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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 265: Extra 5 – The Children Who Became Adults

Chapter 265: Extra 5 – The Children Who Became Adults

The‌⁠ alley lights reflected​ clearly on the‍‍​ river’s water, tinted⁠ red by the​ sunset.

Until‍​‌ recently, that shadowy⁠‌‍ corner of the⁠ city had seemed​‍ peaceful, but now‌‍ it was alive‌‍ with unexpected noise‌​ and vibrant activity.‌​⁠

“So,​ you’ve been at​ odds with Barbosa​⁠‌ all this time?”⁠‌

“More‍⁠⁠ like a tense​ balance, rather than‍‌ an outright conflict.”⁠

With‍ Vlad and Harven’s​‌​ arrival,

The⁠⁠‌ Smile of a Rose was busier‍ than ever, though⁠ a tense atmosphere‍‌‍ hung over the‍​⁠ lobby on the​‍⁠ first floor.

People‍⁠ dressed elegantly occupied​ the tables; their​ clean and orderly​ appearance clashed with‍‍ the usual feel‍⁠‍ of the place.⁠‍​

Watching​⁠​ those patrons holding‍ empty glasses and‌⁠‌ casting furtive glances⁠‌ upstairs, Zemina pursed‍​ her lips in‍‍ displeasure.

“Good‍‍⁠ thing you managed⁠ to reach a truce. Otherwise, we​ would’ve been stuck⁠ here until winter.”⁠⁠

“Yeah,⁠‍ winter at sea​ is brutally cold.”‍‌​

While‌⁠ Harven took a sip, Vlad watched‍​‍ him out of​‌ the corner of‌⁠ his eye. His‌​ face was now‌​ sun-tanned, and he​⁠ wore a sailor’s⁠‍ hat crusted with⁠​​ sea salt—a completely​⁠‌ different image from‍​‍ the refined man‍​ once buried in‌ piles of paperwork​‍⁠ in closed rooms.⁠‍

“Hey,‌ here you go.”​​

“Oh!​‍‍ Thanks, Ned.”

Just‍ then, their food‍‌ arrived, and Harven‌ reached for a coin in his‌​‌ pocket, but Ned​ quickly left without‍‍ accepting the tip—a⁠‌‌ rare move for‌ him.

“What’s​ gotten into him?‍​ He’s always looking‍ for a tip.”‍‍‍

“He​‍​ must have his⁠⁠ reasons.”

Otar‌‌ eyed his brother‌​‍ suspiciously at the‌⁠​ unexpected change, but​ Vlad merely shrugged.‌​⁠ Someday they’d have⁠⁠ that conversation, but‌ tonight, he preferred‌‌ not to hear‌​‌ complaints.

“So,⁠⁠​ have you finished‍‌ your work? Are⁠‍ you going back⁠ to your old​⁠ post?”

“…Yes.”‌‌

Harven⁠ and his sailors⁠ had initially been⁠‍‍ a modest merchant⁠ company navigating the​‍‌ northern seas. If​​‍ not for the⁠ war, they would‍‍‌ have solidified their‌‍⁠ influence by leveraging​ Vlad’s connections.

“Perfect‍ timing. The Ravnoma‌‍ family just asked​‌ me to find⁠‌⁠ a company to⁠⁠ open a trade‌‍⁠ route.”

Now‌ that the war​​​ had ended with‍⁠‌ the Golden Duke⁠​ Barbosa’s surrender, it​ was time for‌ everyone to return​⁠ to their previous​​ roles. Vlad, excited‍‌ by the idea⁠ of seeing his​‍ friends return, took​ a bite of‍⁠⁠ the sausage he‌ was holding.

“If‍ it’s in Trinova,​⁠‍ it’s close to‌‍⁠ Nidavellir. Maybe they‍ could even share⁠‍ a port.”

“Exactly.”‌

“Then,​ with trade routes‌ open, they’ll start‍​⁠ bringing in steady​‌‌ income—not small amounts,‌‍ either, but sizable‍‌‍ ones.”

Although⁠ Vlad had risen​ to the position​ of Sword Master⁠ out of honor,‌⁠​ it didn’t mean⁠⁠‍ he didn’t need‌ money. Unlike Kihano,⁠​‌ the Sword Master‍ of the previous​‌ generation, Vlad didn’t⁠‍ have a stable​‍ foundation.

While‌‍​ he wished to‍‌⁠ remain free, unbound⁠⁠ to any one⁠​‌ place, he had⁠ decided to build⁠ his fortune through​ a merchant company.⁠

“How‌⁠⁠ about we go‌​‌ big this time?​⁠⁠ Buy a new⁠⁠ ship, hire more⁠ people.”

Talking‍⁠ about money might‌‌ sound self-serving, but​ Vlad’s enthusiasm was⁠​‌ unmistakable.

“Go‌⁠ big?”

“We‍⁠ could form a fleet like Barbosa’s.​ Admiral sounds better‍​ than captain, don’t​ you think?”

Harven‍ smiled, recalling the‌‌ dreams they had‍‍ shared in the⁠‌ alleyway as children,‌​⁠ talking about their​‌ futures.

“With‍‍ the money we⁠ earn, we could‍​‌ help the orphanage⁠​ kids or, better‍‌​ yet, recruit kids‌⁠‍ and train them‍‌‌ to become sailors.”‍⁠

Back‌‍⁠ then, alone and‍‍‌ with no one‍‌ to look after‍‍ them, the only‌ way to comfort‌ themselves was by‍​ imagining a shared‌ future.

Those‍‍‌ tales of a better tomorrow gave‌ them the strength⁠⁠ to endure the⁠ present, with all‍‌‍ its hardship and‍‍‌ hunger.

“Vlad…”‌⁠

“Yes?”‍‌

“I‍⁠‌ have something to‌ tell you.”

But⁠⁠⁠ no matter how​‍ much they shared⁠⁠‌ as brothers, sooner⁠⁠⁠ or later, each‍​ had to find‌‌ his own path.⁠‌ Because children always‌‌ grow up into‍⁠⁠ adults.

“I​ received a request.”⁠‍​

“A‌‌ request?”

Children⁠⁠⁠ only dream of‌​ the stars, but‌⁠ adults chase after‍‍‌ them.

Even⁠⁠‍ if their paths​​⁠ were different, Vlad⁠‌⁠ and Harven had⁠‌ walked together in​‍‌ the past. But​ now each would‌‍ follow the road​‍​ they had chosen.‍

“Count‌ Arnstein asked me​ to open an⁠​ Arctic route.”

“An⁠ Arctic route?”

“Yes,‍ a route through​‍ the Arctic, beyond​ the northern border.”​‌

The‍⁠ blue-eyed boy looked​ at the starry⁠‌‌ sky, while the​⁠‌ limping boy dreamed‌ of crossing the​ narrow river and⁠⁠ venturing into the⁠​ open sea.

The​‌ young men who‍‍⁠ once shared those‌ dreams now looked​‌⁠ at each other​‌ as adults.

“It​‌ seems that the‍ higher-ups want an⁠ alternative to the‌‍ southern route dominated​ by Barbosa.”

Vlad’s‌ voice was calm,​‍ perhaps out of‍​ consideration for the‍ eager Harven.

“It’s‌⁠⁠ as if he⁠⁠⁠ wouldn’t go if​ I held him⁠​ back.”

“That⁠ request… I’d like​ to take it⁠ on. What do​⁠‌ you think?”

Yet,‌​ Vlad could recognize‍‌ the excitement in‌​‍ Harven’s eyes, hidden​‍ beneath his calm​ exterior.

Even​​​ as he casually​ swirled his drink,⁠⁠‍ Harven’s brown eyes‌‌‌ already sparkled with⁠‌ a determination he​​‍ couldn’t hide.

“I⁠⁠​ see.”

Harven,​ who was born​‌ by the river,⁠‍‌ wanted to venture​ out to the‌⁠​ sea.

To​ the vast ocean⁠‌​ that didn’t care‍​ about my limping‍‍ steps.

Because⁠⁠​ this was a friend who had⁠⁠⁠ finally said he​ wanted to find​ his own way,‌⁠ Vlad could only⁠‌‍ smile.

***‌‌⁠

“Ugh…‍⁠​ what a headache.”‌

Now‌ it was time⁠⁠ for even the‍ lively alleyways to‌ close their eyes.‍

After‌⁠‌ sharing endless rounds‍ of liquor, Vlad​ climbed the stairs⁠​ to the fourth⁠​​ floor, his head‌ throbbing.

“…Maybe⁠⁠ I should have⁠​ drunk more. Being‌ half-drunk is worse.”​

Harven,⁠‍ Otar, and later⁠‍‍ Zemina, who had⁠‍​ joined them, lay‍‌​ slumped over the‍⁠⁠ table.

The‌⁠⁠ blame lay with​ Harven, who, after‍‌ discovering “the authentic‌‌ way to enjoy‌ Captain Q,” had⁠‍‍ mixed all kinds‌ of drinks with​‌​ that horrid liquor.​⁠‌ [1]

“Huh?”​

As‌ he climbed the​‌ stairs, Vlad noticed​⁠ a faint light‍ flickering in the​​ hallway on the​ fourth floor, reserved⁠ exclusively for guests.‍‍ It was coming⁠ from Nibelun’s room.​​

“What‌‍​ are you doing‌‍ up?”

“Huh?⁠​‍ Haven’t you gone‌ to sleep yet?”‌⁠

Normally,⁠ Vlad wouldn’t have⁠ gone in, but⁠⁠​ curiosity, fueled by‌⁠‍ the alcohol, led‌ him to approach‍ unsteadily. Nibelun’s room‌ was a complete⁠​⁠ mess—a chaos that‍‍‍ anyone would consider‍ extreme.

“…What’s​ all this?”

The‌⁠ room was filled⁠‍ with knick-knacks from‌​ who knows where.‍‌​ Among them were‍ strange gadgets and⁠ carpets Vlad vaguely⁠‍‌ recognized.

“I’m⁠​‌ organizing my pack.‍​⁠ I haven’t done​ it in five⁠‌ years.”

“Your​‍ pack?”

“Yes,⁠​​ the one I always carry with‍​‍ me.”

Vlad’s‌⁠⁠ gaze landed on⁠ a backpack in‍⁠ the corner—the same‍⁠⁠ magical backpack from⁠‌​ which Nibelun always‍⁠‍ seemed to pull‌ out exactly what⁠⁠​ he needed in‌ moments of danger.​⁠⁠

Now,‍‌ the enormous bag‍‍ was surprisingly empty.⁠⁠​

“I’ve​‍ always wondered—how much​⁠ can you actually‌‍​ fit in that⁠ thing?”

“In‍ my pack? Well…”‍

Nibelun​‍‍ scratched his head​‍​ as he replied,‍ surrounded by his⁠‍ belongings.

“There’s‍ no fixed limit.⁠ I can store​ as much as‍‌‍ I can remember.”‍‌

“How‌ much can you⁠​​ remember?”

“If⁠⁠‍ I forget something‍ I put in,‍ the pack simply‌ swallows it up.”‍‍‌

“Oh…”‌​⁠

Nibelun‍ mentioned that, since​‌ he wasn’t especially‌ good at remembering,​ he couldn’t store​ as much as⁠ previous users.

However,‍‌ the objects that‌​​ filled the room​​⁠ and even spilled‍ into the hallway⁠ were enough that​‌ anyone could easily​‌ forget what was​⁠‍ in there.

“Why‍​ are you organizing‌⁠⁠ it in the‍ middle of the⁠ night?”

“Because​ I’m leaving with‍ Harven.”

“To‍ where?”

Beastfolk‍ of this era‌⁠‍ had plenty of‌⁠​ places to go,⁠​ even if nowhere​​‍ truly welcomed them.‍

You​‌ could say that‍​ Nibelun, also a mage in search‌⁠⁠ of mysteries, was‍ a natural-born wanderer.​

“I’m​​‌ going with Harven.‍ It looks like​‌‍ he’s going to‌ explore an Arctic‍‍⁠ route.”

A beastfolk mage who⁠⁠‍ could travel anywhere⁠⁠‍ with just a pack.

But‍‍​ this time, it⁠‍ wasn’t a journey​ without aim—it was​ an expedition with‌ a clear purpose.‍​‍

“…And‍‌ why do you‍​ want to explore⁠‍⁠ the Arctic route?”​‍

“It’s⁠‍‍ a place no‍ one’s been before.”‌

Nibelun’s​​‌ eyes curved into‍⁠ a wide smile,‌ and Vlad couldn’t⁠‌ help feeling somewhat​⁠ bitter over that‌‌ assured resolve.

“Besides,‌⁠‌ they say the​ climate’s warming up‌ lately. Good for‌ lemon cultivation.”

When‍‍‌ dragons ruled, there⁠‌ had been a land of beastfolk⁠ that sank.

“Maybe⁠ now, with the‍‍⁠ ice melting, there​​ could be habitable​⁠ land.”

“…”‍⁠

“If⁠‍‌ we found a place like that,​‍ the scattered tribes​‌ could gather in​‌ one place.”

The‌​ elves and dwarves‌⁠ now had their⁠‌‍ own territories, but‍ only the beastfolk‍ remained scattered, unable‌‌ to find land‌⁠​ to call their‍‍ own.

Tribes‌‍ like the Ruga,‌‌‌ who found a place to settle,‌‌ could be considered‍ truly fortunate.

“It‍⁠​ would be wonderful​ if the children⁠ of our tribe​​ had a place⁠​​ where they could‍‍‍ run and play‍⁠‌ freely, like the‍‍‌ ones here.”

Nibelun​ was determined to‌‍ leave, both for​⁠ his life’s purpose‍‍‌ as a mage‌‍ who pursued the‍​ mystical and for‌ the well-being of‍⁠ his people.

His‌​ words were logical,​⁠ but to Vlad,‌ somewhat drunk, there⁠⁠ was only a deep feeling of​ sorrow.

“Yes,⁠⁠ you should go,​​ then.”

Vlad​⁠‌ had returned hoping‍‌ to be welcomed​⁠⁠ by everyone, but‌ now, those children‌ who had grown‌​‍ up into adults​​⁠ were setting off‍⁠‍ on their own⁠ paths.

As​​‌ with all the⁠​⁠ friendships he had‌‌⁠ lost over the​ years, each of‍ his friends was‍‍​ also leaving.

“I​ suppose I should⁠‍‌ keep drinking.”

“You’re‌ going to drink‍ more?”

“I’m⁠ in the mood⁠ for it today.”⁠‌

Vlad‌ turned and began‌⁠⁠ descending the stairs,‍ leaving Nibelun as⁠‍ he packed his‍‍​ belongings.

He​⁠​ passed through the‌‌ darkened hallway, past​‌​ the table where‌ his friends lay⁠⁠ sprawled out.

With‍⁠ a bottle of⁠‌ liquor in hand,‌‍​ Vlad stepped out​‌ into the streets‌‌‌ of early morning,⁠⁠ still cloaked in⁠⁠ shadows.

***​‍‌

“…Who⁠‌‌ would’ve put a fence here?”

Vlad⁠‍⁠ pushed through a neatly kept hedge​​⁠ and opened the​‍‍ gate in a fence.

“This⁠‍ does look better⁠‍​ now.”

In‌ that chaotic neighborhood‌ of overlapping buildings,‌​​ the only spot‍​ with a bit‌‌ of green was⁠​‌ the cemetery.

Vlad⁠ walked among the‍ graves, better tended​‌ than before, and​⁠​ stopped in front​ of one that‌⁠‍ looked familiar.

“How⁠ have you been,​⁠ Kihano?”

The‌ cemetery was filled​‍ with simple headstones,⁠‍ with colorful flowers‍‍‍ growing here and‌​⁠ there, as if‍‌ embracing the graves​‍ of the dead.⁠​

“I‌​‌ brought a drink⁠⁠ for you, too.”‍

Smiling‍​ at the flowers,‌​ Vlad poured some⁠‍‌ liquor onto the​‌ surrounding graves.

Before‍⁠ him lay an​‍‍ unknown old blacksmith,‍‍‍ and behind him,⁠ a nameless noble‌ knight.

Between‍ them, Vlad sat‍​ down and raised‌ the bottle, as‍‍⁠ if it were⁠ now his turn‍ to take a drink.

“Everyone’s‌​ leaving. It hasn’t⁠ even been that‍ long since I saw them again.”‌‍‍

Although⁠‌​ he disliked showing‍ weakness, here in‌ this quiet place,‌​ Vlad allowed himself‍‌ to express his‍ true feelings.

“If‍ they all go,⁠‌ who will stay⁠‌ by my side?”‌‌

Kihano,‍​ Joseph, and so‌‌ many others he‌ had crossed paths‍‌‍ with.

Now,​ he had more‌ broken bonds than‍‌ those still intact,⁠​‌ and feeling the​‌ hollow ache in‍‌‌ his chest, Vlad‌​‍ lifted the bottle​⁠ again.

“But​ I’ve given them‌‌ proper farewells. Isn’t​‍ that something good?”‍

He‌ understood that he‌⁠ was able to​ say goodbye to‍‍⁠ his friends because,​ back then, others⁠‌ had also shown​‍​ him how to‌‍ do it.

He‌ knew that if⁠‍ those who now​ lay here resting‍ hadn’t pushed him⁠‍ forward, he wouldn’t‍​‌ be who he⁠‌‌ was.

“…Well,​ it seems everyone‌​‍ here is silent.”​‍

No​​‌ matter how much‍⁠‌ he talked, the‌⁠⁠ nameless graves couldn’t‌ answer him.

Already​⁠ in their eternal‍‍‍ silence, they had‌⁠‍ no more words‍‌‌ to offer Vlad.‌

“…”‌​

Only‌‍‌ the sunrise, slowly​‌ peeking over the⁠​‌ horizon, touched Vlad’s​‍​ back with its​⁠ warmth.

Enjoying‍​ that gentle light,⁠ Vlad decided to⁠ stay a little⁠ longer than he’d‍​​ planned.

It⁠ felt as if⁠​ Kihano, from behind,​‍ were giving him‍​‍ one final parting⁠‌ touch.

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