Chapter 73 : Chapter 73
Chapter 73: Mausoleum of the Sword Masters (3)
There are people with whom you can communicate without having to speak.
The relationship between a pet and its owner is like that.
Family. Once you reach a point where you can hold that word in your mouth, emotions don't need to be shared through words.
Though not related by blood, my master is within the category of family. Semenu is there, and the Baperrs, excluding the adjutant, are there. In the vicinity of that category, Aran naturally exists as well.
And the sensibilities of an older person are much deeper and more blatant than those of a child.
It's hard to face. Simurtr thought, looking into Aran’s eyes. It was also embarrassing.
Everything he had been denying with gritted teeth until now was exposed in an instant.
But Aran neither scoffs nor gets angry. That's the kind of relationship it is. Though I've never experienced the real thing, family is inherently unconditional.
At least, that was the kind of family Simurtr had wanted.
“How did you know?”
I believed my sense of time was quite accurate. Since there are no clocks on the battlefield.
Now? I didn't know. I could only guess from the moon that had tilted at some point.
Simurtr just read Aran’s emotions, waited for him to calm down, and then asked. He placed Gerehk’s body inside, closed the lid, and sat on top of it.
“You didn’t kill Beden, did you?”
“Why would I kill him?”
“Janya died, didn't she?”
“Damn it. Did I kill her?”
“There was a possibility he could become a future threat. If Beden had been an adult, would you really not have killed him?”
“……”
Simurtr didn’t answer.
Because if that had been the case, he felt he would have killed him along with Janya long ago.
“Kua’s ideology became a good keyword. And I gained certainty from the last words you left for the Grand Duke of the North.”
“Wait. What? Last words?”
Simurtr cut Aran off.
Last words. The secret he had entrusted to Deban.
“Yes.”
“How do you know that?”
“Before setting out on the mission, I ordered Deban to keep an eye on the Young Master.”
“So he just spilled everything?”
“He did.”
“Did he hesitate?”
“He spilled it immediately.”
“I told him he would die if he spoke?”
“Then I suppose he will die now.”
Haha.
Simurtr let out an involuntary hollow laugh.
“That bastard… said he would keep it in mind.”
I thought about running to the 6th Sword Order’s quarters right away, but I held back. What was important now was Aran.
Dealing with Deban could wait.
“Alright. Let’s put that bastard aside for now. Aran, you believe in reincarnation?”
“Is there any reason not to? The continent has even fought a war with an invading species from an external dimension.”
It was a world where common sense had been shattered quite a bit.
There were not a few magicians who, in their excitement over beings from other dimensions, devoted themselves to the Doom Species.
“Still. You’re a follower of Ruo, aren’t you?”
“For now, I am. Ruo is the state religion of the Empire, and the main castle is a member of the Empire.”
Ruo does not believe in reincarnation. It is a religion that incorporates the afterlife into its doctrine.
“But Young Master. It’s the same for Basor, externally.”
“What about it?”
The conflict between religion and magicians is a recurring theme throughout the ages.
However, Basor is also a member of the Empire. Externally, they claim to believe in Ruo.
“Young Master.”
Aran looked at Simurtr with eyes that were strangely pathetic.
“What.”
“When has Mectera ever believed in a god?”
“……”
“We believe in our swords.”
“Ah.”
“It’s alright. I thought the Young Master might not know. You can just be careful from now on.”
Aran put the sheathed Helda into his bosom. It wasn't short, but compared to Aran’s build, Helda was indeed a small sword.
“What’s that?”
At that moment, Simurtr saw something in Aran’s bosom. It was similar to the cover of the Bahab invitation Medeoban had shown him. It resembled an envelope.
“It’s a letter of resignation.”
“What?”
“If I had been wrong, it would have been found with my corpse.”
“Ah, but not now?”
“Pardon?”
“You didn’t die.”
“That’s why it’s even more necessary. Isn’t it time I returned to being the Young Master’s guard?”
Aran chuckled heartily.
It was the brightest smile I had seen since reincarnating.
“Being the guard of a weakened Young Master. It will be rewarding.”
“No.”
Simurtr first tore up the resignation letter.
***
My business in the mausoleum was finished.
I had never imagined such an outcome. Simurtr passed the Senate of Elders with Aran and was descending the mountain.
“How much do you know?”
“I probably know as much as the Young Master. Except for how you died.”
“They said they’d let me live if I gave them both my arms.”
“……”
“So I just stuck my neck out and died.”
“…Yes.”
You should have lived, even if it meant that.
Aran thought, but did not say it. Even if others wished for it, it was a meaningless life for the person involved.
He had been given the chance of reincarnation. 20 years of searching? The reward for that was right before his eyes. Two arms and a neck. Aran carved those parts into his heart.
“Don’t touch them. I’ll make an exception for Gerehk.”
“But.”
“Even if there’s a chance. Even if that chance is only visible to you, Aran, don’t do it.
Absolutely not.”
“…I will keep that in mind.”
Aran said in a displeased voice.
But at the same time, an indescribable feeling welled up in his chest. That was the Young Master. The Young Master he met after 20 years had not changed, even after reincarnating.
“How did you know?”
Without needing Simurtr to rack his brain, Aran just spilled everything. As the resignation letter proved, what was most precious to Aran had always been the Young Master.
“Mectera has lost nothing.”
A contract is an act where one must stake something, even if it is not precious.
Mectera gained Exa’s name and became a Hero Family. So what did Gerehk give to the traitors?
“Silence. That was all they demanded. They wanted the thousand-year-old ducal house of Mectera to just sit still and leech off the Young Master's name.”
“He knew about the betrayal? Gerehk did?”
“There’s nothing strange about it. That man had been trying to kill the Young Master even before that.”
Degrate’s preserved records prove it. Numerous and persistent assassination attempts.
Gerehk wanted Exa dead even sooner than the traitors did.
“He probably clasped his hands in joy after confirming their intentions aligned.”
“So. How did you know all that?”
The topic had strayed strangely.
I had asked how he found out, but Aran was talking about what he had found out.
“I heard it directly in front of the west gate.”
“The west gate? The day he died?”
“That’s right. He spilled everything while begging for his life.”
“Then before that? What did you believe in to try and kill him?”
“What would the Young Master be lacking to say in his last words that he missed Mectera?”
It meant he had acted on suspicion alone.
“What if you were wrong?”
“Originally, the strong only need suspicion.”
“……”
It was a statement I couldn't help but sympathize with, but one that the now-weakened Simurtr could not use.
“It wasn’t contamination by the Doom Species?”
The accomplice was Semenu. Degrate. A household overflowing with poisons capable of killing a Sword Master or an Archmage.
“Yes. Degrate’s illusions have many convenient aspects. I understood, at least a little, why Basor covets Degrate.”
“Was Semenu that skilled back then?”
“It was a task that didn't require a Unique Phantasmal Realm.”
The giant tree of Mectera. It was a deed Aran had committed with determination. Medeoban was in the main castle, not on the battlefield. The Sword Master was ill in bed. Then? The supreme commander of Mectera was Aran, who had been the General Head of the Sword.
“The traitors wouldn't have just stood by.”
They had an obligation to protect Gerehk.
It wasn't a relationship built on trust. They must have been anxious that Gerehk might reveal the truth, and as proof, they still cannot rashly touch the weakened Mectera.
“So I killed him after the war ended.”
Degrate’s poison took effect before the Doom War ended. After Exa, who had killed the king of the Doom Species, died. When they were driving out the remaining Doom Species.
“When they couldn’t react.”
He acted as if he could be cured throughout the war and waited until it ended. And the next day. Aran killed Gerehk at the west gate.
While the previous emperor and the traitors were excitedly distributing rewards.
“But you two don’t seem very close? For accomplices.”
Simurtr suddenly asked.
“Pardon?”
“It's true, isn't it? Semenu told me that you, Aran, were looking for my corpse.”
“That b*tch… that woman said that? That I thought the Young Master was dead?”
“That’s what she said.”
Simurtr replied nonchalantly.
Come to think of it, it was strange enough that Aran, who was no different from a Mectera, was maintaining a cooperative relationship with that Degrate.
It was something he would never have done if not for the connection of Exa.
“…When did that woman find out?”
“What, my identity?”
“Yes.”
“I was found out at Degrate. When I got Asha. She was already certain.”
“Heh.”
“Ah, don’t hate Baperr too much either. They’re still my kids. They’re all good. Semenu too.”
In front of Gerehk’s grave.
Semenu had affirmed that Simurtr was the Captain’s successor. She said she would continue to search for the Captain's whereabouts and would let me know if any new information came in.
‘Deceitful…’
Now, the cooperative relationship was over.
Aran could still not forget his rival’s sneer.
“Aran, and Semenu. Just you two. My identity. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Homer Harkinwagen too?”
“Absolutely. That bastard’s mouth is too loose. Even if it were heavy as f*ck, I wouldn’t tell him.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
“Ah. And Deban.”
The entrance of the Sacred Mountain.
Before entering the main castle, Simurtr remembered Deban.
“Work that bastard hard. He’s in the 6th Sword Order now. Said he wanted to get much stronger.”
“Should I leave him to the swordsmen?”
“No. Aran, you’ll be busy, so who’s the toughest swordsman?”
“There is a suitable person, but Kehellan is currently on a mission.”
“Then? Among the others.”
“There is Naor.”
“Naor? He was holding back when he fought me.”
“That’s because his opponent was the Young Master. He was afraid of getting hurt and being unable to perform his duties as an adjutant.”
“Oh really? Then let’s assign Naor. Exclusively. 24 hours.”
“Naor has many duties.”
“Hand them over to another swordsman for the time being.”
“Understood.”
***
A week already.
Yet, there was no progress.
That was why Haryun Bahab’s hands were in tatters.
Creak. As soon as the sound was heard, Haryun headed for the open door. She asked Jeremiah, who had entered.
“The answer?”
Her appearance was similar to that of a pet dog returned from an outing. Expecting its owner and the treat its owner has brought.
“…It’s the same answer.”
But Jeremiah was not the owner she wanted. Nor could he give her the treat she wanted.
“There is no male heir in Harkinwagen?”
“…Yes.”
A week.
She had sent one every day, and the reply always came the next day. Six replies had flown in, and tomorrow, the same answer would be delivered again.
There is no such person as Egna Harkinwagen. The heir of Harkinwagen is only the eldest daughter. However, we will take note of Lady Haryun Bahab’s words and investigate the person impersonating a Harkinwagen…….
“Could it be real?”
A very formal reply. The nuance of not wanting to deal with her at all was overflowing.
And Haryun Bahab could not discern the truth of such a reply. That was her position.
The Ducal House of Bahab.
Excluding the Emperor, a Hero Family that stood above all but one, alongside Basor.
As long as it wasn't the capital, Basor's, or Mectera's territory, they held absolute power within the empire.
Which meant that finding out about Harkinwagen’s situation was a very easy task.
But that power did not extend to Haryun Bahab. All of Bahab's power belonged to its master, Akarr. And to the already appointed successor, Hejel.
If she had no influence within the family, how much worse would it be outside? Haryun had neither the ability nor the minions to gather information outside of Bahab.
She was not in a position to easily leave the territory, so she could not visit Harkinwagen either.
“I think we cannot jump to conclusions. The south. The Margraviate of Harkinwagen supports the Hero Family Mectera.”
“So they could be hiding him?”
“There is a possibility. That is the only reason a person of Prince Egna's caliber would not be known to the outside.”
Jeremiah remembered Egna Harkinwagen.
Talent, skill, indirectly glimpsed experience. There was not a single flaw. He was a raw gem that would surely become a Sword Master one day.
It was impossible for such a gimlet not to have stuck out yet. It was highly likely that someone was intentionally hiding Egna.
“They might be conscious of Bahab. The Margrave of Harkinwagen is not fond of our family.”
“…Still.”
Mectera, Bahab, Basor.
The Hero Families of the empire. The most primary factor in classifying the factions of the imperial nobility.
But in such power formations, the Sword Demon Mectera was naturally uninterested.
Families involved in magic naturally supported Basor.
Harkinwagen was one of the few families that supported Mectera. Haryun understood that.
“We’re fellow imperial nobles, they could at least tell me this much.”
But wasn't it too heartless to refuse to even tell her about one person? They were fellow people of the empire.
“Still, there might be good news next month.”
Jeremiah showed Haryun a single document.
Hejel Bahab’s birth banquet. The corresponding invitation.
“It seems they will not be absent this time. As they are coming with Mectera.”
For the past 20 years. The aloof Mectera, who had never participated in any event within the empire, had announced their attendance.
***
There was no big change.
It was similar to when I revealed my past life to Semenu. No, if anything, it was different.
Semenu had treated Simurtr the same way even before the reveal.
“Young Master. It is good that you eat anything, but you must consider your nutrition more.
You are in your growth period, are you not?”
The west annex was no longer a space for just Meram and Simurtr.
“The intensity of the sparring is excessive. The Young Master is overworking your body even though you know your current condition.”
My sparring sessions with Arnea were also frequently interrupted.
My training was also constantly disturbed, but Simurtr tolerated it up to that point.
“Why are you coming here?”
“I was also invited, so I came, did I not?”
“I mean. You don’t usually come to places like this.”
“Is it not a place where the Young Master is going?”
Mectera had received a formal invitation.
Of course, the format of the invitation was not one of equal treatment but more like summoning underlings. Anyway.
It was pathetic, but I could be satisfied with the fact that I could see Akarr Bahab's face without any worries.
“Please think of me as a safety device.”
Choking up, Simurtr inadvertently nodded.
There would be no repercussions. The need to worry about Harkinwagen and the risk of my identity being revealed there had disappeared. As long as Haryun Bahab kept her mouth shut.
As long as I didn’t fail to control my emotions there, or backstab Akarr, or do any other stupid sh*t like that.
‘As long as I do my part.’
Honestly, I wasn't confident. Akarr Bahab was the trash who had cut off Exa’s arm and personally struck his neck.
But Simurtr had decided to go. Even though he had no confidence in enduring the face of that sworn enemy.
Even with this? You're still not going to go? It felt not a little like someone was trying to pry open his mouth and feed him.
“You’re not going to stop me from seeing him, are you?”
“If it were up to me, I would like to, but it is not what the Young Master wishes.”
The death of his past life also came to mind.
He wasn't afraid of death. It would be a lie to say he wasn't at all, but he had prided himself on being rather stoic.
‘Though I’ve become quite scared now.’
I had reincarnated and knew my past life.
Wasn't it no different from overcoming death?
As far as Simurtr knew, there was no being capable of such a feat. Not even the Dragon Clan could overcome death.
If they could, there would be no reason to fear war. Unlike the Doom Species, who couldn't tell front from back, the continent had always feared death.
‘I never thought I’d come to believe in a god.’
There was no other being that could explain it. Of course, I didn't know if that god was the god of the Ruo Holy See or the god of the Doom Species. Anyway.
A reason to visit the Holy See someday had arisen. As for the Black Land, which worshipped the Doom Species, I had planned to go there anyway.
“Why the long face?”
Ael approached while I was secretly talking with Aran behind my back.
“What about it.”
“Your expression. It looks just like a victim’s family going to meet the perpetrator.”
“That seems like a perfect expression.”
“Is it obvious?”
“Huh?”
“Just kidding.”
Ignoring the siblings who were looking at him like a strange object, Simurtr rubbed his face with both hands.
‘She’s always been quick-witted.’
Expression. That wouldn't be a big problem.
What was important was bloodlust. I just had to hold back the bloodlust. To the point where it wouldn't be caught by a Sword Master's senses.
I didn't know how much Akarr's achievements had progressed.
In the first place, that son of a b*tch wasn't that quick-witted.
Even though he had become the head of a Hero Family and a ducal house, his inherent nature would not have changed much.
“May I come in now?”
Orde, who had been watching his children’s conversation, smiled brightly. He didn't look very happy, which was because though the siblings and Simurtr were there, Beden was not.
Beden was still living in Kelken’s cabin. The Bahab banquet? The boy had said he wasn't ready to leave the Sacred Mountain yet.
“Yes.”
After checking his mouth with his hand, Simurtr nodded.
“Simyun, you’re really weird.”
“Your smile is unnatural.”
“I’m always like this.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You are not.”
“…Let’s go in.”
Orde took a step forward.
The massive fortress of Bahab.
Today was Hejel Bahab’s birthday.