Chapter 222 - Damn Reincarnation

Ruhar

His feelings were complicated. The statue Moron had erected... Honestly, he did want to see it, but he felt he would get all choked up if he did. Had he come to the Kingdom of Ruhar alone, he would have quietly slipped over for a look. As things stood, he couldn't do that.

“What do you think?”

An elbow nudged his side. Kristina tilted her head toward him and whispered, a strangely awkward smile on her face. That expression alone told Eugene who was moving Kristina's body right now.

It was simply Kristina. Apparently, though, Anise's prodding inside her head had piqued her own interest and drawn her into this.

Eugene cleared his throat and looked up.

“... It's well made.”

That was his honest impression.

He had seen quite a few statues like this by now. There was a statue of Hamel that Eugene himself had brought to the Lionheart gardens. Statues of Vermouth stood in Kiel's capital and at Black Lion Castle, while a statue of Senya stood in Aroth's Merdein Square. And in Yuras's Sun Plaza, a sacred statue of Anise actually flew through the sky...

But the statue before him was unquestionably the finest of them all. The others he had seen were excellent, too. Anise's statue, in particular, was beautiful, adorned with expensive jewels.

“And majestic.”

The statue before him was enormous. That, at least, felt very much like Moron. Larger than most buildings, it even faithfully reproduced his bulging muscles.

... Moron, covered in wounds, held the dead Hamel in his arms. Their other companions had not been included, but the ruins left by a brutal battle had been recreated around the statue.

“... It's a little sad.”

He didn't cry. He held it in. He had cried far too often in situations like this already, and Anise would obviously tease him until he wanted to kill her. So he forced down the emotions welling up inside him.

“Sniff.”

Eugene held back, but Mer did not. With only her face still poking out of his cloak, she sniffled through her tears. Kristina wore an awkwardly mischievous smile that seemed to imitate Anise, but moisture shimmered in her eyes as well.

“Was there a scene like that in the fairy tale?”

“A fairy tale is just a fairy tale. We don't even know who wrote it. They probably embellished quite a bit, don't you think?”

“Still, I quite liked the romance between Hamel the Stupid and Senya the Wise.”

Ciel and Cyan were equally moved by the statue. Ciel gave a small laugh at her older brother's muttering and shook her head.

“You don't understand a thing. The part of that fairy tale that quietly touches your heart isn't the romance between Hamel the Stupid and Senya the Wise.”

“Then what is it? The bond between the companions?”

“That's wonderful too, but I liked the relationship between Anise the Faithful and Hamel the Stupid.”

“... Why those two? Hamel liked Senya in the fairy tale.”

“He does confess that at the end. But the subtle mood between Hamel and Anise throughout the story is fascinating. It stimulates the imagination, you know? A few scenes hint at it, too.”

“I don't see it...”

“Senya and Hamel feel more like close friends than lovers, but Anise and Hamel have that mutual respect... Oh, why do I even bother?”

Ciel shook her head as if mocking Cyan. Listening quietly, Eugene felt as though someone had stripped off every last stitch of his clothing and left him naked. He kept his mouth firmly shut.

[“That little darling knows a thing or two.”]

'... Does she?'

[“I couldn't write about my stigmata in the fairy tale. That selfish girl Senya made a spectacle of herself, indulging her own desires however she pleased, but I did no such thing. Simply and purely, I told the story of Hamel and myself for the discerning few with the sensitivity to feel something from it, like that little darling.”]

Only a short while ago, Anise had been calling Ciel a sly little minx. Somewhere along the way, she had become a little darling instead.

“... But in the end, Sir Hamel was the only one who died.”

“Sir Hamel didn't die because he was weak. He bravely and nobly sacrificed his life for his companions.”

Cyan had muttered the first remark.

Eugene answered him.

“It was thanks to Sir Hamel's sacrifice that our founder and his companions could ascend the Demon King of Incarceration's castle three hundred years ago. Because of that goddamn—no, that ridiculous fairy tale, later generations laugh at Sir Hamel and call him stupid. But he sacrificed himself for his companions and cared so deeply for the world that he could do nothing else. Sir Hamel was a true hero.”

Ciel and Cyan blinked at Eugene's lengthy speech. Mer, who had been gazing at the statue with a deeply moved expression, could bear no more and hid her head inside the cloak. Kristina regarded Eugene with narrowed eyes.

[“Have you no shame?”]

Eugene couldn't hear Anise's muttering. But it wasn't difficult to imagine what she might have said...

He cleared his throat and shook his head.

“Anyway. Sir Hamel is, you know... a hero who's been terribly underrated by later generations.”

“Uh... Hmm. Right. Eugene, you're the one who discovered Sir Hamel's grave in person... And, uh... you're the successor who inherited his teachings, too. I suppose you might feel differently about that statue than we do.”

Cyan nodded with an uncomfortable expression. Kindly enough, he was willing to understand why his brother, who shared not a drop of his blood, was getting so carried away.

“We never said a word about Sir Hamel being weak, though.”

Snow began to fall. Ciel pulled her hood back over her head and pouted.

“Who doesn't know Sir Hamel was strong? Of course, our founder was the strongest of the heroes from three hundred years ago.”

“Obviously.”

Looking proud himself, Cyan turned back toward the statue. He contemplated the mountain-sized figure of Moron for a moment.

“... How strong do you think Sir Moron was?”

“Hm?”

“Look at those muscles. It's a statue, sure, but they wouldn't have made him bulkier than he really was, would they? Sir Hamel looks just like a child in his arms.”

Who had been the strongest of the heroes three hundred years ago? That question left no room for debate. Vermouth the Great, the Hero and master of the Holy Sword. Everyone in the world considered Vermouth the greatest of those heroes.

As for the remaining four, Senya the Wise and Anise the Faithful were excluded because they weren't warriors. Hamel the Stupid and Moron the Brave, however, were. As such, the question of which had been stronger was a frequent subject of debate everywhere.

“Are you an idiot? Bigger muscles don't make someone stronger. Just look at that pig Gargis. He has thick arms and bulging muscles, but he's weaker than Eugene—no, he's even weaker than me.”

“True. But wouldn't Sir Moron have been stronger than Sir Hamel?”

“Hmm... Maybe. Sir Hamel was the only one who died three hundred years ago, after all.”

Listening to them, Kristina stole an anxious glance at Eugene. Sure enough, his eyebrow was twitching.

“What a load of bullshit. Sir Hamel was stronger than Sir Moron.”

“How would you know?”

“What do you mean, how would I know? I... Sir Hamel... His face alone looks tougher than Sir Moron's. Don't you see that scar? Of course Sir Hamel died first, and he was smaller than Sir Moron. But since when was fighting all about fucking size? Sir Hamel was a better fighter than Sir Moron...”

Eugene broke off and turned his head. He had suddenly felt someone's gaze settle on him. Its source was quite far from the plaza, but the presence drew near in an instant.

'The royal palace?'

Behind the statue, beyond the plaza, stood an enormous castle surrounded by high walls: Ruhar's royal palace. The gaze he had first sensed had come from a lofty spire amid the drifting snow.

But now it was directly overhead. Eugene instinctively pulled Kristina, Ciel, and Cyan toward him with magic and retreated several steps.

There had been no need. The approaching presence bore no hostility, and its arrival did not endanger anyone else.

A thick cloak billowed.

Everyone stared ahead in surprise. The person who had flown from the spire and landed before the statue was a massive man. Straightening up, he roughly shook the snow from his hair.

“Hmm!”

He was middle-aged, with unruly hair, a roughly trimmed beard, and tanned skin. Eugene's attention went to the crown on his head, tilted so precariously that it looked ready to fall off at any moment.

“Now then, young people.”

The man spoke, spreading his arms with a grin wide enough to expose his gums.

“Please don't take too much offense at my intrusion. Your conversation was quite charming and a pleasure to hear, but as a descendant of the Brave King, I couldn't simply stand by and listen.”

The Brave King was a title for Moron, Ruhar's founder. Even setting that aside, there was only one person here who could speak with such royal authority. Startled enough to feel his hair stand on end, Cyan immediately dropped to one knee.

“I, C-Cyan Lionheart, descendant of Lionheart, greet Your Majesty, the King of Ruhar.”

Ciel and Kristina hurriedly knelt to pay their respects as well. Eugene also went down on one knee for the moment, but the reactions around them were odd. The king of Ruhar had made a sudden public appearance, yet the people in the plaza merely glanced their way without offering any particular gesture of respect.

“Hahaha! You're embarrassing me, young people. I'm the one who barged in, so there's no need for such ceremony. There's snow piled all over the ground. Won't your knees get wet? If you insist on kneeling to pay your respects, come to my castle and do it there, not in a place like this.”

The reigning king of Ruhar, Aman Ruhar, the Beast King, let out a hearty laugh and straightened his crooked crown.

“Besides, I didn't intrude just to hear your greetings. You there, young Lionheart.”

Aman's smiling eyes turned toward Eugene.

“You said Sir Hamel was weaker than the Brave King, did you? I cannot accept that. Naturally, Vermouth the Great was the strongest, but the strongest hero of that age after him was the Brave King!”

“Uh... Hmm... Yes.”

Eugene answered with an awkward expression. Seeing that everyone was still kneeling, Aman strode over and took them by both arms, helping them up one at a time.

“Cyan Lionheart! Descendant of Vermouth the Great. I know very well that you're the next head of Lionheart. Nothing has been decided yet, but my daughter may marry you.”

“Yes... Y-yes...”

“In truth, I don't want to decide my daughter's marriage for political reasons. What matters most is whether or not she wants to marry you! Ah, of course, she's not old enough yet.”

“I believe Princess Ayla is... um... eleven years old...”

“If you want to marry my daughter, you'll have to start working to win her favor now. Yes, since the opportunity has presented itself, let me tell you a secret. My daughter Ayla prefers rare weapons and armor to dolls and bouquets. If you want her to like you, you'd do well to give her even a small dagger.”

Aman guffawed and clapped Cyan on the shoulder. He probably meant it as a friendly gesture, but every blow of that enormous hand landed with a resounding thump, rocking Cyan's body.

“Ciel Lionheart! I've heard about you as well. Indeed, you're as fair and lovely as a snowflake! Your teacher is Carmen Lionheart, isn't she? A powerful warrior and heroine whom I hold in high regard.”

“You flatter me, Your Majesty.”

“Flatter you? Do you mean my praise of your looks? Flattery, hahaha! Modesty is a luxury with beauty like yours. No, no, that's not it. As a descendant of Lionheart, perhaps praise of your looks doesn't please you? I'm most curious how sharp your sword might be.”

Ciel was not exempted from the treatment of Aman's enormous hands. Only after he moved on could she grimace and rub her aching shoulders.

“And you are... Oh! Yuras's candidate for sainthood, Kristina Rogeris. I don't worship the God of Light, but I regard the miracles performed by his followers with awe. The miracles of your adoptive father, Cardinal Sergio, were particularly impressive.”

“It is an honor to meet you.”

“It would be improper for me to speak carelessly of your adoptive father's misfortune. May the Light watch over you.”

Aman did not pound Kristina's shoulders. Instead, he extended his huge hand for a handshake. Kristina bowed her head and clasped it in both of hers.

“... Eugene Lionheart.”

Finally, Aman turned to Eugene. He strode over and looked down at him with a pleased smile.

“The main family's adopted son. The second coming of Vermouth the Great. Successor to Senya the Wise... It seems that wasn't all.”

“You heard our conversation from that far away?”

“Please don't think I was eavesdropping. My hearing is exceptionally keen, so I hear things even when I don't mean to. But I do owe you an apology for this.”

Aman lifted the crown from his head and lowered his head slightly.

“I've been watching you with interest ever since you entered this plaza. I had received confirmation that the young Lionhearts had entered Ruhar through the warp gate, you see.”

“I take no offense. You are this country's king, Your Majesty.”

“Hahaha! Being king doesn't mean there's a law allowing me to spy on and monitor every subject. At least, there's no such law in this country.”

Aman's huge hand clapped Eugene's shoulder. The blows were loud, but unlike Cyan and Ciel, Eugene didn't sway. Aman's eyes curved in a smile at the sight.

“So, Eugene Lionheart. What's your opinion?”

“My opinion on what?”

“Do you truly not know what I'm asking? You said Sir Hamel was stronger than the Brave King. But I don't agree.”

Aman lowered himself.

Eugene understood why he was called the Beast King. He could also see that this man was indeed a descendant of Moron.

Aman's eyes, fixed on Eugene, were as clear as Moron's, and the same yearning stirred within them. Unlike Moron, however, he did not suppress that impulse simply because someone was a companion. Quite apart from his station as king, a fierce, bestial desire to compete writhed in his gaze.

“If you insist on Sir Hamel's superiority, then as a descendant of the Brave King, I'll have to convince you otherwise. Don't you think crossing swords in friendship is an enjoyable pastime?”

“... How could I possibly cross swords with Your Majesty?”

“Hahaha! Does Kiel have a law against crossing swords with the emperor? It doesn't matter here. Anyone who wishes may cross swords with me.”

Laughing loudly, Aman straightened up and pointedly surveyed the plaza. Sure enough, Ruhar's people were watching them with amusement and curiosity.

“... I'll have to decline.”

Honestly, he did want to test himself against Moron's descendant. But he didn't want to fight on his very first day in Ruhar, much less in the middle of a plaza full of spectators.

“Is that so? It can't be helped. Today isn't our only opportunity.”

When Eugene refused, Aman pressed no further. He clapped Eugene on the shoulder once more and grinned.

“Even during the Knight March, come to me anytime you wish to spar. And this invitation isn't only for you, Eugene. Cyan Lionheart, Ciel Lionheart. Come if you wish, too. I'll gladly show you the martial arts passed down from the Brave King.”

“... May I ask you something?”

Eugene cleared his throat and looked up at Aman.

“Did Sir Moron... no, did the Brave King himself say that? That he was stronger than Sir Hamel?”

“Hahaha! He never said such a thing. Nor is there any record of it. Of course, he spoke of Sir Hamel often, calling him a beloved companion and friend. He said he had wanted to fight him in earnest just once, but never had the chance...”

Aman grinned as he spoke. Leaning slightly toward Eugene, he whispered.

“However, Ruhar's annals do contain this account. According to the Brave King, three hundred years ago, he was second only to Vermouth the Great in physical strength. Surely that means the Brave King was stronger than Sir Hamel?”

Was he trying to provoke him?

Eugene barely managed a smile and nodded.

“I see.”

“Hahaha! Well, it's only natural. You can tell just by looking at that statue that the Brave King was physically stronger than Sir Hamel. Now then, what are your plans? I've received a report that you're traveling to Lehein independently, rather than with Lionheart's main contingent.”

“Yes. We intend to leave for Lehein now.”

“An early departure. If you lack supplies or feel uncertain about the journey, why not come with me? Rest comfortably at the palace, then leave for Lehein with me and Ruhar's knights.”

“Thank you for the offer... but I must decline. Are you not leaving yet, Your Majesty?”

“I still have state affairs to finish. I doubt the knights and I will be able to depart until next week.”

Aman blinked for a moment. Then, with an “Ah,” he tapped his forehead.

“That was careless of me. Hector Lionheart, who took part in last year's rebellion at Black Lion Castle... He was an honorary knight of the White Fangs, wasn't he?”

“I understand that matter has already been settled. Even if Hector was an honorary knight of the White Fangs, they cannot be held responsible for what that bastard did at Black Lion Castle.”

“But wasn't it my mistake to make an immoral man an honorary knight? I feel I ought to do something to help you on your journey.”

Eugene truly thought there was no need, but Aman stood motionless for a while, lost in thought. Then he broke into a smile, nodded, and turned to Eugene.

“Wait here a moment.”

“Pardon?”

BOOM!

Aman kicked off the ground. In a single leap, he crossed the immense distance and flew back to the palace spire from which he had first come.

“... What is going on?”

Cyan remained too bewildered to gather his wits.

Just as Aman had said, he returned after only a moment. As before, he leaped from the palace and landed in the plaza, but this time he was not alone.

“Take my pet dog along with you.”

It was hardly a cute little puppy deserving that description. Aman was an enormous man, but the wolf slung over his shoulders was even larger than he was.

“His name is Evil. He's descended from the snowfield wolves bred by the Bayar tribe since ancient times, and by the palace since the kingdom's founding. This fellow never loses his way, even in fierce blizzards or on snowfields that stretch white and flat in every direction. With Evil along, you'll reach Lehein without losing your way.”

The snowfield wolf Aman set down was as big as a bull, but looked anything but sluggish. Aman grinned as he stroked Evil's gray fur.

“Evil. Guide these young lions to the training grounds at Lehein.”

WOOF!

“That's it. Good boy.”

Evil let out a loud bark.

“You needn't worry about feeding Evil. This clever fellow will hunt for himself. If your legs start aching along the way, you're welcome to ride on his back.”

“Yes...”

“With Evil as your guide, you'll have more leisure on your journey across the snowfields. Do you young people enjoy sightseeing?”

“Sightseeing...?”

“Leheinyar is dangerous, but captivating.”

Ruhar's most dangerous mountain, where the snowy mountain rangers and knights came and went for training.

“If you feel so inclined, visit the Great Hammer Canyon.”

“And where is that?”

“Evil will guide you if you want to go. There's no need to speak wolf. This clever fellow... Simply tell him you want to visit the Great Hammer Canyon, and he'll take you straight there.”

Aman smiled, exposing his gums.

“It's a place tied to a legend passed down in the royal family.”

“... A legend?”

“It's also where descendants of the royal family are reborn as warriors.”

With that, Aman turned away.

“Of course, whether you go is entirely up to you.”

With those parting words, Aman kicked off the ground again.

BOOM!

With a thunderous noise, he flew back to the palace.

“... He's an incredibly... free-spirited king.”

Cyan muttered as he watched Aman's back recede into the distance in an instant.