Chapter 76 - There Is No Tree Without Roots (1)

Blue bloodstains scattered across the white snowfield.

"..."

Vlad sat blankly on the snow, looking down at the field dyed blue.

The traces of Lindwurm scattered over the cold snow still did not feel real.

Nor did the feel of the unadorned sword in his hand, now carrying a weight unlike before.

"Good work."

Rutiger swung his sword through the air to shake off the blood clinging to it, then walked over to Vlad.

Though the boy had dealt the fatal wound, it was Rutiger's sword that had finished off the dragon as it thrashed in agony.

Vlad's world was not yet solid enough to cut through a dragon's scales.

"... Is the old man all right?"

"The old man? He still hasn't told you his name?"

Vlad felt the warmth of Rutiger as he came and quietly sat beside him.

It felt similar to the warmth of the old knight who had blocked the white dragon's breath.

"Well, I suppose he'll tell you soon enough."

"..."

The old knight who had gone on pilgrimage with the lowest qualification had thrown his own body forward and saved the boy.

Though he likely had not acted with a situation like this in mind, in the end, his actions had produced a splendid result.

An act done as good was sure to return someday.

"It broke."

Rutiger looked into Vlad's still-unfocused eyes.

Those eyes were fixed on the unadorned sword, shattered to pieces until only the hilt remained.

"... I did my best."

"Yes. It looked that way."

Rutiger nodded at the boy's incoherent words.

At that moment, when everyone had been frozen in place, he alone had seen the boy's tears scattering with the snow.

"You did your best."

Rutiger remembered the boy tending his sword beside the campfire on the plains.

Watching Vlad polish the sword with care, almost as though performing a ritual, he had known just how dearly the boy cherished it.

"I'll prepare you a good one."

Naturally, a sword made by a craftsman Rutiger commissioned would be better than one made by a blacksmith of the back alleys.

And since Rutiger, one of the family's successors, would be bestowing it, that sword would also carry special meaning.

"..."

But even though those were words that would have made other knights jump for joy, Vlad simply sat still, holding the hilt of the unadorned sword.

The boy's blue eyes, sorrowful at the parting, turned toward Rutiger.

"Will there be another one like this?"

It did not have to be sharp.

It did not have to shine or be strong.

The boy simply wanted a meaningful sword that fully held his world.

Like the unadorned sword that had given him hope in the mud of the back alleys.

"... I don't know."

Rutiger, who felt as though he understood what the boy was saying, only turned his head with a bitter smile.

Because that much, he did not have the confidence to give.

The drifting blizzard.

The fallen white dragon.

Lindwurm, which had tormented the North, had been subjugated.

And with its corpse, that dragon left behind another title.

Dragon Slayer. Vlad of Soara.

He was Bayezid's second Dragon Slayer of this generation.

And the shattered unadorned sword was the witness to that title.

* * *

The office in Soara.

As Joseph was immersed in work, using the sunlight pouring through the window as his lamp, a one-eyed man opened the door and quietly walked inside.

"Lord Joseph."

"What is it?"

Seeing the dark shadows under Joseph's eyes deepen by the day, Jager let out a small sigh, handed him the letter he was carrying, and spoke.

"It's a letter from Deirmar. Baroness Alicia sent it herself."

"From Deirmar?"

Joseph, who had been rummaging through documents for some time, lifted his eyes from his work at the word Deirmar.

To Joseph, matters concerning Deirmar were as important as his position as mayor of Soara.

"Has there been any particular movement from Gaidar's side?"

"At least no military movement."

Joseph nodded at Jager's report.

In unsettled times like these, the information one held was important.

Only by hiding one's own information as much as possible while seeing through the opponent's information clearly could safety and success be guaranteed.

"There was no particular military threat, yet she sent a letter herself..."

Joseph picked up the letter opener nearby and carefully slit open the envelope Alicia had sent.

Though Alicia lacked experience as a lord, she was someone who tried to exercise caution in every action.

It meant that, though she was a firm ally, she was not someone who would diminish her own worth with a trivial request or demand.

"..."

Jager quietly watched Joseph as he held Alicia's letter.

Because his gradually sinking brows showed that the situation was not so simple.

"... Hm."

After being lost in thought for a moment, Joseph set down the letter in his hand with an ambiguous sound.

"When will Vlad return?"

"It will take at least another month. They will be advancing to Berenheim Fortress at the very least."

Joseph, who had not yet heard that the subjugation force had caught Lindwurm, furrowed his brow at Jager's words.

"We're short on time."

"Is this something that requires him?"

Joseph quietly nodded at Jager's question.

"We'll be just awkwardly short on time."

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Leaning deep into the back of his chair as he tapped the desk, Joseph continued thinking for more than twice as long as he had after reading the letter.

"The dragon subjugation force will return to Sturma once their mission is over, won't they?"

"Most likely."

"Then I must go to Sturma as well."

Jager was briefly surprised by Joseph's sudden statement that he would return to Sturma, but soon bowed his head and answered.

"I will make the preparations."

Once a thought had been decided, one had to move quickly.

Hesitation only wasted time and did nothing to help the result.

"I'm counting on you."

After Jager left the office to prepare for the journey up to Sturma, Joseph clasped his hands together and rested his forehead against them.

"So this is how they mean to do it."

Though it was not a visible threat, there was a movement with a clear intent.

Alicia had been startled by that movement shown by Gaidar and had sent him the letter.

"That day's mistake became the best move."

With those words, Joseph could not help laughing under his breath.

Because in Joseph's life, where he had always had to think of the next move, this was the first time an unintended action had determined his next course.

There had been a blond boy who made a mistake against a noble lady with water-colored hair.

At the time, Joseph had only been dumbfounded by the scene before his eyes, but now that incident had become the clue to the problem at hand, so he could not help laughing.

"I'll have to get him ready."

That day, the boy had received the lady's handkerchief with his own two hands, and at the same time, had taken on a duty and cause concerning her.

Now it was time to repay that mistake.

Turning his chair, Joseph quietly looked out the window.

The cityscape, the sturdy gate, and the snowy fields of the North far beyond.

The direction Joseph was looking was where the blond boy was.

* * *

"You brat. What, are you transporting a corpse? Why are you piling all these scraps of cloth over my head?"

Looking at Lamund grumbling beside him, Vlad answered with a pout.

"The wind gets in."

"A man of the North can't be afraid of the winter wind."

"You said when people get old, the wind whistles right through their joints."

"..."

On the creaking cart.

Lying atop it, covered in a heap of leather and cloth scraps, Lamund was left speechless by what the boy said.

"Honestly, just looking at you now, you're basically a talking corpse."

"At my age, there are a few words one becomes sensitive about hearing from others."

Vlad was doing his best to nurse Lamund, who had blocked Lindwurm's breath for him.

But the old man and the boy, neither used to caring for someone nor being cared for, could only bicker as they moved forward.

The subjugation force returning after slaying the dragon.

Rutiger, who had handed back the acting command of Berenheim Fortress to the knight originally responsible for it, was leading the subjugation force back to Sturma.

Together with the knights of the Iron Duke, who had joined forces against the dragon's threat.

"Have you no thought of coming with us to Sturma? Since you are guests from an honored place, I believe my father would be pleased."

And also with the dragon killer knights, who had suddenly descended upon the North under the banner of their cause.

"... It does seem that chances to meet the Family Head of Bayezid in person will not be so common in the future."

At Rutiger's courteous invitation, Mircea stroked his chin and smiled.

"But I am not sure whether I could go there and stay calm and quiet."

They were speaking to each other in noble etiquette and conversation, but within it were warnings that gleamed cold and blue.

Just like the knights of the North and the center, who were even now keeping sharp watch on each other.

"Then it seems we must part here."

At Rutiger's clear order to leave, Mircea merely smiled bitterly.

The dragon killer knights' cause was the subjugation of Lindwurm.

But because of the boy's deeds, they had lost that cause, so they no longer had the right to stand on northern land without the master's permission.

"What shall we do with the barbarians? May we handle them?"

"Leave the North's affairs to the North and go."

No matter how barbaric they were, he could not hand them over to the dragon killer knights.

At Rutiger's firm refusal, Age, who had been quietly following behind, brightened.

"If that is your wish."

At Mircea and Rutiger's gestures, the two groups began to split apart.

Between the knights of the center and the knights of the North, a gap began to open that could no longer be closed.

"May I greet the new Dragon Slayer once before I go?"

"..."

"I have a few things to ask as well."

Like recognized like.

That was why the dragon killer knights never hesitated to offer respect and affection to those who had been drenched in dragon blood.

If Mircea and Rutiger had not been on opposing sides, their relationship would have been quite different from what it was now.

"If only for a moment."

"Thank you."

At Mircea's firm will to do at least this much before leaving, Rutiger nodded.

It would have been absurd to lock horns with him merely to stop a single greeting.

Mircea slowly pushed his way forward through the fierce knights of the North.

The dangerous presence and gazes stabbing from every direction were sharp, but Mircea did not appear to care at all.

A man confident in himself could create his own territory anytime and anywhere.

"Squire of Bayezid, Vlad of Soara."

Beyond the knights he had pushed through stood a boy, as if blocking the cart where the old man lay.

Blond hair and blue eyes.

And seeing the nature of something within them, Mircea smiled.

"You were quite something."

"Just say what you want to say and be quick about it."

The blue eyes that had pressed him down.

Remembering that moment, which could not have been goodwill, Vlad bared his teeth at Mircea.

If not for his interference, Lamund would be standing unharmed right now.

"I am glad to see you, but it seems you are not."

"I've got no reason to be glad, but plenty of reasons not to be."

Though he held no sword, the presence he gave off was sharp enough to cut.

Vlad was expressing his anger not with his mouth, but with his eyes and presence.

"... Is that so?"

Mircea narrowed his eyes and looked at the currents flowing around Vlad.

The boy's fluttering hair, and even the snowflakes drifting nearby on the wind, had all stopped.

Though it was not intentional, the boy was, like Mircea, building his own territory through his presence.

It was proof that the way he expressed his world had grown a little more mature.

"Now this is a little hurtful. It seems my intention that you should not go somewhere dangerous was not conveyed properly."

"Don't give me that shit."

Watching the boy growl before him, Mircea quietly smiled.

Yes, this was how it should be.

You had to know how to hold your head high wherever you were.

Because you were a being who had to be that way.

"Then I will ask only a few questions, as you wish, and disappear."

But compared to Mircea, it was still a fragile world.

With a single step, Mircea tore apart the boy's territory and slowly approached Vlad.

Close enough that they could feel each other's breath, close enough that each of their forms was reflected in the other's blue eyes.

"First question."

Then Mircea began to whisper quietly into his ear.

So that no one else could hear.

In a voice only the boy could understand.

"Whenever you see a dragon, does your heart not leap?"

"...!"

With the question, Mircea slowly released his presence.

At that presence, one only a dragon could perceive just like before, Vlad clutched his chest without realizing it.

"... What the hell are you talking about?"

"Second question."

Listening to the boy's heartbeat, which he could feel even without an answer, Mircea smiled.

"Lindwurm's blood was blue, was it not?"

Vlad, barely standing amid the heartbeat pounding as if it would burst, was bewildered by Mircea's next words.

Because the question that followed was utterly absurd.

"When you saw that blood, did you perhaps grow thirsty?"

"What?"

Something was strange about the question.

Sensing something suspicious from Mircea, Vlad slowly stepped back and looked at the man before him.

The Captain of the dragon killer knights. Mircea.

Mircea Dragulia.

"I am asking if you wanted to drink the dragon's blood."

Blue eyes like the boy's were smiling coldly.