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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 83: The blue-eyed knight (1)

Chapter 83: The blue-eyed knight (1)

“What​ are you thinking?”​

Joseph,‍‌ momentarily stunned by⁠ the sunlight, quickly​‌ opened his eyes​ and raised his⁠ head.

As‍⁠ his vision became⁠ clearer, he could​​‍ see Peter looking⁠​ at him closely.‌

He⁠‌ seemed to ponder⁠‍​ for a moment‍‍‌ whether he should‍‌ worry about his‌ weak son as‌ a father or‍⁠⁠ scold him harshly⁠‍ as the head‌ of the family.‌‍​

“You⁠‍⁠ seem tired.”

“I’m⁠ sorry.”

His‌ father’s gaze slowly‌ began to appear‍​⁠ in Peter’s eyes.⁠

You‍‍‍ must be tired.⁠

From⁠⁠⁠ Soara, he had‌ to constantly rush‌⁠ to Sturma and⁠‍ prepare to knight⁠‌ Vlad.

It⁠​‌ would have been​‍‍ impossible for a boy named Vlad‌ to be named​ a knight in‍‌ the youngest and⁠​ shortest period in​‍ the history of⁠‌⁠ the Bayezid family⁠ without Joseph’s presence.​

“I‌‍​ gave the boy‍‍ the same status‌ you wanted.”

“Thank‍⁠⁠ you.”

Joseph‍​ quickly looked out‌​ the window to​ regain his senses.‍⁠‍

Although‌‌‌ it was difficult​⁠ to see the‌​‍ landscape outside because‌​ of Peter’s appearance,‌‌ the snow hanging​ from the window⁠​‍ frame gave Joseph‌ a sense of⁠​⁠ freshness.

“There⁠ will soon be‍⁠‍ a meeting where‌‌‍ all the lords​ of the North​ will gather.”

“…Is⁠ that so.”

However,⁠​ there was no‌⁠ need to wake⁠⁠⁠ up by looking​‍⁠ out the window.​‍‍

Peter’s​​ words that he⁠‍⁠ soon heard surprised‍ Joseph.

“Is‌‌ this a major​‌ meeting?”

“Yes.”​

The‍ Northern Conference has⁠‌ not been convened‍ even once in‍‌ over ten years.⁠⁠

Joseph’s‌ eyes naturally began‌‌‍ to grow heavy⁠ upon hearing that‌ it would happen‍​ soon.

“I⁠ didn’t even notice‍⁠⁠ it.”

Since​‌‌ it was a gathering place for‌ all the lords​ of the North,‌ there should have‍​ been signs everywhere.⁠‌

But⁠‍⁠ Joseph didn’t feel‌​​ anything like that.⁠

This​⁠ may mean that‍‍ security was kept‌‌ so tight or‌⁠ that the process⁠⁠ was carried out​ so hastily that‌ no one noticed.‌

“I‍⁠ want the Lord‌ of Deirmar to‌‍‌ sit in that‌‌ position.”

A word with many⁠⁠⁠ meanings.

When‌​ Joseph felt puzzled‌ for a moment​​ and couldn’t open⁠ his mouth, Peter‌⁠ grabbed the bottle‍‍ of alcohol next‌ to him and​‍‌ began to pour⁠‌ it silently.

Soon,​⁠ only the aroma​​‌ of the clear‍​‌ brown liquid and⁠ the sound of‍​⁠ flowing water filled⁠‍ the office.

“Baroness‌‌ Alicia will know.​ Deirmar can no​​ longer cross between‌‍ the North and⁠‌ the Center.”

The‌ times of peace⁠‍ are over.

Now‍‌‍ is the time⁠‍⁠ to unite to‍‌ survive.

And​ that choice will​‍ be even tougher‌​⁠ for the fiefs​​⁠ that have maintained‌ neutrality, like Deirmar.​

“…Will⁠‌‍ she choose us?”‍‌⁠

“I‌​‍ know why you’ve‌ worked so hard.”‌

Peter⁠‌ looked at his⁠‌​ son sitting in​ front of him⁠ with deep eyes.‌‍⁠

His​‌‍ second son, Joseph‍​ Bayezid, is smart‌‌‌ but weak.

Yet,​⁠​ I know he‍ fought desperately because⁠ he wasn’t born‌ with sharp teeth.⁠

“I’ll​‌⁠ do my best‍‌ to support you.​​‌ As for Deirmar,‌‍‌ but you are​‌‍ Bayezid.”

So,‌‍‌ you should also‌​ bear that fight.‌⁠⁠

Both⁠‌‍ as a father⁠​ and as the​‍​ head of the‌‍ Bayezid family.

“Thank⁠⁠‍ you, father.”

“It’s​​ been a while​⁠​ since you appeared,‍ so take a few days off.‍ Enough to satisfy‍⁠​ your mother.”

When‌​ Joseph, noticing that‍​ the conversation had⁠​⁠ ended, left the⁠‍ office with a subtle smile, Peter‌​ took the glass⁠ next to him‌ with a brief​​ sigh.

“I’m​ worried…”

Deirmar⁠​ is probably not⁠‌ the only one‍‍‌ wondering what to‍‌ choose.

Peter‌ is also at​‍‌ a crossroads and‍​⁠ will have to‌‍⁠ make a decision‍‌​ in the coming‍ years.

The‌‍‍ blood of the‍ nobles should be​‍ of a cold‌ blue.

Because‍ on their shoulders‌ lay an immeasurable​ amount of duty​ and responsibility.

Peter‌‌ stood up and⁠ looked out the​​ window, holding a glass full of‍ alcohol.

Winter‍‍​ was approaching with⁠ the snow.

As​​ Advisor Ragmus said,‌​⁠ it seemed that‍ this winter would⁠⁠ be colder than​​ last year.

***⁠

Bright⁠‍​ cape, shiny armor.‌

Vlad,​‌​ who left the⁠⁠​ mansion just like‍⁠‌ yesterday, now stood‍‍‍ atop the walls​‌‍ of Sturma.

“Yes,‌ it was a landscape like this.”‌

Vlad⁠​ said, looking at⁠​⁠ the scene in​​​ front of him.⁠

The‌ sunset color passing‍‍ through the horizon,⁠‍‌ dyeing the northern‌​ plains and the‌​‌ walls of Sturma⁠‌ red.

“It​ was a sight​‌ I wanted to​‍​ show you at​‍ least once.”

Ramund⁠​ said, looking at‌​⁠ Vlad, who was‌‌‌ gazing ahead with​‍​ a blank expression.‌​

He​ had always been​ dressed in tattered⁠ clothes, but his⁠⁠​ current appearance was⁠‍‍ completely different from​‍ before.

Although​ he didn’t have‌ a full suit⁠⁠ of armor, he​‌⁠ wore the surcoat​ and cloak commonly​​⁠ worn by knights,​‌‌ and he looked⁠​‌ like such a proud knight that⁠​ anyone who saw⁠ him would nod⁠‌​ their head.

“The⁠‍‌ walls of Sturma‌​ have grown drinking​‍ blood.”

Vlad‍ turned his head‌⁠⁠ unknowingly when he⁠⁠ heard a serious​⁠ voice coming from​‍ beside him.

“The​‍ blood of our⁠ enemies and the‌⁠ blood of Bayezid.”‌

Ramund‍​ stood there, facing‍​‍ the boy in‍⁠ a very different⁠ atmosphere.

“And‍⁠ the time will⁠​​ come when you‍​​ will also have‌ to shed your​ own blood.”

“…”‌‌​

Vlad,‍ who seemed to​ know what Ramund‌ was talking about,‍‍ simply nodded silently‌ without saying anything.‌

Someone’s​⁠ blood is needed‌ to protect something.‌

And⁠‍​ the beings called‌ knights were people⁠‍⁠ who swore they‍‌​ would willingly shed​ their blood when​‌⁠ that time came.⁠

The‌ old knight was‌⁠‌ explaining the fundamentals‌⁠‍ of knighthood to‌⁠ a boy who​‌​ had just become⁠​ a knight.

“Understood.‍‌ Old man.”

“It’s​ Ramund.”

The‍ one who wandered​ the lowest places‍ now pronounces his⁠‌⁠ name.

“From‌ now on, call‍ me Mr. Ramund.”​‍

He‍ had roamed with‌‌ his old body‍‌ in search of​ honors he had⁠ not been able‌⁠ to collect, and‌‍ now he only‍‍ had in his‍​ hands the last​‌ piece of honor.⁠​​

“Take‍​‌ it.”

And‍⁠⁠ finally, the old⁠ man could escape⁠‍‌ from the lowest⁠‍ position.

Handing‌⁠​ over to the⁠ boy the last‍‍ coin he had‍⁠ with him.

“What’s​​‍ this?”

“The‍‍ price of your‍ armor that I paid.”

The‌⁠ food I received​‍ from you, the​ lodging fee at‍‌‍ the inn that​​ I rented for⁠ you.

And‍⁠‌ for all the​​ possibilities you showed​​‌ me.

A ducat to pay​ for it all.‌​‍

“Just‌‌‍ this?”

“That’s⁠ all.”

Vlad‍ frowned at the‌⁠‍ very rusty coin,⁠‍‍ but Ramund simply‍​‌ smiled at the​‍⁠ boy who didn’t⁠ know anything.

“That’s​ enough.”

The⁠ old man owed​​ the boy a lot over the​⁠⁠ years, and it⁠​⁠ wasn’t the result‌‌​ of reckless behavior,​‍‍ but of careful​ intention.

The‌​⁠ boy, who naturally‍‌​ became a supporter​⁠⁠ of the humblest‌‌ according to Ramund’s​​ intentions, was simply⁠ confused by the⁠ old coin he⁠⁠ had just pulled⁠‍ out, but he‍‌⁠ couldn’t complain in⁠⁠ any particular way.​⁠‌

Now,​ the old man⁠ in front of‌ the boy was‌⁠⁠ not a stranger⁠ old man, but‍ someone who had​​ been his elder‌⁠‌ for a long‌ time.

“Please‌ come to visit⁠ my mansion later.”‍​⁠

“I‌‍‍ know, right. I guess I can⁠‌ go there and‌​‍ get the amount⁠‌ that’s missing.”

Ramund‌​ smiled at the‌​‌ boy grumbling quietly.‍

“Your‌‍‌ visit is always⁠⁠​ welcome. Mr. Vlad.”⁠​⁠

“…Yes?”⁠​‍

Vlad⁠⁠ was momentarily puzzled‌​​ when he saw⁠ Ramund address him⁠‍ as Mr.

Because⁠‌‍ he hadn’t learned​‍⁠ what to say‍⁠​ in response in‌ moments like this.‌

“It’s‍⁠ been fun so​ far.”

Vlad‌ only made a subtle expression when‍​​ he saw Ramund‍⁠⁠ offering to shake‌ his hand.

The‍‌ sword had served​​ its purpose, so⁠ it separated from‍‌‍ the boy.

The‌‍ old knight had‌‍​ fulfilled his duty⁠‌ and now wanted​⁠ to part from‌​ the boy.

“…”⁠

Seeing​​ Ramund bid him‌⁠ farewell, Vlad just‍‌ caressed the coin​‌ he was given.‍

For​​ the boy, the‍‌‌ parting was nothing⁠‍⁠ more than an⁠‌ awkward moment.

The​‍​ setting sun illuminated‌ the two people,⁠​ along with the​ walls of Sturma,⁠ in crimson.

Vlad’s‍ hand, shaking hands​ with Ramund, rose‌​‌ as slowly as‍ the slowly waning⁠‌‍ sunset.

***​​‌

A man with blue⁠ eyes walked through​​ the mansion.

The‍​‌ servants around him‌‍‌ hurriedly bowed their‌⁠ heads as they‌ looked at the​‍‍ shining armor and​​ loose blond hair.⁠

There‌‍​ was no place‌⁠⁠ in the mansion‍ where the man‍‌​ walked that was​​ not illuminated by‌ the light.

The​ sunlight shone through⁠‍ the windows everywhere,⁠⁠ and the statues⁠​ and ornaments gleamed⁠ in the light.‌‍

The‌‌ ornaments had an⁠⁠ ancient charm because‌ they were old,⁠ clearly showing how‌ noble the owner’s⁠⁠‌ taste was.

“I’ve‍​ just returned to⁠⁠ work, father.”

Mirshea⁠⁠ entered the foyer‌⁠‌ with confident steps,‌‌ knelt politely, and​ bowed his head⁠​ to the person‌⁠‍ sitting high up‍⁠‍ in the hallway.‍‍‍

“…Are​‌​ you here?”

The‍ twilight of his​‍‍ last breath illuminated‍‍⁠ where he was​⁠‍ sitting.

The⁠ hand, resembling an‌ old and withered​ tree, was stained‍ with a red‍⁠ light shining through​⁠ the window.

“…Report.”‌‍‌

His​ age and energy⁠⁠ could be seen⁠⁠ in his voice,‌ which cracked without⁠ any moisture, like‍ a metallic sound.‌⁠​

The‌‍⁠ man Mirshea called‌⁠ his father could⁠‍ barely bear the⁠‍​ weight of the‍​ years, so he​⁠ could hardly sit⁠‍ in a chair⁠ as if it‍⁠ were carrying him.⁠

“I’m⁠ sorry, father.”

In​‌‍ the face of​ the difficult voice‌​‍ coming from above,​‍ Mirshea lowered his​ head even further‌‌ as if regretful‌‍‌ and began to⁠ report what had‍‍‌ happened in the‍​ north.

Lindworm,⁠‍‌ the white dragon.⁠

Because‌ they realized its​‌‌ potential, the northern​ dragon attracted by​‍‍ the dragon fragments​​ was subdued by‌​⁠ the Bayezid knights,‍​​ not by the​‍​ Dragon Slayer Knights.‍‌

“…These​​​ barbarians. They don’t‍​ understand my authority.”​

The‌ old man, collectively​‍⁠ describing the men⁠‌ of the north‍ as barbarians, raised‍ his bony fingers‍‍‌ and struck the‌⁠‍ armrest, unable to‌​ hide his disappointment.⁠

The‍ prejudice against the‍⁠‍ North that began​ long ago was‌⁠‌ still alive and‌‍⁠ well in the⁠ old man’s soul.‌​‍

“I’m​ sorry.”

Mirshea‌ knew full well‍ that his failure‍‌ would be a great disappointment to⁠‌​ his father.

However,​‍​ there was a major variable in​‌ my failure, and​ that variable will⁠⁠‍ definitely bring great⁠⁠⁠ joy to the​ currently disappointed old‌ man.

“But⁠‌‌ father. I found‌​ a good boy​‌‌ in the North.”‌

“…A⁠ good boy?”

The‌ withered old man​​ raised his eyebrows⁠ at Mirshea’s sudden​​ report.

Although‍​‍ everything in his⁠‌ body had turned​​ white due to‌‍ the heavy years,‍‌‌ his blue eyes​​ still gleamed.

“Have‍⁠‌ you ever been‌​ to the North?‌ There we found​⁠ a young dragon‌ that had not‍ yet opened its‌ eyes.”

Upon​ hearing Mirshea’s words,⁠‌​ the old man‍⁠ closed his eyes⁠ deeply.

My‍​ closed eyelids moved​⁠‍ constantly, as if‍​ searching through old​​ memories.

“Have​⁠ I only been⁠⁠ to the North?‍‌ I am someone‍ who has seen‌‌ all the places‌⁠ in the world‍‍ throughout my life.”⁠​‌

A seed is something⁠ that has the⁠⁠​ potential to become‍​‍ something.

To⁠ spread those possibilities,‍ the old man‍‌‌ has been traveling‍ across the continent‍‍ over the years.​‍⁠

It⁠‍ was the belief‌⁠ and desire of​⁠ the old man,‌​​ and it was‌ something worth risking​‍⁠ his life for.‍‌

“Did‍⁠ your heart beat⁠​ upon seeing the‌ boy?”

“Yes.”⁠⁠

“What​ was the color⁠ like?”

At​‍‌ the old man’s‌⁠ words, Mirshea raised‌ his head and​‌ looked at him.‍

Blond⁠ hair and blue​‍⁠ eyes.

The⁠ color that conveys⁠⁠⁠ the blood of⁠ the Dragulia family‌⁠‍ was there.

“It’s‍ like us.”

“…Yes.”​​

The‌‌ dry old man‍​‍ smiled grimly at‌‌​ Mirshea’s words.

With​‌‌ that smile, the‌ twilight that barely​‍⁠ hovered on the‍ horizon began to​‌ fade away.

“Even⁠ so, seeing that‍‌‍ the dragon pieces‌‍‌ don’t call out,⁠ it seems he⁠‌‍ hasn’t opened his‍‌ eyes yet, as‍‍​ you said.”

Darkness​‍‌ began to seep⁠ into every corner⁠‌ of the mansion‌ along with the‍‌‌ voice of the‍‍‍ old man, which​ suddenly became moist.⁠

An‌‌​ appearance completely different‌ from the mansion​ seen in the⁠‍‌ sunlight.

The​‌​ ancient statues only‌ seemed sinister when‍ dark shadows seeped⁠⁠ in, and the‍⁠⁠ paintings depicting beautiful⁠ landscapes emitted an⁠⁠⁠ eerie atmosphere to‌ anyone who saw‌⁠ them.

“Sowing⁠ seeds is always⁠ difficult, and the⁠ waiting time is‌‌‍ painful, but still,‍ humans continue to​⁠ repeat the task.”‌⁠​

The‌⁠ foyer finally filled⁠‌ with darkness.

There,‍​​ at the highest​⁠⁠ point, stood a man who had⁠ never been seen‌⁠ before.

“I‍‌‍ have also been‌​‌ like that.”

Golden​ blond hair.

Light​ blue eyes.

And‍ a middle-aged man‌ with a dignified​ appearance and aura.‍

A man who had⁠​ absorbed the moisture‍ of the darkness⁠ descended through the‍ foyer.

“I⁠ would like to⁠⁠‌ see that boy.”​​⁠

Brigantes,‍‍‍ the capital of‍​ the empire.

A mansion in the‍​ center of that‌⁠ place as well.‍​‌

The​⁠ oldest blue eyes‍‌ shone in the​⁠‌ place where it‌‌ was said to‍ reside.

Duke​​‌ Dragulia, the Dragon‌ Blood Duke.

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