Chapter 201
Just as the ‘Black Prince’ and his swordsmen finished preparing to depart for the lands of the ancient Kingdom of Tutonia.
As usual, early in the morning, Dale stepped out into the central courtyard of the duke’s castle.
“Lady Sepia, and Rize.”
“Brother!”
As soon as Dale appeared, his younger sister Liza beamed at him.
“I heard it, Brother! Everyone at the duke’s castle is talking about how you became the ‘Oro Master’!”
“Yeah, I told them to watch their tongues, but somehow it got to your ears, Riza.”
Dale smiled quietly and turned his head away.
Oro Master. The pinnacle of swordsmanship Dale had attained with the aid of the Three-Blade Sword. It had been a hellish training regimen to participate in the ‘Sword Trial’ held in the ancient Kingdom of Tutonia, and at its end, Dale had proven himself once more.
That the Empire’s greatest genius was no empty title.
It was a talent impossible to conceal, no matter how hard one tried, and Dale smiled bitterly, as if resigned to it.
“It seems you’re gradually becoming familiar with how to wield the Circle and the Aura Heart as well.”
“I’ve only just reached the starting point.”
Now, Sepia, Rize’s magic teacher and the wise elf, smiled, and Dale nodded.
“So, can you wield both sword and magic at the same time?”
“Yes.”
Rize, still innocent and unaware of the world, asked innocently, and Dale nodded silently.
“Sepia said that the completion of the first circle is imminent.”
“You can’t deceive blood, after all.”
“Hehe.”
Dale smiled as he ruffled Rize’s hair, and Sepia quietly smiled. Rize simply beamed proudly at their praise.
“By the time we return from our journey, our Rize will be a proper magician.”
Dale’s journey: the Sword Trial held in the Kingdom of Tutonia. Swordsmen from across the continent are gathering there, and Dale plans to participate as well. Not as a mage, but as a swordsman who has attained the realm of an ‘Aura Master’.
You don’t have to be a knight. Not everyone who wields a sword is a knight.
That was the realization the Fool, the master swordsman Baro, had imparted to Dale.
But Dale was no longer the empire’s hunting dog. Hunting was, after all, his own choice.
“Come back safely.”
“Thank you, Sepia.”
“Come back soon, brother!”
Following Sepia, Riza smiled brightly and spoke, and the ‘Hunter’ gripping his sword nodded.
“Alright, I’ll be back soon, so Riza, practice your magic diligently too…”
“Ah, damn it.”
And then it happened.
“At my age, stuck doing some bullshit sword test in my spare time. It’s fucking pathetic…
The voices coming from somewhere froze Dale and Sepia’s expressions, and Master Baro finally revealed himself from behind the pillar. The curse words flowing from his mouth stopped dead.
“Huh.”
Even he seemed aware that this wasn’t exactly good for a child’s education, his expression freezing.
“Oh my god, what the hell. No, huh…”
“……”
Flustered, Master Baro spat out curses, then swallowed his breath again. An awkward silence settled.
“No, this…”
To be precise, he opened his mouth to say, “No, you crazy bastard, how dare you say that in front of my sister…” but stopped himself, swallowing hard just as quickly as Dale did. Along with the murderous intent rising to the back of his throat.
“Seriously, what the hell is a ‘fucking asshole’? Big bro?”
Riza innocently tilted her head and asked back.
“Ah-huh-huh, young lady, that is…”
“Hmm.”
Master Baro trailed off, and Dale remained silent too. After the silence, Dale answered.
“It’s a word.”
“What horse?”
“A horse that gets beaten.”
‘When you call me again in the future, I will come running without hesitation for you and House Saxon.’
That day, she remembered the oath sworn for her lord. Charlotte, who had sworn knightly vows, never forgot that fact.
She knew that the distance between them had grown too great, that their relationship could never return to what it once was.
It wasn’t about the nobility of her birth.
Simply, before the empire’s foremost genius, who grew more formidable with each passing day, Charlotte Orhart’s existence was nothing more than that of a princess who must be protected unilaterally.
From the day he reached out to my naive, worldly-ignorant self, to this very moment.
Even after officially bearing the title of Lady Black, guarding the ‘Black Prince’s’ side, nothing changed.
Dale was not the sort to cast Charlotte aside, claiming she was no longer needed. Yet precisely because of that, his kindness only made it all the more painful for Charlotte.
For she knew better than anyone that her sword was utterly unworthy of a knight guarding the ‘Black Prince’.
That was why Charlotte left the Duchy of Saxony of her own volition and began her journey.
Despite enduring every mockery from mercenaries in her young body, she proved her sword in countless fief wars. In one city, she defeated a monster no adventurer dared confront, proving her skill.
To escape Dale’s protection and face the world’s cruelty alone.
Thus, the daughter of the Divine Sword arrived at the castle of the Duke of Lancaster, the Heavenly Sword, who had once been her father’s close friend and had lost everything to the ‘Black Prince’.
The swordsman who held the title of the continent’s foremost among the remaining Seven Swords, and the only friend Charlotte’s father trusted above all others.
The darkest place is under the lamp. When the Empire scoured every corner of the Teutonic Knights’ territory, burning every trace of the ‘Chronicles of the Plum Blossom Sword’ without exception, no one suspected that the sword was in the possession of the Empire’s loyal vassal, the ‘Grand Duke Lancaster of the Heavenly Swords’.
In the end, the Divine Sword Bader’s prediction proved accurate.
Still held in Charlotte’s hand was the Saxon family’s two-handed greatsword. Yet the aura dwelling within that greatsword was no longer that of the Saxon Black Sword. Nor was it even the crimson and white symbolizing the Lancaster Grand Duke’s house.
“…It seems blood cannot be deceived after all.”
Gazing at the lavender blossoms in full bloom, the Heavenly Sword Lancaster quietly nodded.
The Plum Blossom Sword, hailed as the continent’s mightiest swordsmanship.
The speed at which Charlotte mastered that sword form was monstrous, beyond even the Heavenly Swordsman’s wildest imagination.
As if it had existed from the very beginning solely for her.
“The fragrance of plum blossoms echoes through the air. Ah, the image of my old friend feels so vivid, as if I could grasp it in my hands.”
Gazing at the violet hue infused within her sword, the Duke of Lancaster smiled ecstatically.
When Shin-geom passed his sword to Cheon-geom, the Duke of Lancaster, understanding that sword was truly like trying to fuse water and oil—a painful struggle.
But Charlotte Orhart was different. Like a fish in water, she absorbed the sword techniques taught by the Heavenly Sword, growing stronger day by day.
For the despairing Duke of Lancaster, it was no exaggeration to say that the growth of his ‘disciple Charlotte’ was his sole solace.
That was why the Duke of Lancaster, after a long silence, quietly opened his mouth.
“…Charlotte.”
“Yes, Master.”
“I have something I wish to tell you.”
“Please speak.”
Charlotte repositioned her grip on the violet sword and smiled.
Faced with that smile, the Duke of Lancaster hesitated for a moment. But the hesitation was brief. He merely saw the image of his dear friend Baddell superimposed upon Charlotte and quietly resolved himself.
“I wish to pass on to you everything our House of Lancaster, built by me and my ancestors, has accumulated.”
“……!”
Charlotte Orhart gasped at the unexpected words.
“Our second son, Mikhail, has fallen in battle. Our eldest son, Richard, is broken and no longer in his right mind. If things continue like this, our House of Lancaster will vanish, recorded in history as defeated.”
Titania of York claims her eldest son Richard was driven mad by the ‘Red Magic Tower’. At the same time, Lady Scarlet of the Red Magic Tower insists it was the doing of the ‘Blue Magic Tower’ and York.
But regardless of which side was responsible, it was all the same to the current Duke of Lancaster.
“Everything I have built for Lancaster will be yours.”
“But… I am of the Orhart family…”
“There’s no need to worry.”
Having said that much, the Heavenly Sword continued. With a weight incomparable to anything that had come before.
“In the Sword Trial, I will announce you as our Lancaster family’s adopted daughter and ‘official heir.’”
Among nameless, unknown swordsmen, those who gathered to make a name for themselves. Their numbers were countless, yet coldly speaking, most of them were ultimately nothing more than greenhorns ignorant of the ways of the world.
The sword is like magic. It champions a ruthless meritocracy, yet the path to mastery is defined solely by which school and master imparted the sword—a cruel world where no other measure matters.
The notion that a talented individual could reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship through self-study is nothing short of a pipe dream.
Therefore, it wasn’t difficult for Dale to compile a list of swords to be wary of through his blue spiderweb—the information network spanning the entire continent.
And among those swords, one captured Dale’s attention most keenly.
The daughter of the continent’s greatest sword, the divine sword Badel, once slain by a hero.
Charlotte Orhart.
Dale was not unaware of the news that she was learning swordsmanship while staying in the domain of the Heavenly Sword, Lancaster.
Nevertheless, nothing changed.
The ancient lands of the Teutonic Order, specifically the Blade Mountains where the Sword Trial was held.
There, Dale would willingly strike down his opponent and claim one of the Seven Swords.
Even if anyone stood in his way, nothing would change.
Some time later, the former Teutonic Knights’ territory.
Now a domain ruled under the name of the ‘Count of Brandenburg,’ a hero of the conquest wars.
It was there that the carriage symbolizing the House of Saxony finally arrived.
Now, the empire’s territory, no longer worthy of bearing the name of a knightly order, had fallen into the hands of the fallen House of Brandenburg.
Dale stepped down from the carriage with his swordsmen, and there, awaiting them, was an unexpected face.
“We have been waiting, Lord Helmut. And Prince Dale.”
At those words, Lord Helmut bowed his head quietly in respect.
A woman still clad entirely in black, reminiscent of a funeral hall. How could one forget that face?
The widow of the divine sword Bader, slain by the hand of an ancient warrior, and mother of Charlotte Orhart.
Vanessa Orhart.
“A report states that the ‘Black Prince’ and three of the continent’s Seven Swords have arrived at the House of Saxony to undergo the Sword Trial.”
Malbork, the former capital of the Teutonic Order, once held by the empire’s war hero, the Holy Knight.
Upon hearing the report there, the head of the House of Brandenburg… Philip nodded.
“My father’s hated enemy has finally reached my domain.”
From that day onward, he trained with the sword and whipped himself without fail, day after day. But as his father had said, the Saxon House’s ‘Black Prince’ was never someone who could be matched by ordinary effort. Fairness was no exception.
No matter how ugly or cowardly it might be, it was time to play every card he had.
The old Teutonic Order had been conquered by his proud father, and as proof, the House of Brandenburg and Philip now held the very heart of this knightly order in their hands.
Therefore, as the lord of the Teutonic Commandery here, Philip smiled quietly.
It was time to show the blade he had sharpened for this very day.
