SML Ch 95

Chapter 95

“Why the sudden change, Lady Theo?”

Reynald was gripped by foreboding. It was rare for this willful mage to pity anyone. Theophros grew curious before an unknown calamity, and wearied when the calamity’s inner workings could be plainly inferred.

Why, then, was that expression on his face now? As Reynald quietly studied him, an uneasy suspicion surfaced.

Perhaps he had been overwhelmed by something.

Before Reynald could speak to confirm it, Theophros spoke first.

“Reynald, you’ve retired from monster subjugation now. Am I wrong?”

“Not… wrong, but. Why bring this up?”

“Listen carefully, Reynald. Even if every single thing you’ve reported is true, that does not mean you must take responsibility for all of it.”

Responsibility? This, too, was unlike Theophros. Few people were so free of responsibility as he—he neither took it for others nor asked others to take it for him. Why this concern now?

“Why say this now, Lady Theo?”

“You’ve done enough, Reynald. Though you’ve lived barely half as long as I have, you’ve earned a rest. You’ve burned yourself several times more than others, sprinting forward.”

“What I’m saying is, Lady Theo, this isn’t a time for me to rest—”

“The fief’s urgency and your resting are separate matters. It’s a different question from that crafty fool of a king who quietly drove you to your limits. Do you understand me?”

Reynald found it difficult to follow the thread. Silenced beneath the old mage’s force, he listened as Theophros continued—whether Reynald understood or not seemed of little interest to him.

“I told you earlier I’d mobilize other court mages. Once they reach the town and can contain the draconian children’s rampage, I’ll depart for your fief at once. I promised that little brat I’d handle this, so I’ve no choice. It’ll take at least a few days.”

“That much I understand. Thank you, but…”

“So rest until then. Don’t go brawling with monsters, and don’t indulge the princes every time they come seeking coddling. As for Arun, leave him mostly to Serna. Among the royal blood, he’s the keenest—he’ll take good care of one lacking elder brother.”

“I understand your point, but it doesn’t sound like you. Usually, if I rested, you’d grab me by the scruff and force me to work. You’ve always said a man’s duty is to keep rolling till he dies; has your mind suddenly changed?”

“As if. At my age, a sudden change of mind is a sign of death, you wretch. I’m saying this because someone who looked sturdy enough never to break even rolling all his life now looks like he’s carrying a time bomb. Tell me—did any of those monsters you faced in the fief say you were at your limit?”

“Wait—how did you…?”

Reynald hadn’t bothered to mention that. He hadn’t thought it important, and saying it aloud felt like whining. But now, was it important?

“If that’s true, be as careful as possible.”

“Why? For what reason?”

“Research on dragonslayers isn’t far along. Humans strong enough to take a dragon’s life appear maybe once in a hundred years, and as far as samples go, you’re about all I know. It’s not something to pronounce on lightly. But if my guess is right… you may be in a very dangerous state.”

“In what exact way?”

“Did you listen with your backside, fool? I said research is lacking, so I can’t say lightly. The moment I arrive, I’ll use you as a sample and study you thoroughly—so sit tight.”

The grave, somber light that had seemed to be overwhelmed by something returned to his usual curious gleam. He sprang up and began pacing about the office—his habitual motion when arranging plans in his head.

Reynald felt uneasy, but relieved all the same. If Theophros’s focus was fixed on him, he was less likely to cause trouble upon arrival; and, more importantly, he had offered to investigate Reynald’s condition. The mage’s skill was trustworthy—so even if something was wrong, he would find a way.

“You said you had a countermeasure against fae. For now, fetch it and apply it to your weapons. Don’t revert to your low-rank habits and bolt out the door—have your people procure it. No need to suffer on purpose. That note was likely left for the humble folk of your modest fief, so it’s probably stashed somewhere they can manage to reach.”

“…”

“And if anything breaks out before I get there, cling to that silver-elf mage if you must. From what I hear, he doesn’t seem entirely unwilling to help you; from your account, he sounds rather strong. There are things about him that don’t sit right, but still.”

With that, Theophros stopped where he stood. He had said what he meant to say; likely the rest was best discussed in person.

“…Thank you, Sir Theophros.”

“How many times must I tell you to call me sister. Anyway, if you’re retired, act like an old-timer and keep to your room. You strutting about, lively as ever, only confuses the princes and keeps them clinging on…”

Who was calling whom old, when he’d lived decades more? Reynald was about to retort when he paused. While circling the office, Theophros had come near the table and was now staring at the paper upon it.

“Lady?”

He was gazing at it with clear puzzlement. Come to think of it, would he know heraldry? For all his overbearing manner, he was of noble blood… Reynald’s hope proved well-founded.

Whether that was good fortune was another question entirely.

“Hm? This is the crest of House Kaldevran. Why did you draw this?”

It was a name Reynald knew—too well, in fact, and he blurted a question back at the old mage.

“…Pardon—what house did you say?”

“Kaldevran. Why, wasn’t it about twelve years ago? Didn’t that house’s head contend with you over the Knight-Commander’s post? You sparred thrice before the king and nobles, and you won all three.”

“No… to be exact, I tried to lose all three.”

“And the head saw right through you in the first bout. Unless he was a complete simpleton, he could only fly into a rage and charge you.”

Reynald nodded, a bit sourly. No wonder it had looked familiar—so this was their crest.

He did recall glimpsing the device on the armor during his match with the house head. It had been so intricate it didn’t stick at a glance; back then he’d taken that ornate blazon as a privilege of an old, distinguished line and felt somewhat daunted…

It was not a house with which Reynald had happy ties—whether at the time he became Knight-Commander, or later, when that house fell.

“Anyway, why the crest?”

“I caught sight of armor bearing it here in the fief. I wished to know whose it was.”

“Only the armor?”

“…Yes.”

He answered without thinking. The men from a century ago could hardly be alive; in effect, he had only seen the armor. Theophros looked doubtful but did not press.

“Strange, that. Well, the house is already in ruins; I doubt there’s any immediate harm.”

“…”

“In any case, be careful. If you encounter someone connected to them, don’t burden yourself with needless guilt. You bear no blame for that house’s fall.”

“…I know that.”

Reynald nodded, face darkened. Seemingly satisfied, Theophros ended the projection. After a moment’s thought, Reynald folded the paper on the table neatly and tucked it into a drawer.

“Curiosity satisfied; that’s enough. Don’t dwell deeper.”

Perhaps Alex had been shocked at the crest simply because it belonged to a famous noble house. Though fallen now, Kaldevran had once been the foremost knightly line of the south.

If Alex was indeed of noble birth, as Reynald suspected, he would know the heraldry of any venerable house. A lineage ended in such a grotesque fashion would stick even more sharply in memory. Even Reynald could still clearly recall the house head and his children, dead and twisted to char in the center of their manor…

“I’m tired. I’ll sleep.”

Turning away from the fact that he had willfully blurred his thoughts, Reynald left the office for his bed. Wrapped in an inexplicable fatigue, he slept straight through until morning without waking.