Chapter 58 - < A Matter of Fate >

"..."

Silence fell over the table. Founding a knightly order? It was far too audacious and absurd a proposal to come from a boy who had only just turned fifteen.

"Do you have any idea what you're saying?"

Gerard gave an incredulous laugh. He fiddled with the monocle over his left eye and stared hard at Kyle.

"Skill alone isn't enough to establish a knightly order. You need people's respect, financial resources, and the house's permission. And... if a fifteen-year-old brat becomes commander, who would want to serve under him?"

"What an odd thing to say."

The atmosphere was heavy, and the stares directed at him stung. But this was a banquet hall, and food was laid out before him.

So Kyle did what a person sitting at a dinner table ought to do. He popped a bite-sized piece of meat into his mouth and chewed. Speaking before he had finished chewing and swallowing would be poor manners, so he focused on that first.

"Doesn't our house value skill above all else?"

"..."

"A swordsman's skill lies in how well he uses a sword. If he has that skill, people's respect will follow naturally. Financial resources? If my skills are outstanding, the house will naturally invest in me, and permission will follow, won't it?"

"Don't play word games with me."

"I'm not playing games. I mean every word."

Kyle's tone changed slightly. A quiet smile lingered on a face that was beginning to lose its boyishness.

"Uncle Gerard. As I just said, I have no objection to working outside. I simply don't want to join another order or become another knight's squire."

"Is it because you find the word 'squire' offensive and beneath you? We aren't proposing to treat you like an ordinary squire who polishes armor, sharpens swords, and feeds horses."

"I know. Squires in Gladiheim's orders are apprentice knights. They learn the order's duties and study swordsmanship under their supervising knight."

"You understand perfectly well. Why refuse, then? Kyle, don't you love the sword?"

"If I join the White Night Knights, whose squire would I become?"

Kyle asked with his smile intact. Gerard answered without hesitation.

"If the two of you agreed, I thought it would be good for you to become Cassius's squire. You are cousins, after all."

Cassius looked at Gerard in dismay. Apparently, he had received no advance warning either. Even his father, Cartan, was frowning at Gerard.

'So Gerard decided this on his own.'

The exchanged glances made it easy for Kyle to guess. Gerard handled Gladiheim's political affairs and prioritized hierarchy. To him, Kyle, who had enjoyed the head of the house's favor since childhood, must have become someone he could no longer leave unchecked. He had likely intended to assign Kyle to the White Night Knights, where Cartan and Cassius served, and keep him from roaming around any longer.

"If Cassius refuses, we'll find another knight to supervise you. The White Night Knights have no shortage of capable knights. What about Dante?"

"Huh? Me?"

Dante, the fifth son, had been listening to the exchange with interest. He blinked, then waved a hand with a look of horror.

"Don't drag me into this, Gerard. I already have three squires."

"If you already have three, one more shouldn't be a problem."

Dismissing his younger brother's complaints, Gerard fixed his gaze on Kyle. He showed no sign of abandoning his intention to place Kyle in the White Night Knights.

"Have you ever seen Dante's swordsmanship? He was born with exceptional talent for the sword. With that personality of his, he certainly didn't become vice commander merely because he's a pureblood."

"Uncle Gerard."

Kyle spoke with the same smile.

"Five years ago, when I first awakened my spiritual root, Grandfather made me an offer. He asked whether I would inherit his swordsmanship."

Gerard's eyes widened, and Kyle's other cousins all turned to Julius.

"J-Julius, is that true? He would only have been ten when he first awakened his spiritual root... You intended to pass the Nine Heavens Thunder Sword down to him?"

Isaac stammered out the question. Julius, who had been listening quietly, gave Kyle a sidelong look before slowly nodding.

"Yes."

"That's insane... However fond you were of your grandson, that's going too..."

"I didn't offer to pass on my swordsmanship out of fondness. I offered because I judged him capable of inheriting it."

Julius spoke in a low voice and propped his chin on his hand.

"Though the cheeky little rascal turned down the offer I'd gone to such lengths to make without even considering it."

"Do you remember what I said when I refused?"

"Of course I do. You said it would be a waste to learn only my swordsmanship. That you thought my swordsmanship was remarkable, but it alone wouldn't satisfy you."

Now everyone's gaze shifted to Kyle. Those looks were not particularly kind. Most were angry, considering his past answer disrespectful.

"Why are you all looking at me like that? A young grandson was simply declaring his ambition to achieve swordsmanship greater than his grandfather's."

Kyle shrugged.

"I haven't seen Uncle Dante's swordsmanship. But I doubt it surpasses Grandfather's. If it did, Uncle Dante would have pushed Grandfather into the senate and become master of the Hall of Sword Pinnacles."

"Ha... Hahaha!"

Dante, who had been listening with his mouth hanging open, burst into loud laughter.

"That's true enough. If my swordsmanship surpassed the head of the house's, I'd be the head myself."

Dante laughed heartily and acknowledged the fact.

"So, nephew. You rejected the head's swordsmanship because it wasn't good enough for you, and now you're saying you don't want to learn mine either?"

"Oh, I'm not that arrogant. If you taught me, I'd be grateful to learn. Though you'd learn as much from me as I did from you."

"I would? From you?"

"I can't claim that my swordsmanship is better than yours, Uncle Dante. But if we cross swords, we can both learn something. And perhaps one of our swords might devour the other."

"Haha..."

Dante laughed again and shook his head.

"Good grief. I'd be too frightened to take you on as a squire. Gerard, I absolutely refuse to take that wild beast as my squire. But—those bold words do intrigue me. Nephew, let's cross swords sometime."

"Yes."

Dante chuckled, then slid his chair back and sipped his drink, as though signaling that he was done participating in the discussion.

"So."

Gerard's eyes were icy as he looked at Kyle. No longer smiling, he asked,

"You have no intention of becoming anyone's squire? You intend to establish your own order?"

"I heard Gladiheim opened its doors this time to gather young knights from outside and establish a new order."

"..."

"I also heard Uncle Roel is to command the new order. Make a place for me as well. It doesn't have to be anything grand. About... five people? That should do for now."

Gerard folded his arms without answering immediately. Kyle's words could easily have sounded rude, yet strangely, there was neither hostility nor irritation in his eyes.

Kyle did not feel that Gerard was glaring at him. Gerard was now assessing his intentions and potential with utter dispassion. In that respect, he was an Alastor through and through.

He had indeed tried to leash his young nephew to keep him from getting above himself. But if that nephew knew what he wanted, and possessed the skill and qualifications to assert it, Gerard apparently had no intention of ignoring him and forcing that leash upon him.

"I understand what you want."

After a brief silence, Gerard spoke.

"I was so focused on your being fifteen that I failed to properly assess your ability and potential. If you truly wish to establish an order... that is not a request I can answer."

The sharpness faded from his gaze as he turned to Julius.

"What are your thoughts, my lord?"

"Has anyone ever become a knight commander at fifteen?"

"Not in Gladiheim's history."

"But someone has in the continent's history. Though strictly speaking, it was a mercenary company, not a knightly order."

Still resting his chin on his hand, Julius smiled at Fenris hanging from Kyle's waist.

"The owner of that Fenris, Raikal the Sword Demon, whom our founder remembered so fondly, established the Crow Mercenaries at fifteen."

Now that he mentioned it, that was true. In his previous life, before the Sword Demon was known by that name, the mercenary company his father belonged to had gone completely under. He had gathered the company's other children, all in the same predicament, and founded the Crow Mercenaries at fifteen.

"And now the new owner of Fenris wants to establish an order at fifteen. Quite a matter of fate."

Julius chuckled, then lifted his gaze to look Kyle in the face.

"But I can't grant permission simply because it feels fated. Elsewhere, perhaps, but you would be establishing a new order of Gladiheim. Kyle. If you truly want an order of your own, you must prove yourself worthy."

"How should I do that?"

"As it happens, the commanders of three of Gladiheim's five orders are here."

Julius looked around at his children.

His eldest son, Cartan Alastor, commander of the White Night Knights.

His eldest daughter, Katarina Alastor, commander of the Aurora Knights.

His second son, Varkas Alastor, commander of the Red Snow Knights.

"Earn their approval, and I will permit you to establish your own order. I will provide the support you need as well."

"My lord...!"

Roel sprang to his feet.

"I... I will test the boy."

His yellow eyes wide, Roel glared at Kyle. Just as he was about to say more, a stern voice cut him off.

"Roel. The head of the house did not name you."

It was Cartan. The eldest son, who usually wore a kindly smile and seemed so meek before Julius, now regarded Roel with cold eyes.

"The existing commanders agreed by majority vote to establish a new order through this exchange gathering and appoint you as its commander. But that order has yet to be established. You therefore have no standing to test Kyle."

"C-Cartan..."

"Sit down. We are still eating."

Roel looked flustered, then hesitantly sat. When someone who seldom became stern did so, it felt all the more grave and intimidating. That was how Cartan seemed now. After watching Roel sit, Cartan bowed his head to Julius.

"I apologize for presuming to intervene."

"There is no need to apologize. Then, Cartan, will you test Kyle yourself?"

"Yes. I will."

Cartan answered politely, raised his head, and smiled.

"But the banquet is still underway. Let us finish our meal first. Not everyone is here, but... it has been a very long time since so many of us gathered to eat together, hasn't it?"

"Mm. Indeed it has."

Julius smiled bitterly. His family did not gather even to share a meal except on special occasions like this, and even now, not everyone was present. His wife was still trapped in her long sleep.

"After the meal... I will cross swords with Kyle. Would that suit you, Kyle?"

"Yes."

He had never expected Cartan to volunteer. Kyle beamed, feeling as though he had landed a prize catch. Julius's eldest son. The commander of the White Night Knights. Ever since he first came to the Sword Tower ten years ago, he had been curious about the swordsmanship of his eldest uncle, who always wore such a kind smile.

'He isn't respected simply because he's the eldest son.'

This family valued skill above seniority. If Cartan were less capable than his younger siblings, he would never have become commander of the White Night Knights, and Varkas and the others would have looked down on him.

Yet Kyle had never seen a single relative treat Cartan with disrespect. Even Varkas, who hardly seemed inclined to defer to an older brother, always addressed Cartan as such. Whenever something important happened in the house, Julius always summoned Cartan. In the end, even Gerard's attempt to leash Kyle today had probably been for Cartan's sake.

That trust came not from Cartan's position as eldest son, but from his ability.

Kyle could sense it too. Cartan was strong. His affable disposition sprang from confidence in his own skill and the ease that confidence afforded him.

'But he never seemed ambitious.'

That made it puzzling that Cartan had volunteered to test him.

'Was he displeased with me getting above myself after all?'

That was a hasty assumption. Kyle gave up trying to guess Cartan's true intentions and simply ate.

They had already agreed to cross swords after the meal. A swordsman's true intentions would reveal themselves through their blades.

* * *

As soon as the meal ended, without even taking time to digest, Kyle and Cartan faced one another to spar.

Cartan was empty-handed when they took their places, but a light wave of his hand produced a longsword with a faint blue sheen. Lowering the sword in his right hand toward the floor, he spoke.

"I've been considering how to test you, but nothing suitable comes to mind. Is there any particular kind of test you would prefer?"

"We're both swordsmen. Crossing swords should suffice."

Kyle drew Fenris. The damned mutt must have already forgotten his repeated scoldings. The instant it left the sheath, black mist rippled around it, accompanied by a wolf's howl.

'I told you to shut up.'

Kyle wanted to catch up on the five hundred years they had spent apart too, but not now. At his threat, Fenris immediately stopped howling and fell silent like a proper sword.

"Even crossing swords is a difficult proposition. I don't know the extent of your abilities, nor do you know mine."

"Show a suitable measure of mercy with your blade and get a feel for my swordsmanship."

"I suppose I must. Kyle, can you wield sword force?"

Several of those watching the test from across the dining table stared at Kyle with wide eyes. Roel gave a disbelieving laugh. Sword force at fifteen? He thought it impossible.

"Yes."

Kyle answered honestly. Roel swayed. The answer defied everything he knew.

A slight tremor passed through Cartan's eyes as well. With admiration in his voice, he asked,

"Show me."

"Yes."

Kyle held Fenris out to the side. Mana from the Primordial Unity Sword Scripture, which continued circulating even now, flowed into Fenris. Violet sword aura swirled over the blade. It was an alien sight, as though he had wrapped it in a starry night sky, but the violence emanating from it was unmistakably sword force.

"Oh..."

Julius breathed in genuine admiration. This child had opened his middle energy center at ten, when he first awakened his spiritual root. But sword force... As Julius shook his head in wonder, Kaya burst into delighted laughter in his arms.

"Woooow!"

To Kaya, that terrifying, destructive sword force looked like a beautiful Milky Way. She was the only person present whose exclamation meant anything of the sort.

Cartan raised his sword. Clear blue aura bloomed around it. The sword force covering his blade looked like gently lapping water, befitting his water spiritual root.

"Your sword force appears to lack nothing, so I feel there is no need to test you... But having both drawn our swords, sheathing them without a bout would be discourteous to our audience."

"I wouldn't want that either. I want to cross swords with you, Uncle."

Cartan's sword force was as superb as Kyle had hoped, but merely looking at such swordsmanship could never satisfy him. He wanted to fight. The desire set his heart pounding.

"Let us remember that we are family."

Cartan whispered with a smile. A moment later, his entire guard opened wide. It was an invitation to attack wherever Kyle pleased.

Kyle did not hesitate. A wide-open gap? Even if it was a trap, it did not matter. He need only smash through it.

BOOM!

Kyle kicked off the floor. Closing the distance in the blink of an eye, he slashed Fenris vertically upward. Its swirling violet sword force surged savagely.

The opening closed in an instant. Cartan's sword traced a gentle circle.

WHOOO!

Guiding Fenris, Kyle felt a peculiar sensation, an unnatural resistance as though he were swinging his sword underwater. The instant their sword forces collided, Cartan's rippled.

Kyle's sword slipped off its intended path. He had slashed upward with all his strength, yet the moment they touched, that strength seemed to disperse into empty air.

'A deflection.'

Kyle's eyes curved into a smile. Deflecting a strike clad in sword force? He laughed out of delight rather than surprise. Cartan's swordsmanship was every bit as outstanding as his sword force.

A sword swung as fluidly as flowing water came for Kyle's side. It was fast without feeling sharp, yet the pressure behind it was so great that the lack of sharpness scarcely registered. Kyle immediately brought Fenris back to defend.

THRUM!

A heavy sound rang out. There was no bone-jarring impact, but his body threatened to slide backward as though caught in a violent current.

Threatened, and nothing more. Kyle's balance did not waver even in this torrent. If the current was fierce, he need only become a heavier boulder. Firmly anchoring himself, he instead tried to push Cartan's sword back.

CRACKLE!

Fragments of aura flew from the point where their sword forces locked.

"Mm...!"

Cartan's eyebrow twitched. Anyone meeting this torrent head-on should naturally have been swept away. Yet his nephew had planted himself squarely in its midst, holding firm rather than being carried off.

No.

Kyle's sword force sharpened against the surging blue waves and began tearing them apart. Sensing it, Cartan immediately changed the movement of his sword. A supple turn of his wrist made the pressure bearing down on Kyle vanish in an instant.

WHOOSH!

The sword seemed to bend gently before shooting upward. The shift in force was as smooth as flowing water. Kyle was not flustered. He had already sensed the current changing.

The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. Fenris traced a bizarre trajectory. If Cartan's sword was as supple as water, Kyle's was supple to an uncanny degree.

That trajectory sent a chill through Cartan. His sword's graceful path tangled with Kyle's. Rather than becoming a heavy boulder that resisted the current, Kyle now imbued his sword with a current flowing in the exact opposite direction.

'He's disrupting the flow itself.'

It was almost recklessly bold, yet impossible without equally precise judgment and conviction. Even if their swords remained entangled, Cartan would not be at a disadvantage. Of course he wouldn't. He had that much confidence.

Would he really? He found himself reluctant to remain entangled. Confidence without certainty. Cartan honestly felt like laughing. Now he truly understood why the head of the house treasured his grandson so much.

'Cassius. I hope you won't lose heart.'

Feeling for his eldest son, who was watching, Cartan changed his sword's movement again. Cautious by nature, he had no intention of accepting an exchange whose outcome he could not be certain of.

Their swords began to dance. Above, below, left, and right. Fenris traced paths as savage and sharp as a wolf's fangs, yet Cartan yielded not an inch. Though his approach had changed, his sword remained supple. No matter how fiercely Kyle pressed, Cartan's sword force no longer wavered.

Dozens of exchanges passed in an instant. When Kyle thrust, Cartan deflected. When Cartan slashed, Kyle parried. Sword forces of entirely different natures intertwined in a taut balance.

"Impossible..."

Roel watched with his mouth hanging open. He could not believe it. His eldest brother, commander of the White Night Knights, ranked among Gladiheim's strongest. Even if Cartan was holding back, seeing his fifteen-year-old nephew cross swords with him was unbelievable.

Only then did Roel realize why his eldest brother had stopped him so sternly. Had he stepped forward to test his nephew in Cartan's place... he would have suffered a humiliating defeat before the head of the house.

'Even four years ago, he pressured me with his presence alone. And now... he's putting all of that presence into his sword.'

Varkas's brows knitted, but his eyes were serious as he watched Kyle's blade. Knowing Cartan's strength as well as he did, he could not help acknowledging the swordsmanship meeting it. That absurd boy was trading blows with Cartan through swordsmanship alone.

"Mm."

The entwined swords parted. Stepping back a few paces, Cartan lowered his sword with a breath that might have been admiration or a sigh.

"Anything beyond this is not swordplay to turn against family."

Kyle steadied his slightly ragged breathing.

'Even in swordsmanship alone, Uncle stands higher than Father. About two steps... No, if both fought at full strength, perhaps three?'

He considered it.

'The form of my swordsmanship now is no different from my previous life. My body is actually better. Circuits, spiritual roots, cultivation methods—none of those are disadvantages compared to my previous life, either. Now that I'm accustomed to them, they're clearly superior.'

He kept thinking. He did not bother comparing the swordsmanship of his previous life with that of the present age, developed over five long centuries. What mattered was whether the Sword Demon of his previous life could defeat Cartan.

'I'd have to try to know, but I don't sense defeat. Yes, I could win.'

Then could he win now?

'No. Not now. If Uncle had put his full strength into his sword force, I couldn't even have properly blocked it. The upper energy center... If he'd used the martial arts of the Ultimate Realm, it wouldn't have been a fight at all.'

In his previous life, there had been no terms such as lower, middle, or upper energy center. Yet through the blessing of mana, he had formed a core in his heart and surpassed its limits.

A realm reached by swinging a sword again and again. Placing a sword within one's head.

'In my previous life, I placed a sword in my head. I definitely experienced it. But now, I think of the sword with my head without having placed a sword within it. Why?'

This was not the first time he had considered it. He had questioned it time and again. If he had guided his mana and opened his middle energy center based on his past experience, that same experience should have allowed him to open his upper energy center as well.

'My previous life was my previous life. This life is this life. Having already surpassed the ultimate limit once, that realm is no longer the ultimate limit for me. To place a sword in my head in this life... I must surpass what I experienced before.'

He had reached this conclusion before too, but now Kyle could not stop immersing himself in thought.

'It isn't enough.'

He was thirsty.

'This is unbearable. Having to put away my sword when I know it could be so much more fun.'

Thirst was the polite way to describe it. Crudely put, it felt like being interrupted halfway through taking a shit.

Earlier, he had crossed swords with Aslan. Just now, he had crossed swords with Cartan.

But he had not drawn out his strength to its limits. He could not put the determination to win at all costs, to kill at all costs, into his blade. Aslan was his father, and Cartan his uncle. As Cartan had said, anything beyond that was not swordplay to turn against family.

That left Kyle thirsting. He had never felt this thirst in the Mudflats. There, he could swing his sword to his heart's content without concern for his opponent. But now? He must not. If he wielded his sword that way against Aslan and Cartan, he would be an unfilial bastard.

"..."

Kyle endured his thirst. There was no helping it. Here, at least, he had to endure. The family he had never had in his previous life. Feelings he had never known. He must not tear them to pieces with his own hands.

'To surpass everything I experienced in my previous life, and the realm those experiences brought me to, I must not destroy what I have now.'

Otherwise, he would merely repeat the past in which he had been called the Sword Demon. As he suppressed his thirst with that thought, a curious sense of refreshment spread from deep within his chest. His breathing settled completely. Kyle exhaled, feeling clear-headed, and sheathed Fenris at his waist.

"What is the result of my test?"

At his smiling question, Cartan gave a hearty laugh.

"After you've shown us swordsmanship like that, how could I say you aren't qualified? Katarina, Varkas. What do you think? Do you consider Kyle unqualified?"

"Qualified..."

Katarina, who had been studying Kyle seriously, spoke.

"Frankly, that swordsmanship seems wasted on a new order. I'd rather have him join the Aurora Knights."

"I agree with Katarina."

Varkas grumbled with a frown.

"That savage swordsmanship would fit right into the Red Snow Knights. I'd like to keep him as a regular member for three years or so, then make him vice commander."

In matters like this, Varkas kept personal feelings separate from official business. He too was a swordsman, after all. He could not possibly belittle the swordsmanship Kyle had just displayed.

"But the boy said he wants to establish his own order."

Gerard spoke. Just as before, there was no hostility toward Kyle in his cold eyes.

"What are your thoughts, my lord?"

"A name."

Julius spoke with a broad smile.

"For the order. Have you chosen one?"

"Hmm..."

Truthfully, he had not. His proposal to establish an order had been intended to defy Gerard's demand that he start as a squire in the White Night Knights.

'This sort of thing is always the hardest.'

He had not agonized over a name when founding his mercenary company in his previous life, either. Battlefields were always strewn with corpses, so there were plenty of crows. When it came time to name the company, the crows happened to be cawing noisily. So he had named it the Crows.

["Grrrr..."]

Fenris growled again at his waist. It almost felt as though it were making an appeal.

"I'll call them the Wolf Knights."

Kyle patted Fenris with his palm as he spoke.

"The goblin dwelling in this sword happens to take the form of a wolf."

"Funeral, White Night, Aurora, Red Snow, Black Iron. And Wolf?"

Erika muttered with a frown.

"Doesn't Wolf stand out a little too much?"

"What's wrong with that? I'm the commander, and that's what I want."

Erika looked thoroughly displeased, but her opinion carried little weight here. Julius nodded with a contented smile. This grandson had given him a brooch and shown him such magnificent swordsmanship. Even if he had named the order the Mutts instead of the Wolves, Julius would have approved.

'I always knew Cartan's swordsmanship was excellent, but he's improved even further since I last saw it.'

Kyle's swordsmanship was not the only thing that pleased Julius. His eldest son's splendid performance delighted him as well.

"Grampa. Is the sword fight over?"

Kaya, who had been twisting his beard around her fingers, blinked up at him.

"Yes. It's over."

"Who winned?"

"No one won today. But if I had to choose a winner, it would be your grandfather."

Kaya tilted her head, unable to understand what he meant. Julius smiled and stroked her soft cheek, yet a terrible sadness filled one corner of his heart.

He wanted to share this sight, and these feelings, with his wife.