Translator: Willia

Driven out of the sweet dream of heaven tasted briefly, they once again returned to a world filled with cold, hunger, uncomfortable beds, and roaming bandits.

The steadfast father said nothing, and the mother and sister simply embraced Roy. There was not a word of resentment.

Ricardt thought of his own family as he watched the Hartmanns. Unconditional support, consideration, and love.

He had once thought such a thing: that he already had everything. Roy seemed that way too, but reality was not so generous.

Guilt weighed down the boy’s heart. It was because his actions were causing his family to suffer.

Should he have just said he didn't do it, that he was not at fault and that Res had done it? He would have lived, but what would have happened to Res?

Perhaps it was not about friendship or anything like that, but rather a sense of resistance to tattling. He didn’t want to be a snitch. Whether it was a friend or not, he didn’t want to save himself by selling someone else out.

However, even so, he couldn’t be sure whether his choice was right. That was something not even his respected father nor his beloved mother could know.

That is why children need a teacher. Someone who can shape and nurture them, something even parents and family cannot do.

Someone who could craft a gem, a star that would one day shine brightly, that kind of person was necessary for children.

But unfortunately, Ricardt’s problem was that he didn’t have much talent for teaching.

It was a cool spring day. No matter how dangerous the world may be, most of the time was simply dull until cruel violence struck suddenly.

Such was the daily life of this era, boring until unbearable horror unfolded.

Fortunately, it was a peaceful time now.

Ricardt stood in the knee-high grass and glared at Roy with an expression like he had bitten a bug. Roy was swinging a stick enthusiastically, but it was clearly clumsy.

He had corrected Roy’s posture several times, but there had been no significant improvement. So Ricardt could no longer hold back and spoke.

“Hey, you’ve got arms and legs, and so do I. So why can’t you do it?”

Roy paused mid-swing, thought for a moment at his teacher’s scolding, and answered.

“Uh... well, Master is used to it from doing it many times, and I’m just starting, so...?”

At the unexpected retort, Ricardt was momentarily dumbfounded but quickly regained his senses.

“I started from scratch. No one taught me.”

“I see.”

“I see?”

“If I work hard, won’t I also someday be able to cut off a person’s neck with a wooden stick like Master?”

“You think just anyone can do this? You’d have to be a hundred years old to do it at your level.”

Whether he was trying to teach or to crush hope was unclear, but thankfully Roy wasn’t discouraged.

In fact, Roy wasn’t exactly talentless. Not that he was exceptional either. He was just about average for his age group.

But Ricardt found that average level frustrating. He couldn’t understand the idea of needing to repeat a single motion over and over to master it, sometimes for days or even months.

The really important things were separate. This kind of thing should be mastered quickly. That was all he could think about.

Moreover, since he had never experienced the struggles and blockages of ordinary people, he couldn’t understand them and just kept pressing why things weren’t working.

“Watch carefully. It’s important to shift your center of gravity and put your weight into it. You can’t cut flesh and bone just by swinging your arm. Focus on where you plant your feet. The arm just guides the sword’s path. But don’t go too limp either. Ugh, this is frustrating.”

For Ricardt, trying to put into words the body movements that came naturally to him felt like indigestion.

“Just wait a little. I’ll practice hard and get used to it as quickly as I can.”

“...You really talk well. If you’re that good at talking, why didn’t you argue your case properly back then?”

Among all the people who had ever received even a brief lesson from Ricardt, Roy was the first to talk back like this. But it wasn’t done disrespectfully, so he didn’t dislike it.

“I’m not good at lying. But it’s also hard to speak honestly as things are. Still, I wonder... if I couldn’t have handled it a bit more wisely.”

Roy spoke with his head lowered, as if recalling that time, looking dejected. Seeing him so disheartened didn’t make Ricardt feel comfortable either.

“...You.”

Ricardt stroked Roy’s head, who was about the same age as Ricardt had been when he left home. Roy was currently nine years old and would be ten after his birthday.

With his blond hair and a solid build like his father's, he resembled Ricardt in many ways. Someone might even think he was a younger brother or an early-born son.

Ricardt didn’t insist on telling his disciple what he should or shouldn’t have done. Because he didn’t know either.

He simply watched over him, hoping that through enough reflection, Roy would grow from it.

Since his innate temperament was strong and noble, Ricardt believed he would do well. In truth, that was the only reason he had taken him as a disciple, so it didn’t matter if Roy wasn’t very skilled with a sword.

“Ricky! Roy!”

It was Marie’s voice. When he turned his head, she was calling the two of them from under the shade of a tree. It was mealtime.

“Well, let’s take it slow. Though I do worry you might grow old and die before making it.”

Ricardt walked with Roy over to the tree.

When he sat beside Marie, Roy, acting like a proper disciple, busily took care of Ricardt before eating himself. Everyone smiled at the sight of the little guy behaving so admirably.

Gathering to eat under the tree really felt like a true family. Bremen was the grandfather, Hartmann and Ricardt were the brothers, and each had a wife, or something like that.

Under the shade of the tree, the sound of the branches swaying in the wind tickled their ears.

Roy quietly watched his mother, who only ate what was left after serving everyone else. There had once been plenty of food there. And she had once been dazzlingly beautiful.

“Mom...”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry...”

At her son’s apology, Elia smiled with the gentlest expression in the world.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Being together like this is what makes me happiest, but I forgot that for a while. I didn’t even know what you had been through.”

The family knew Roy was innocent. And they had heard only later about the abuse he suffered over those five days.

“...I’m full. Mom, you eat this.”

Roy stopped eating his rice porridge and held it out to his mother. Elia then took a little and said,

“I’m full now too. You go ahead and eat.”

With what little rice porridge they had, they kept trying to give it to one another. Then Bremen cut in and said,

“My appetite is gone since I’ve not got long to live anyway. Here, you have it.”

He set down the bowl he’d been eating from and walked off somewhere. It was a heartwarming scene, yet it tugged at the heart as well.

The mealtime suddenly became quiet. Only the sound of the wind brushing over the grass could be heard.

Then Marie, while chewing on hard bread soaked in water, looked at Ricardt and said,

“You’re not as harsh a teacher as I thought you’d be.”

“What, do I look like someone who enjoys bullying others?”

“Really? From what I’ve heard, Volka got hit a lot while learning, and Bori said he got scolded plenty too. You trained Ice and me so hard we thought you were being cruel. Who was it recently? Was it Kaspar? Anyway, I heard they almost died.”

“You guys are my friends, not disciples. Kaspar and Julia are Bori’s disciples. Roy is my disciple.”

“Oh... So you actually know how to make distinctions?”

“What? Why are you picking a fight all of a sudden?”

“I’m just saying you’re admirable, that’s all.”

Marie smiled brightly, seemingly amused at teasing Ricardt. At the same time, she knew her husband was feeling a bit frustrated too.

“Still, Ricky’s raised three Sword Masters, right? That’s successful enough. Roy will do fine too.”

“That’s because of you and the guys. It’s not something I made happen.”

“Oh... Are you being humble now?”

“Ugh! Seriously! What’s with you today?”

When Ricardt flared up in frustration, Marie burst into laughter and playfully nudged him with her shoulder.

“I’ll teach him in the afternoon. Since he’s my husband’s disciple, that makes him mine too, right?”

“Does it work that way?”

“A married couple is one body.”

Ricardt wasn’t sure if that made sense, but after the meal, Marie took Roy aside and taught him.

Ricardt thought it probably wouldn’t be much different, so he watched indifferently from a distance. But after some time, Roy showed far more improvement than when Ricardt had taught him. Huh?

Marie’s swordsmanship was based on the Kelbron family style, which had been refined over a long time, making it solid from the fundamentals and very systematic.

Moreover, because Marie had trained harder and more rigorously than anyone since she was young, she understood the stages of progress well. She immediately grasped Roy’s learning ability, talent, and current level, and instructed him accordingly.

Watching that, Ricardt felt something internally difficult to accept. This can’t be!

“How about I teach in the morning and Ricky watches over him in the afternoon?”

Marie said this when they were about to hit the road again after giving Roy a short lesson.

“......”

“What? Are you sulking because I seemed better?”

“No?”

“You are sulking.”

“No, I’m not. I’m totally fine because I’m the better teacher.”

Having lived together in isolation from the world for four years, Marie knew Ricardt’s inner feelings better than anyone. So she also knew how to handle him.

“Since Ricky is best when someone is already at a certain level, I’ll handle the basics. That way, you won’t have to get frustrated, and Roy will be able to absorb your teachings better too. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Now that he heard it, it made sense. Ricardt felt the pettiness in his heart starting to ease.

“If you really want to, then...”

Marie couldn’t hold back her laughter. She knew that her husband’s one weakness was his desire to teach someone well, but things never went as he hoped, leaving him constantly frustrated.

She had known this since the time he wrote the swordsmanship manual, because it was Marie who had helped him with it.

And it wasn’t even an exaggeration. What Ricardt said could only be understood by someone who was practically a master at the peak of their art.

In any case, it was a great fortune for Roy. To be taught the basics by one of the few Sword Masters in the world, and to be guided by someone who even surpassed a Sword Master, this was a luxury that even kings might never experience.

And since they were teaching anyway, they also included Roy’s sister, Beka. Judging by talent alone, Beka seemed to be the better one.

Teaching both siblings allowed them to spar with each other, so their skills improved quickly, but it wasn’t like there were any dramatic or obvious changes.

The group simply continued moving forward in silence, heading to the Eastern Frontier. By now, it was hard to even know why they were going there. Salvation? A new home? Because of Hartmann’s crime of killing a priest? No one knew.

But walking through life was like constantly facing endless questions. You find an answer at some point, and that answer leads to another question.

Some settle in the middle and find peace, while others keep walking.

And within that, the flower called faith bloomed. Slowly, but surely. People who had once been wary and distant were now protecting each other.

“Bremen ssi, what will you do once we reach the Eastern Frontier?”

Ricardt asked as they climbed the mountain path. The southeastern region of the Empire had an unusually large number of low mountain ranges and basins.

“I suppose I’ll go back to the crossroads and serve as a guide again.”

“Why? You’re not going to settle there?”

“Well, I think I’ve become addicted to the look in the eyes of people holding onto their last hope. Watching them live gives me life too.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“My whole family is dead. All the people I knew too. Nothing dramatic. They died from illness, or from old age, one by one. Left alone in that empty house, I just wanted to die. Then I saw the people heading to the Eastern Frontier and started guiding them without much thought. I used to work as a mercenary, so I know the geography well.”

Ricardt had no words to say. He hadn’t experienced anything like that, so he stayed silent.

“Do I sound foolish?”

“No. I was just thinking... you’re like a butterfly.”

“A butterfly? Me?”

“A butterfly drawn to the flower of last hope. A butterfly that dies if it can’t drink the nectar of the flower.”

“...I see. Maybe I am. You sound like a poet.”

At the comment about being like a poet, Ricardt let out a faint laugh.

“What do you think this time? Do you think we’ll make it to the end?”

“Haha, I don’t know either. But the Hartmann family is a fine family. And you’re a fine teacher too.”

“And Bremen ssi is a fine guide.”

“No, not at all. If the nectar of hope disappears, I’ll run away. Isn’t that what a butterfly does?”

“That’s still okay.”

Bremen, with his striking white mustache, looked at Ricardt and gave a gentle smile, a face mellowed with the weight of years. It was the kind of smile one rarely saw, like a wildflower blooming unexpectedly.

Ricardt walked up the slope covered in jagged rocks. When he looked back, Hartmann was silently following behind, carrying a heavy load. His family too, each bore a burden, big or small.

They were carrying those heavy burdens for a hope that was as insubstantial and wavering as a heat haze.

Come to think of it, hope was merely something you carried in your hand. Even when you arrived at your destination and faced something different than expected or felt disappointed, it was about not letting go of it.

What happens when you let it go? Ricardt knew that better than anyone. You become a demon, a monster. He had become that way, and so had the Order.

What lay beyond dreams, life and hope. Ricardt wanted to protect those who still possessed them. There was no more fire or steel.

Was that really true?

As they neared the ridge, figures became visible up ahead. Were they travelers or bandits?

Ricardt raised his hand briefly to stop the group and went up alone. The men had swords at their waists and light equipment, but judging by their neat appearance and expressions, they didn’t seem like common bandits.

Even as Ricardt approached from below, they didn’t react with hostility or draw weapons to threaten him.

When he got close enough, Ricardt spoke.

“I’d like to pass through.”

“Go ahead.”

“Don’t you need a toll?”

He asked because robbers often used tolls as a pretext to take money. The three swordsmen chuckled.

“We’re not bandits. We’re just looking for someone. It’s fine, go ahead. Oh, before that, by any chance, have you seen a swordsman riding a donkey?”

Ricardt shook his head.

“Haven’t seen him.”

“He’s got a light brown bowl-cut and is on the short side. But once you’re struck by that black sword, it’s all over. He’s called the Black Sword. Ever heard of him?”

“......”

Ricardt was momentarily speechless. He hadn’t expected to hear news about Bori here of all places.

But when Ricardt’s expression changed, the three swordsmen sensed that he knew something about the man.

“You do know him, don’t you? Bori, the Black Sword.”

“Why are you looking for him?”

“Because he stole our clan’s secret manual and ran off. We must retrieve the manual and make him pay for the theft, no matter how strong he is or what it takes. So be smart and tell us. Let’s not cause each other trouble.”

One of them spoke while drawing his sword.

They couldn’t be sure if Ricardt truly knew Bori, but figured a few cut-off fingers would reveal the truth soon enough.

And amidst all that, the three swordsmen had their eyes on the golden bracelet on Ricardt’s wrist. They claimed they weren’t thieves, but temptation knows no principles.

To think he’d been chased out of the clan headquarters over theft, and now he was involved in another one. He said he was going to retrieve the Codex, but was it really to steal someone else’s clan secrets? That rascal Bori.

With a strange mix of feelings, Ricardt also drew his sword.

“Whatever clan you’re from, know your opponent before drawing your sword.”

“Hmph, you’re only drawing yours because you don’t know our clan.”

“What clan is that?”

“Rubens...”

Rubens used to be an adventurers’ guild, but like Viola, it had now become a clan organization.

During the Imperial Swordsmanship Tournament, they ambushed Ricardt and poisoned him. Nearly ruined by him, they had surrendered and offered their treasures to escape destruction.

What an odd twist of fate to meet them again like this. Honestly, Ricardt even felt a bit glad. So he sneered and said,

“Same as ever, pointlessly persistent. But unlike back then, there’s no one now to hold me back. You idiots.”

****

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