Chapter 141

Chapter 141. When Did We Ever?

I carefully organized my thoughts.

The “Mage Tower” and the “Sword Garden” I’d thrown together as a temporary stopgap.

By establishing those two factions, we managed to earn a level of confidence from the young lord and the Third Sword—only to inadvertently catch the attention of the Head of House.

And the fallout of that maneuver was unfolding right before us.

“…What are you planning to do?”

I pulled my wandering focus back under the intense, serious gaze of the Third Sword.

Now that I’d heard the young lord’s declaration, I finally grasped the reason for the Third Sword’s earlier silence.

Essentially, he had been struggling with which of two conflicting mandates to obey—the one from the Head of House or the one from the young lord.

And he had made his choice…

‘He chose the young lord.’

That meant the Third Sword had committed himself entirely to the young lord’s side.

Nevertheless, setting that aside, I had a personal inquiry.

“Before you make your move, there is something I want to ask.”

“Go ahead.”

“How are we supposed to rely on the young lord’s message? How can we be sure you will hold to your word?”

“Th-that is…”

The Third Sword found himself speechless.

He recognized it, too.

How this entire situation must look to us from the outside.

One could interpret the young lord’s actions as nothing more than a slippery opportunist who vanished the moment he got what he wanted.

But it was only for a split second.

The Third Sword dipped his head in a respectful gesture.

“I apologize.”

“……”

Honestly, I was taken aback.

The Third Sword of Lortel bowing his head? No—it was more profound than that.

What the Third Sword did next was even more staggering.

“I will place my sword in your care.”

The Third Sword unfastened the blade from his waist and held it out toward me.

“…Mm.”

For once, I let out a low, involuntary sound.

Parun and Shine were no different.

“…Hmph.”

“To put your own blade on the line? You—are you being serious?”

“…I am.”

To Shine’s inquiry, the Third Sword gave a silent, firm nod.

At this point, even I found it difficult to say something careless.

‘Staking his blade?’

To be perfectly frank, it didn’t hold much weight for us.

Naturally, as the weapon belonging to Lortel’s Third Sword, it was surely expensive enough that the valuation could be whatever one claimed…

‘But it isn’t as if that blade functions as collateral for the Infinite Chain.’

In this context, no material object could serve as true collateral for the Infinite Chain.

However.

What the Third Sword was presenting was not merely a “weapon.”

It was a knight’s integrity.

His pride.

The very essence of his character.

‘…Of course, a makeshift knight like Shine would focus on the weapon’s monetary value rather than the weapon itself…’

Regardless.

I stared at the worn hilt of the Third Sword’s weapon and fell into deep contemplation.

To be honest, it genuinely piqued my curiosity.

If the Third Sword was willing to stake his blade, then for me, it would be equivalent to pledging the Mage Tower that was destined to be built.

Not just some theoretical Mage Tower—but one already constructed, brimming with every resource imaginable.

Material worth aside, that was the scale of resolve it represented.

But why go this far?

It wasn’t just about his master’s promise—no. Even if it were for his master’s reputation—was it truly worth wagering his own pride?

Just as I reached that conclusion—

“What will you do?”

I brushed aside my inquiries at the sound of Shine’s voice.

And then came Shine’s added comment.

[I find this one reliable.]

For some reason, Shine seemed to look favorably upon the Third Sword’s actions. Otherwise, Shine wouldn’t be pressing for a final answer like this.

Ultimately, Shine really was a knight at heart.

However.

I clearly was not a knight.

Nor was Parun.

[Parun, what is your take?]

At my prompt, Parun gathered his thoughts for a moment before responding.

If I were to state only the conclusion, it matched Shine’s. Naturally, the process of reaching that point was different.

[Setting aside whether we genuinely believe him, the pride of a knight on the level of the Third Sword is not something to be taken lightly. If we express skepticism here, it would be no different than trampling on that honor.]

In other words: even if we don’t trust him, we have no choice but to accept the gesture.

Yeah. That was the reality of it.

[The decision is yours, bastard. Wasn’t this your game board to begin with?]

Shifting the burden of choice to me, Parun fell silent.

Before rendering the final verdict, I took a moment to organize my thoughts.

Combining Shine’s and Parun’s perspectives…

‘Everyone seems to agree that avoiding a confrontation with the Head of House is the right move.’

If even Shine—who was obsessed with the Tomb of the Sword God—was telling me to accept the Third Sword’s offer, then that in itself was a telling sign.

So that must be the reason they were only highlighting the Third Sword’s proposal.

If that was the case, the decision was truly mine now.

“Third Sword. No—was it Zeke? Sir Zeke.”

“Speak.”

“For now, holster the weapon. You look quite awkward holding it out like that.”

This was pure good intent.

Because—

Sir Zeke’s hand, extending the blade with that unwavering expression, looked strangely forlorn.

But Sir Zeke seemed to misinterpret my kindness and emitted a low sound.

“Is my pride alone insufficient?”

“No, that’s not it…”

Of course, it wasn’t enough.

But that wasn’t why I told him to put it away.

The others were, naturally, fixated on whether to trust Sir Zeke or not—but I hadn’t even reached that conclusion yet.

So, what I was ruminating over was this.

‘Will we face the Head of House?’

Or should we dodge him?

Before deciding, I posed a question.

“It’s not my concern, but I’m curious about something…”

“Ask whatever you wish.”

“If you defy the Head of House’s directive like this, can you handle the consequences? The young lord is the young lord, so perhaps he gets a pass—but you, Sir Zeke, look like you’re going to be in quite a difficult spot.”

Sir Zeke responded with composure.

“I am the young lord’s blade.”

“I thought Lortel’s knights swore loyalty exclusively to the Head of House?”

“It was the Head of House who commanded it. To serve the young lord. Of course, the young lord is unaware of that.”

It was a deeply ironic state of affairs.

A knight defying the very leader to whom he swore fealty—because of that leader’s own order.

That was likely what Sir Zeke had been grappling with: he couldn’t clearly judge the extent to which the Head of House’s command—“Serve the young lord”—was intended to apply.

But.

“Even so, retribution would be unavoidable, wouldn’t it?”

“I must face it.”

Sir Zeke replied, still perfectly calm.

Yet, contrary to his placid tone, the price Sir Zeke would have to pay would not be insignificant.

Defying the Head of House’s mandate.

Insubordination was a serious transgression—one that required setting an example.

‘Well, given his status as the Third Sword, it won’t end in a catastrophe like his head rolling… but still.’

At any rate, the punishment wouldn’t be light.

The more I contemplated it, the deeper my skepticism grew.

“Still, I don’t understand. From your position, it would have been wiser to follow the Head of House’s order. Is it really worth accepting this much loss?”

“Did I not state it? I am the young lord’s blade.”

“No, that isn’t an answer. Even if it was the young lord’s directive—what if it was a faulty decision? Would you have followed it? Naturally, you would have. But this situation feels different, so I am asking.”

“…I don’t grasp what you mean.”

“The Head of House and the young lord—their mandates are clashing. Why did you choose the young lord’s order? ‘The young lord’s blade’? That is not a justification. If it were only the young lord’s command, fine. But when the Head of House’s order and the young lord’s order are in conflict, you should choose the path you believe is righteous.”

“So…”

“I am asking for your motive.”

When I finished my explanation, Sir Zeke closed his eyes halfway and sank into deep thought.

“Why, you ask…”

And then he responded.

“Did you not place your trust first?”

“…?”

When did we do that?

I tilted my head in confusion.

Parun tilted his head as well.

The only one who didn’t react was Shine.

As our reactions diverged, Sir Zeke continued, his tone thick with contrition.

“Even with no assurance that we would keep our word, you willingly paid the price. It is partly because I am the young lord’s man, yes… but ultimately, that is why I followed the order. Faith. Because you extended faith first.”

Uh… hmm…

Did we do that?

In honesty, I hadn’t given it much thought.

‘It’s not like we had many other alternatives anyway…’

I had only reasoned that a clandestine group like a Mage Tower or a Sword Garden might project enough authority to force the promise to be honored.

So, let me be blunt.

We didn’t trust him.

And yet—what a profound misconception.

No, wait.

Startled, I blurted out a question.

“…How can you put your faith in the nonsense we spouted?”

Even if we “paid the price,” truthfully, those prices lacked substance.

The magic armor Kalium existed, but we’d only provided its location, and verifying the background connected to the Impirga family would take time.

But Sir Zeke’s rebuttal was something else entirely.

“Leaving aside the intelligence about the Impirga family, I believe the magic armor Kalium alone is more than sufficient justification for trust.”

“Huh? Don’t tell me… you’ve already verified it?”

“…?” Sir Zeke appeared confused. “Indeed. The young lord tried on the magic armor Kalium and seemed quite pleased with it.”

Not just verified—he’d already retrieved it?

‘…Insane.’

At this point, I shook my head at the callous nature of Lortel.

Even using a warp gate, to secure it in such a brief window, the knights must have been driven night and day.

No—was it not a warp gate?

‘From Kuholon to Lortel is roughly two days by horse…’

If, immediately after our meeting concluded, they contacted the local area and worked the knights like animals, the timeline roughly aligned.

But that aside—

“Just that alone? The information regarding the Impirga family could still be a scheme to sow discord.”

“A scheme to sow discord?”

“No, it’s not that, but…”

“If the young lord chose to believe, then I simply follow.”

“……”

What a stubborn, narrow-minded bastard.

‘Is he a fool?’

Judging by his tone, it seemed he’d considered the possibility of a ploy. But just because his master believed, he tossed aside his suspicions that easily?

And then, for someone he’d doubted even once, he threw away his own personal safety?

It was a mindset I simply could not fathom.

But by now, I could at least catch a glimpse of Sir Zeke’s internal logic, even if only vaguely.

“From what I can tell, it isn’t that you didn’t doubt us…”

“That is correct. I bluntly told him it might be a trap.”

“But because the young lord believes, you discarded your doubt? And once you discarded that doubt, our actions became ‘extending faith first’?”

“You could interpret it that way.”

My head began to spin.

“Sir Zeke, are you truly a blade?”

Meaning: do you lack a brain?

“I am the Third Sword, yes.”

“Mm. That is accurate.”

His reply was so refreshingly direct that I was at a loss for words. Sir Zeke only fully grasped my implication a moment later.

“Ah, I see what you are thinking. But… I hold my own convictions as well. You may be suspicious, but you are not wicked.”

“…And if that is a misjudgment?”

To my question, Sir Zeke let out a soft, mocking laugh.

But the laughter felt icy.

“Did I misjudge?”

“…No.”

The honorifics escaped my lips automatically.

Right. I had forgotten.

The powerless have no choice but to trust—because they possess no alternatives.

But someone with influence, like Sir Zeke, can choose to believe. Even if that faith is misplaced, he has the strength to rectify it.

So it was a purity of heart born from sheer power!

‘…Sure. If the body is robust, the mind doesn’t have to suffer. If you’re Lortel’s Third Sword, you can slack off upstairs and still be perfectly fine.’

In any case.

“I would appreciate a response soon. If my blade is insufficient, then…”

“No. No.”

I shook my head faintly at Sir Zeke’s words.

“Then what will you do?”

What would I do?

After that exchange, I had arrived at an answer to some extent.

No—actually, the decision had been made from the very beginning.

Did you not believe first?

Sir Zeke repaid faith with faith.

Of course, we hadn’t really extended any faith… and Sir Zeke’s own faith was rooted in overwhelming physical force.

But those trivial details weren’t truly important.

Faith for faith.

Goodwill for goodwill.

We were already people who had exchanged trust—how could I ignore the ordeal he now faced?

“Lead me to the Head of House.”

There is no sanctuary in a place you flee to.

That was how it felt.

Naturally, if you don’t flee, you might endure hell—still.

To be perfectly precise, it was not because I couldn’t possibly doubt Sir Zeke, the pride embodied in that blade, and the young lord’s promise.

…And also.

When I calculated the material value of the weapon Sir Zeke held out, it was certainly not because that valuation was disappointing.

Right. Of course not.