Chapter 211 - The Reason He Split (2)

Vlad sat with his head bowed on Quijano's hill, where red maple leaves fluttered.

Although he had done nothing wrong, Vlad, who sat feeling like a sinner, could only calm his seething sense of defeat after quite a long time had passed.

“…Do you think I can win?”

[Not right now, I suppose. Perhaps in the distant future.]

“At least you aren't saying it's impossible.”

When one is a boy, it is fine to just dream, but when one becomes an adult, one must not do so.

He believed he could overcome it, but his opponent was a Swordmaster standing in an incredibly high place, and Vlad now had to acknowledge the gap between Frausen and himself.

“What did you do, Quijano?”

[About what?]

“The most perfect dragon.”

Only now lifting his head from his knees, Vlad looked at Quijano sitting next to him.

“How did you kill it? It must have been an opponent difficult to handle.”

The only fortunate thing was that Quijano was right beside him.

Unlike when he was a boy in the back alleys, Vlad now had someone to ask, and he was asking Quijano, who was ahead of him, how he had walked that path.

“It must have been even harder than it is for me now, right?”

[…It was.]

At Vlad's question, Quijano licked his lips as if feeling bitter.

With his answer not coming out immediately, the only sound to be heard was the sound of the wind lingering beneath the Mother World Tree.

[I couldn't win.]

“But you killed it.”

[Yeah. I did kill it. Even if I couldn't win.]

Quijano's eyes, remembering the distant past, grew distant.

Quijano's lips, looking like they would open but remaining closed, made it clear just how much he was agonizing over this.

“I wish you would tell me, Quijano. What I should do in times like this.”

[…]

Quijano's eyes became complicated as he looked at Vlad, who had bowed his head once again.

Should he tell him or not?

Tell this agonizing young man that there are not only righteous methods in this world.

[When I saw him earlier, a dragon's fragment was embedded in Frausen's heart.]

One only needs to teach young children what is good and right.

However, because one cannot survive solely through righteous methods, the time inevitably comes when one must teach them methods like this too.

Even if just for the sake of the newly grown adults who must venture out into the harsh world.

[As you live, there are times when you must resort to any means necessary.]

Perhaps a wicked path rather than the righteous path.

From the story Quijano began after much agonizing flowed memories of that day, unfit for the noble reputation of a Swordmaster.

* * *

“…Didn't we see each other this morning, Sir Vlad?”

The midday sun that had risen at some point shone through the window, illuminating the men sitting in front of the Count.

And at the end of that light sat Vlad, who had been having a serious conversation with him just that morning.

“You look quite different from how you appeared this morning.”

“I apologize, Count.”

Count Arnstein quietly looked at Vlad, whose shoulders heaved as if he were still out of breath.

And even at the old man sitting side by side with him.

Vlad's heavily disheveled appearance was one thing, but what really caught the Count's eye was Radu's completely battered state.

“…He should have had the rights of a prisoner, shouldn't he?”

A hint of disappointment slowly surfaced on the Count's face as he examined Radu.

For the Count, who had been anticipating Vlad's potential, the sheer violence he was seeing right now was not entirely welcome.

“…Because he wouldn't let me call him my older brother.”

“Hmm?”

Was it because he grew up in the North?

The Count was slightly disappointed seeing Vlad retain the ferocity seen in northerners, but the excuse coming from Vlad's mouth was quite unexpected.

“It seems my sorrow burst out because the blood relative I've only just found shunned me. Please forgive my mistake.”

“…Oh. I see.”

Hearing Vlad's words, the Count's eyes began to sparkle, as if realizing such a move was possible.

Certainly, with an excuse like that, it would be awkward for anyone to reprimand Vlad's actions.

“You crazy bastard! Why do you keep calling me—”

“Well, if it's a fight between brothers, it can't be helped.”

“Count! Why are you tying the bloodline of our Dragulia to a barbarian of the North!”

“…”

Looking at the huffing Radu, the Count slightly tilted his head.

They both had the same blue eyes, but there was a distinct difference in the Count's temperature as he looked at them.

“Well, your family affairs aren't my concern, and I just know that Duke Dragulia's history with women is quite colorful.”

“…”

At the Count's words, the huffing Radu's mouth shut tight.

Just as he had just said, what everyone in the know knew was the Dragonblood Duke's colorful romantic history.

And since Radu himself was someone born from such complicated circumstances, he couldn't find a way to refute the Count's words.

“Actually, that's how justification works. Even with the same justification, some take priority like this, and sometimes they clash entirely. It means you can't just rigidly apply it in every situation.”

Giving Vlad a glance as if saying 'well done', the Count then turned his head toward Radu and continued.

“Do you truly think Sir Vlad next to you is not your younger brother?”

“Of course!”

“Then that is truly a pity.”

The Count, shrugging his shoulders at Radu's resolute answer, took a letter out of his drawer and held it up toward Radu.

“As I just said, there really isn't any justification that takes priority over a bloodline.”

Drawn on the letter the Count waved as if telling him to look was a crest far too familiar to Radu.

A savage line drawn across the neck of a fire-breathing dragon.

Recognizing the crest representing the Dragulia Family, Radu's eyes began to grow wide.

“It seems Dragulia has caught wind of Bishop Pierre's whereabouts. They told me to hand you over, since you are here.”

“I, I…”

“For reference, the dragon killer knights are already half a day away.”

Radu's complexion began to turn pale blue at the news that Dragulia was looking for him.

“The vanguard leading them is probably Mircea, isn't it?”

“Little brother.”

The justification of being a blood relative, which even the master of this land found hard to protect against.

Moreover, the one bringing that justification was Mircea, known to resemble their father the most.

Radu, having quickly grasped the situation, looked at Vlad with a resolute gaze.

“Your older brother wants to quickly go to the North. Actually, I've always admired the white snowfields of the North.”

“…Fucking bullshit. Seriously.”

Would he be sliced up in a wine barrel again, or would he accept Vlad as his younger brother?

Because it was such an easy judgment, there was no hesitation in Radu's actions.

Looking at such a Radu, Vlad merely put on an expression that said he was sick of him.

* * *

There was a group piercing through the imperial highway at high speed all the way from the capital Brigantes.

Riding forward with a flag that anyone living in the Empire could recognize, their name was the dragon killer knights.

The blue eyes of Mircea, who rode at the very front among them, seemed filled with cold-blooded anger.

“Halt! From here on is Arnstein's territory!”

Although it wasn't even a city gate, there was a group blocking the dragon killer knights.

Judging from the crude appearance of the checkpoint blocking the highway, they were clearly people whose intention was to stop the knights.

“My name is Mircea. Mircea Dragulia.”

And Mircea could also grasp that intention at a glance.

Because the dragon's momentum he radiated as soon as he dismounted was enough to make the knights of Arnstein flinch.

That was how unusual the momentum Mircea was showing now was, and it was indeed an appearance fitting of a knight representing the Empire.

“I have already sent word to the Count.”

“What word?”

However, even if they had flinched for a moment at that ferocious momentum, the knights of Arnstein absolutely did not step aside.

Because, for them as well, a knight comparable to Mircea's reputation was standing at the forefront.

“Explain in detail the purpose of your visit to the territory, Mircea Dragulia.”

A knight impressive for the large shield slung on his back.

Pablo of Arnstein was confronting Mircea without easily showing any openings, much like his massive physique.

“It is Family business.”

“Why seek Dragulia's business in Arnstein?”

A single fortress wall standing firm before a roaring dragon.

In Pablo's appearance as he slowly drew his shield, not a hint of pressure regarding Mircea could be found.

“…It is about my younger brother who went missing.”

“I'm asking why you're looking for that brother in our territory.”

A tension so thick it was hard to breathe began to leak out between the two, who faced each other without yielding an inch.

So tremendous was the tension that the surrounding knights drew their swords on their own, even without their captains' orders.

“…I have brought definitive proof of Bishop Pierre's activities. So do not provoke me any further, Pablo of Arnstein.”

“Proof?”

By the customs of the Empire, which was sensitive to inheritance rights, yielding the way to a pursuer chasing a runaway blood relative was a matter of course.

However, Count Arnstein had decided not to yield that way.

“Regardless of the proof, the Count said he does not want a dragon's claws stepping onto this land.”

That was partly due to his already completely soured relationship with the Dragonblood Duke, but it was also a consideration for Vlad, upon whom he placed his expectations.

Pablo's attitude was as resolute as the Count's firm decision, and facing him, Mircea could also notice their determination.

“The Count is ignoring the Empire's customs.”

“Could it be as much as you bastards trying to blindly thrust armed personnel into someone else's land?”

It hadn't been explicitly spoken out loud, but the war had already begun.

Knowing that well, Mircea and Pablo glared at each other as if the place they were standing right now was a battlefield.

“Mircea! Mircea Dragulia!”

The imperial highway, said to connect all the territories of the central region.

At the moment a dangerous spark was about to fall upon that old road, someone's voice rang out from the direction of Arnstein's territory.

“I have the Radu Dragulia you're looking for!”

A small flag being waved by someone riding on a black horse.

The sight of the flag studded with numerous crests was definitely a familiar one to Mircea.

“…Vlad?”

A personal flag that only the northern knight Vlad Aureo could raise.

Recognizing Vlad beneath that flag, Mircea couldn't help but put on a dismayed expression.

Because, from his past experiences, he knew full well that things started going wrong the moment that guy appeared.

“Radu Dragulia is going to the North with me! By my own judgment, as Vlad Aureo, and not by anyone else's command!”

Not in the name of Arnstein, nor the Northern Orthodox Church, but only in my name, Aureo.

“If you want to find Radu, follow me to the North!”

“…Damn it.”

Seeing Vlad deliberately draw the justification to himself, Mircea ended up biting his lip as if he had been outplayed.

Because no matter how much the Empire's customs guaranteed Mircea's right, it would become a powerless justification in front of Vlad, who shared the same bloodline.

“Will this be enough?”

[Excellent. This is more than enough.]

He was welcomed as a guest, but ended up causing nothing but a ton of damage.

Therefore, neatly cleaning up his spot as he left would be the best courtesy he could show.

“Thank you until the very end, Pablo.”

Although it wouldn't have been heard since they were far apart, Vlad offered a greeting of gratitude toward Pablo, who stood up for him until the very end.

NEIGH!

As he pulled the reins, Noir kicked off the ground and began to run as if she had been waiting.

Toward his party waiting for him from behind.

“Are we good? Are we good?”

“Could you not act like we're close?”

However, the direction they were heading as they galloped away on horseback was not toward the North as Vlad had just said.

A mage, an inquisitor, and two dragons, one young and one old.

The place they were heading was not the North, but the South, the exact opposite direction.