Chapter 78 - There Is No Tree Without Roots (3)

"Now then, shall we finish up?"

Oksana poured hair oil into both her hands, rubbed them together, and beckoned the boy over.

"You need to come closer."

"... Yes."

Oksana's reception room was quiet, though everyone inside was moving busily.

The maids were busy polishing the boy's armor until it shone and ironing his clothes and cloak, but only Oksana and Vlad stood amid the stillness.

"I did think a day like this would come someday. Though it came sooner than I expected."

Oksana smiled with a warmth that could be felt just by looking at her, and neatly swept Vlad's hair back.

Strands of hair slipped through her oiled fingers.

The blond hair, shining as it reflected the sunlight, looked quite splendid even in Oksana's eyes.

"It must have been that hard."

"..."

Instead of answering Oksana, Vlad quietly closed his eyes as he felt her hand sweeping through his hair.

It was partly because Oksana's deep eyes, gazing at him as if she understood everything, felt overwhelming, but also because he wanted to focus on a sensation he had not felt in a long time.

Though he had told the red-haired girl that he did not remember, contrary to those words, Vlad treasured the few memories he had of his mother.

Among them, the memory he treasured most was the sight of his mother combing his hair back with a fine-toothed comb.

"Your blond hair is splendid. Enough that you should thank the parents who gave it to you."

'Still, I'm glad you inherited that person's blond hair instead of my dull hair color.'

At Oksana's words, which stirred an old memory of his mother, Vlad unconsciously brought his hand to the hilt of the sword at his waist.

'Ah.'

The place where the unadorned sword that had always comforted him should have been.

But there was only an unfamiliar, awkward sword sitting there now.

The ones he wished had been with him at this moment were no longer in this world.

The boy found that deeply regrettable.

It would have been truly nice if they could have watched with him here.

"There."

At Oksana's words, Vlad opened the eyes he had been keeping closed.

The afternoon sunlight spreading in through the window was as dazzling as her green eyes reflected before him.

"With this, you could be shown anywhere without shame."

Oksana looked proud as she gazed at the work she had made.

Seeing her smile, Vlad finally smiled as well.

"Thank you."

With those words, Vlad quietly looked around and took Oksana's reception room into his eyes.

After engraving everything in Oksana's reception room into his mind—the sounds, the smells, even the feel of the air as it flowed—Vlad closed his eyes once more.

As much as the boy followed the star and moved forward, the beings he had left behind at his back would only grow farther away.

But there was no need to regret that.

Because whenever he missed them, he could unfold the memories he had carefully tucked away in his mind.

Just like the memory he had engraved right now.

* * *

"Nervous?"

"Not particularly."

At Vlad's reply, made while trying hard to appear calm, Jager merely raised the corner of his mouth.

"Save the tough act for your enemies, kid."

"... I'm serious."

With those words, Vlad looked at the door behind Jager.

A massive door.

It was a sight he had seen when he brought in the Death worm's corpse, but the boy of that day had not been qualified to go beyond it.

"You may enter now."

"Understood."

At the signal from the attendant standing beside him, Jager stood before the door leading into the knights' hall.

A door that, for today alone, would open only for Vlad.

The only person who could open that door for the boy was surely Jager, the knight who had taught him and given him what was his.

"Vlad, squire of Bayezid! By the count's command, he stands before the knights' door!"

For the sake of his squire, Jager shouted louder than ever before.

"Please grant him entry!"

Jager's cry was loud because he was prouder than anyone, and it did not tremble because he was more confident than anyone.

At his words, which rang out grandly, an answer came from beyond the tightly shut door.

"Enter."

Aura flowed faintly in the voice.

The world of knights had permitted the boy's entry.

CREEEAK.

As soon as the words of permission fell, the closed door began to open from Jager's fingertips.

When the door that had blocked the boy's path with the question of qualification opened, the severed red carpet began to show the boy the way forward.

"..."

Vlad could not tear his eyes away from the sight spread out before him.

It was a space where everything shone.

Knights stood in ranks on both sides.

Sunlight crossing the windows shattered brightly against the armor the knights wore.

"..."

Vlad turned his eyes away from the shining sight for a moment and looked back.

There stood the man who had always guarded the boy's back and pushed him forward.

A man who, because he could not hold a sword, could not even dare stand before the door.

Behind the boy, the man with dark shadows under his eyes stood with his arms crossed, smiling.

"Go on."

He had thought it was a line he would never cross in his lifetime.

But today, even if Joseph himself had not crossed it, he had succeeded in pushing one of his swords inside.

The young man who had not given up had more than enough right to smile more than anyone.

"Congratulations."

As Vlad advanced into the knights' hall, Jager's voice came quietly from behind him.

At Jager's voice, so different from usual, Vlad felt something rising from deep in his chest, but he forced it down.

"Vlad, squire of Bayezid, come forward before me."

Vlad lifted his head toward the direction the voice had come from.

At last, the world of knights that had opened its door was beckoning the boy to come.

With eyes like those from that day, when they had watched over the boy beneath the moonlight.

"Yes."

The red road was the road of honor.

The boy began to move forward, passing between the knights surrounding that road.

One step, then another.

Past the mud of the back alleys, toward the place he had dreamed of.

"You have done well to come this far."

The boy had always dreamed of the stars.

Even if his feet sank into a reality like a sewer, his gaze had always been fixed on the stars floating in the sky.

And now he had reached that star.

"Take the eternally unchanging Swordmaster's Code in your left hand."

A golden parchment.

Vlad carefully accepted the parchment containing the Swordmaster's oath.

Having finally grasped in his hand the shining star he had only ever dreamed of, Vlad clenched his teeth without realizing it.

"Kneel and swear, squire of Bayezid."

As the boy knelt on one knee, Peter's cold sword settled upon his shoulder.

The coldness and sharpness of the lowered blade were waking Vlad's mind clearly.

"A knight must always harbor possibility. That is the first rule of the Swordmaster."

Vlad of Soara.

There had been knights who had made that name.

Though they had met as enemies, they had chosen to protect the possibility the boy carried within him.

Because that was the proper duty a knight ought to fulfill.

"A knight must always know how to listen to his own conscience. That is the second rule of the Swordmaster."

In the village filled with fog, the knight Gregory burned himself away, prepared to lose everything.

If you are standing where you must stand, if you are standing in the moment you must act, do not hesitate.

For the standard by which that is decided is only one's own conscience.

"A knight must always pursue an honorable path. That is the final rule set by the Swordmaster."

A knight must always be honorable, and to be honorable, he must always look upward and move forward.

Without the slightest shame, and only for a rightful price.

"Swear before my sword and the commandments of knights. Vlad of Soara."

The boy had always looked toward the possibility called the unadorned sword.

The red-haired girl who had stood with him in the mud would testify to that.

Though his life had been one of back-alley filth, the boy had protected what he had to protect in order not to be swept away by it.

The knight of the prostitutes who guarded Rose's Smiles would testify to the boy's conscience, which had always tried to keep to the line.

"I swear."

And because the boy had looked at the stars, he had looked upward, and to grasp them in his hand, he had moved forward.

Without rest, even if he had to crawl.

It was a code he had not even known, yet the boy was someone who had done his utmost to keep it.

"I swear that I will uphold the Swordmaster's Code with all my strength."

And the final rule of the Swordmaster, which the boy had upheld without realizing it, would be testified to by the unadorned sword that had struggled alongside him all this time.

"I, Peter Bayezid, lord of Bayezid, command it."

Together with the boy's oath, the rightful master of this place declared in a ringing voice.

"The boy before me was the lowly squire Vlad when he knelt, but when he rises again..."

That a new star had been born beneath his sword.

"He shall rise as the proud knight Vlad."

The knight of Lady Alicia.

The one who protected the breath of children blessed by San Rosino.

The Dragon Slayer cried out by Lindwurm's blue blood.

And now Vlad of Soara, a knight recognized by Bayezid.

He was rising to his feet with proud steps.

["Well done."]

The voice that had watched over the boy from closer than anyone acknowledged that pride.

Together with the Swordmaster's oath held in the boy's left hand.

Today, the rootless boy had created his own roots by his own will.

Not as someone's son, not as someone's descendant, but only under the name Vlad of Soara.

They were roots to which every star in this place would testify.

* * *

Somewhere, in an office where candlelight flickered.

The middle-aged man who was master of that place was frowning, as if something displeased him.

"The dwarf bastards behind them are rather bothersome."

A corpulent-looking body.

He looked sluggish at a glance, but anyone who knew even a little about the man would know that he hid powerful muscles beneath that thick flesh.

"So this time, I decided to move step by step, like those other noble bastards."

The man picked up walnuts from a plate and continued speaking as he crushed them as if it were nothing.

"I hear Baroness Alicia, the only Heinal, still has no husband."

"That is correct."

The man smacked his lips without restraint, despite being a noble of high birth.

A pioneer and conqueror who watched his tone for nothing and no one.

"That won't do. It must be hard for a woman to endure alone in this harsh world."

Another prey had just entered the eyes of the man who was always hungry no matter how much he ate.

"So you'll have to exert yourself a little this time."

"Give the order, my count."

Count Sigmund Gaidar.

The man who had become the new conqueror of the West.

At his command, the man standing beyond the candlelight bowed his head.

"Go to Deirmar with my son. Bring back a rightful pretext from there."

At Sigmund's words that he would extend his reach through pretext rather than violence and war, the knight nodded as if he understood.

If he went with his son, who had Gaidar blood mixed in him, they should be able to come back with at least one small pretext.

"I trust you won't disappoint me, as always. Godin."

At Sigmund's words, the knight lifted his head.

"I will do my utmost."

Godin, knight of Gaidar.

The blue moonlight shining through the window settled over his head.