Chapter 49 - Damn Reincarnation

Black Lions

Gilead, the current head of the Lionheart main family, had two younger brothers.

The brothers got along well, and Gilead, the eldest, had become family head without a single drop of blood being shed. It was not simply a matter of seniority. At the time, his abilities had far surpassed those of his brothers.

Neither of Gilead’s younger brothers had much desire to become family head. Gilford Lionheart, the second son, was less capable than either his older or younger brother. He had given up on the position long ago and sought his own happiness.

The Gilford Lionheart Eugene remembered was a middle-aged man with a slight paunch, though not as large as Gerhard’s. From what Eugene had heard, he had led a rather debauched life since his youth... They had never become particularly close, but he was not an unpleasant man. Early this year, Gilford had left the main family and established his own household in a quiet, peaceful rural domain.

Gion Lionheart.

Unlike Gilead and Gilford, he had never married, nor did he want to. Eugene had asked him about it directly a few years ago.

["Marriage? It’s a wonderful, beautiful thing. But if I marry and have children, I’ll have to leave the main family the year my child turns five. I don’t want that. And with my personality, I don’t think I’d make a particularly good father."]

Gion was free-spirited. He was always sharing laughs with the knights at the main estate, and he never treated the attendants with arrogance. He was enthusiastic about teaching Ciel and Cyan, and even sacrificed his own leisure time to instruct the knights.

He was especially kind to Eugene. Throughout Eugene’s four years with the main family, Gion and Gilead had personally trained him. At least while he lived there, Eugene had never suffered discrimination for being an adopted son from a collateral branch.

To Eugene, Gion was an unusual man.

His abilities were exceptional, something Gilead himself had vouched for. Unlike Gilead, whose duties as family head had prevented him from devoting himself to training, Gion had wandered the continent, concentrating on honing his skills. By now, he had surpassed Gilead.

Even so, he had never rebelled against him. Gion had never stepped beyond his position as the family head’s “younger brother.”

A year ago, Gion had left the main family for several months. When he returned, the lion emblem of the Lionheart main family embroidered on the left breast of his uniform had changed slightly.

It was a black lion, brazenly baring savage fangs and claws.

Gion had joined the Black Lion Knights, the guardians of Lionheart’s family constitution.

There was nothing particularly unusual about that. Any Lionheart whose skills were exceptional and whose loyalty to the family had been proven could apply to the Black Lion Knights. They were superior to—and sharper than—the White Lion Knights, who consisted of the main family’s knights.

'This will be my first time seeing them in person.'

The appointed hour of noon was approaching. Eugene checked the time, feeling a little excited. He had spent four years with the main family, yet had never once seen the Black Lion Knights.

The Lionheart main family’s White Lion Knights were loyal only to the main family. The Black Lion Knights, however, were loyal not merely to the main family, but to the name “Lionheart.”

Behind them stood the Council of Elders: towering figures who had left their names indelibly etched in Lionheart history, regardless of whether they came from the main family or its collateral branches. Even Gilead, the current family head, did not stand on equal footing with those old elders.

'Not yet.'

How could Eugene not be interested?

He had lived with the main family for four years. Gilead was strong, and so was Gion. Both were powerful enough to earn recognition anywhere on the continent.

The main family’s White Lion Knights were strong as well. They would surely rank among the best of the continent’s countless knightly orders. In fact, compared with the Kiel Empire’s knights, the White Lion Knights were considered fewer in number but no worse in quality.

That alone was not enough.

Vermouth. That bastard had been the strongest of all humans. That was why he had been called the Hero, and why he had led the expedition to kill every Demon King. Neither the long-lived elves nor the dragons, known as the progenitors of magic, had managed to kill a Demon King.

But Vermouth had killed three of them. Eugene knew that fact all too well.

Moron, Anise, Senya... and Hamel had all been strong. But without Vermouth, killing the Demon Kings would have been impossible.

The Vermouth Hamel had seen and fought alongside—the Vermouth Eugene remembered—had been inhumanly strong.

'That’s why they fall short.'

Eugene smacked his lips and rose. Gilead and Gion were strong, and so were the White Lion Knights. But they fell short of what he expected from those who claimed descent from Vermouth.

Then what about the Black Lion Knights? How strong was this order, supposedly made up of the most exceptional and loyal people bearing the Lionheart name, with no distinction between the main family and collateral branches? And how strong was the Council of Elders behind them?

'They aren’t just a bunch of old people who’ve retired to the back rooms.'

Gilead did not like the main family’s traditions. He disapproved of the Bloodline Succession Ceremony and was reluctant to oppress the collateral branches indiscriminately.

But traditions maintained for three hundred years could not be changed through the family head’s power alone. The Council of Elders and the Black Lion Knights—the guardians of the family constitution—protected Lionheart’s laws above all else.

Protection required the strength to provide it.

Eugene had not intended things to turn out this way, but he was excited to become involved with the Black Lion Knights.

* * *

An enormous flying carriage descended before the Red Tower, presenting an imposing, majestic sight.

“They’re really putting on a show.”

Melkith was not pleased to be out here. These people were not even high-ranking officials of Aroth. If not for Wynnyd, she would never have stood here as though she had come out to welcome them.

“You said you respected Lord Vermouth, the ancestor of the Lionhearts, didn’t you, White Tower Master?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, kid. I respect Vermouth the Great, not the Lionheart family.”

“Same difference.”

“No, it isn’t. I don’t particularly like the Lionheart family. I don’t like how the main family oppresses the collateral branches, and I don’t like the Council of Elders or the Black Lion Knights, with their secretive, self-important airs.”

“But you should conceal that attitude for now.”

Unlike Melkith, Lovellian looked calm. Watching the carriage descend, he continued.

“If you truly wish to borrow Wynnyd, you would be wise to avoid offending them.”

“Are you telling me to suck up to them? People might get the wrong idea. This is an equal exchange. I’m trading... my precious, beloved Cloak of Darkness! For Wynnyd.”

“It’s not a trade. We’re lending them to each other. One year for each day, remember?”

Melkith ground her teeth.

Despite that expression, she was not genuinely angry. Yesterday, when she had been cawing like a crow in Akron, she really had been furious. But after returning to the White Tower and hugging the Cloak of Darkness... she had calmed down and managed to think rationally.

'A whole day? Hardly. Probably a few hours. Half a day at most.'

Melkith trusted her affinity with spirits. With a definite catalyst like Wynnyd, the Storm Sword, why would she fail to summon the Wind Spirit King?

'I’ll only be lending it for a few months at most. I can easily put up with that.'

Lending out the Cloak of Darkness for a few months in exchange for a contract with the Wind Spirit King she had admired since childhood. No matter how she looked at it, wasn’t that practically getting something for nothing? Naturally, Melkith did not openly display her delight.

'If I let it show, the kid might change the terms.'

She had only met him for a single day, but she had already realized that Eugene was cunning, nasty, and an absolute little shit.

The flying carriage’s door opened. Five people had been riding in that enormous carriage, and the first to emerge was...

“Why are you coming out of there?”

Ciel.

“Mother’s birthday is coming up.”

It had only been a few months since they last saw each other, so Ciel had not changed. Still, her crisply tailored uniform and gray hair tied back in a single ponytail were unfamiliar sights. He had never seen her like that even at the main estate.

“So I came to pick out a present. I was also wondering how you were doing.”

Ciel answered with a flat, unsmiling expression. Yet she watched Eugene through narrowed eyes, waiting for his reaction. He did not show the surprise or make the fuss she had hoped for.

“Oh, really?”

That was all. Ciel’s brows drew sharply together, but she stepped aside rather than blocking the way.

Gion emerged after Ciel. Once again, the emblem of the Black Lion Knights adorned the left breast of his uniform. The moment he saw Eugene, he smiled brightly and waved.

“It hasn’t been long enough to celebrate a reunion, has it?”

The middle-aged man who stepped out behind him spoke, patting Gion’s shoulder.

“That may be true, but what can I do? I’m happy to see him.”

“We have plenty of time. For now, let’s focus on our business.”

Eugene did not know who the man was, but he could sense that he was exceptionally skilled.

'Not a sword. A spear.'

The man wore no weapon. Still, the subtle hints in his posture and the way his muscles had developed made it clear that he used a spear. Eugene examined the remaining two people as they stepped out.

'That one’s a mage... '

Even the Lionhearts, famed as a martial family, had mages. Since they had come to oversee Wynnyd’s loan and investigate Eward’s troubles, it was only natural to bring one along.

'And behind him... Well, well.'

The last person to leave the carriage was a woman with a black uniform jacket draped over her shoulders. Everyone else had neatly buttoned their uniforms, but she alone had conspicuously left hers unfastened and slung it over her shoulders. She seemed to hold the highest rank among them.

'And she’s strong.'

What drew Eugene’s attention even more, however, were her hands. Leather gloves covered them, but the mere outlines of those weapons, honed over many years, allowed him to gauge her level.

'Neither sword nor spear. She fights with her fists.'

“Has it been twenty years?”

The woman spoke, smiling faintly as she looked straight at Lovellian.

“Twenty-three, to be precise.”

“Has that much time passed already? Ah, I heard. You’re the Red Tower Master now?”

“I did tell you when we last met that I would soon become the Red Tower Master.”

“Did you? It’s been quite a while. I don’t remember very well. I wasn’t particularly interested, either.”

With that, she turned to Eugene.

“So you’re Eugene Lionheart.”

“Yes.”

For the moment, Eugene gave her a polite bow.

“... I am... Carmen Lionheart. In terms of family seniority, you could call me your great-aunt, but don’t address me that way.”

“... Pardon?”

For a moment, Eugene failed to understand her and asked again. His great-aunt? That meant this woman was Gilead’s aunt...

'Appearances aren’t everything.'

Melkith was already over sixty, and Lovellian was around the same age. Yet both retained looks so youthful that it was hard to believe their ages. Carmen looking young was hardly surprising.

Even so, Eugene was astonished that someone of her standing had come all the way here.

“The wind is chilly. Let’s go inside to talk.”

Lovellian spoke with a gentle smile.

On the way to the reception room on the Red Tower’s top floor, Eugene learned a little more about the Black Lion Knights who had visited today.

Carmen Lionheart. She was the previous family head’s younger sister. Like Gion, she had remained unmarried and stayed with the main family before transferring to the Black Lion Knights. She now commanded their Third Division.

Nation Lionheart. The man who had patted Gion’s shoulder. He was the deputy commander of Carmen’s Third Division and came from a collateral branch, not the main family.

Palago Lionheart. A mage, also of the Third Division. He came from one of the rare magical families among the collateral branches and was responsible for arranging today’s deal with Melkith.

“I have already been informed of the terms, but allow me to confirm them again.”

Palago placed his staff on the table.

“Wynnyd, the Storm Sword, belonging to the Lionheart main family, and the Cloak of Darkness, belonging to the White Tower Master. One year with the Cloak of Darkness for each day Wynnyd is borrowed... That is what I was told, but a day is not necessarily a convenient unit for the actual duration of the loan.”

“Then?”

“Fifteen days for one hour. One month for two hours. One year for twenty-four hours. How does that sound?”

“You’re not dividing it into minutes?”

“That would be more precise, but too cumbersome.”

“So borrowing it for ten minutes will count as an hour?”

Melkith let out an incredulous laugh. At least she could tell that those terms were not in her favor.

“Please understand. Wynnyd, the Storm Sword, was used personally by our ancestor and is among the rarest of Lionheart’s treasures.”

“Are those the only terms?”

“I have prepared a contract.”

With a faint smile, Palago took the contract from inside his clothes. Eugene needed to review it as well as Melkith.

The clause emphasized in bold concerned Wynnyd’s destruction.

“... Pay compensation of equivalent value. Isn’t that rather vague?”

“We can only hope no such unfortunate incident occurs.”

“I’d like to hear it, just in case. What if I destroy Wynnyd?”

“You’ll pay with your life.”

Carmen answered. Rather than taking a seat, she was perched on the windowsill, looking down outside. Her crooked, delinquent posture made it impossible to imagine that she was Gilead’s aunt.

“Wynnyd, the Storm Sword, is a treasure whose value cannot be measured in money. If you wish to borrow it, of course you must stake your life.”

“My life has a value that can’t be measured in money either, you know.”

“To Aroth, perhaps. Not to Lionheart.”

Speaking coldly, Carmen took out a rolled cigar. Eugene silently watched her place it between her lips while gazing out the window, then nodded to himself.

'It’s not like she’s some brat going through puberty.'

The sight of her brought to mind Cyan a few years ago. His twin, Ciel, had begun showing symptoms of adolescent angst this year, but Cyan had started two years ago, at fifteen. He had liked wearing pitch-black clothes he had obtained from who knew where, and would sneak alcohol and tobacco from the main estate’s workers to try them out, only to receive a severe scolding from Anisilla.

“What if I refuse to stake my life?”

“Now, now. There is no need to put your life on the line.”

Palago stepped in to mediate, keeping his wavering smile in place.

“I trust you, White Tower Master. As a fellow mage, I respect you as well. I certainly do not think you would make so clumsy a mistake as destroying a catalyst in the process of contracting with a spirit.”

“... Hmph.”

“In the exceedingly unlikely event... that Wynnyd is destroyed, we can discuss the matter then.”

“In other words, Lionheart will retain control over the decision?”

“If you don’t like it, abandon the idea of borrowing Wynnyd.”

Carmen held the cigar between her lips as she gazed out the window. She had not lit it, however.

“Lionheart has nothing to gain that we desperately need. Had the family head not requested it, I wouldn’t even have come to this meeting.”

“Hmph. You make it sound like you came all this way just for me.”

“I came for a truly important matter, not this trivial business.”

Muttering that, Carmen took a pocket watch from inside her clothes. A pocket watch... Eugene suppressed a laugh that nearly escaped him. He had never seen anyone go out of their way to carry one of those heavy, inconvenient watches tucked inside their clothes.

“If you’re carrying a pocket watch, why are you wearing a wristwatch?”

Unlike Eugene, who held back his comments, Melkith asked without hesitation.

“And why are you holding a cigar in your mouth if you’re not going to smoke it?”

“... We have an appointment to visit the Black Tower in one hour.”

Carmen did not answer her criticisms...

“We’re to discuss Eward’s case with Balzac Ludbeth. Afterward, we must accompany him to Aroth’s prison.”

“Why the prison?”

“To interrogate the insolent black mage who dared attempt to initiate a legitimate son of Lionheart into black magic.”

That completely contradicted Gilead’s answer. He had said that Gevid’s case would be handled according to Aroth’s laws.

“... That seems to differ from Lord Gilead’s wishes.”

Lovellian could not let that pass, either. He was Gilead’s longtime friend and felt favorably toward the Lionheart family. Even so, he was Aroth’s Red Tower Master. He could not simply watch a prestigious foreign family disregard Aroth’s laws.

“That may be the family head’s wish, but the Council of Elders feels differently. The recent incident splashed filth on the Lionheart name. The one responsible must be held properly accountable.”

Carmen gave a small, derisive smile as she looked at Lovellian.

“We have obtained permission from Aroth’s royal family and parliament. Rather than quarrel over such a petty matter, wouldn’t it be cleaner for both sides if we handled the interrogation and punishment?”

“I wouldn’t call it clean.”

“You seem to misunderstand. The Council of Elders has no intention of merely throwing Lionheart’s name around. Since a legitimate son of Lionheart was involved in this disturbance, we agreed to make a sufficiently generous gesture of goodwill. Including payment for the life of a criminal who has no value whatsoever.”

After that, Lovellian could no longer object. Magical research cost a great deal of money. That was why the tourist attractions in the capital, Pentagon, charged such enormous admission fees.

Furthermore, most mages preferred to hoard and conceal their research rather than publish their magic and profit from its use. There was no knowing how much the illustrious Lionheart family had paid for the right to interrogate and punish the criminal... but it must have been a sum too large for parliament to refuse.

“So, what will you do? About the deal. We don’t have much time.”

“I’ll do it.”

Melkith answered with a frown.

'By the hour instead of by the day? Fine by me. Three hours should be enough.'

Under these terms, she would get the Cloak of Darkness back in two months at the very latest.

Suppressing the laughter that threatened to burst out, Melkith signed the contract.