by Mamare Touno
“Hey, we throw parties, too. When our birthdays come around, we drink liquor and run on at the mouth a lot, at least.”
“Hmm. I thought you might reproach aristocratic politics for being trivial.”
“I dunno about politics, but this is Iselus’s birthday, right? We’re not so lame that we’d nitpick your party,” Isaac said dismissively.
In all honesty, since it was a festival-level occasion, well, parts of it would probably be a pain. He thought it was bound to be a lot of work for their side, too. Iselus was still just a kid, so he couldn’t plan his own.
However, just as Isaac was thinking this, Sergiad’s words reverberated in his ears: “I intend to take that opportunity to name Iselus the heir to the House of Cowen.”
“The heir? C’mon, guy, the kid’s only eight.”
Isaac couldn’t believe it, and he’d hit him with a retort, but Sergiad didn’t respond. He just took a sip of tea.
“And anyway, Gramps. You’ve got a son, right? A serious type.”
At Isaac’s follow-up question, Sergiad stroked his beard; he seemed to be putting his thoughts in order. The gesture suited the man, and Isaac was used to seeing it.
“Phenel married into the family, you see. He’s a very good man. He was originally a civil servant, but he hasn’t forgotten the warrior’s spirit, either. He suppressed Maihama’s rivers well. I value him highly, but the people wouldn’t settle for that. They want the heir to be a Cowen by blood.”
“Hmm.”
Isaac had heard about that already.
He wasn’t particularly interested in other people’s family situations, but when it came to the structure of the ducal house he was supposed to be guarding, he couldn’t stay disinterested. In addition, entertainment was limited in this world, and the family circumstances of statesmen were the perfect fuel for gossip.
After living here for three months, knowledge about the matter had been imprinted on him—both at the tavern and at the market—as the foundation for idle gossip.
“My daughter Saraliya and her husband, Phenel, have three children. The oldest girl is Risselthea. Their second daughter is Raynesia. Iselus is their youngest.”
He knew that as well.
Sergiad hadn’t had a son. His children had both been girls. Saraliya was the oldest, and her sister was Langrissa. Both were in their thirties by now, elegant beauties and very popular to boot. Saraliya, the older sister, had taken a husband. This was Phenel, who’d come up earlier in the conversation. At this point, while Sergiad governed the territory of Maihama as its lord, Phenel handled trade and internal affairs as his right-hand man.
Phenel’s children were the three already mentioned.
“Risselthea gave up her succession rights. She married a knight. Once the girl’s said something, she won’t listen to anyone. She said if she couldn’t marry the man she loved, she’d stab herself in the throat and die. It’s deplorable; I don’t know who she took after.”
Probably her granddad, Isaac muttered silently to himself. The knight she’d married was a man called Jaris. He was the most able of the Maihama Glass Greaves’ young knights. He wasn’t old enough to serve as the order’s captain, but in terms of grit and skill with a sword, he was probably one of its top three heroes already.
“That leaves Raynesia and Iselus,” the old man said lowly.
“Well, you’ve got the princess, right? If your daughter took a husband, so could she.”
Although, he already suspected what the answer would be.
“I believe that girl’s suited to different work.”
“A different job, huh?”
With a faintly bitter smile, Sergiad glanced out the window at the moon. Isaac looked that way, too, keeping him company.
“In ancient times, Yamato was ruled by a nation known as the Westlande Imperial Dynasty. Do you know of it? This was in the distant past. Later, there was a war. It was an immense conflict, fought in all parts of the world between the alv race and the other human races. During the Ruquinjés’ war, the Westlande Imperial Dynasty fell, and Yamato subsequently split into two halves. One of them was our Eastal, the League of Free Cities, and the other was the Holy Empire of Westlande, which governs the West. The Cowen duchy’s rank was granted to us by the old Westlande Imperial Dynasty. Both Eastal and the Holy Empire of Westlande are descendants of that ancient dynasty.”
Sergiad had begun to relate Yamato’s history. “The Holy Empire of Westlande calls itself the rightful heir to the ancient Westlande Imperial Dynasty.”
“Huhn…?”
“They have told Eastal to submit to their rule.”
“Pain in the butt.”
“As you say. It is a ‘pain in the butt.’ It’s also dangerous. To us, Yamato appears to be approaching a great turning point in its history. This is an uncommon age. We People of the Earth and Adventurers have begun to talk. Many wonderful things will happen, but many terrible things are bound to occur as well.”
Isaac didn’t understand complicated stuff. People could talk about “rightful” and “heirs” at him, but he couldn’t tell which of them, or even what, was correct in the end. Still, it didn’t look as if anything was inconvenient for either Maihama or the Kansai region at the moment, so he thought they could probably just let things stay the way they were. There was no reason to start trouble on purpose.
Talking to Isaac about this sort of thing was a mistake in the first place. It was the sort of thing he should be discussing with Machiavelli-with-Glasses.
“So, long story short, what’s that mean?”
Isaac scratched his head as he asked the question. Sergiad cackled, then slowly began his story again.
“Becoming a lord in an age like that will be harsh— I misjudged Raynesia. I thought that she was a reasonable girl but that she had no spirit. When I saw her step into the great conference hall at the Court of Ice and snap at the nobles, I realized how foolish I’d been. ‘We should afford them courtesy; take a good look at the Adventurers,’ she said. She was right. I looked back and realized that what she said was right.”
Sergiad laughed a little, then spoke of his mistake as if he were proud of it.
“This old man didn’t even understand his own granddaughter, so how could I understand the Adventurers? It showed me that, at the very least, if I didn’t face the Adventurers squarely and listen to everything, I would be a genuine fool and a complete simpleton. Raynesia, that idle girl, might as well have struck me with a maul. When I saw her fly away on that griffin, I felt as if I’d been sent back to my roots, at my age. Imagine.”
Isaac didn’t interrupt. In this hushed, nocturnal office, those words sounded like a confession.
“She’s a very intelligent girl. She’s indolent, but she understands duty. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to give her the position or find her a husband and leave Maihama to them.”
“There, see? You could just use the princess.”
“But would that be the correct thing to do?”
Sergiad was still hesitant; he seemed to be searching empty space for an answer he couldn’t fully see.
“There may be an even bigger job for that girl. I don’t know, but in this grave situation, I think there might be a greater destiny waiting for her… Besides, I do think that ‘lord’ is a man’s job. Iselus understands that, too—at his age. He’s clever. And more than that, he loves deeply. He loves this territory. That is one of the vital qualities of a lord.”
Isaac’s answer was to shrug.
This was Maihama, and Sergiad was its lord. If Sergiad said he was going to make Iselus his heir, Isaac was an outsider, and there was nothing he could say. In fact, even he didn’t think Iselus was unsuited to be a lord. In terms of common sense on Earth, eight seemed too young, but you couldn’t choose the family you were born into, either here or there.
Stuff like this probably goes on over there, too.
“The League of Free Cities is most likely headed into a turbulent era. Or rather,
it isn’t just Eastal. When Yamato and the world welcomed the Adventurers, they ushered in a new age. Your people and ours may be similar beings, but even if that’s the case, now that we’ve met, new possibilities are being created one after another. I can hear their first cries in the town, from up here in the castle.”
“Yeah, wow, you’ve got great ears, Gramps.”
“In Yamato, in the future, it won’t be possible to lead the people unless we foster mutual understanding with the Adventurers. As you know, Isaac, that boy is still young. While you’re in Maihama, would you teach him the things we are unable to?”
“Uh. Are you sure you want me doing that? Not that I’m proud of it, but I’m dumb.”
“I don’t think so. I think what that young boy needs is a light like yourself.”
Since Sergiad had made this decision, all Isaac—an outsider—could do was obey his request and train the knight brigade. That, and protect the lord’s family. Since the little kid was part of the lord’s family, naturally, he’d have to protect him as well.
Everything else was incidental.
Fortunately, Adventurers were strong. Isaac and the Black Sword of Pain had enough power to smash most dangers. The city of Maihama wasn’t a bad place. The Cowen family weren’t bad people. Of course, there were things like organizational relationships and various interests in play. However, it was a fact that they’d entertained a group of reprobates like the Knights of the Black Sword.
Isaac remembered the much-used phrase “houseguest’s obligation.” The corners of his lips rose in an enigmatic smile.
“Yeah… Yeah, sure. I’ll do what I can anyway.”
“Please do, Sir Isaac.”
The two spent more time together that night, conversation rambling onward.
3
In early summer of Iselus’s eighth year, an event occurred that would later be known as the Catastrophe.
There had been no explosions or flashes of light, and the earth hadn’t rumbled, but it had definitely been a major incident. It had begun with the sudden disappearance of Adventurers from the city of Maihama.
For the first few days, the adults had thought it was probably just a coincidence or accident. Gradually, though, they realized it was not just temporary confusion, but some sort of serious incident.
At that point, all sorts of rumors began to fly. Many of them were critical ones, to the effect that the Adventurers had suddenly grown lazy or were plotting a revolt, but even in the beginning, Iselus had thought those accusations were false and misdirected.
This was because he adored tales of chivalry, and to him, the Adventurers had been legendary beings.
Before long, slowly, new information began to trickle into the city:
People said the Adventurers had gathered in Akiba and held a meeting. Iselus had heard from his mother, Saraliya, that the Adventurers had come up against some sort of big problem as well and that, having no idea how to resolve it, they were at their wits’ end.
On learning this, the adults had begun to argue energetically over whether they should negotiate with them or make them part of the Lords’ Council instead, but Iselus knew what they should do.
If the heroic Adventurers were up against a problem that had them confounded, it meant this was a worldwide emergency!!
Under such perilous circumstances, it was a mistake to discuss things like who was superior, or what to do about rank, while the other party wasn’t present. Iselus told them as much, but the adults were getting dragged around by their own situations, and they didn’t seem to hear him.
It hadn’t been the adults’ fault, of course. Iselus hadn’t been able to explain himself properly. Now, after a year had passed, he understood that.
Iselus was the grandson of the lord, so the knights of the Glass Greaves and the territory’s wealthy merchants bowed their heads to him politely. It did make him feel proud, but at the same time, it made him feel terribly uncomfortable.
When they complimented him, the words sometimes rang false. That was sad. When they yielded to Iselus, he sometimes felt it was because they wanted to get into his grandfather’s good graces, not because Iselus himself was right. It made him feel as if his existence was trivial, and he’d flown into a temper a few times.
In short, the people around Iselus listened to what he said when it was convenient and didn’t listen when it wasn’t. Since he was still a child, there was probably was no help for that, and it still hurt him.
It was his big sister Raynesia who had changed the situation.
Raynesia had participated in the Lords’ Council, simultaneously making her debut, and he’d been told that, after many twists and turns, she’d been granted a post in Akiba. After the council had ended, she had departed for Akiba on orders from their grandfather, Duke Sergiad, and had been given the mission of helping their subjects there. Iselus wanted to see Adventurers, and he’d been terribly jealous.
It had also been a great shock to him.
He loved Raynesia as a pretty, gentle family member who had to be protected, but at the same time, Iselus had been given a boy’s upbringing, and he’d unconsciously assumed that he—not Raynesia—would be the one who would help his family (in other words, the duke) in its work someday.
Even with the age difference, the fact that his older sister had been the one to be given a job had shocked him.
He’d heard that his sister had ridden off with her guardian knight Krusty and fought against the goblin forces. However, it hadn’t been out of adoration for the Adventurers; she’d done it as the sacred duty of the ruling family.
Yet, his sister didn’t dream of tales of chivalry. As her little brother, he knew this. When she’d joined hands with the Adventurers, then used that friendship to rescue the people, she probably hadn’t felt giddy, the way Iselus would have.
Iselus, who’d wanted to catch a glimpse of the Adventurers and see them fight, really was still just a child. He thought his sister was not merely beautiful, but a proud, splendid woman. Compared with her, he was only a fledgling. He wasn’t even qualified to complain about how people treated him yet.
And once he’d realized that, there were mountains of things he needed to do.
In order to work with the Adventurers, Iselus had to have sufficiently complete knowledge of his family’s work, and he had to grow as a noble. His big sister was able to work with the Adventurers precisely because she was the most beautiful noblewoman in Eastal, the intelligent lady known as the “Winter Rose Princess.” Iselus was half his sister’s age, and there were countless things he had to learn.
Fortunately, Iselus was the prime candidate for heir to Sergiad’s duchy, and he had no shortage of tutors. He learned about history and geography both inside and outside of Eastal from his mother, Saraliya, and his father, Phenel, told him about the territory’s industry and terrain in detail. It was still too soon for him to join the knights in their training, but at this point, everyone—even the gardeners and grooms—seemed to Iselus to have expert knowledge and techniques, and to be teachers he should learn from.
About a year had passed since then, and Iselus had almost reached his ninth birthday. He had (as far as he was concerned) grown a lot taller (he thought), and he was being trained by Isaac, an Adventurer whose byname was “Black Sword.”
A dry, high-pitched sound echoed in the small courtyard.
The wooden sword had been made to suit Iselus’s height, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t even touch Isaac’s clothes with it.
“Isaac the Young… Is this…not going to work?” Iselus asked, hiding his rough breathing.
“I dunno. Move around more and swing that sword all over the place.”
“Yes, sir!”
He unleashed a two-handed diagonal downward slash, then a sideways sweep, and then he inverted his wrists and thrust.
For an eight-year-old, Iselus’s swordsmanship wasn’t bad, but naturally, that was with the qualifier “for a Person of the Earth child.” Isaac
held a great sword in one hand as if it were a stick, even though it had to weigh ten times what Iselus’s wooden sword did, and whenever he moved it, he deflected Iselus’s attacks.
Training with Isaac was different from what it had been with his other instructors.
There were no practice swings or forms. All they did was fight mock battles. There were no pauses, and no set time limits. If Iselus got out of breath, Isaac started prodding him with his sheathed great sword.
Iselus knew quite well that this wasn’t an attack or anything like it: He was just pushing his body with the scabbard of his sword. He wasn’t able to parry the thrusts, though, and if he took them, he couldn’t keep himself from rolling away like a billiard ball. These fights continued for as long as his strength held out, and when he finally started to have trouble breathing, he fell down right where he was and rested.
Since there were no explanations of forms or technical theory, he didn’t even know how he should swing his sword. Of course there was a skill difference, but even before that, Iselus was an eight-year-old Person of the Earth, while Isaac had fought in scores of raids. Since there was such a huge difference between their fundamental physical capabilities, it wasn’t even possible to tell whether that difference had shrunk or grown. He didn’t know whether he was better or worse today than he’d been yesterday.
Of the training Iselus had experienced, Isaac’s variety was far and away the strictest. However—and this startled Iselus—it didn’t bother him at all.
“Hup.”
“Oh!”
Before he noticed it, Isaac’s sheathed great sword had moved, and the sensation of the object Iselus held in his hands had disappeared. Behind him, there was a whistling sound as something spun through the air: His sword had been knocked flying.
When he tried to look up, Iselus lost his balance, fell down, and gazed up at the sky.
He was breathing hard, and he couldn’t get to his feet.
“Isaac the Young, you’re—hff! Haahff!”
