CHAPTER 38

Vlad opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling.

"I'm going to die..."

In reality, it was the same ceiling as yesterday.

But the colorful drawings embedded in the ceiling only made it seem more unfamiliar.

For a street kid, the aesthetics of the aristocracy remained hard to understand.

"Ugh..."

Vlad tried to raise his hand towards the teapot beside him, but his bones began to ache as if he had taken a severe beating.

He hadn't suffered any serious injuries, but the throbbing pain was an accurate description of how Vlad felt at that moment.

It had to be this way.

He had shattered the shell that surrounded him with all his might.

"Gott."

"What's wrong, Captain? Is there any pain? Whom do you want me to call?"

Gott, who had been dozing in the chair next to the bed, started to ask exaggeratedly upon Vlad's call.

"…"

Vlad's response to Gott, who could see through him, was somewhat in jest, but now it was just a jest.

He knew very well why Gott was there.

"Give me some water."

"Alright, huh?"

Vlad thought as he watched Gott leave the room, claiming there was no water in the teapot.

Still, it's worth having him around.

His intentions were transparent, his purpose clear, and if he couldn't be trusted, at least he could be kept alert.

In life, there were many people who smiled at you upfront but hid a sharp blade behind their backs.

It's better to have someone like Gott by your side than be stabbed by one of them unprepared.

"And he's good at..."

Being a former mercenary and still doing his job as a stable boy for House Bayezid meant that at least Gott wasn't as incompetent as to go starving somewhere.

As much as he hated to admit it, he had received some help here and there, so he was willing to let Gott pick up any crumbs that fell his way.

He could understand Gott's desire to cling to him.

Click.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, the door opened, and Gott came in.

"Pour me some water."

"…"

Vlad, still gazing at that unfamiliar ceiling, motioned for Gott to pour him water.

It was the least he could do if he wanted to call himself a captain.

Purr-.

Vlad turned his head upon hearing Gott pouring water into a cup.

And the sound of wind being sucked in replaced the cry.

"Hmph..."

"Did you rest well?"

The person beside him was pouring water without saying a word.

"I'm glad to see you seem to have regained your strength."

The man serving him water with an unusually generous smile on his face was Josef, the man to whom he had sworn loyalty.

Vlad realized he had committed a great act of insolence and hastily bowed, exclaiming, "I'm sorry!"

"I'm sorry it was a mistake…"

"It's okay. Make yourself at home."

Hurriedly taking the water glass from Josef's hand, Vlad gulped it down, helpless, whether his body hurt or not.

The remaining water dripped onto the blanket.

"Does something hurt in particular?"

"…Nothing."

Still, the chill in the air seemed to have sobered him up, and Vlad responded with the courtesy he had learned from the countless beatings Zayar had given him.

"Alright."

Josef sat in the chair where Gott had been sitting moments ago and looked at Vlad.

"Thank you. To be honest, I didn't think you would go that far."

Thinking about the duel Vlad had shown that day, Josef spoke candidly to his squire.

"Thank you."

Acknowledging the sincerity in Josef's words, Vlad involuntarily clenched his fists, trying to revive the feeling of that day.

There were memories, faint but present.

They were like dried flowers that had lost their scent, but they were the kind of memories that made his heart race just thinking about them.

"But the duel is..."

If he had been an ordinary noble and squire, he wouldn't have been able to ask such a question.

But Vlad knew he had gone too far.

He was one of the few sailors aboard Josef's great ship, and he knew he was one of the ones expected.

Vlad of Shoara was the one Josef allowed.

"So, the duel. I should tell you about it."

Since he had awakened here, Vlad had been curious about the outcome of the duel.

What had become of the woman with watery hair who had cried so pitifully?

Had Josef achieved what he wanted, asking him to endure for ten minutes?

Vlad had many questions, but he had no one to ask until now because Gott, who stayed by his side, was nothing more than a stable boy, and the only people coming in and out were the maids tending to his wounds.

"Since you were part of the duel, you deserve to hear the details of the outcome."

And now, before Vlad's eyes, was the man who had everything about the duel in his hands.

Josef nodded to Vlad's question and opened his mouth.

"The duel has been suspended."

"If it's suspended, then…"

"It means it was postponed without producing results."

Josef told Vlad that the rules of the Sacred Duel and the discipline of the Swordmaster had become quite complicated.

Vlad nodded, listening to Josef's words.

The Discipline of the Swordmaster.

Although he couldn't tell him the true outcome of the duel, the voice had explained to him what the Discipline of the Swordmaster was.

"To become a knight, you must swear an oath to the Discipline of the Swordmaster. Vlad, if things go well for you, there will come a day when you have to make that oath."

As the basic steps to becoming a knight flowed from Josef's lips, Vlad felt a tingling in the depths of his chest.

Knight.

Always had yearned for that word, one that made him feel special just by pronouncing it.

And now, the boy has taken a step on the path to becoming a knight.

It was a moment when dreams turned into goals.

"I hope you're taking care of yourself because I don't want you staying here for too long."

"Right now, I'm going to..."

"You can't do that."

said Josef, standing up.

"I'm a man who knows how to save what he can."

Josef looked at Vlad and smiled.

"There will be a reward for this. So rest easy."

An explanation of the consequences, a sincere word, and the promise to give him his reward.

Having come and said only what needed to be said, Josef left quietly through the door.

"..."

Vlad stood still, reflecting on Josef's words, and turned his head to look at the hilt of the sword he kept by the bed.

The red glow of the setting sun streamed through the window and clung to the blade.

"A reward."

Josef's words about giving what was due for what had been done were not always true.

Especially in the streets where the boy lived.

Rewards didn't always come with hard work, and sometimes they didn't bring rewards at all.

So he was lucky.

To meet a guy named Josef.

Vlad thought, reaching for the sword he had carried with him since he had escaped from Shoara.

A sword that an inexperienced old blacksmith had forged with all his might.

The only thing he could always count on, regardless of effort or outcome.

"I did well then, didn't I?"

Vlad's question made the sword weep.

This time, it wasn't a sword without anything, but a voice in its soul.

***

An empty corridor, tinted with the crimson of the sunset.

A man walks down a corridor that no one else seems to walk.

A knight who did not know honor.

Jubert, of the Shazad family, was about to leave after completing all his duties for House Heinal.

It was a mission that would have been a failure if he had failed, but his lord would understand if he found out the current situation.

He couldn't blame the sea for the waves, nor the sky for the wind.

The events of that day were beyond Jubert's control.

It was a kind of disaster.

"The more I think about it, the more ridiculous it seems."

Jubert licked his lips as he remembered the absurdity of the duels.

As he walked down the corridor, lost in thought, a sword suddenly emerged from the shadows at the end of the hallway.

"You... really don't have to do this."

"I'm only doing it because I want to."

From the dark shadows emerged a man with narrowed eyes.

Zayar, Knight of Bayezid.

He had waited in the darkness for the dishonorable knight, anger concealed in his left eye, covered by an eyepatch.

"How long have you been waiting? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"I'm leaving today."

"Isn't it a waste of your vacation?"

Even with the cold blade of the sword against his throat, Jubert refused to abandon the smile on his face.

He seemed like a man who would smile until his last breath.

"If you have time off, you should always catch up."

But if his twisted personality was any indication, Zayar was not an easy man to please.

The two knights faced each other with fake smiles and cold expressions.

"I know you regret it, but I couldn't help it."

"I guess I can't help it either."

A single drop of crimson blood began to drip from the tip of Zayar's sword as he held it against Jubert's throat.

The drops soaked the red carpet on the hallway floor.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"..."

Jubert's question, still undisturbed by the blood flowing from his neck, was met with silence from Zayar.

"It's a shame; we share the same profession. You should be able to understand."

Even as he spoke, Jubert's fingers were intertwined, gently moving away from the tip of Zayar's sword.

A faint light glowed at the tip of his fingers.

"What can I say, if my lord tells me to bark, I'll bark."

For a knight, the orders of their lord come first, their honor second.

Therefore, for a knight without honor, there is only one thing that matters: the orders of their lord.

"You're not a dog that bites only when your master tells you to bite. They call us knights, but that's not what we are."

Zayar did not respond to the man who stood defiant before him.

Bam!

Instead, he threw a furious punch.

Crimson blood sprayed from Jubert's face.

"My lord is a good man, so a little bite is fine."

"Ugh, you bastard..."

Joubert laughed, spitting something fishy from his battered mouth.

"Is this enough...?"

"One more."

Before Jubert could finish his question, Zayar's sharp knee thrust into Jubert's abdomen.

"Kuluk-kuluk-."

"Since we're in the same line of work, you'll understand this, right?"

"Kulk-uh. Indeed... This should be appropriate."

Zayar frowned as he looked at Jubert, who remained relaxed despite being struck.

On that day on the dueling field, the honorable knight had deceived Alicia and mocked Josef.

The mockery of his lord's honor was too much for Zayar.

But the decision to kill the knight before him was not an easy one, not for him, not even for Josef.

Their relationship was already strained, but here, they were mere guests.

Moreover, killing a knight from either of the two houses would be equivalent to a declaration of war.

Although his relationship with Shazad was broken, it was beyond Josef's power to decide whether to act accordingly.

Only one person could decide that. Peter Bayezid, Head of the Bayezid family.

"I hope to see you next time."

"Well, I guess we'll meet sooner or later."

The two knights, aware of the circumstances, exchanged a weak exchange of what they had to give and what they had to take.

"Isn't this the time of year when the empire crumbles, and people don't come together because they wish?"

Even Zayar bit his tongue as he watched Jubert, who smiled as if the blow hadn't affected him.

"Until next time."

Watching Jubert walk away, running his hands through his hair, Zayar sheathed his sword in silence.

Perhaps Jubert was right.

The moment was coming.

A time when the sword was more necessary than ever.