CHAPTER 48

"Does this look like the Hainal family crest?"

A green-haired woman was squinting under the orange-tinged sunlight.

The small glasses on the bridge of her nose were moving up along the frowning woman's face.

Oksana looked closely at the book the maid was holding up, then turned her head back to the fabric with a needle in hand.

"I've never made anything like this before. Actually, I only ever saw my mother make it when I was young."

"It must be precious, then?"

"Yes."

Unlike the furrowed bridge of her nose indicating concentration, Oksana's lips were slightly upturned.

It is one of the precious traditions that is now fading from people's memories.

It was now once again emerging in the world from the noble woman's fingertips.

"Is this sufficient?"

The white tree gradually takes shape at Oksana's fingertips.

The white tree planted on the sloping hillside was engraved on the black fabric in an elegant embroidery.

"Then, should I embroider the next crest?"

"Here..."

"That's fine. It's firmly ingrained in my mind."

Oksana stopped the maid from opening the book containing the family crests and threaded a new thread onto the needle.

Oksana's words were likely true.

The embroidery she was now working on was undoubtedly the crest of a family she couldn't ignore.

Within the furrowing expression once again, the tip of the needle was weaving back and forth.

A solid castle wall being built with Oksana's fingertips on a newly brought out cloth.

And a sword floating above it.

It was the crest of Bayezid.

Oksana's living room is so quiet that not even the sound of breathing can be heard, so everything seems to be at a standstill

Amidst the space where only the faint dust particles visible through the sunlight indicated the passage of time, there stood alone in the center of the reception room a single flagpole.

A flag unfurled with nothing inscribed upon it, only filled with white background.

The white background of the flag reflected the same color as the world in which the boy was rooted.

An unadorned sword given by an old man and a girl.

An identification card given by a priest.

A handkerchief given by a noble lady with her name engraved on it.

And even a white flag with the family crest engraved on it.

All were things that would form the roots of the boy.

All were achievements made by the boy.

※※※※

Night fell on the meadow.

Despite the weather approaching summer, the night on the wide-open unadorned, devoid of anything, was still chilly.

Hence, the knights built a wall with their carriages and carts, preparing to camp within.

After the bustling preparation for camping ended and a brief moment of rest arrived, the knights gathered as knights do, while the priests gathered separately, each group taking their own time.

"..."

Though it was comforting to see them all, the boy, feeling no camaraderie with anyone, quietly took his place in an empty spot and kindled a small fire.

Sssrrrr...

While listening to the sounds of priests praying from all over, Vlad took out his unadorned sword.

The surface of the sword, illuminated by the fire, was tinged red.

Although the light reflecting from the campfire was scattered here and there due to the scars.

'You've worked hard too.'

Gazing at the red hue that reminded him of someone dear, Vlad took out a whetstone and began to tend to his unadorned sword.

Swish, swish...

The sight of the boy carefully tending the unadorned sword resembled the sight of the priests praying in front of him.

Perhaps the boy was praying with an unadorned sword.

For those who still remain where the boy and the sword left.

The sound of the stone against the sword blended with the crackling of the fire.

Vlad's expression was slowly relaxing as he felt the warmth of the bonfire and the peace he felt alone for the first time in a long time.

"Why are you brooding alone?"

"...Lord Rutger."

A young man with black hair approached Vlad while holding a bottle of alcohol.

Rutger plopped down beside the small fire Vlad had made.

"Why are you alone?"

"Everyone's busy."

Just as much as the heat from the bonfire coming from in front of Vlad, he felt the warmth from Rutger talking to him.

"What about the chubby guy?"

"Dorothea took him away. Said she had chores for him."

"And Priest Andrea?"

"Praying."

Rutger shrugged at Vlad's response and held out the bottle he was holding.

"Care for a sip?"

"I'm tending to my sword at the moment."

"You're refusing again."

"..."

Though he didn't want to disrupt the pleasant atmosphere that had settled, Vlad knew that if he refused again, he might find something flying towards him in Josef's study.

"It's whiskey."

"A nobleman's drink."

Taking in the scent of wood passing through his nostrils, Vlad looked at Rutger with a slightly strange expression.

The scent of the drink lingering on the boy's tongue was similar to the one Josef had offered back then.

No matter how much they were fighting over the same thing, it seemed like they couldn't do anything about their tastes that came from the same blood.

"I guess I'll have to take a look at that sword when I get back."

"...Yes, I suppose so."

At Rutger's words, Vlad once again looked at the unadorned sword illuminated by the fire.

A sword crafted by an unskilled blacksmith in a back alley.

The sword that someone had struck with everything they had accumulated over a lifetime was still protecting its owner with a steadfast appearance, even though it had cut down numerous enemies so far.

"But they said I couldn't do it."

"Huh?"

Vlad, responding absentmindedly to Rutger's words, picked up the whetstone again, and silently began sharpening the edge of the unadorned sword.

"The connection between the handle and the sword body was made too arbitrarily. So unless you find the maker and get it fixed, you'll have to break the hilt entirely to repair the blade."

"It is a sword that is as unruly as its owner."

Rutger looked at the rough-looking sword and raised the bottle.

Though the head blacksmith of the Bayezid family had spoken kindly, the implication was clear: the maker of the sword made such a mess that everything except the sword body had to be destroyed.

Yet perhaps that was the best the old blacksmith could do.

"So I need to find the person who made it and ask for repairs."

"And where might that person be?"

Vlad raised the sword vertically to check the sharp blade.

The red traces reflecting from the blade were illuminating the boy's eyes.

It seemed as though he could almost recall the unforgettable red hair.

"Shoara."

"Well, you're the one who always goes around shouting 'Vlad of Shoara,' aren't you?"

Rutger chuckled, taking a sip of whiskey, remarking that the title suited him well. However, the boy only gazed at the unadorned sword.

A skilled blacksmith offered to take care of the work, but Vlad refused.

He didn't want to lose anything contained within this sword.

Each mark engraved on the sword was akin to the history the boy had built.

"..."

Rutger observed Vlad looking at the sword.

His blue eyes, brimming with various emotions as he gazed at the sword, sparkled ever so slightly.

So that's why.

So that's why my younger brother was running around so frantically.

Rutger nodded as if he finally understood and took a sip.

"...Can it be fixed soon?" 

"Yes?"

Vlad inquired, but Rutger didn't respond, simply rising from his seat.

"If you wish earnestly enough, someone will notice."

"...?"

"That means you have lived well so far."

Vlad looked at Rutger with a puzzled expression at his cryptic words, but all that came from his mouth was the familiar scent of whiskey.

"I guess I should get ready for work tomorrow," Rutger said, patting Vlad's shoulder as he turned away.

"..."

Watching Rutger leave, Vlad remained alone by the dwindling campfire.

"..."

With Rutger gone, Vlad began the final touches using the worn cloth with oil, preparing to tend to the wounds of the sword that could not be healed with just a whetstone and oil.

Though the scars on the unadorned sword were pitiful, they could be fixed someday.

Because the unadorned sword and the boy had a place to return to.

A night in the meadow when the boy quietly decided. 

From the hill above, a horse as black as the night sky was looking at the boy sitting at the campfire.

Though small, the light seemed to complement the colors the boy was creating, and the horse liked it.

※※※※

The next morning.

Carriages running in the green meadow.

And a herd of wild horses running side by side next to a procession of carriages.

The sight of humans and nature running together across the meadow would surely be a rare spectacle.

The priests inside the carriages and the knights riding alongside them were well aware of this fact.

Everyone was looking at a herd of wild horses running together to catch their first, and possibly last, sight.

"..."

Even the blond boy, leaning against the carriage window, was quietly gazing at the scenery outside.

A strange feeling rising from within his chest made Vlad unconsciously purse his lips.

Vlad knew.

It was time to part ways.

Just as he had duties to fulfill, the black horse also had obligations to lead the herd.

Hee-haw!

The black horse, who had been running at the forefront of the herd, gradually came to a halt.

As the leader stopped, the herd of wild horses naturally halted as well.

This is as far as we go.

The place where we can journey together ends here.

Vlad's head turned naturally to watch the departing black horse, as if seeing him off.

Wild horses come up to the top of the hill as if bidding farewell and watch the group running below.

"Goodbye..."

Not accustomed to farewells, the boy awkwardly raised his hand and waved.

It was a small farewell gesture, as if embarrassed to be seen, but the black horse could see it.

Hee-haw!

On a moonless night bidding farewell with a flick of the foreleg.

Vlad put his head into the carriage with a strange expression as the horse seemed to be lifting his front foot at the same time when Vlad waved.

It was a brief moment, but there was a deep connection with the black horse.

The depth of a relationship was not solely determined by the time spent together.

"Don't be too sad about the parting," the priest sitting in front of Vlad nodded as if understanding everything.

"...It's just words."

"Haha. It's truly difficult for people to be honest."

Andrea smiled as he opened the Bible he was holding.

"Our lives are a series of farewells and meetings, so the tears shed at parting will eventually turn into the joy of reunion."

"..."

Although Vlad didn't fully understand the biblical verse the priest recited, he at least noticed that it was an attempt to console him.

"It was truly a wonderful encounter even in my eyes, so we'll meet again someday."

"If it's too late, you have to find something else to say."

"That too shall be fate."

Vlad turned his head again to gaze out the window.

As he absorbed the beautiful scenery, Vlad reminisced about yesterday's memories.

The feeling of riding across the green meadow with the deathworm trailing behind.

He had experienced the most exhilarating and vivid colors in his life.

The vacation was over.

It was time to go back.