Chapter 50
For treatment of his hand, Luin left for the infirmary located outside the training ground. The sparring among the remaining trainees continued.
“Ugh, damn it!”
Except for Luin and a few others, most had either been singled out by someone or had singled someone out themselves. It was rare for someone to spar more than once.
Also, those who had not been chosen at all, or who couldn’t continue because the person who had chosen them was injured or otherwise unable, were paired off at random by Harken’s decision.
By the time the sun had set and late evening arrived—
“Today’s sparring assessment ends here.”
With the declaration from the demon instructor Harken, the evaluation concluded.
“We will notify you of the results later. That’s all—dismissed.”
After saying that, Harken left the training ground immediately with the other instructors.
“No—no way.”
“…I failed. I know I’m going to fail.”
Although who would be eliminated hadn’t been decided yet, the kids who lost in the matches cried out in despair.
Meanwhile—
“Phew, it’s over.”
“It was hectic, but still fun, wasn’t it?”
The expressions of the victorious trainees showed relief and clear joy.
And—
“It hasn’t even been decided yet; why are you all so gloomy?”
Meirin muttered with displeasure at that atmosphere, then glanced sideways.
“……”
Selena Marquess, who had achieved an overwhelming victory, still looked unsatisfied, her eyes blazing.
“Hey, are you still like that? Tch.”
Meirin shook her head in pity at Selena, then — when no one was watching — made a strange face and brushed off her clothes, muttering.
“I don’t know. It’s all done now so I won’t care anymore. I’m leaving, okay?”
Saying that, Meirin left the training ground without hesitation. Selena, who had been seething silently with anger, abruptly jumped up from her seat and started heading somewhere.
. . .
“Hmph hmph hmph.”
Having lightly treated his hand injury with a potion, Luin returned to the trainees’ dormitory and lay on a comfortable bed, humming to himself.
And—
[ Damn it! Luin, put that thing far away. I don’t want to be near such filthy scum! ]
The sword-spirit complained in a displeased tone.
Two swords lay neatly by Luin’s bed. One was the black-bladed sword called Heuk-young (Black Shadow), and the other was the red Blood-Sword he had taken from Andrei.
At that moment—
Vrrr—
The crimson Blood-Sword trembled and vibrated slightly.
[ What? What did that leech just say? ]
Buzz!
[ You serious? Do you want to be erased?! Huh?! ]
For some reason the Blood-Sword and the sword-spirit were shouting at each other, and Luin let out a short sigh and turned onto his side.
He remembered the situation right before Cheongya-gwi dragged him away after the sparring—the moment he had met Andrei.
“Heh.”
Luin couldn’t help laughing at the memory and recalled what he had muttered toward Andrei then.
“Hey, Andrei. Sorry about this. The Blood-Sword has chosen me as its new master.”
Andrei had reacted instantly, raging like a madman. Luin smiled faintly and added a final taunt.
“Thanks, Andrei. For giving me such a nice gift…”
He had said it deliberately to provoke him, but—
‘Tsk, maybe that sounded too childish.’
Luin felt slightly embarrassed by his own behavior. Of course, he hadn’t actually contracted with the Blood-Sword. In fact, there was no way to form a contract yet. When Luin asked if the sword would make a pact, the fang of the true blood-demon trapped inside the Blood-Sword replied:
[ Not possible right now. My power hasn’t fully recovered. ]
The sword said it would be difficult to make a formal contract until its strength was restored.
Luin nodded without any regret.
‘Alright. Then when you get all your power back, we’ll talk again.’
After all, the Blood-Sword was now an item in his possession—if he wanted, he could summon it and face it anytime. Then—
[ Damn! Luin, get out here and summon that thing now. I’ll destroy it this instant!! ]
The sword-spirit yelled in fury. Just then—
Knock knock.
“Huh?”
Startled by the unexpected knocks, Luin shot upright in bed.
Knock knock knock.
The sword-spirit, still raging, reacted to the sound as well.
[ …What, Luin? Who’s at the door? ]
Luin walked to the door, tilting his head.
“Who could be here at this hour…?”
A familiar voice came from outside.
“Luin, can I talk to you for a moment?”
‘Meirin?’
To Luin’s surprise, the late-night visitor was Meirin Linegrime.
“…And so, aside from Harken, the other instructors recommend expulsion as a disciplinary measure for Andrei.”
Demon instructor Harken bowed respectfully and stated his opinion.
“I see…expulsion.”
Daemon Linegrime, Northern Sword Duke Damon, who ruled the Linegrime household, listened to the report with an unreadable expression. He then turned his head slightly and asked his faithful secretary beside him:
“Joel, what do you think?”
“Hmm.”
Joel made a noncommittal sound for a moment before answering.
“My understanding is limited, but since this was a matter the instructors—including Harken—made a careful decision on based on what they personally experienced, I think we should respect their judgment. However…”
“However?”
“Andrei is the fourth son’s child and the eldest son of the current head of the Radiant Order, Lord Philip. If Lord Philip expresses dissatisfaction about this, that could be a worrying matter.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, that’s my thought.”
When Damon asked again, Joel smiled faintly.
“Well, Philip’s temperament suggests he won’t sit quietly about it.”
Damon nodded at Joel’s comment as if in agreement. Then, with a peculiar smile at the corner of his mouth, he murmured:
“So? Then what would he do about it?”
“Excuse me?”
“What will he do if he has complaints?”
Joel and Harken were silent, mouths shut, at Damon’s concise, decisive question.
Northern Sword Duke Damon was one of the continent’s absolute rulers. In the North, his word was law. Linegrime of the northern skies answered to only one lord—Duke Damon. To contradict what he had decided would be tantamount to rebelling against the entire Linegrime house.
“Philip needs to get his head straight. How long will he keep acting like that? No wonder his son turned out that way. Tch.”
Damon clicked his tongue lightly and spoke disparagingly of his fourth son Philip and Philip’s son Andrei. Joel cleared his throat and added:
“Ahem. Nevertheless, Lord Philip is now the head of the Radiant Order.”
“Hah. Even without some petty Radiant Order, Linegrime operates just fine.”
Damon’s blunt statement shut Joel up immediately. He then looked at Harken and asked again:
“So, is Luin badly hurt?”
“His hand was cut a little, but we took him to the infirmary right away and treated him.”
“I see.”
Damon nodded as he checked on his other grandson Luin’s condition. At that moment—
Thud! Thud! Bang!
Loud, heavy footsteps sounded outside the duke’s office, and someone shouted angrily right at the door.
—Get out of the way!
“Philip?”
Joel and Harken immediately recognized the voice. The door slammed open and in strode a short but solid man—Philip Linegrime, head of the Radiant Order.
“Father!”
Thud-thud.
“Lord, you cannot act like this.”
Several Linegrime guards rushed up and tried to stop him.
“Let go! My son wants to see his father—why are you stopping us?!”
Pushing their hands away, Philip barged into the office with a threatening air.
“Stand down.”
“…Head of the Radiant Order.”
Harken and Joel blocked his path. Philip glanced at the two before looking at his father, Northern Sword Duke Damon, who sat behind them. Without hesitation he dropped to his knees and shouted.
Thump!
“Father, it’s Philip.”
Damon gave a humorless laugh and waved his head.
“Hah. I named you, remember? Philip.”
“…I apologize, Father.”
“Tch, that temper of yours… you take after your mother. Tsk tsk.”
Philip’s face flushed red at Damon’s displeasure, but he bowed his head again.
“I just heard the news. My incompetent son made a mistake…”
“A mistake?”
“Yes. During sparring he got overly excited and used a somewhat rough technique against his opponent. It’s the sort of small mistake that often happens at that age.”
Philip spoke as if it were no big deal. Damon’s mouth twitched.
“So Philip, why did you come here so abruptly?”
“This happened because I failed to properly educate him. But the boy’s action, from a broader perspective, does not merit severe punishment. I’ll personally re-educate him and set him straight. I’ve come to ask you to show mercy this once, Father.”
Philip rambled on more than his size suggested. Damon lightly shook his head.
“Tsk tsk.”
Then he turned to Joel and Harken.
“Send Andrei to Janet in the north.”
At the sudden order the two were stunned.
“Excuse me?!”
“You said, send him to Lady Janet?”
Damon nodded.
“Yes. Janet was stuck over there for a good long time. She must have been lonely; send my nephew over to keep her company in her later years.”
“But—”
Joel and Harken exchanged flustered looks.
“Father!”
“What?”
“Calling her ‘aunt’ all of a sudden—this is only a trivial mistake. Do you really intend to throw Andrei into hell over one mistake?”
Philip’s face reddened as he raised his voice. Damon tsked and then asked with a small smile:
“Philip, would you like me to tell Janet exactly what you just said?”
Philip’s face drained of color at that question. He apparently hadn’t realized who Janet was in the family’s greater context, but it was obvious she carried weight. Damon rose slowly, then spoke in a low, cold voice.
“Philip, listen carefully.”
“Yes?”
“You came here because you worry about your son Andrei, didn’t you?”
Damon nodded almost sympathetically, then continued firmly.
“Now think about the reverse. If the family’s youngest exile had left and his only son suffered death or equivalent injury from a cousin’s surprise attack, how would you respond?”
“…?!”
Up to now, Damon had kept the name of his youngest son, Kavel, mostly to himself among the Linegrime kin. But for the first time in front of another son he mentioned the sore topic.
“Philip, do you think you could bear Kavel’s rage if it were directed at you?”
“Father, I—!”
Philip tried to speak, but Damon’s next words made him close his mouth.
“A mistake? Sure, maybe a small one. But never forget why that child left our house… And!”
Damon’s voice rose. He fixed Philip with a colder-than-ever stare and said:
“The Linegrime swords I raised would rather die than use cowardly ambushes.”
“……”
“Do I make myself clear? Now leave, Philip.”
With that decisive dismissal, Philip had nothing more to say. He rose and walked out weakly toward the office door. Pausing at the threshold, he turned to look at his mighty father.
“Father… then should we at least let him keep the sword he drew in the duel—”
Even as a father, Philip wanted to retrieve the sword his son had won. For the first time Damon smiled slightly and replied:
“A match is ruthless. The victor takes all. Must I explain that to you again?”
Thus the new official owner of Andrei’s Blood-Sword was decided.
. . .
Bang!
“L-Lord! Please calm—”
Crash!
“Get out! If you don’t want to die, everything get out!”
After meeting with Duke Damon, Philip returned to his office and smashed it to pieces, unleashing the fury he had been holding back.
“Arghhhh!”
A boy knelt before him, head bowed in silence. Something clattered beside the boy and shattered completely.
“Andrei, you miserable brat!”
“……”
“Pack up by tomorrow and go to the North Wall. Take your precious aunt and live like you’re dead there!”
Crash! Crash!
Andrei watched his father’s mad rampage with a quietly sinking look. He clenched his lower lip so hard he tasted the metallic tang of blood.
‘…I’ll return.’
The North Wall. That place had originally been a banishment ground for the castoffs. Now, because of one person, it had become land ruled by a strength that looked past death.
Andrei ground his teeth and made a vow.
‘I’ll definitely come back. Wait for me, Luin Linegrime!’
At the same time—
“Luin Linegrime!”
Philip, who had sent his son into exile, muttered the name of the man he blamed for it all.
“Damn Kavel always pissed me off, and now his spawn brings me this humiliation?”
Trembling with barely contained rage, Philip glared at his son.
“I will never forget. Never!”
