Star-Embracing Swordmaster — Chapter 264: Extra 4 – The Liquor Bottle in the Light of Sunset

Chapter 264: Extra 4 – The Liquor Bottle in the Light of Sunset

In⁠‍ the eastern forest,⁠‌ where lush green‌ vegetation flourished, lay‍‌ Ausurin.

In⁠⁠‍ that place, surrounded‌⁠ by trees that‍ grew as if‌‍‍ they were walls,⁠ the laughter of⁠‍ children playing could be heard.

“This‌‌ isn’t right.”

Beneath⁠ the World Tree,⁠ swaying as if⁠ delighting in the⁠ sound of children,‍⁠ sat a girl‍ with platinum blonde‌ hair, basking in⁠ the summer sunlight.‌

“Hmm…”‍

Her‍ eyebrows, furrowed in concentration, showed a remarkable seriousness.

Something‌‍ was clearly bothering‍⁠ her. She lifted her pencil, measuring‍ the angle like‌‌⁠ a professional.

However,‌⁠ the paper in front of her⁠‍ was covered only in childlike drawings,‌‍⁠ a stark contrast‍ to the seriousness on her face.‍⁠

“I⁠ don’t think lips⁠ look like that.”⁠

Even‌‍‍ the World Tree,‍ which leaned over‍‌ to take a curious look, shook its branches in⁠⁠ reaction to her clumsy artistic attempts.‍

Although‌ the girl was‍ known as the‌‌ most sensitive priestess‍⁠ to date, it‍ seemed her artistic‌ skills left much to be desired.⁠

“Priestess.”‍⁠

“Yes?”⁠

Baradis appeared behind the‌ priestess, who had⁠ been deep in⁠⁠⁠ thought, trying to‌ figure out what‍‌‌ was wrong.

He‍ was dressed in⁠ light clothing, suited‍‍‍ for a scout‌ accustomed to roaming⁠ the forest, but the bright emblem‌ on his shoulder‌ confirmed that he‌ was a member‌ of the elder‍ council.

“No‌ matter how much‍ it’s summer, staying outside too long‌ isn’t good for‍‍ your health.”

“No,⁠ it’s just…”

The⁠ girl, who had abandoned her original‍‌ name to become‌‍ a priestess, seemed‍‌ annoyed that her‍⁠ brother was speaking‍⁠ to her so formally.

However, the affectionate smile‌ Baradis directed at‍‌ his sister pleased‍‍ her, so she‍ decided to let⁠ it slide.

“When‌⁠‌ will you go‌‌‌ to Sturma? Oh…‍ I mean, Lord⁠ Baradis.”

“To‌‌‌ Sturma?”

“There‌ will be a succession ceremony. I think the name‌‌ was Bayezid.”

The‍‌ priestess of the‌‍⁠ World Tree was‍‍ intelligent, but she was still not‌⁠ well-versed in the‍‌ continent’s political situation.

Her mentioning something related‌‌ to the North‍⁠‍ so suddenly left‌ Baradis slightly puzzled.

“Why‍ bring that up⁠ out of nowhere…?”⁠‍

The⁠‍ Bayezid family, one‍‍ of the victors‌ of the continental⁠ war.

The‌‌ succession ceremony for the family’s new‌⁠ head, to be⁠‌ held there, was‍‌‌ an event closely‍‍ watched by not‌‍⁠ just the North‌ but the entire⁠⁠ continent, and Ausurin‍⁠ was planning to‍ send a delegation.‌

“I⁠ would like you⁠⁠ to go, Lord‌ Baradis.”

“Why?”⁠‍⁠

The‌⁠‌ girl’s face looked‍ somewhat uncomfortable as‌⁠ she scratched her⁠‍ chin.

With‍ her head lowered⁠⁠ as though embarrassed,⁠⁠ the priestess looked‍‌‌ around to ensure‍ no one was‍‍ nearby and gestured⁠‍ for Baradis to‍ come closer.

“I⁠‍‌ want you to⁠ go there, brother.”⁠

Just⁠‍ this once, not‌ as the priestess‍⁠ of the World‌ Tree, but as⁠‍ her true self.

Then,‍‍‍ with a smile,⁠‍ the girl whispered⁠ into Baradis’s ear.‍

“Because then I could⁠ go with you.”

“…”‍

It‍‍ was her fate‌ to spend her‌ entire life by‌ the World Tree,‌ but this time,‍‌‌ she wanted to‍‌⁠ venture out.

As if to justify⁠‍ herself, the girl‍ lifted the drawing⁠‍‍ she had been‌‍ working on and‍ showed it to‍ Baradis.

“It’s‌‍‌ not just that‍ I want to‍ see the outside‌‌ world. I want‌ to show this‍⁠‌ to Vlad.”

The‍⁠ paper the girl⁠⁠‍ held was full‌ of awkward, messy⁠‌‍ drawings.

It⁠‍ was a difficult‍‌‍ drawing to interpret,‍ like the old‌‍ prophecies, but this time, it didn’t‍ seem to require‍ complex interpretation.

Because‌⁠ even Baradis could⁠ immediately grasp the‍ meaning behind that‍ drawing.

“Is‌ it a prophecy…?”‍

Although‍ the drawing style⁠⁠‍ was the same,‌‌ this time it⁠ didn’t need much‍‌‍ effort to understand⁠‍ it.

Because‍‌⁠ even Baradis could⁠‍ decipher it just⁠‍ by looking.

“I‍ think Vlad would like it. Don’t‍⁠ you?”

Even⁠ though the children’s‌‍ ears were different,‍ it was clear‌ they were half-human‌ and elven children‍‍ playing under the⁠‍‌ same tree.

Seeing⁠ the girl smiling‍ among those children, Baradis couldn’t help‌ but feel momentarily‌ confused, caught between reality and fiction.‍‌‍

***‌

The⁠⁠ highest hill in‍‍‍ the city of Soara.

A man walked toward‍‍ the convent on‌ that hill, carrying‍‍ various items.

“Wow,‍ why is this⁠⁠⁠ so heavy?”

Thud—‍‌‍

A heavy sound echoed on the ground⁠ as pieces of‌‍ red meat scattered,⁠⁠ showing their vibrant⁠⁠‍ color.

Each⁠‍ of those pieces‌ bore the emblem⁠ of the Kannor family, a clear⁠ sign that they‌‌ were high-quality meats,⁠‌ expensive in anyone’s‌ eyes.

“…Who’s‍‌‌ there?”

“Marcella,⁠ it’s me.”

Thanks to the noise⁠‌ he made, a woman emerged from⁠ the kitchen.

The‌‌‍ scarf tightly wrapped‍‌ around her head‌ concealed her thick‍ black hair.

Her‍ skirt was stained,‍‍⁠ as if she⁠‌‌ had been working⁠‍ until just a moment ago.

“Vlad?‌ Is that you,⁠‍ Vlad?”

“It’s‍⁠⁠ been a while,‍ maybe half a year?”

Despite‍ her simple appearance,‍⁠⁠ her smile at‍ Vlad was still‌‍ as beautiful as‍ ever.

“Well,‌‌ look who it⁠ is! Such an‌⁠ honor to have‌‌ someone so distinguished‌‍‍ in such a humble place!”

“Where‍ should I put‍‍ this?”

“Oh⁠⁠ my, look at⁠ all this meat.⁠‌ I was just‍ wondering what to‌⁠‍ feed the children‍‍‌ today.”

Madame‍‍⁠ Marcella, once known‍ as the Rose⁠ of Soara.

But‌⁠ her smile now⁠‌ was far warmer‌ than in those‍ days of splendor,⁠⁠‍ and Vlad found‌⁠ it more comforting⁠ than ever.

“I brought meat that’s easy to boil.‍‌‌ Roasting each piece would be too⁠‌ much work.”

“Yes,‍‍‍ yes. Always so‍ thoughtful.”

With⁠ the meat in‍‌‍ his arms, Vlad⁠‌ followed Marcella’s instructions‌‍ and entered the⁠ kitchen.

The‍ same kitchen where,‌⁠‌ years ago, a red-haired girl cried‍ while washing the‍‌ dishes.

“Oh,‌⁠⁠ Vlad! It’s been‍ so long!”

“Look who’s here! How⁠ broad his shoulders⁠‌ are now!”

“Don’t⁠‍ touch him like‍ that! He’s a sword master now!”‍

The⁠‍ kitchen was filled‌‍‍ with women greeting⁠‍ Vlad enthusiastically.

Every‍‌ hand that reached‍ out to him‌ was familiar, as‍‍ if the smiles‍ from the past still lingered in this place.

“So,⁠ this is where⁠ you all ended up.”

“We retired, and we‌ didn’t have anywhere‌ else to go.”⁠‌⁠

“It’s‌‍ better to take‍⁠ care of children⁠ than to deal‌‍ with men.”

They‍ were women who‍‌‌ once sold laughter‍ and drinks for‌⁠ a gleaming coin.⁠‌

But⁠⁠⁠ now, their smiles‍‍ were warm and⁠ welcoming, something money‍‍‍ couldn’t buy.

“I’m‌‌⁠ glad to see‍ you’re all well.”⁠

“Come visit us more‍ often, Vlad!”

“Yes,‍‍ stay a bit‍ at home! Stop‌ giving Zemina headaches!”‍

For⁠ every word he‌⁠ spoke, he received‍‍ ten joyful responses.⁠

The‍‌ kitchen grew louder with the arrival‍ of their old friend until Marcella‍ hurried Vlad out,‌ pulling him by⁠ the arm.

“How⁠‍ did you manage⁠ to keep the⁠⁠ convent? Didn’t the‌‍‌ Church object?”

“The⁠⁠ Church? I don’t‍‍‍ know much about‍‍‍ that.”

Following‍ Marcella, Vlad stopped‍ before a door‍⁠‌ on the second‌‍ floor with a sign that read‍⁠ “Director’s Office.”

“I‌‍ just told the‌ mayor I wanted‌ to use the⁠⁠⁠ empty building.”

“It‍‍ was empty?”

“Yes,‌ it’s been vacant‌ for a long⁠‍⁠ time.”

It‌‍ used to be⁠ the mother superior’s‍‌ office, but now‌ it was the⁠⁠ office of the‌⁠ orphanage director.

Vlad⁠ remembered the place,‌⁠‌ where he had‌‍ once issued threats‌‍‍ to the mother superior, and he looked at the‍ old church symbol⁠ while pressing his‌ lips together.

“I⁠‌⁠ suppose everyone fled.⁠⁠‍ Naturally, facing a sword master is⁠ no easy task.”⁠‌

Marcella‍ laughed, saying she’d‌ never expected the‍ nuns to run⁠ away in the⁠ middle of the‌‍ night.

“And⁠‌‌ if they ever complain, who cares?⁠‌‌ I’ve donated enough to this place!”‍‌‌

“That’s⁠‌‌ true.”

The former house of⁠‌ nuns who sold‍‍‍ the name of‌ God to the⁠‌ daughters of Soara’s⁠⁠ rich.

Now‌‍‍ transformed into a haven for lost children, Vlad smiled‍‌ nostalgically as he looked at the⁠‌ place.

“You’re⁠‌ amazing, Marcella. No‍‌ one else in⁠ the North has done anything similar⁠‌ outside the Church.”⁠‍

“I‌‌‌ do it because‍‌ I want to,‍‍ not because it’s⁠‍ easy.”

Though‌‍ she had saved‌⁠ money, taking care‍ of orphaned children‍‍ wasn’t something anyone‌‍ could do, let⁠‍ alone a woman⁠⁠ on her own.‍

“So,‌‍ why don’t you⁠‌ leave a donation⁠ before you go,‍‍⁠ Master Vlad?”

Marcella⁠ had accomplished what⁠⁠ no one else‍ could. She had‌ built the highest‍‌‍ building in the‌ backstreets that no gang leader could‌ have constructed.

“You’re‌‍ incredible, Marcella.”

“Enough‍ flattery, leave some‍ money.”

Marcella⁠ extended her hands‍ toward Vlad, suggesting⁠‌ he leave something for the orphanage.‍‍

From the office window,⁠ a few children‌ peeked, timidly watching‌ the sword master.‌⁠

A prostitute who once⁠‍ brought innocent girls‌ to the convent⁠ in a harsh⁠ winter.

Some⁠ said she didn’t⁠‌‍ deserve divine forgiveness,‌‌ but the place‍⁠ where Marcella smiled‌ was, without a doubt, the closest⁠⁠ to God’s will.⁠‍

Perhaps,‍ this winter, no⁠ one would be‌ sitting at the‌⁠‍ convent entrance.

***

“Why‌ don’t you stay for dinner?”

“No,‍ thanks.”

“Has⁠ Zemina told you‌ to come back‍⁠ soon?”

“It’s‌‌ not that, really!”‌

Despite‌⁠ Marcella’s efforts to‍‌ keep him there‍⁠ for dinner, Vlad,‌ who already had‌‌⁠ other plans, left‌ the orphanage quietly.

“I’ll be back soon.⁠ I’ll still be‌⁠ here in Soara,‍ after all.”

“Alright,‍ come back soon.”⁠

Behind‍‌ Vlad, the children⁠‌ crowded around to⁠ say goodbye.

Seeing‌‍ their bright eyes,‍‌ so similar to‌ those of the‍‍‍ children who used⁠‌ to roam the‍⁠ alleyways, Vlad scratched‍‍ his chin, thoughtful.‍

“For⁠ now, use this⁠ place however you‍ like. I’ll speak⁠ with the mayor⁠ to make it‍ official.”

“Alright.”‍‍

“And‍ take this.”

After‍ a brief hesitation,‍⁠‍ Vlad took a small pouch from⁠ his pocket and‌⁠ handed it to‌⁠ Marcella.

“What’s‌ this?”

“A seed.”

Marcella opened the bag,‌‍‌ curious, and found⁠⁠ an unfamiliar fruit‍⁠ inside.

It⁠ gleamed like a jewel, and anyone⁠ who saw it would know it was something extraordinary.‍

“What kind of seed‍ is it?”

“I⁠‌ don’t know; it⁠ won’t be clear‌⁠ until it’s grown.”‌‌‌

Vlad‍⁠ smiled faintly as‌⁠ he continued speaking.‍⁠

“Still,⁠‌ I think those⁠⁠ seeds will do‍ well here.”

“Really?”‍

A small seed from‍‌⁠ Ausurin.

Vlad⁠ didn’t truly know‌ what the seed⁠ Marcella held would⁠⁠ become, but he‍ knew that after‌ a long time,‌⁠ it would likely‌‌‍ grow into something⁠⁠ like the trees⁠⁠⁠ of Dobrechi or⁠‍ Deirmar.

“I’ll‍‌ be on my⁠ way now.”

“Alright.”

Someone‍‌ has to plant‌⁠‌ these green seeds⁠⁠ to nurture young⁠‍⁠ potential, like the‌‌ Sword Master of‌‍ a previous age who secretly journeyed⁠ across the world,⁠⁠ or like the‍‍ woman before me‌ now.

“It’s‍‍ been a day‍‍ since I’ve done⁠⁠ something meaningful.”

Vlad⁠⁠ departed, waving as⁠ he gazed at‌‍ the red sunset‍‍ descending over the‌ hill.

“I‍⁠ said it was‍⁠‌ time to come‍ here.”

Vlad⁠‍ walked down from‌ Soara’s highest hill⁠ toward the pier,‍ now filled with⁠⁠ the scent of‌ fish.

Perhaps⁠‍ because the night’s‌‌ chill was setting‍‌‌ in, a fog began to gather⁠‌ slowly along the‍‌ river running through‍ Soara.

“Nothing⁠‍ here has changed⁠ either.”

It⁠‍ was a quiet‍‌ dock, empty even⁠‌ of workers, as‍‍‌ there were no‍‍ ships coming or⁠ going.

Standing‍⁠ alone in this‍ deserted place, Vlad raised his hand⁠ to the ever-redder⁠ sunset.

“But‍‌‍ we can still‌‍ have dinner together.”‌

Today’s⁠‌ sunset dipped beneath‌‍‍ the riverbed.

There‌ was a boat‌‌ making its way⁠‌ upriver, silhouetted against‍ the sunset.

The⁠‍ boat, with peculiar-looking‌‍ water wheels on‌‌ either side of⁠‍ its hull, flew⁠ the now-familiar flag⁠ of the red‌ rose.

“It’s‌ a little late.⁠ Shelter.”

Vlad‌ walked along the dock as the‍ sunset deepened.

With‌⁠⁠ a boat gliding‍‍⁠ alongside him.

In⁠ Vlad’s right hand,⁠‍ as he walked⁠‍ this way, a bottle of liquor⁠ he’d brought especially⁠ for his friend‌‍ was now stained‍⁠ with the colors‍⁠⁠ of the setting⁠⁠ sun.