Chapter 6 : Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Execution (3)
The massive chunks fell to the floor, creating a thunderous roar.
And the dust that rose like a desert sandstorm disturbed the inside of the castle, but.
It was none of Simurtr’s business.
He had confirmed that the siblings of the first wife, as well as Janya and Beden, had escaped.
“Who is the Head of the Senate of Elders?”
The reception room of the west annex.
Simurtr asked Aran that first.
Because in the execution chamber, they had been singing his name over and over again.
“He is the former Sword Master.”
“Former? He’s dead, isn’t he?”
That bundle of inferiority who had died almost at the same time as the end of the war.
“…Strictly speaking, it is the one before him.”
Naor, sitting next to Aran, answered.
His voice was seething.
Though he had no choice but to acknowledge Simurtr’s skill now, his attitude towards Aran still bothered him.
“You could say that.”
“Ah.”
When Aran nodded his head, Simurtr let out a low exclamation.
The one before him. He was talking about his adoptive father from his past life.
Medeoban Mectera. That old man.
‘True. Aran is still alive, after all.’
To be the head of the Mectera family was the same as being one of the most powerful figures of the era.
Aran, who was of a lower realm, was still so hale and hearty. It was only natural that Medeoban was alive.
‘That’s why I can’t understand how Gerehk died.’
That man had ascended to the position of Sword Master with the start of the war.
It meant that his skills had been acknowledged by the Head of the Swords.
And such a Gerehk had died after groaning from a mere injury?
Simurtr still found that fact difficult to accept.
“I heard the story from Meram.”
Simurtr found Aran’s words and actions both familiar and unfamiliar.
The expression on his face when he was interested was still the same, but… he had changed a lot.
The Aran who had followed him around calling him ‘Young Master, Young Master’ was no more.
It was because he was no longer Exa, but Simurtr.
“So you’ve become interested? After having no interest all this time.”
“If the 6th Head of the Sword had not intervened, Sir Simurtr would have……”
“Adjutant, stay out of it. I’m asking your superior right now.”
“……”
The exile was decided not by the Sword Master’s opinion, but by the two mistresses.
The oldest Head of the Sword in Mectera. If Aran had had even a little interest in him, he could have easily nullified it.
“That is correct. If I had known, I would have stopped it.”
“But you didn’t know.”
“The matter of the exile happened when the 6th Sword Order was dispatched to the north. This would be an excuse. It is a fact that I did not know. The adjutant knew. It must be my own shortcoming.”
Hearing Aran’s words, Naor shook his head.
His superior was a pickier person than anyone else, but once he took a liking to someone, he became cheerful and simple.
His current attitude meant that Aran had acknowledged that rude adopted son.
“Actually, I don’t care. I never wanted it either.”
Honesty and shortcomings.
That was Aran’s innate disposition.
A quality that only the strong, who wouldn’t even glance at those without outstanding talent, could possess. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call it arrogance.
‘In the first place, that’s why he followed me around in my past life, so what.’
If Exa’s talent had been poor, Aran would not have remembered his name or face.
That was why he was even more glad. It meant that though quite some time had passed, Aran was still the same.
‘Just this far.’
But he didn’t want to stir up any more emotions.
He had no intention of revealing his past life.
If he had had such thoughts, he would have sought out Aran or his unit members as soon as he was born.
He didn’t want to cause harm by needlessly bringing up past connections.
Hadn’t they already gone through enough hardship?
All that was left for Aran and the members of Baperr was to live peacefully.
“What’s your relationship with Meram?”
“Did Meram not tell you? She is a child I sponsored. We met at the time of the war’s end.”
“But you raised her as a magician? And even let her into the main estate?”
He sponsored a magician?
That Aran? The Aran that Simurtr knew was by no means such a person. He would have rather killed her.
“It had already been determined that she had no talent for the sword. I also opposed her entry into the castle.”
“Then why didn’t you stop her.”
“Wouldn’t that be her own choice?”
“And she had a talent for magic?”
“I did not know at the time. She said she found out at the orphanage. I had left her at the orphanage where the Young Master once stayed.”
“The Young Master?”
Don’t tell me, me?
“He is referring to the hero, Sir Exa.”
Beside him, Meram said shyly.
“Wow.”
He was still calling me that?
***
“He awakened his sword ki through self-study, deceiving the eyes of the watchmen.”
And he had cut down a swordsman from the 3rd Sword Order.
It was a single strike, and it had aimed for the neck.
He had cut a part that was impossible to cut without considerable skill and confidence.
“How is it, Naor. How does it feel to have been a frog in a well? Are you all right?”
Naor’s face turned red.
It was because he remembered the argument they had had in the 6th Sword Order’s office.
“It is nothing to be ashamed of. Is there anything more abstract than a talent one has not experienced firsthand? However, you will have to be careful with your words from now on.”
It was a way of telling him to keep his mouth shut whenever they talked about the young master Exa from now on.
Simurtr blinked his eyes blankly, but Meram and Naor understood.
“You said his mana is white.”
As Meram had said, Simurtr’s talent was unusual, but… if it had been just that, Aran would not have stepped in himself.
“Is that important?”
At Simurtr’s words, Aran looked at Meram.
That white hair. It was the same reason Aran had moved himself.
White mana.
In his entire life, Aran had only seen mana of that quality from one person.
“I heard that the mana you possess resembles that of the young master Exa.”
“There’s nothing more unsightly than clinging to a dead person.”
Naor unwittingly nodded his head.
Then he flinched and looked at Aran.
Because whenever Naor had said such things, Aran would become enraged.
“Could you perhaps show me?”
“I’m sorry, but if you’re thinking of finding a trace, you’ve got it wrong. That hero you call the Young Master died before I was even born.”
“I am aware.”
“It would be meaningless.”
“I am aware.”
Aran was calm.
But he was desperate.
Simurtr thought as he looked into Aran’s eyes.
“The selection ceremony is in two months. See it then.”
So he grinned.
He had just been wondering how he could participate in the selection ceremony.
***
Behind the Mectera main estate.
Half of a great, sacred mountain remained.
The other half had been lost during the war.
That day was also the day the Mectera main estate was half-destroyed.
‘The Young Master cut it down.’
There were no hard feelings.
Everyone in the main estate had felt that way.
It was a war where territories collapsed and the terrain changed daily. It was an era where killing the Doom Species was more important than any other damage.
Even more so if it was a high-ranking Doom Species.
‘The Young Master probably killed the most.’
The dead Doom Species had been a marquis. Aran looked down at the cliff from the summit of the sacred mountain. It was a cliff created by Exa’s sword.
Looking at that cross-section, admiration and nostalgia would well up together. It was truly smooth. It was one of the few remaining traces of the Young Master in the main estate.
It was the reason Aran periodically visited the summit of the sacred mountain.
‘Star-Breaking Style.’
Exa’s unique white mana originated from the school he had met after leaving Mectera.
That pure white and intense mana.
That light, Aran had never once forgotten.
“……”
Aran scattered his thoughts and reached out his hand into the air. Something black oozed out from his fingertips.
The Senate of Elders was hidden at the summit of the sacred mountain.
That barrier, which he had asked the illusion-wielding Degrate to create after the war, was located in various places throughout the main estate.
The black mana that symbolized Mectera became the key to the barrier. Aran’s mana opened the path to the Senate of Elders.
“Aran?”
“This guy. He must have come because of a guilty conscience.”
“I think he destroyed something.”
As he opened the gate of the old and tall mansion and entered, three elders were sitting on the sofa on the first floor, chatting amicably.
“The Execution Office was an eyesore, so I’m planning to rebuild it.”
“That? Suddenly?”
“They were dealing with assault charges.”
“The hell?”
The elders’ eyes widened.
They were all from around the same generation as Aran.
“How is his condition?”
“As you’d expect. It is worsening.”
“His state of mind?”
“The same.”
An era of national and familial destruction.
No war was crueler or darker than the Doom War.
The Head of the Senate of Elders had suffered considerable internal injuries and lost his will.
He had felt a sense of emptiness at the death of his son and the 38th Sword Master, Gerehk.
“I will go and see him first.”
In truth, he needed treatment more than rest.
A method of treatment certainly existed. It wasn’t a difficult method either.
But the person himself was refusing it.
“Right. He is on the third floor.”
There was no hallway on the third floor.
The entire floor was one massive room.
The residence of the 37th Sword Master and the current Head of the Senate of Elders, Medeoban Mectera.
“It is Aran.”
As he knocked, the massive door opened on its own.
As the entire floor was used as a room, the room was truly spacious. And therefore, it was empty.
Inside, only the bare minimum of furniture was arranged.
It was a room that automatically brought to mind the name Mectera.
Mectera, which never indulged in luxury unless it was related to the sword.
“That is a bad posture.”
In the center was a large sofa, on which an old man was half-lying, reading a book.
“Tsk. What kind of trouble have you caused this time?”
Medeoban said as he sat up.
His appearance was a direct reflection of the characteristics of the Mectera bloodline—tall but looking thin.
“Are you well?”
“Still in my prime.”
Though he said that, the signs of aging had become more distinct.
His muscles, which should have been firm and flexible, had become more frail. His hair, which had been half black, had now all turned white, and the fine wrinkles on his face had doubled.
“……”
Aran’s eyebrow twitched.
Though aging was a natural phenomenon, it was too fast, even considering that.
When gauging the age of the powerful who had entered the realm of Sword Master, it was common to halve their age.
If their appearance looked to be in their thirties, one would guess them to be around sixty.
Because the powerful mana they possessed tried to maintain their bodies in their prime.
‘He’s gotten worse.’
Medeoban’s age this year was eighty-seven.
But he was a powerful figure who had reached his realm more than 50 years ago.
His appearance should rightly look to be in his forties.
‘Contamination of the mana circuits.’
The aftermath of the Doom War.
That injury was worsening with each passing day.
“I asked what trouble you caused.”
At Medeoban’s words, Aran hesitated for a moment.
He himself had been that way, but it would be worse for Medeoban.
He had no knowledge of Simurtr at all.
The loyal retainers residing in the Senate of Elders were filtering information.
It was to protect Medeoban’s mental strength.
His condition was already worsening, and it was obvious that if he found out about the mess in the family, it would become uncontrollable.
‘But I can’t hide it forever.’
Medeoban would be observing this year’s selection ceremony.
And Simurtr had earned the right to participate in the selection ceremony through Aran.
It meant that on the day of the selection ceremony, everything would be revealed.
“I have demolished the Execution Office.”
“Why?”
Whenever he saw Medeoban, he felt an indescribable sense of unease.
While hoping for his illness to be cured, he would inadvertently have the audacious thought of what it would be like if he died.
Medeoban was a swordsman who had risen to the position of Sword Master and dominated an era. Aran naturally respected Medeoban’s achievements.
But at the same time, he resented him.
Medeoban had exiled the young Exa.
He had forcefully held back Aran, who was trying to leave the main estate with him.
“I asked why.”
“There is something I must tell you.”
From beginning to end.
Aran spoke of everything about Simurtr.
“Hah.”
“……”
“Since when did an outsider claim to be the master of the main estate?”
Medeoban’s reaction was not much different from what Aran had shown in the execution chamber.
***
“Young Master. A guest.”
A voice was heard from beyond the door.
“Who is it?”
“It is the 6th Head of the Sword.”
Simurtr grabbed his outer garment.
It had been a month since a guest had visited.
‘Already a month.’
After the Execution Office incident.
Simurtr had received a punishment of one month’s house arrest.
It was a punishment that would have been unthinkable in the past.
The continent had realized the preciousness of bloodlines, and the status of Mectera’s direct descendants had also risen even higher.
No matter how Mectera it was, it couldn’t escape the flow of the times.
“Still, a month is harsh.”
Simurtr felt an indescribable sense of unease.
Though Beden had been injured, it was just a large bump.
“A month for just a bump?”
Gerehk might have, but the Medeoban that Simurtr remembered was not such a person.
He was a man who would have punished the fainted Beden instead.
Yelling at him, asking how he could not even draw his sword in a fight.
‘Is it his time to die?’
Simurtr thought back to the Doom War.
Perhaps his personality had changed during that war.
They say war ruins people, after all.
‘It’s not like I’m in a position to talk.’
He remembered Aran’s surprised face when they had met on the battlefield once.
Seeing that curses were attached to the end of Exa’s every sentence, he had made a fuss, asking who on earth had corrupted him.
“It’s been a while.”
Simurtr smiled as he looked at Aran, who was sitting in the reception room.
Aran was probably the busiest person in Mectera over the past month.
“Have you been resting well?”
“Thanks to you.”
“Take this as well.”
Aran placed a small box on the table.
“What is it?”
“The heart of a young dragon.”
“This is?”
Simurtr’s expression soured upon learning the contents of the box.
“What’s with that face? You’re the one who caused all this.”
“I’m the victim.”
“That’s not wrong. Just take it for now.”
“Isn’t there anything else?”
“Hmm? Ah, did you not like this? I seem to recall you taking it with great excitement a month ago.”
“That wasn’t a dragon’s. Change it to something else.”
I’d eat anything else.
A dragon is a bit… Eating that would be like repaying a kindness from my past life with enmity.
“Were you a picky eater too?”
“I’m at that age. I’ll ask for something else. Something unrelated to dragons.”
“It is the best elixir in the main estate. This one alone probably has the effect of ten other elixirs… All right. I will bring you the inner core of a deep-sea creature instead. Is that all right?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
There are some who are picky about elixirs.
Especially those of the dragon race tend to be met with a lot of resistance.
Because there are many children who have a romanticized view of them. Aran put the box back inside his clothes.
“I have cut off the head of the Execution Head. Since he was directly involved, there was no room for extenuation.”
Aran began to recount the events of the past month.
It was a time that Simurtr had also been quite curious about.
“The second wife. The investigation into Janya Jabad is still ongoing. It was formed with the elders at its center.”
“And you’re not going, Aran?”
“I am still on active duty. The selection ceremony is soon, so there is much to prepare.”
The current protection of the main estate was the role of the 6th Sword Order.
That role included various minor tasks, and overseeing the selection ceremony was one of them.
“It is best not to expect much from the punishment of the second wife.”
“I understand. There’s probably no evidence either. You can’t catch her with just circumstances.”
She was still the mistress of the house.
And she had a county behind her.
“And. You don’t really think of Janya as that important, do you?”
“Hmm.”
Though she was the second wife, she was ultimately an outsider.
Mectera felt a greater sense of gravity in the fact that a Sword Order was being swayed by a mere outsider.
‘They probably think the Sword Order that was swept up in it is more of a problem than the outsider’s mischief.’
A thousand years.
In that vast amount of time, could there have been not a single mistress who harbored ulterior motives?
‘But a Sword Order had never been won over before.’
Many things had changed. Both internally and externally. The aftermath of the Doom War was too great.
Finding talent worthy of a Head of the Sword must not have been easy either.
“But the interference of the maternal family will surely be gone. The succession structure should rightly be formed by an individual’s capability, not by factional power.”
The first wife, Arnea, and the second wife, Janya.
The personnel of the main estate who had been won over by them and cooperated would be purged.
‘If the crime is light, it would be a demotion.’
He said that now, with Arnea away from the main estate and having gained a justification from Janya, was the chance.
‘If it were just this once, it could be passed off as a mistake, but……’
He remembered Janya from the execution chamber.
She wasn't the type to give up easily.
She would want to repay the insult she had received in kind.
‘There’s no way she’ll give up.’
Janya Jabad.
Even after becoming the mistress of Mectera, her ideology had not changed. She was no different from an ordinary noble.
Exa in his past life had seen many such nobles.
A disgusting crowd who did not know their own faults and attributed their own deficiencies to others and the environment.
They are a tribe that only kneels right before death.
Not because they belatedly admit their faults, but because they don’t want to die.
‘Let’s wait and see for now.’
He had neither the thought nor the leisure to look away.
Simurtr wanted to focus all his attention on the traitors.
If Janya didn’t provoke him first from now on, he had no intention of stepping up either.
“The 3rd Sword Order?”
“I have cut off the head of the 3rd Head of the Sword. A new Head of the Sword will soon be appointed to the 3rd Sword Order. The 2nd Head of the Sword’s crime was light, so he is scheduled to be transferred to the position of the Sword Master’s escort.”
“Who cut it off?”
“The Head of the Senate of Elders.”
“He’s intense.”
Simurtr nodded his head.
Medeoban, who had been his adoptive father, had that kind of personality. Once he erupted, he was like an uncontrollable volcano.
“I thought he was injured.”
“Hmm.”
“Why are you looking at Meram? Is there anyone in the main estate who doesn’t know that?”
In truth, he had heard it from Meram.
But Simurtr said it without showing any sign.
“You said it’s a mana circuit problem.”
Contamination of the mana circuits by the Doom Species.
It was a diagnosis he had seen countless times during the war.
“Is there no elixir in the main estate? When you even have the heart of a young dragon?”
Contamination by the power of the Doom Species was a familiar injury.
If only there was an elixir, it could be cured in an instant.
It shouldn't be a difficult matter for a great family like Mectera.
“There are at least ten bottles.”
“Then why?”
Medeoban refused the elixir, saying it was too much of a treasure to be used on an elder in his final years.
“It is the share of the Sword Master and the heirs.”
Though peace had continued after the end of the Doom War, Medeoban was still preparing for the worst.
“He’s stubborn.”
“……”
Even at the rude remark, Aran held his tongue.
He himself agreed with it.
“Is there nothing else you are curious about? The selection ceremony is now a month away.”
Simurtr had proven his skill through Keito’s severed head.
He had earned the right to participate in this year’s selection ceremony, which was being held for the siblings, Jahar and Ael.
“Will you tell me?”
“If you wish.”
He had become lenient.
It was not because of his goodwill towards Meram.
Aran had acknowledged Simurtr’s talent.
‘Please ask him everything quickly.’
Meram sent a look to Simurtr.
Now that his value has been acknowledged.
Aran would answer any question Simurtr asked.
“Do I have to?”
But that look did not reach Simurtr.