
“Ask him while you’re at it.”
“I should.”
“But Simurtr Mectera is not a direct descendant.”
As their conversation came to an ominous halt, the Execution Head hastily shouted.
“Strictly speaking, that is true.”
“A lowly person has inflicted harm upon a direct descendant.”
“Lowly? What is?”
Aran’s face, which had been listening silently, hardened.
“Are you perhaps referring to his bloodline? Because he is an adopted son?”
“That is……”
“Was it thanks to a direct descendant that the main estate came to be called a Hero Family?”
Wasn’t it due to the merit of the exiled Exa Mectera that Mectera became a Hero Family?
“……”
The Execution Head shut his mouth tight.
It was because he had just remembered how sensitive the word ‘adopted son’ was to Aran.
“Please stop. You’ll be taken away by the inspection team again.”
Naor, who could no longer watch, said.
It was a topic related to Aran’s Young Master, Exa Mectera.
It was the most sensitive topic for Aran, and it was obvious that if left alone, the level of his remarks would only get higher.
“The inspection team? They are all children I taught. How dare anyone take me, the……”
“It is not you, the 6th Head of the Sword, but the 6th Sword Order that will be harmed.”
“Hmm.”
Aran collected himself.
Just as the Execution Head was about to let out a sigh of relief.
“So, Naor.”
Aran opened his mouth again.
Though he controlled his momentum, his displeasure was clearly felt.
“Since when did the main estate start prioritizing bloodlines? Is this also a new imperial law?”
“Such a law has not been created yet.”
“Does the Head of the Senate of Elders know?”
“How would he know? The youngest young master returned today. We have never discussed such an agenda.”
“I will have to ask for his esteemed opinion on this as well.”
“Please do.”
As sweat beaded on the Execution Head’s brow, Simurtr looked at Meram.
She was hiding behind Aran.
But as their eyes met, she gently pushed Aran’s back and glared daggers.
“…But leaving the place of exile is a grave crime. For that agenda alone, it was necessary to open the Execution Office.”
In the end, the Execution Head backed down.
After confirming Janya’s nod with a sideways glance, he brought up another agenda item.
“That is correct.”
Naor answered Aran’s gaze.
“Tsk.”
Beside him, Meram was looking at him with pleading eyes, but it couldn't be helped.
Leaving the place of exile was a matter that Aran could not oppose.
‘He’s not called the Mectera Ideology Injector for nothing.’
Simurtr, who had been quietly watching Aran, nodded his head.
Judging by the way he spoke, his nickname didn’t seem to have changed.
He does not break the rules of the main estate. He is still stricter than others.
‘Well. Being strict depends on the person, though.’
This was Mectera, where even a heinous criminal could aim for the position of a knight commander.
It meant that they were extremely lenient towards talented swordsmen.
Mectera had been like that since the old days.
Because they were so full of confidence.
“The reason for leaving?”
“We have not been able to ask yet.”
“We can hear it together, then.”
In the end, Aran took a seat.
It was in front of Janya and Beden, a small consideration for Meram.
To block Janya’s gaze so that Simurtr could speak comfortably.
‘What’s gotten into him?’
He doesn’t even pay attention to those without talent.
To think Aran would show such goodwill at their first meeting. It must be Meram’s influence.
‘What’s his relationship with Meram?’
Benefactor. Meram had said she was going to meet her benefactor.
‘Aran, a swordsman, is her benefactor? But Meram is a magician?’
And not just a simple benefactor.
The goodwill Aran was showing now was purely thanks to Meram, wasn’t it?
Originally, he was a person she would have never met in the execution chamber.
‘He doesn’t even remember names if they don’t have talent.’
And now, they didn’t even know each other.
From the perspective of his past life, it could be considered a rather deep relationship, but not in this life.
“Are we not starting?”
“Ah. We should.”
He still couldn’t understand why Aran, who openly despised magicians, was Meram’s benefactor… but it wasn’t a problem to think about now.
“If there is a valid reason, he will be acquitted, right?”
Simurtr grinned as he looked into Aran’s eyes.
Thanks to Meram, the stage was set very well.
An opportunity to take care of all the annoying things he would have to deal with in the main estate at once.
‘Aran wasn’t this smart.’
Perhaps Meram had intended this.
That talent-discriminating person had taken his side to this extent.
It must be thanks to Meram telling him about the incident at the estate of exile.
“That is so.”
“And the exile will end?”
“Wouldn’t you have to prove your qualifications for that?”
“I beat that guy, didn’t I?”
“That is not enough.”
“True.”
A smile full of leisure. That attitude of ignoring the direct descendant as if it were a matter of course. Aran was curious.
He was as audacious as he had heard. Far from being intimidated, wasn’t he even speaking informally?
“He is the 6th Head of the Sword.”
Naor glared at Simurtr with wide eyes.
“I know. I am Mectera.”
“How dare you……!”
“Enough. It’s not something that can’t be let go. It’s not wrong, is it?”
The direct descendants of Mectera do not speak formally to the Head of the Swords.
They claim it so. Because of the ideology ingrained in their bones, they feel uncomfortable speaking down to a stronger swordsman.
Because the Head of the Swords are all those who have achieved great things with the sword.
“The faces and names of the swordsmen belonging to the main estate. Do you know them?”
“I know those with potential.”
“Not all of them?”
“…I do.”
Naor, who had been quietly suppressing his anger, answered.
That question was one of Aran’s weaknesses.
Because the Head of the Sword, the leader of the swordsmen, didn’t even know all the names of his subordinates.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
At Naor’s answer, Simurtr smiled brightly.
“Meram.”
“Yes?”
“Come here.”
At Simurtr’s gesture, Meram stood up from her seat.
She approached and looked at Simurtr with a bewildered face.
“Can you open your subspace for a moment? There’s something I need to take out.”
“Suddenly?”
“It’s important.”
“In this situation?”
“Please.”
Meram nodded her head.
A straight line was drawn in the air.
Meram reached out and pulled the line apart.
“Which one is it?”
Clothing. A spare sword. As far as Meram knew, that was all that was in the subspace.
Simurtr had chosen them, and Meram had put them in herself.
“I’ll get it.”
Simurtr pulled out Meram’s hand, which was in the subspace, and thrust his own arm in.
He put it in up to his shoulder and rummaged around a few times, then finally grabbed something and pulled it out.
“Gasp!”
Meram jumped back.
The entrance of the subspace that had manifested in the air fluctuated greatly due to her broken concentration.
“…That, that… why……”
Golden threads tangled between his fingers… no, hair.
Simurtr was holding onto the hair. A head. That gruesome severed head he had seen a few days ago.
“I thought I might need it, so I put it in.”
“When……?”
“When you were hiding your underwear?”
The subspace maintains a pleasant environment.
Corpses don’t rot easily either.
“How about it? Do you know who it is?”
Simurtr showed the severed head to Naor.
The condition was quite good. It had turned blue but hadn’t rotted. Only its eyes were closed, the rest was clear.
“It is… Swordsman Keito of the 3rd Sword Order.”
Just as he had been confident, Naor recognized the face.
“Why him?”
Naor’s voice was mixed with bewilderment.
A swordsman of the main estate had returned with only his head. And it was in the hands of an adopted son who had just arrived.
“You don’t know? He came to kill me.”
Beside the pale face, Simurtr smiled brightly. The contrast in temperature gave the onlookers a chilling feeling.
“Why?”
“Should I be the one to find that out?”
“……”
A sarcastic question.
Naor turned around and looked at Janya. Ugh. She was covering her retching mouth with a pale face.
A swordsman belonging to the 3rd Sword Order, Janya, an attack on the estate of exile.
…A vulgar scheme unimaginable in Mectera.
His train of thought stretched that far.
It was the moment Naor’s gaze shifted to Aran.
“You said fratricide leads to the death penalty.”
Naor’s gaze, which was about to confirm Aran’s face, dropped. He didn’t dare to look. A level of mana different from what he had experienced in the office erupted from Aran’s body.
“If you make the excuse that he is an adopted son and not a blood relative, it would be a contempt for the rules of the main estate.”
As Meram grabbed Simurtr’s shoulder and trembled, Simurtr grinned as if he found it amusing.
Ael grabbed Jahar’s arm and secretly left the execution chamber.
“Either way is difficult to understand. With Sword Master Medeoban in seclusion in the Senate of Elders, the main estate has become a mess.”
A clean-up is in order.
Aran, who had mentioned the Head of the Senate of Elders, began by demolishing the Execution Office.