Chapter 106

Chapter 106
## Chapter 106

Faced with the piercing intensity of Eisen’s gaze, Jordi found himself taking an involuntary step back.

The arrogant composure he had displayed only moments prior had completely evaporated; cold droplets of perspiration now lined his brow.

“As one would expect from Sir Eisen. Your prowess certainly justifies the reputation of a Sword Saint.”

“That is common knowledge to everyone. It is quite a surprise that you were unaware of it, Second Young Master.”

“….”

“What strikes me as even more peculiar is the fact that you, Second Young Master, have sought the assistance of a mage.”

With a pained and complex look, Eisen glanced down at the magic user, who had been pummeled into a state of ruin.

Eisen was well aware of the Imperial Family’s deep-seated paranoia regarding mages. Even for a noble of Jordi’s status, the public revelation that he had taken a mage into his service would not be a matter easily dismissed.

And yet, he had been bold enough to command an assault so brazenly, in full view of the household.

“Who exactly is providing you with this support? No—more importantly, who are you truly taking orders from?”

“I…!”

Flustered and panicked, Jordi started to speak. However, though his mouth hung open as if to let out a cry, he was unable to force a single word past his lips.

Eisen clicked his tongue in disappointment as he watched Jordi’s jaw snap shut in silence.

“Are you truly unable to even utter the words ‘His Majesty the Emperor’?”

“Sir Eisen.”

“That is enough. It is clear that further interrogation is a waste of my time.”

Eisen discarded the splintered remains of the wooden training sword he had used to strike the earth and selected another. It was nothing more than a standard practice blade, yet within the grasp of the Sword Saint, it radiated a more lethal aura than any forged steel.

“I shall provide this warning one final time. Step out of my way.”

Hearing the underlying promise that there would be no subsequent warnings, Jordi shivered with a mix of fury and fear, but he moved to the flank. The knights under his command also scurried to clear the path.

As Eisen strode through the corridor they had formed, he drew level with Jordi and came to a halt.

“A final thought, Second Young Master. Where are the Third Young Master’s loyalists? I intend to take them into my custody as well.”

“That is—!”

Jordi stiffened, his voice cracking instinctively. The stare of the Sword Saint, who stood well within the lethal reach of his wooden blade, was bone-chilling.

After a moment of desperate sputtering, Jordi squeezed his eyelids shut and forced the words out.

“…I had them locked away in the subterranean cells several days ago. Do whatever you please.”

“Ho-ho. The subterranean cells, you say?”

A dry, mirthless laugh broke from Eisen’s throat. This confirmed that Jordi had been treating the family’s private facilities as his personal playground even before the formal revolt began. Eisen had posed the question without much expectation, but the more he learned, the more he found himself sighing in exasperation.

“Keep this in mind, Second Young Master. The sole reason your head is still on your shoulders is that I lack the explicit consent of my master, His Grace the Grand Duke.”

“….”

Jordi’s features twisted in a mask of degradation, but he lacked the courage to offer a retort.

Turning his back on Jordi, Eisen moved silently toward the underground prison. There was no further purpose for him in this courtyard.

—

“…And so, I located them within the cells. I was concerned they might have been subjected to questioning, but I was quite relieved to find them appearing rather robust.”

Responding to Eisen’s lighthearted jab, Hans rubbed the back of his neck, looking quite self-conscious.

“They actually provided us with surprisingly decent meals. It was a bit cramped and dull, but since no harm came to us, it was manageable.”

“You ought to count your blessings. Had His Highness not been appointed a Margrave, your fate would have been far more gruesome.”

“If that were the outcome, I suspect they simply would have ignored us rather than going through the trouble of an arrest…”

Having likely forged a bond during the trek to the northern lands, Hans and Ian exchanged playful remarks. Eisen also carried a subtle smile, appearing to be in high spirits.

However, despite the pleasant mood of the group, Lucian found it impossible to share in the levity.

“Sir Eisen.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“What was the reason you chose not to kill Jordi?”

The warmth in the room vanished instantly at Lucian’s inquiry. Eisen, being the focus of the question, offered a weary, bitter smile, as though he had foreseen this confrontation.

“Because I was uncertain of the Grand Duke’s ultimate desire.”

“My father’s desire?”

“A man is prone to many reflections when he stands on the precipice of death. It is quite frequent for one’s principles or convictions to shift after surviving such a narrow brush with mortality.”

Had Grand Duke Sigmund been in perfect health and spirit, Eisen might have executed Jordi without a second thought. But the Grand Duke was gone, a successor had not been officially named, and no one could say for certain what his final wishes were. For Eisen, the “correct” path was simply obscured.

“It is a luxury of the living to translate the wishes of the deceased to suit their own needs. But as a loyal servant, I could not bring myself to commit such an act.”

“Do you honestly believe my father would have wished for Jordi to remain alive?”

“I cannot say. He might have commanded me to strike him down on the spot, or he might have preferred the Second Young Master to remain as a stabilizing pillar for the house during this upheaval.”

“You were concerned that your personal vengeance might be mistaken for a self-serving reading of your master’s intent.”

“To my shame, that is correct.”

Lucian shut his eyes while facing Eisen, who inclined his head in a gesture of regret. It was a choice born from the heart of a truly devoted subject who refused to pervert his lord’s legacy.

Yet, for Lucian, who possessed the grim truth, it was a choice that left a foul taste in his mouth.

“Since you were operating in ignorance, it was perhaps a necessary choice, but it is one you will likely lament for the rest of your days.”

“…What are you implying by that?”

“I learned several details from His Majesty the Emperor regarding the circumstances of my father’s passing.”

Lucian spoke in a low, steady tone, locking eyes with Eisen.

“He claimed that the instruments of my father’s death were black tentacles that manifested from the shadows.”

“…!”

Lucian proceeded to recount the entire ordeal.

The dialogue held with the Emperor through the enchanted relic.

The mysterious dark appendages and the demise of Grand Duke Sigmund.

And even the state of Tristan, who was currently consumed by a mindless fury.

“….”

When the explanation concluded, Eisen stared vacantly into the distance. He appeared nearly catatonic, the magnitude of the revelation being too heavy to grasp all at once.

Just as someone was preparing to speak, worried by the Sword Saint’s prolonged trance—

*Sizzle.*

“Father!”

At Felicia’s sudden cry, everyone in the room, Eisen included, gave a start.

The moment they turned to witness the source of the alarm, they noticed a dark, oily energy slithering up Eisen’s leg.

“Sir Eisen?!”

“Hmph!”

*Whoosh!*

With a sharp, guttural shout, Eisen tensed his muscles, and the dark energy dissipated into nothingness. Dusting off his damaged trousers, Eisen forced a tragic smile.

“I have allowed you to witness a pathetic side of me. Or perhaps there is nothing left of me that isn’t pathetic?”

“Sir Eisen.”

“A single stroke would have sufficed. To think I allowed my master’s murderer to slip through my fingers while I was trying to be respectful of his memory. Ha-ha.”

Eisen erupted into a fit of laughter, questioning where else such a tragic comedy could be found. While the others stood in a heavy, respectful silence at the sound of laughter that was indistinguishable from sobbing, Lucian stepped toward him.

“What was the nature of that dark energy just now?”

“It is of little consequence. Merely a lingering scar from where that mage managed to strike me. A small corruption has taken root in my mana paths and has been attempting to erode my strength.”

“Will you be alright?”

“It will vanish within a few days if I continue to hold it at bay. Though such efforts seem futile now…”

Eisen spoke with hollow, lifeless eyes. He was clearly maintaining a facade of strength while being consumed by a psychic agony as remorse shredded his spirit—to the point where one might wonder if he would simply allow the wound to take him if left to his own devices.

“Sir Eisen, accept this.”

Lucian retrieved the final vial of Nectar from his garment. Eisen, assuming it was a common healing draught, prepared to decline, but his gaze sharpened at the sight of the softly shimmering liquid.

“What in the world is this?”

“It is a creation of that young man. It is a rarity with potency far beyond any known tonic.”

Lucian gestured toward Ian, who stood at the back of the group. Ian rubbed his cheek nervously, looking quite humble.

“It is the finest work I have ever produced.”

“Hoh.”

Eisen let out a brief puff of air but did not reach for the vial. Sensing the man had no heart for self-preservation, Lucian spoke up.

“Confirm its properties for yourself, Sword Saint. If you truly fear that a potion brewed by a beginner might cause you harm, I will not force the matter.”

“…You certainly have a way of making refusal impossible.”

With a sad smile, Eisen accepted the vial. Although their association began with Eisen saving them only because they were Lucian’s people, a genuine tie had been forged during their travels. Eisen was not so cold as to spit on a gift someone had labored to create.

“Then I shall partake. Since Your Highness speaks so highly of it, it must be an extraordinary brew.”

With a formal nod of thanks, Eisen pulled the stopper. In that heartbeat, his dull eyes snapped wide with shock.

“This is…!”

The sheer volume of mana radiating from the liquid paralyzed Eisen with awe. What sort of potion in this realm could emit such raw power before it was even tasted?

The moment the shocked Eisen drained the vial with shaky hands—

*Flash!*

“…!”

A sensation of absolute, unadulterated energy erupted within him, surging through his mana circuits. For a Sword Saint whose internal pathways were already perfectly honed, it was a profound experience; he knew the truth instantly.

Simply by drinking this, a mediocre warrior could bypass decades of grueling labor.

*Sshhh.*

‘The corruption is…!’

The power that had been thundering through his mana paths like a deluge washed away even the smallest remnant left by the shadow. While Eisen stood paralyzed by the sudden clarity of mind and body, Lucian spoke.

“How do you find it?”

“It is truly… beyond words.”

It was a simple description, but no other vocabulary seemed appropriate. Lucian smiled at the stunned warrior.

“Indeed. And the person responsible for this miracle is that man right there.”

“….”

“Sir Eisen, you have preserved the future of this continent.”

At those words, Eisen closed his eyes. He recognized it was meant as comfort, yet he knew it wasn’t mere flattery. This potion truly possessed the weight to shift the destiny of the world.

“Third Young Master… what is your intent with this power?”

Eisen asked with a dazed look, failing to use Lucian’s formal title. Lucian gave a casual shrug.

“The possibilities are endless. But shouldn’t I begin by seeking retribution for my father?”

He was implying that he would use his own strength to correct the error Eisen believed he had made. Eisen, who had been drowning in self-loathing, shut his eyes like a condemned man who had been granted a reprieve.

Then, with a voice thick with emotion, he managed to whisper a single phrase.

“…My thanks to you, Third Young Master.”

Lucian silently took Eisen’s hands in a firm grip, hoping to alleviate the old soldier’s sorrow even by a small margin.

—

There were countless tales to recount, but the psychological exhaustion was far greater. From the passing of the Grand Duke to the treachery of Jordi and the unknown ally—the subjects were far too dense to resolve in a single afternoon.

“You all must be exhausted from your journey, so take your rest for the time being. Select any chamber that suits you.”

“Is that truly permitted?”

“I am the lord of the White Palace. Who would dare to object when I have granted my leave?”

At Lucian’s announcement, the group, Hans and Ian included, let out a shout of joy. Their leader had transformed from the youngest son of a noble house into His Grace the Duke. Inevitably, their own social standing would elevate in kind, and they could not hide their satisfaction.

“Do not concern yourselves with anyone else. Every person here is your subordinate. If any should dare to treat you with disdain because of your former roles, correct their behavior at once.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

At Lucian’s command, his followers responded with fervor and headed off. Only after the room had cleared did Lucian follow after Eisen with a grim set to his jaw.

“Sir Eisen.”

“Yes, Third Young… Your Highness.”

“In truth, there is a detail I withheld earlier.”

Eisen observed Lucian’s expression and allowed a faint smile to touch his lips.

“I am aware.”