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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapteer 281: Side Story – The Boy with Blue Eyes (1)

Chapteer 281: Side Story – The Boy with Blue Eyes (1)

A Note From the​ Author

Hello‍ everyone, this is​ Q10.

It’s​⁠ been a long⁠⁠⁠ time since we’ve​ seen each other.‌

I will begin serializing⁠‌⁠ the side stories⁠ of Star-Embracing Swordmaster.‌‍​

Through‍​‌ this series, I want to explore⁠ parts of the‌ world I wasn’t‌​ able to fully⁠ develop, the relationships‍⁠ between characters, and⁠ other stories many‌ readers wanted to‌​‍ see.

I’m‌‌ truly sorry it‍​‍ took me so​​ long to return.‌⁠

I will work hard.⁠⁠ Thank you.

Updates⁠ will be released‍‍ every Monday, Wednesday,‍‍ and Friday at⁠ 6:00 PM.

The​​​ sky, where the‌‍ glow of the​ sunset had faded​​ away, was already⁠​ tinged with a pale blue.

It‌ was the hour​ when darkness began‍​‌ to seep in⁠ little by little‍ beneath a moon‌​​ that had not‌​ yet fully matured.‌‍

At​‍ that boundary between‌ day and night,‍‍⁠ where everything became​ blurred, a lone⁠​⁠ figure stood in​ solitude.

“…Do‌‌​ you really have‌ to leave today?”⁠‍

It‌‍ was a child.⁠

And⁠ one so small⁠ that he barely⁠⁠‍ seemed old enough⁠‌‍ to be turning⁠​ four.

“Can’t​‍‍ you stay one​​ more day? Just​‌ one more day.”‌​

Not‍‍‌ fully understanding what‍‌ it was that​⁠ made him so⁠‌​ sad, the boy‍‌ kept his head​​⁠ lowered as he⁠ kicked the ground‌‌ for no reason.​‍‌

Then,‍ at the end​‌‍ of his gaze,‌ a small green‌ chrysalis appeared.

It⁠‌‍ was hidden beneath⁠ a foxtail plant,‌‌⁠ barely poking out‌​ its head.

The⁠‍ man had told⁠ him that tonight,‍​ that little friend‍ would become a beautiful butterfly and‍​​ fly away.

[Farewells‌‍‌ are best when‍⁠ they are simple.]⁠

The‌⁠​ boy liked that‍ little green caterpillar​​⁠ very much.

He​‌‍ liked it even​ when it became‍‍‌ a chrysalis.

And‌‍ he would surely⁠⁠ have liked it‍​‍ when it transformed‍ into a butterfly⁠‍‌ as well.

But​​ what he truly​ did not understand​‌⁠ was that, just‌ as wings would‌‌‌ grow on his‌⁠ little friend, his⁠ friend also had​ to leave today.‌

“But‌‍⁠ even so…”

The⁠​ boy looked at​‌‌ him with tear-filled⁠‌ eyes.

However,‌‌ the man merely​ smiled faintly without​​​ saying a word.⁠‌‍

He‍ was someone who‍‌‌ knew exactly when‍‌‍ it was time‌‍ to say goodbye.⁠​

[It’s‌‍ getting late. Your‍​ mother will worry.‍‍ Right?]

At​‌ those words telling​ him it was‍‍​ time to go​ home, the boy‌‌‌ let his shoulders⁠ droop and turned⁠​‍ around.

He⁠​⁠ could have insisted‌ a little longer.‌⁠

But,‍ in a manner​ unbefitting someone his‌‌‌ age, he immediately​⁠ began walking down‍‍ the hill.

Sniff…‌​‍

Because‍​ the boy cared​⁠ deeply for that​⁠‍ man.

For‍⁠‌ some reason, he​‌ reminded him of​⁠‍ his father.

And‌‍ when he smiled,‍‍‌ he made him⁠‍ think of his⁠⁠ mother’s smile.

Just‍ as he loved‍​‌ his parents, he​ could not help‍ but love and​‍ follow that man‍​ as well.

[Be‌ careful on your‍ way back.]

As‍‍‌ the boy descended‍ the hill between‍‍ sobs, an enormous‌ white snake wagged‌ its tail at‌ him.

[And‌ always watch where‌ you step.]

A yellow mole constantly‍⁠‌ inspected the ground⁠‍ to make sure⁠ the boy would‌‌ not hurt himself‍‌ as he walked​ along wiping away‌‍ his tears.

[Then‍​ we’ll see each‍‍ other next time,‍ Emil.]

The⁠‌ boy had firmly⁠​ decided not to⁠ look back.

But⁠⁠ he could not‍‍⁠ resist the man’s​‍ final farewell.

Because​⁠‌ for a small‌⁠​ child, a goodbye​ was a wound‌​ too painful to‍ bear.

“Ah…”⁠

When‌ he finally turned‍ around, he saw⁠⁠ butterflies flying above​‌​ the hill.

The‍​ night sky growing​ darker and darker.⁠

The⁠⁠​ man who seemed‌‌ to be made‍​ of that very‌ night.

And‌ between them, my⁠‌ little butterfly flying‌‍ as though it‌⁠ were swimming through‌ the air.

The​‍ man never told‌⁠ the boy his‍​ name.

He‍​ only told him⁠ that he came‌​ from that black​ moon visible up⁠‍ above.

That‍‍ small black moon‌⁠ peeking shyly beside‍ the white moon.⁠‍⁠

Beneath‍‌‌ the moonlight, the​ black-haired man waved‌‌ his hand toward​ the boy.

***⁠‌‌

Haa…‌

Summer​ sunlight passed through​ the window and‍‍​ fell across the​ man’s shoulders.

With‌⁠ his back to​​‍ that blinding radiance,⁠⁠​ the man tilted‌⁠ his head back‌‍ as he felt⁠ the warmth slowly‍ spread across his‍‍ back.

Outside‍⁠‍ was a brilliant‍⁠ blue sky.

But‍‌‌ in front of‌‌ him was a crying boy.

Without​⁠ realizing it, he‍‍ let out a resigned sigh.

“…So,‌ who the hell‌ did something this‌ stupid?”

He‍‍⁠ was a one-eyed‌​‍ man.

Although‌​ half of his‌ hair had already⁠‍ turned gray, his​⁠​ right eye still‍ retained all of​​⁠ its strength.

And‌⁠ beside it, the​ eyepatch covering his‌ left eye possessed‍ such a distinctive⁠ presence that it‍ was impossible to‍ forget after seeing⁠​ it only once.​‌

“Tell‌‌ me, Maksim. Who​⁠⁠ was it that​‍ stuck a spoon‍‌​ into his head?”​‍

It‌‌ was Jager the​ One-Eyed.

The​‌ current commander of​​‍ the Bayezid family’s‌ knights.

One⁠‍ of the most​‌ representative knights of‍ the North and⁠‌​ the great knight‍​ who had raised​⁠​ the Swordmaster of⁠​ this era.

And⁠​‌ now, as he​⁠⁠ looked at the‍‌ boy standing before​​ him, he rubbed​ his temples with⁠ an obvious headache.‍⁠

“…They‌​⁠ say it was​ Squire Emil.”

Perhaps⁠‌ around thirteen years‌​‍ old?

A squire standing right‌ at the boundary‍ between childhood and‌ adolescence held back​⁠‌ his tears while​‍⁠ a spoon was⁠⁠⁠ embedded in his⁠‌ head.

It⁠‌ was lodged so‌⁠‍ neatly that at⁠​ first Jager had⁠ thought it was⁠⁠‌ one of those⁠​ accessories that had​‍⁠ become fashionable lately.‍

“L-Lord​ Jager! This is‌‍‌ completely unfair! I was only eating⁠ in the dining‌​ hall…!”

“It​​ seems there was⁠​⁠ a fight between⁠ squires. It happens​⁠ from time to‌‌⁠ time around this⁠⁠‍ period.”

The​‌‌ veteran knight Maksim​ replied as he‌⁠ scratched his nearly​​ bald head.

It⁠‌ had all begun‍ with an argument‍ between young squires‍‌‌ in the dining‍​ hall.

After‍ exchanging words, they​ ended up fighting.‍

And​ apparently, a squire‍ named Emil lost‌⁠​ his temper and‍‍⁠ stuck a spoon⁠‍⁠ into the head‍ of the boy⁠‌ who was now‍⁠​ crying.

But‍‍ was it really⁠ something that needed​⁠ to reach the‍​‌ commander of the​‍‌ knights?

“Such‌‌ barbaric behavior! Sniff…!​ I cannot tolerate​​​ such injustice! Send‍‍ a magical telegram⁠‌ to my family‌ immediately! No, send⁠‌‌ it right now!”​

Of⁠​ course it was‌‌ something he needed⁠‍ to know about.⁠​

Because⁠​ the squire standing⁠‌ before him was⁠‌ the eldest legitimate​‌‍ son of the‍‍ influential Valthof family‍‌‍ from the center​​ of the continent.‌​

In‍ other words, the‍‍‍ Valthof family might⁠⁠‌ even mobilize an‌⁠ army for the⁠ sake of this‌ child, their sole‍‌⁠ heir.

“A‌ magical telegram? Don’t‌ be ridiculous. Take⁠ this.”

However,⁠‌ the one-eyed knight⁠​ did not seem‍​‌ concerned about such‌‍⁠ a thing in​ the slightest.

The‌​ boy, who had​‍ tried to rely‍​‌ on his family’s‌​ influence, automatically caught‍ the small teaspoon​ Jager tossed at‌​ him and stared‍‍‍ at it with​ a bewildered expression.‌‍

“What‍ is this…?”

At⁠ home, he might‍ be a valuable‍⁠⁠ young master.

But⁠‌ here, he was⁠ just another squire.⁠‍‌

Bayezid’s‌​‌ squire training program​‍‌ was an inviolable‍‍​ domain that even⁠ the most influential‍‍​ families of the‌‍‌ center could not‍​ question.

Because‌‍ that place was‌‌ the cradle where‍ a Swordmaster had‌‌⁠ been raised.

“Have⁠⁠ our young master‌⁠ do exactly the‍‍ same thing.”

“Excuse‌ me?”

Jager​‍‍ brought his teacup‍ to his lips‍ and grinned broadly‌⁠ as he scrunched​ up his face.‌‌‍

“Go⁠​⁠ on. Find that‍‌ bastard Emil. And‍⁠ stick it into⁠ his head exactly‍ the same way.”​​

If⁠ you get hit,​‍‌ you hit back.‌

The‌ North was a place that had⁠‍ to be protected.⁠

And‍ one’s own honor⁠‌ had to be⁠​ learned and defended⁠⁠ with one’s own‍ hands as well.​

He​ could have explained‍ it step by‍⁠ step.

But‍​⁠ Jager was not​ such a kind‌‍‌ person.

“If‍ you understand, then‌‍⁠ get out.”

“Uwaaaah!”‌

A man who taught‌⁠​ the spirit of‍​⁠ the North with‍‌ a simple wave⁠ of his hand.⁠

He‌​⁠ truly possessed the‌ presence of a great knight who⁠ had raised a Swordmaster.

Moved‌ by such profound‍⁠ instruction, the young‍‍​ squire had no⁠ choice but to⁠⁠​ leave the office‍​‍ in tears.

Clutching‍‍ a small teaspoon‌ tightly in his‌​‍ hand.

“…This‌⁠ is why I said I didn’t‌ want to become⁠ the commander of​‍⁠ the knights.”

Watching‍ the young squire’s‍​‍ back as he‍‍‍ left in tears,‌​ Jager let out‍​‍ a deep sigh.​‍

He​ truly had never‌ wanted to hold⁠‌‍ a position like‌⁠‌ this.

He‍ had always hated⁠⁠‍ being part of​ the main group.‌

But​‍ he had not​‍ been given a choice.

He⁠⁠​ had somehow managed⁠⁠ to refuse the⁠​‍ request of Count‌​ Rutiger, the current⁠ Count Bayezid.

However,‌ when even the⁠‌ great lady Oksana,‌​⁠ the widow of⁠ the previous count,‌ personally intervened, there⁠ was no longer​⁠⁠ any escape.

“By‌ the way, why‍​​ are so many‍‍ of them coming‍ here crying this‍ year? Is there‌‌ something wrong with⁠‍ this class?”

At​‍​ Jager’s question, Maksim​‍ shrugged.

That‌​ gesture seemed to‍ say that he⁠ already knew the‍⁠ answer himself.

Jager’s‍ brow furrowed.

“Is​ that Emil really‌‌​ that troublesome? Nothing⁠‌​ like this happened‍‍ with his sister.”​⁠

“…To‍​ begin with, his⁠​‍ personality is rather‍​ peculiar.”

Emil,​ the son of​⁠⁠ Vlad Aureo.

As​ if inheriting his​ father’s face exactly​‌‌ were not enough,‍‌‌ it seemed he‍‍‌ had inherited his‍ temperament as well.‍‍

Despite⁠​⁠ having grown up‍ surrounded by care‌‍‌ and affection, the‍‍ boy gave off⁠‌‌ a strangely rough‌‍​ impression.

Really,‍‍ if you took‌⁠ the Vlad of⁠ those days, removed‌​‍ some of his‍​ height, and added‍‍​ a little baby⁠ fat to his⁠ cheeks, he would​‍‍ look exactly like⁠ Emil did now.‌‌⁠

“Besides,​‍ since they’re still​​⁠ children, they all​ want to try‍⁠⁠ picking a fight​‍ with Emil. Something​‍ like challenging the⁠‍‍ strength of the‍​ Swordmaster.”

“So​​​ they have someone⁠ who looks like‌⁠‌ easy prey right​‍‍ beside them.”

And‌⁠ there was also‍ the problem of‍⁠‍ having a father‌​⁠ who was far​‍⁠ too extraordinary.

Every‌ squire in this​‍‌ class had grown‍ up hearing stories‍‍‌ about the Swordmaster.‍⁠‍

The⁠ knight.

The‌⁠⁠ elf.

The‍‌ Empire’s Sword.

The‍‌ Swordmaster’s Rules.

And​‍ even the title‌‍ of Dragonslayer.

For‌ children who had​‍​ only just entered⁠‍ adolescence, it was‌‌ hard to imagine​ anything more exciting​⁠ than that.

And‌ on top of‌ that, they had⁠‌​ a living example‌ of it all​ right beside them.‌​

It​​ was only natural‌ that anyone would​ feel tempted to‍ provoke him a little.

“But‌ it seems it⁠ wasn’t as easy​‍ as they thought.”‍

Taking​⁠⁠ a sip of​‌⁠ tea, Jager thought‌‍​ to himself.

I like this.

Of​⁠‍ course it should‌ be this way.​‌

Your​ father did exactly‌​⁠ the same thing.⁠​

“Even​​‌ so, he’ll have‌‌⁠ to be properly‌ reprimanded. He’s only‌‌ a squire, and‌‍‍ he’s already using‍ weapons.”

“Weapons?‍⁠ It was a spoon.”

“What‍ are you talking‌​ about? Maksim, have‍‌ you never killed‍‌ someone with a spoon?”

“What?”​​

“Huh?”​

For⁠​ a brief moment,​‌ a strange silence‌‍ settled between the⁠ two men, whose​ life experiences seemed‌ vastly different.

“In​ any case, we⁠‌‍ need to keep‌⁠ an eye on⁠ him. He’s a child who inherited‍​ dragon blood.”

Dragon​‌​ blood possessed limitless⁠‌‌ possibilities.

Depending⁠⁠ on the life‌​ he lived, he‍ could become an‌​⁠ honorable Swordmaster or​‍‍ the oldest dragon,‍​ capable of devouring‍ everything.

Jager‍ was one of⁠‍‍ the few people⁠ who had observed‌ that process from​⁠⁠ very close up.​

‘Perhaps⁠ this is my‌ final duty.’

Protecting‍​‍ the possibilities of‌ the young.

Especially‍ when those possibilities‌‌‌ were just beginning‍​​ to bloom.

He⁠​⁠ did not know⁠‌⁠ what kind of⁠​​ flower it would‌⁠ become, but Jager⁠ thought the current‍ situation fit perfectly⁠⁠‍ with the Swordmaster’s​‌​ First Rule.

“Hey!‍ What’s wrong with​⁠ you, idiot?!”

“Emil!‌‌ I told you⁠⁠ no! I told‍⁠⁠ you we shouldn’t⁠‌ do it!”

“Uwaaaah!”‍‌

Jager​‌ had been lost⁠⁠⁠ in thought for‍⁠​ a few moments‍‌​ while enjoying a cup of tea.‍‌‌

However,⁠ the voices of​‍ children coming from‌⁠ outside the window​‌​ made him lower⁠​‍ his head in⁠‍⁠ resignation.

“…Now‌ what?”

At‍ Jager’s lament, Maksim⁠⁠ walked over to‍‌‌ the window and​ looked outside.

Then​ he involuntarily clicked​ his tongue.

“It’s​‍ Emil.”

“And⁠‍ what did he⁠‌ do this time?”‌​

“He’s​ riding a horse.”‍​

“Then​‍ why are they⁠​ making so much​‍ noise?”

Maksim‍​ shook his head​ as if to​​ say he would⁠⁠⁠ have to see‌ it for himself.​‌

Jager‍‌​ stood up with‌⁠ his teacup in‌ hand.

“Haa…”‍‍⁠

It​‌‌ was a splendid⁠ afternoon.

The⁠‌ pleasant weather of​⁠ early summer, still‍​ free from oppressive‌⁠⁠ heat.

A cool breeze blew​‌ gently.

And​​⁠ there was a blond boy desperately​ clinging to the⁠‍⁠ saddle, while behind​ him a chubby‍‍ boy ran after⁠​ him, panting.

“No!‍​ I thought it​‍‍ would work if‍‌‍ the commander said‍ it!”

“So⁠​‍ that brat doesn’t​‌​ know how to‍⁠‌ ride either.”

It​⁠ was a very⁠‍‌ peaceful summer scene.⁠⁠​

At‌ least, it would⁠‍ have been if⁠ the horse leaping‍‍ around everywhere had‌‌ not happened to​ be Jager’s horse.‌​⁠

“My‌⁠ father said that‍ if it was​ an expensive horse,⁠​ it would work!”‍

“It‍ seems I didn’t‌​⁠ die early enough​ to avoid seeing⁠‌ this again.”

Shaking​ his head as‍‌ though witnessing something​​ unbearable, Jager gestured‍⁠ toward Maksim.

Catch⁠​ those brats.

And‌‍‍ cook them properly.⁠⁠

“Understood,​⁠ Commander.”

After⁠‍‌ Maksim left, Jager‌‍ remained alone in‍ the office and‍​ gently swirled his‌⁠‍ teacup.

“…”⁠‌

As​⁠​ he watched the​⁠‍ small glimmers of⁠‌ light shimmering across​‍⁠ the disturbed surface​​‍ of the tea,​ a feeling of​ emptiness suddenly came‍ over him.

The⁠‌ feeling that no‍ one was there.‍‍‌

The‍​‌ reality that he⁠ was now completely⁠‌⁠ alone in that​ office.

“…Without‍⁠‍ a doubt, elven‍ tea clears the‌​ mind.”

Back​⁠ then, there had​​⁠ always been two‌ people in Sturma’s‌‌⁠ quiet office.

That‌‌ black-haired man who‍⁠ was always seated,​​‌ drafting documents in​​‍ the same posture.‌

If​‌‌ he closed his‌‌ eyes and listened‌⁠‌ carefully, he felt​‍⁠ as though he​​‍ could still hear‌ the soft scratching‌ of a pen‍ across paper.

“It‌‍ would be perfect‍⁠ if the aftertaste‌ weren’t so bitter.”‍‌

Jager‍‌‌ closed his remaining‍‍‌ eye and smiled‍ silently as he⁠ remembered what always‌⁠​ came next.

It⁠ was an ordinary‍ and unchanging scene.⁠​

But⁠‍ ever since that‍⁠⁠ young master had​‌‍ arrived, it felt​ as though a ray of light​‍ had pierced through‍ the heavy curtains.​‌

“How‍⁠​ does it feel⁠‍ to have the​‌‍ knight you serve​⁠ riding a horse‌​​ while you travel‌⁠‌ comfortably in a carriage despite being​⁠⁠ only a squire?”‍

“…I⁠ suppose I’ll get‌​⁠ to ride expensive⁠ horses. Probably.”

“Expensive​ horses should be‌‍ carrying you. You’re‍‌​ more valuable than⁠⁠ they are.”

“Hahaha.‌ That’s enough, Jager.”​⁠‍

What⁠ would the young‍ master have said⁠ if he had‌‍​ seen today’s scene?‍⁠​

He⁠‍ probably would have​​ laughed just like‌‍ he did back‌ then.

Because‌‍ he was the⁠‍⁠ kind of person⁠‍ who could let‍​‌ such insignificant mistakes⁠​​ pass with a smile.

“Though⁠⁠ I doubt he‌‍ would have liked⁠ this tea.”

Looks‍‌‌ like the sun⁠​ has gotten to​‌ me.

Thinking‍‌ that, Jager drained‌⁠⁠ the last sip‍‍‌ of tea remaining‍‍ in his cup⁠‍ and frowned.

As⁠​‍ expected, it was‌‍ still bitter.

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