Chapter 284: Side Story – A Guest from Afar (1)

Creeeak—

At dawn, before the sun had even risen, someone carefully opened a door leading into the dark hallway.

“Ah, my bones. I can still feel the effects.”

Emil struck his waist several times while cautiously looking around.

In his left hand, he held a wooden sword.

It seemed he had come out to do his morning training.

“Hmm, how strange. Somehow my feet feel lighter.”

However, contrary to what he expected, although his body still ached, his steps felt strangely light.

Or, to be more precise, it felt as though the sensitivity in his feet had sharpened.

Of course, Emil had no way of knowing this, but hanging someone upside down was one of the traditional training methods passed down within the Bayezid family.

It had emerged after many years of reflection on the education of squires and was an exercise intended to strengthen the core muscles and improve balance.

Although it was impossible to deny that it was also based on physical punishment.

“Hey, how have you been?”

After quietly sneaking through the dark hallway to avoid being seen, Emil eventually stopped in front of a display case located in the central hall.

Inside hung an old leather armor.

It was armor made from gray orc leather.

“It looks amazing no matter how many times I look at it.”

Although the boy called it amazing, the truth was very different.

It was so battered that anyone could have mistaken it for trash.

However, the inscription placed beneath the armor was another story.

— The armor worn by Swordmaster Vlad.

— The Northern Orthodox Church certifies that with this armor he saved the lives of countless children.

— Pope Andreas of The Northern Orthodox Church.

Impressive words.

And even more impressive names.

But what he liked most was something else.

The fact that his father’s name was written there.

“…Now that I’m seeing it in person, I want it even more.”

After carefully touching the armor, Emil remained alone in the dark hallway, staring at it.

Until the black night sky began to turn blue.

Until the birds awoke and began to sing.

Just as that boy from the alleys had once stared at a five-gold-coin sword hanging in a blacksmith’s shop.

“Ah.”

As though he had fallen under a spell, Emil gazed at the armor for a long time.

Then he snapped out of it and ran toward the empty training ground he had chosen.

If he did not hurry, all the effort of waking up early would have been wasted.

“Hmm, what nice air.”

It was still dawn.

The sky was tinted blue, but the sun had not yet appeared.

In the distance, the white moon and the black moon were descending toward the west, leaving behind only faint silhouettes.

It was the hour when neither day nor night completely ruled.

The boy’s favorite moment.

“Hup!”

The wooden sword descended and came to a stop as it sliced through the dawn air.

One breath for every strike.

Exactly as his father had taught him.

“Hup!”

It was a clean strike.

Anyone who saw it would have been surprised by the precision of that movement, free of wasted motion.

It was an excellent trajectory for someone his age.

And yet, Emil pursed his lips in dissatisfaction as he repeated the same cut over and over again.

‘This isn’t it.’

It was only a simple downward strike.

But in his mind, there existed a sword trajectory engraved with absolute clarity.

A trajectory so vivid that he could reproduce it even with his eyes closed.

It was the trajectory his father had drawn.

And the one his sister had managed to imitate.

But no matter how hard he tried, he could never reach it.

“…Damn it. I think that’s enough for today.”

That trajectory kept appearing before his eyes.

When he was little, it had been a source of pride.

Now it was a wound.

His father had called that trajectory the principle of killing with a single strike.

“Wow, it really is summer. The moons are still there.”

Looking at the black moon that seemed unwilling to leave the horizon, Emil smiled.

Then he calmly picked up his wooden sword and prepared to return to his quarters.

Thump. Thump.

“Huh?”

Until he heard a strange sound.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It was such a faint sound that a normal person would never have been able to hear it.

Only someone whose hearing had been sharpened by dragon blood could perceive it.

“…What could that be?”

It was the first time he had ever heard anything like it.

The young boy’s imagination began running wild.

Was someone digging in the distance?

Or striking a wall?

Or perhaps a corpse inside a coffin…?

“Ahem. Maybe it’s because I’m sweaty, but I just got a chill.”

In any case, once he had heard it, he could not ignore it.

It was only natural to investigate what was causing it.

Following the sound with his ears fully alert, Emil eventually arrived at a corner of the training grounds.

And there he found a rather peculiar sight.

“A badly made construction project?”

Beneath a small hole, the earth was slowly beginning to collapse.

It looked like one of those giant anthills he had seen illustrated in books.

Although anteaters lived in the south and would never come to a place as cold as the North.

“Shouldn’t I call someone?”

If the hole had appeared in the middle of the grounds, that would have been one thing.

But it was right beside the wall.

Even to Emil, it was obvious that if it kept growing, it could affect the structure.

“Huh?”

Driven by curiosity, he leaned over to look inside.

And then he spotted something yellow moving.

“Kyuit!”

“What the hell?!”

It was small.

Round.

And it had tiny shining eyes that looked like buttons.

“Kyuiiiit!”

“Aaaah!”

That mysterious yellow thing suddenly leaped straight toward his face.

And Emil could not help letting out a terrified scream.

***

“It’s a spirit.”

The tail swayed gently from side to side.

Since beastmen’s tails were something uncommon in the North, Emil’s eyes moved as well, following the rhythm of that tail.

“A spirit?”

“More precisely, a creature with spirit blood mixed into it. At first glance, it’s still a mole, after all.”

At Dorothea’s answer, Rutiger looked more closely at the small yellow mole.

“I see. It’s still a mole. Although it glows a little.”

“Kyuiit!”

Even at that moment, a small mole was clinging to Emil’s head.

As if blond hair were its natural camouflage, the creature hid among the boy’s locks.

Probably confused by its unfamiliar surroundings, it would not stop squeaking.

“Kyuu! Kyuu!”

While trying to intimidate Rutiger.

Though, of course, it intimidated no one.

“I don’t know where it came from, but it isn’t a creature from our territory. A spirit in the form of a mole has never been reported here.”

“Could it have come from Dobrechi? I remember that family’s emblem was a mole.”

“That’s possible.”

If Vlad or Gort had been present, they would have immediately recognized the identity of the yellow mole.

But Rutiger and Dorothea were seeing it for the first time, so all they could do was speculate.

“But you’re saying this creature was carrying this with it?”

In truth, the appearance of a spirit inside the castle was not something that required the personal intervention of the Count of Bayezid.

Unless the mole had brought something impossible to ignore.

Emil nodded as he looked at the gold coin Rutiger was holding.

“Yes, Count. It was clutching it as if it were something very precious. It seemed important, so I brought it along with him.”

It was a gold coin covered in blood.

The dark stains left by dried blood covered much of the ancient engraving, causing Rutiger to frown.

He took the coin and looked toward Ramund, who was seated in one of the chairs in the hall.

“You were right. It’s a Ducat.”

Ramund accepted the coin.

Then he walked to the window and lightly scraped the surface with his fingernail.

Beneath the gold plating appeared a silver gleam more brilliant than the gold itself.

“And why would this creature be carrying something so valuable?”

“That is precisely what we don’t know.”

The Ducat was a coin of honor.

A true silver coin that, according to legend, had been forged alongside the sword of the founding king Kihano Prausen when he was still an honorable gladiator.

Watching the scraped gold slowly restore itself on its own, Ramund clicked his tongue.

“The only thing that is certain is that it changed hands not long ago. The original owner of this coin is probably around your age.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

Rutiger, who had not yet walked the Path of Honor, asked out of curiosity.

Naturally, Emil, who was listening attentively behind him with his ears wide open, was equally curious.

“Because it hasn’t rusted yet. That means its owner is not yet old enough to retire.”

The idea that a gold coin could rust sounded strange.

But Ducats had always been like that.

To shine forever, you first had to learn how to let go.

No matter how high you rose.

No matter how many achievements and honors you accumulated.

One day, you would have to step aside to make room for the next generation.

And finding the place where you truly belonged was also a knight’s duty.

“When the time comes to retire, the Ducat lets you know. It’s a kind of warning.”

Twenty years ago, the Ducat that Ramund gave to Vlad had been completely deteriorated.

But once it changed owners, it became a brilliant gold coin once again while resting near Vlad’s chest.

That was how Ducats worked.

They passed from generation to generation, constantly reminding their bearers of honor and duty.

“…Then, if we put together everything Lord Ramund has said, we get the following.”

There is a knight in the prime of his life.

A knight talented and honorable enough to receive a Ducat.

And that knight was injured for unknown reasons.

So severely that the coin of honor he kept close to his heart ended up soaked in his own blood.

“And this creature was the one that picked it up.”

Rutiger looked at the mole that was still perched on top of Emil’s head.

After such a long journey, it appeared exhausted.

Now it was lying on its back, catching its breath.

It was obvious that this was no ordinary creature.

So why had it come all the way to Sturma?

“I don’t know the reason, but I’m certain it arrived here by the correct path. Moles belong to the spirits of the earth. And the spirits of the earth always know the proper way.”

Hearing Dorothea’s advice, Rutiger slowly nodded.

Yes.

With the clues they currently had, it was impossible to draw conclusions.

If it had arrived there for a reason, sooner or later the truth would reveal itself on its own.

“Squire Emil. I have a mission for you.”

The Count’s solemn voice caused the young squire to stand up immediately.

He had known Rutiger since childhood.

But it was the first time he had ever seen him so serious.

“From this moment onward, Squire Emil will be responsible for protecting this mole spirit of unknown identity. You will remain by its side at all times until further orders are given. And if it disappears, you must report it immediately. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

It was the first mission he had ever received in his life.

And Emil could not hide his bewilderment.

But shortly afterward, an indescribable emotion began to fill his chest.

He was not the Swordmaster’s son.

He was Squire Emil.

As though he had finally been given a name of his own.

The boy answered energetically.

“I’ll do my very best!”

“Kyuu!”

When Emil jumped to his feet, the mole perched on his head also sat upright and waved its tiny paws.

It did not seem to understand the situation.

But for some reason, it gave the impression that it was determined to protect the boy.

Seeing that, Rutiger realized he had made the right decision.

“Good. Then take these peanuts and feed this little creature as well…”

“Kit!”

However, there was one thing Rutiger did not know.

The glowing mole hated peanuts.

“Ah…”

The bag of peanuts was knocked away and fell to the floor.

Seeing the bag of peanuts lying there, Rutiger couldn’t help but look deeply hurt.