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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Chapter 21: Sword Master (2)
Erilda felt a surge of relief as she sank to her knees on the bare ground.
Before her, the scene outside the barracks was filled with the bodies of orcs.
Only one thought filled her mind.
“We won…”
They had managed to hold them back.
Their side had some injuries among the soldiers, ranging from minor to serious, but none were life-threatening.
By all standards, this was a flawless victory.
At that moment…
“Your Highness, are you safe?!”
Drenor appeared, making quite a fuss.
Erilda raised her head.
Relief washed over her at seeing he was unharmed, but soon after, a surge of joy followed.
“Callios!”
Callios was waving at her with a smile as he approached on horseback.
Erilda sprang up and ran toward him.
His body wasn’t in a normal state.
There wasn’t a single part of his left untouched, a testament to the intense battle.
But even so, he was alive, and able to smile like that.
That was such a relief.
“Really… take better care of yourself…”
It was as she muttered that complaint that she noticed Yuren.
Erilda flinched.
He had no visible injuries, yet his complexion was terrible.
If she judged only by his appearance, he looked closer to death than anyone else there.
“…Young Lord?”
She asked cautiously, and Yuren’s gaze turned to her.
After a silent moment, he finally said:
“I brought him back as promised.”
He spoke casually, but that only moved Erilda’s heart more.
She remembered his words before leaving.
— I’ll make sure the Crown Prince returns to the capital alive, even if it costs me my life.
He seemed to have pushed himself to the limit to keep that promise.
And with that, Yuren had shown her for certain:
— Until then, please trust the Crown Prince.
That she could trust Callios.
That he was someone who wouldn’t die easily.
Her heart swelled, and her eyes grew misty.
She felt a pang of regret for seeing him in a negative light, and gratitude for him keeping his word.
Erilda didn’t want to express this feeling with a shallow word like “moved.”
So she chose to interpret it a little differently.
“…Thank you.”
The words she finally managed to say were words of thanks, but what they truly conveyed was trust.
Erilda admitted to herself that Yuren was someone she could trust and rely on, a person who could see things beyond her own view.
“Really, thank you.”
A small smile bloomed on her face.
Yuren waved his hand dismissively.
“It’s fine. Anyway, let’s clean up the barracks. May I rest now?”
“Yes, please do.”
With that, Yuren turned away.
Erilda felt as if a weight had lifted slightly from her heart.
The presence of a trustworthy ally like Yuren wasn’t just comforting in words; he was truly helping to share the burdens she carried.
* * *
The troops conscripted from the nearby territories only arrived after everything was over.
It wasn’t that they were slow, it was just that things had happened too quickly.
Those who arrived stared blankly at the devastated barracks, then helped clean up.
They gathered the nearby orc corpses to burn, tended to the injured, and kept busy in every way imaginable.
And so, the task was finished.
They had achieved the main objective of exterminating the orcs, even exceeding their target.
But they couldn’t leave right away.
There were still remnants to deal with.
Once he had taken care of his injuries, the Crown Prince immediately deployed his troops to eliminate the remaining orcs who had followed their champion.
When it was all over…
“Y-Young Lord Pharos….”
“Go tend to someone else. It’s just some nausea, I don’t need healing.”
I sent one of the priests who was lingering nearby over to the soldiers and settled into a hammock, letting the sun warm me.
When will this damn body finally be able to move as I want it to?
Among other things, I found myself wondering.
An odd suspicion.
It was just a vague guess, but still…
‘Why did a champion appear?’
I still wasn’t sure.
In my previous life, the Crown Prince hadn’t gone on the rite-of-passage expedition.
The political damage to Pharos—myself—had been so severe that he’d been busy trying to stabilize his position.
That was the key.
The Crown Prince hadn’t come here.
That meant there was no high-level expert squad or Sword Master Drenor here to take down the champion.
If the orc champion had run rampant in those conditions, several fiefs near the southern highlands would have been destroyed.
There would have been no way to face a thousand orcs with the troops they had here.
The casualties would have easily numbered in the tens of thousands.
News of that scale would have reached my sister.
And she would have told me.
But I never heard anything.
That leads me to believe that the orc champion only appeared in this life.
And one other thing was suspicious.
‘Those guys were almost on a suicide mission.’
Orcs are naturally aggressive.
But are they the type to form a strategy close to a suicide mission?
Normally, if they were going to engage, they’d just bring their entire force and charge head-on.
Yet…
‘They were clearly…’
They targeted the Crown Prince.
They devised a strategy where they sacrificed their lives solely to kill him.
Even the champion stepped in.
Isn’t that too suspicious?
Perhaps I was being paranoid, but experience in war tends to make one’s mind go in this direction.
‘This is…’
Something worth investigating further.
The Crown Prince’s imprisonment was canceled, and perhaps this triggered a change that an unfriendly faction disliked.
I wouldn’t be able to find any answers immediately, but still.
The whole situation felt unsettling.
“Young Lord.”
“Ah, Sir Drenor.”
Sir Drenor appeared.
I shook off my thoughts and tried to rise.
He was a Sword Master, after all.
Answering him while lying down would be rude.
However…
“It’s alright. You may stay as you are.”
Sir Drenor stopped me.
I thanked him for his consideration.
“Thank you for your kindness.”
To be honest, it was hard to get up.
I felt a tightness in my chest, and my whole body didn’t feel like it was working properly.
So I just lay back in the hammock, and Sir Drenor looked at me intently.
For a moment, I was struck by the odd expression on his face.
“…What is it?”
How to describe it… he looked like a father staring at a dying child—sorrowful, regretful.
It was all plainly visible on his face.
It was unsettling.
lI narrowed my eyes, and Sir Drenor turned his gaze to the distance, his voice trembling.
“I apologize to you. We’ve placed too heavy a burden on you.”
“Huh? Oh, you mean the Crown Prince? If that’s the case…”
“No, no. Don’t say that. I’ve come to understand now.”
…What’s he talking about?
“If you wish to keep it a secret, I’ll respect that. Isn’t that a part of your loyalty?”
His eyes were filled with wistfulness.
I didn’t understand what he was talking about, but it seemed he wouldn’t listen to me.
I didn’t want to waste my breath arguing.
“…Yes, well…”
“You embody Pharos like no one else. However!”
He suddenly turned his head towards me, his eyes wide, and I flinched.
Then he spoke again.
“From now on, please take care of yourself. As someone who has devoted my body and soul to the Empire, I can’t bear to see a talent like yours fade away too soon!”
Only a knight commander could have such a booming voice.
I still had no idea what he was talking about, but I just went along with it.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good! Now, I must go tend to the soldiers! Rest well!”
Thud, thud!
With heavy steps, Sir Drenor left.
Watching his retreating back, I found myself thinking:
‘What was that?’
That man… did he get hit in the head or something?
* * *
After completing the aftermath of the subjugation, it was finally time to return to the capital.
Although there was a dangerous incident, it ultimately turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
What began as an attempt to eliminate a simple orc village escalated into a hunt for a champion, raising the prince's legitimacy significantly.
It wasn’t merely a political achievement.
Given the title as the reincarnation of the founding emperor, the prince demonstrated exceptional results, earning widespread support from the people.
Yet, despite everything, the prince seemed discontent.
"In the end, you were the one who caught it."
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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"Let's just say we caught it together. I don’t need any credit."
The House of Pharos is at the pinnacle of noble honor.
The value of Pharos lies in how well it produces a great ruler, and it’s clear from this alone that I, Pharos, succeeded in doing so.
In other words, the better the prince does, the better I fare.
This wasn’t mere humility but a calculated judgment of benefits, especially considering my expertise in swordsmanship.
Thanks to my contribution, Pharos has gained substantial honor.
When I explained this, the prince smirked with an oddly emotional expression.
"You really..."
“What?”
"...No, I find you impossible to understand. You act like a troublemaker, but then you become so serious when it counts."
"Well, a troublemaker is exactly what I am. And that’s how I’ll stay."
It’s not that I plan to live recklessly. It’s just that I’ve come to realize something as I go along.
'It’s convenient. Whatever I do, it's explained away with 'He's just a troublemaker.'"
This image of a troublemaker, while not exactly honorable, significantly frees me in my actions and speech.
Even when I treat those I dislike with disregard, everyone accepts it as, ‘That's just how he is.’
Why would I give up such an advantage?
As long as the prince remains refined, I’ll be judged solely on my competence.
'I really did land in the right family.'
Just as I was indulging in such satisfaction—
"...Fine, fine. But just know, you won’t get all the credit for yourself."
“Just don’t say I was the one who caught it.”
"I'll keep it in mind. But on a different note, could you help me with this?"
The prince's words immediately dispelled my good mood, leaving me a bit embarrassed.
"We need to bring back proof of the subjugation, you see. But you’ve turned the champion's corpse into a pile of meat."
His gaze was sharp.
I knew that familiar look, like he was about to ask, ‘How did you do it? Can I learn that too?’
I've been pestered by such questions over the past few days.
Even when I told him no, he'd insist, ‘If you can do it, I should be able to as well!’
So I disciplined him.
Yet his stubbornness remains unbroken.
Anyway—
"The ornaments and weapons are still intact, and at least half of the head is in decent condition. We can take that as proof."
"Well, I suppose that'll work..."
So, the proof of the subjugation was settled as the champion’s half-intact head, his ornaments, and his greatsword.
'If I’d known, I would’ve kept more of the body intact.'
This was the price I paid for overloading the mana in my body due to my lack of control.
I avoided the prince’s gaze till the very end, even as we made our way back.
Far in the distance, the capital came into view.
The feeling of finally reaching home stirred a rare bit of sentiment within me.
At that moment, Erilda stopped the march.
"Alright, please change back into formal attire here."
As with our departure, we had to re-enter the capital in splendid dress.
They said the south gate was already crowded with people.
After struggling to put on the uncomfortable formalwear, I mounted the proof of our subjugation—namely, the orc champion’s head—atop a tall pole.
Once we completed our entry preparations, Erilda made an unexpected comment.
"...Looks like we won’t be seeing each other for a while."
"Yes, you must be busy with public and state affairs. The Founding Festival is soon, after all. Best of luck with the preparations."
For the prince, the Founding Festival is his busiest time of the year.
Besides delivering speeches, he must personally greet dignitaries from other countries on behalf of the emperor, as well as conduct civilian inspections and manage countless other responsibilities.
Naturally, Erilda, who assists the prince, would also be busy.
When I mentioned this, Erilda pressed her lips tightly together.
“Is something wrong?”
She looked directly at me, frowning for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.
Then, she murmured, barely audible.
"...I’ll come by if I need help."
"I hope it doesn’t get that hectic."
"Aria is headed your way anyway. I can escort her to your estate if that works."
"That’s hardly necessary."
Why was she being so insistent?
A certain thought crossed my mind.
"...If it's because you’re craving a cheeseburger, just let me know. I could make you one."
Every time I ate, I’d catch her stealing glances, so maybe she’d been eyeing my cheeseburgers.
Erilda abruptly turned her head, her earlobes tinged red.
‘Got her.’
The body doesn’t lie, it seems.
* * *
In the estate of Pharos, overlooking the capital from her office window, Cecilia Pharos watched the distant southern gate with worried eyes.
Even from here, she could hear the cheers.
—Waaaah!
Yuren must be back.
Was he hurt at all?
Cecilia’s heart couldn’t rest.
In truth, it had been like this since the day Yuren left.
Although her younger brother had recently grown reliable and eager to fulfill his duties, this only made Cecilia uneasy.
To her, Yuren was still an immature, fragile boy who seemed like he might shatter at any moment.
The anxiety had even affected her sleep, and her appetite had dwindled.
Because of this, she was slightly haggard.
Yet, she couldn't let herself remain in this state.
"My lady! The young lord is on his way home!"
Cecilia tried to calm her anxious heart.
Recently, her brother had started worrying about her health, and she didn’t want to appear weak in front of him.
She tidied herself up and went out to the front of the estate.
‘Please, let him be unharmed. Let there be no injuries.’
As she looked into the distance, she finally saw his figure.
Cecilia's eyes slowly widened.
Approaching on horseback with his usual slouched posture was Yuren.
Their eyes met.
‘He looks thinner.’
Had he not been eating properly?
Had he been injured?
Just as her worry lingered, Yuren dismounted and, with his usual rough face softened by a gentle smile, spoke.
"I’m home, sister."
Only then could Cecilia’s heart be at ease.
Seeing his face finally made her realize that he had returned safely.
"Are you uninjured? There were no more dangers, I hope."
“Yes, after all, I’m your brother. I didn’t do anything that would cause you worry.”
It was fortunate, truly fortunate.
Cecilia held Yuren’s hands tightly.
“You’ve done well. Now come inside and rest.”
If he’d returned safely, that was all that mattered.
Sending her brother to the battlefield had been a heart-wrenching ordeal.
But now, that worry was over.
Cecilia smiled with her usual serene expression as she led Yuren inside.
Thus, his peaceful return was complete.
However, that peace was short-lived.
"My lady! Have you heard the news? It’s…."
“What news is it?”
"There’s a rumor spreading throughout the capital! They say the orc champion that His Highness caught was actually taken down together with the young lord! His Highness himself said so!"
The next day, the rumor spread across the entire capital, reaching Cecilia’s ears as well.
She couldn't help but imagine Yuren covered in blood after being pierced by a massive orc.
Staggering—!
"My lady!"
Cecilia fainted on the spot.
Watching this, Yuren felt his blood boil.
‘Damn that prince.’
Of course, regardless of his feelings, the rumors continued to spread far and wide.
“Did you hear? They say the young lord of Pharos has a swordsmanship theory that reaches the heavens.”
“They say the prince was only able to defeat the champion because of the young lord’s guidance in swordsmanship!”
“Is that true?”
“His Highness said so himself!”
“Even the knight commander mentioned it; they say the young lord of Pharos is a tragic genius…”
With less than two weeks left until the Founding Festival, the capital was abuzz with these rumors.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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