Extra 11 - Continuation

With the sunset behind him, Vlad stood alone in a wheat field, striking the frozen ground with a hoe.

Going back in time a bit, to the spring days, Vlad had been learning to work on Ramund's farm.

"This is truly a curious sight."

It was an empty field, without even seeds planted, just freshly tilled earth.

The only sound was that of Vlad's hoe striking the soil.

Despite the persistent noise, Vlad displayed absolute clumsiness—a novice struggling with farmwork.

"You traded your sword for a simple hoe, and you still manage to look this stupid?"

"…Am I really that bad?"

Vlad scratched his cheek awkwardly, glancing at Ramund, who stood nearby making caustic remarks. Vlad already suspected as much.

It was clear he had no aptitude for farming.

"No matter how hard you try, you weren't born for this. It's not about adapting or learning; you simply lack the talent."

Born and raised in the city, Vlad had never been close to the earth.

Even taking that into account, his natural inclination for agriculture was nonexistent.

"Why the hell are you doing this?"

With a sword, Vlad was the Swordmaster, admired across the continent.

But with a hoe, he was a fumbling beginner. To Ramund, the disparity was so stark he couldn't help but let out a deep sigh.

"What made you suddenly want to take up farming?"

A strong smell of alcohol wafted from the wineskin Ramund held. There was no need to ask what it contained—it was obvious.

"…Are you exhausted? Want to take a break?"

"It's not that."

Vlad noticed Ramund's growing frustration. He set the hoe aside, sat down on the ground, and began to speak.

"I've just been thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"That the only things I know how to do are steal, pickpocket, or wield a sword."

Ramund flinched slightly at Vlad's words.

As a child, Vlad had roamed dark alleyways, parentless and homeless.

His path had been filled with cold, sharp things—a reflection of the life he had led just to survive.

"Isn't it a little shameful to live a life that only knows those things?"

Vlad felt ashamed to be someone who only knew how to harm others.

Even if the world hailed him as a glorious Swordmaster, he knew better.

Kihano, the previous Swordmaster, had not guided him solely with swordsmanship.

"What's so shameful about a Swordmaster only knowing how to wield a sword?"

"That's exactly the problem."

Ramund's mildly chiding tone made Vlad smile faintly.

"I don't want to always be the Swordmaster."

Though the world saw him as a shining figure, to others, Vlad was something entirely different.

To some, he was an irreplaceable friend. To others, a savior in desperate times.

And to Ramund, at this moment, he was merely a clumsy farmer.

"Who knows? Maybe one day, someone will ask me about something other than my sword."

Kihano, the Swordmaster, had been more than just that. Vlad remembered most vividly the nameless voice that had guided him onto the right path.

Perhaps the most valuable thing Vlad had learned from Kihano wasn't his flawless swordsmanship, but his approach to life.

"That's why I'm learning. So I'll have something to say if someone asks me in the future."

Vlad also wanted to emulate that side of Kihano. Not as an emperor or knight, but as the adult who had guided him.

That's why Vlad was now trying to gather the experiences he had overlooked, broadening his understanding of the world.

***

The succession ceremony was grand.

Knights clad in gleaming armor stood in formation, and dignitaries from across the continent offered their congratulations.

It was perhaps the most magnificent event ever held in the North. Observing it, Vlad felt a strange sense of euphoria he couldn't quite put into words.

"I've never seen so many nobles gathered in one place before."

"…Oh, yes?"

"This is only my second time. The first was when I received my knighthood, and now this."

Seeing Vlad slightly excited, Jager began to tense up.

Vlad's behavior was a warning sign to someone who knew him well.

Jager, recalling the trouble Vlad had caused as a squire, knew this was the time to be most vigilant.

"…But why is Baroness Alicia seated over there?"

The event, meticulously planned by the Bayezid family, was drawing attention from across the continent.

The seating arrangement was carefully organized by rank and title. Yet Vlad couldn't help but feel curious seeing Alicia seated so close to Zemina.

"You seem anxious."

"I'm not."

"Please, try to stay calm."

"I've never felt better."

"…"

But that wasn't true. Even his breathing carried a trace of tension.

Each time the two women in front of him whispered to each other, the rapid beating of his heart seemed to echo loudly in Jager's ears.

"Now entering, Lord Rutiger Bayezid!"

At the sound of the steward's announcement, the hall doors began to open.

The doors, designed to resemble Sturma's fortified walls, were massive and imposing.

As they swung open, the chatter in the hall died down into absolute silence.

"…"

A tall man with broad shoulders, clad in an ornate ceremonial armor, entered with steady steps.

It was Rutiger, looking far more solemn than usual.

"He looks different."

"It's natural."

At the highest point of the hall, Peter Bayezid, the current head of the family, made a gesture with his hand.

It was the signal to commence the succession ceremony.

"He's no longer the Rutiger you knew. From now on, he will be Count Bayezid."

Bearing the weight of his family's name on his shoulders and the burden of their lands on his back, Rutiger could no longer be who he once was.

With every step forward, carrying the responsibilities of his new role, Vlad's gaze grew more complex.

—Please, come forward, son of Bayezid.

With each step Rutiger took ascending the stairs, he drew closer to Peter. At the same time, Peter Bayezid slowly rose from his seat.

Holding the lord's mantle in his left hand and the ceremonial sword in his right, Peter opened his arms as if to say, "Come." His gaze remained fixed on his son as he ascended toward him.

When Rutiger reached the highest point, Peter, holding both the mantle and sword, extended them toward him.

—Wear this mantle.

Finally, Rutiger reached the pinnacle of Bayezid, and in front of him, Peter carefully draped the mantle over his shoulders.

—This mantle symbolizes duty. Do not forget that you now bear the responsibility for countless lives who depend on you.

A lord is not just someone who rules over land, but one who protects their people. That immense responsibility now weighed heavily on Rutiger's shoulders.

—Raise your sword.

Solemnly, Rutiger reached for the object Peter offered him: the sword of the Bayezid family.

The sword, passed down through generations, was a reminder that Rutiger must now wield it not for his personal honor, but for that of his family.

—This sword symbolizes your responsibility as the head of the family. From this moment on, you will not wield this blade for your own honor but for the honor of the Bayezid name.

He was no longer merely Rutiger the knight. From this moment, he would live as the heir and representative of the Bayezid family.

As the ceremony concluded, Peter Bayezid addressed those gathered with a powerful voice.

—I, Peter Bayezid, declare before all present that Rutiger Bayezid is the new head of the family.

Having handed over everything he needed to, Peter raised his voice, addressing the hall filled with guests.

—Rutiger Bayezid has assumed the title of head of the family!

Until then, the only sound in the vast hall had been Peter's voice speaking to his son. But as soon as he finished, thunderous applause erupted, threatening to shake the very walls.

Clap, clap, clap, clap—!

The cheers and applause of those present filled the space, showing no sign of abating anytime soon.

It was a sound of celebration, a tribute to the Bayezid dynasty, which had endured even in the darkest times when the mightiest and oldest dragon had brought chaos.

Yet amid the deafening ovation, Vlad caught a faint voice that seemed to come from above.

"…You've done well."

It was a barely audible whisper, perceptible only to someone like Vlad, whose dragon blood granted him acute senses.

The voice came from Peter, who embraced his son with a blend of solemnity and warmth.

"Truly, you've done well to make it this far."

Having relinquished the mantle of leadership and the family sword, Peter was no longer a leader but fully a father. As he held Rutiger close, he whispered with genuine affection:

"Thank you for all your effort to reach this place."

***

"That was truly a moving spectacle."

The night following the succession ceremony, an elegant banquet was being held at the Bayezid mansion.

However, while the guests laughed and mingled, Vlad walked through a dark, empty hallway, far removed from the nobles and their revelry.

"What does it feel like to inherit something? I can't even imagine."

He was accompanied by Jager, who walked ahead of him.

Both carried bottles of liquor in their hands as they made their way to what had once been Joseph's office.

"Well, I suppose inheriting something from Dragulia would have been impressive. Too bad you missed out on that."

"That's not what I mean."

Jager's sudden mention of Dragulia caused Vlad's expression to stiffen awkwardly.

"I mean something like… what a father passes down to his son."

It was difficult to put into words, and Vlad gestured clumsily in an attempt to explain. Jager, however, didn't even glance back.

"That's not something everyone gets to experience, even if their parents are alive. In this world, if you don't inherit debts, you're already lucky."

"Really?"

"And if you want to know how it feels, just make sure someone inherits something from you."

Creak—

The door handle emitted a harsh, grating sound as it turned, rusty from years of disuse.

"You can't inherit something, but you can leave something behind for others to inherit."

Creeeeak—

Though he expected the office to be shrouded in darkness, the room was bathed in the soft, bluish glow of moonlight.

Yet despite the light, the space felt entirely different from how Vlad remembered it.

"…Nothing here has changed."

"Nothing has changed, you say, but all the furniture is covered with cloth."

The office, now devoid of its owner, had become a cold, dust-laden space.

However, with these two unexpected visitors, the room seemed to regain a faint warmth from the past.

"Are we going to drink here?"

"…Yes. Originally, I planned to do it alone."

Though it wasn't planned, Vlad and Jager naturally took up the positions they used to occupy.

Vlad sat across from the guest table, and Jager stood by Joseph's desk, just as he always had.

Jager couldn't help but chuckle, watching Vlad behave as if it were the old days.

"A boy who didn't even know how to ride a horse."

"It's because I didn't know I was a dragon."

"A brat who only knew how to brawl with the other squires and get into trouble."

"Well, that was because…"

Reminiscing about the past, Jager shook his head in amusement while Vlad fumbled to justify himself.

Perhaps because he had known Vlad since he was a boy, Jager still found it hard to believe how much he had grown.

"From that troublesome kid to becoming a Swordmaster, and yet you still have so much to envy?"

"…"

"Here, take this."

"Liquor?"

"It's expensive. Over fifty years old."

The bottle Jager handed to Vlad was one he had been saving for years.

It was a special bottle that had belonged to his father, back when Jager had first come to Bayezid from the Oskar family.

"Are you sure it's alright to give me something so valuable?"

"You said you wanted to inherit something, didn't you?"

"Even so…"

"Enough already. Just open the bottle."

Jager pulled a cloth off a piece of furniture and retrieved some glasses, holding them out to Vlad.

It was a clear invitation to pour the liquor, but Vlad, with a sly smile, tucked the bottle behind his back.

"…This liquor is too valuable to drink right now."

"Then give the bottle back."

"How about we start with the one I brought?"

"…I've been waiting twenty years to drink that."

Jager sighed in defeat as Vlad poured a different liquor he had brought along.

"By the way, Jager, do you know how to fish?"

"Fish? Why are you asking that out of nowhere?"

"I thought it might be nice to learn."

Jager, gazing at the moonlight streaming through the window, let out a small sigh.

"If you want to learn something basic, come back in winter."

Vlad smiled as he watched Jager's back. He had spoken about inheritance, but what he truly desired was to continue the connections forged in his life.