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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 284: Side Story – A Guest from Afar (1)

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.

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