Swordmaster of the Great Wall

Erich approached Harald, who was bleeding. And as Harald awaited death, Erich raised the corners of his mouth in a grin.

― Thump!

Erich kicked away the sword Harald was holding. At that, the thrill vanished from Harald's face, and finally, violent rage burst forth.

"You, you bastard!!!"

"I hear there's a condition for going to Valhalla. Something about having to have a weapon in hand at the moment of death, isn't that so?"

Harald, unable to contain his anger, grit his teeth. But he had already lost too much blood to resist.

"I am Erich von Krupp. Harald, if you answer my questions honestly, I'll send you to Valhalla in a direct carriage."

"... Damn it."

Harald agonized. But there was no choice left for him.

"Krupp... Of all people, you're a Krupp too."

"From the way you're talking, it seems the swordmaster you fought was the grand duke. But... how are you still alive?"

Once more, Erich scrutinized Harald. That he was indeed a remarkable warrior was beyond doubt.

But surviving a fight against the grand duke should have been impossible. Yet the fact that he had lived to old age meant...

"The grand duchess didn't keep her promise?"

"No. The grand duchess kept her word. As a price for killing Sir Roland, I was allowed to fight the grand duke. But he didn't kill me."

"He let you live? That is rather surprising."

"... Like father, like son. That's what he said. There's no meaning in killing someone who wants to die. Keeping them alive is the price of defeat."

"Aha... That twisted taste is just like Father."

Indeed, Erich's cunning was the spitting image of his father's. Defeat comes at a price.

The grand duke, who always repeated that phrase, spared Harald because for Harald, that was a harsher punishment.

But as the conversation ended, Erich shot a glance at Milon. He had dropped a piece of information on purpose: 'the grand duchess.' He wanted to see how Milon would react.

"W-What are you saying? Why does the grand duchess suddenly come up?"

Milon's flustered shout. Erich feigned a sheepish tone, hiding his true thoughts.

"Ah, oops."

"... Speak at once. What does the grand duchess have to do with our father's death?"

"Efron Roland upset the grand duchess with some sort of demand. And he died at the hands of her scheming. Isn't that right, Harald?"

Harald nodded weakly. At that, Milon nearly fainted.

"So you knew? And you never told me!"

"Would you have believed me if I had? I'm the kind of person you're supposed to kill. It would've looked like a desperate lie to save myself, wouldn't it?"

"... That's..."

Milon hesitated for a moment. Erich's words weren't wrong. If it hadn't been for these circumstances, at most his words would have confused Milon—but not convinced him.

"You're right... Damn it. But why would such a thing ever—"

"Milon. Your family was only being used. In the end, you were just dancing in the palms of the grand duchess and the grand duke."

"... But it was a duel. What did you mean when you said earlier it wasn't fair?"

Harald bared his teeth through his bloody mouth.

"I was just the executioner. Efron Roland had already been poisoned. There's no evidence, and it wasn't something that would kill him instantly, so northern nobles often use it..."

"Is it perhaps, this?"

Erich took out a vial from the pocket he had brought along. Suspicious liquid sloshed inside.

"Heh heh heh. So that's what it was? Yesterday, my men killed a sneak lurking near the merchant group. One missing vial of poison—here it is."

"... Filthy wretch."

Erich quietly gazed at Milon. Now, he found himself feeling only pity. Milon's father died in a rigged duel, poisoned.

And the grand duchess had tried to use the same method to kill Erich. But to make the victim's son kill someone with the very method that killed his father...

The cruelty of it all made Erich shudder with horror.

Milon, with head bowed, clenched his trembling fists. He now understood everything—just how mercilessly the grand duchess intended to use him.

But Erich, after only a moment of sympathy, did not forget the promise he had to keep.

"Harald, one last question. Do you know the reason Efron Roland was killed?"

"Finally...! I was only the assassin. I don't know. I swear on a warrior's honor."

Harald did not appear to be lying. It seemed he only wished to speak the truth and hurry toward death.

― Press.

Erich placed the fallen sword back into Harald's hand. Then he pressed the blade to Harald's collarbone. At last, Harald's face brightened once more.

"Harald, great huskarl of the north. Any last words?"

"None."

― Thrust.

With an impassive face, Erich drew the blade out of Harald's body. Blood spurted from the wound up to the tent's ceiling.

― Thud.

Harald's body collapsed without strength. Yet even so, his bloodied hand held tight to the sword—as if it were a treasure never to be dropped.

Erich stood before Harald's corpse and closed his eyes for a moment. A northern warrior who longed for Valhalla—his heroic end reminded Erich of the deaths of other warriors from the north he had known.

'Whether or not Valhalla exists, I hope it does. Then Harald, and the rest, can finally rest in peace.'

Shaking off his brief sentimentality, Erich turned his gaze to Milon, who still seemed unable to recover from the shock.

"Milon. I get that you're in shock, but we need to leave. With all this commotion, the guards will swarm in."

"... Alright."

At Erich's words, Milon quickly collected himself. Erich then lifted the tent flap to head outside.

― Rustle.

"... Damn it."

But what awaited them was a mass of guards surrounding the merchant leader's tent. The guards glared at them, swords and shields at the ready.

And at their head, a man strode toward Erich and Milon, his hand on his sword as if ready to draw at any moment.

"..."

He silently gazed at the fallen Harald. There seemed to be a deep emotion in his eyes as he looked at the dead Harald.

"I don't want to kill you two. But if you're going to fight, let's get it over with."

Erich took up a stance again, watching their movements closely. But the man at the front spoke surprising words.

"... Was our old man's end a good one?"

"... What?"

"I mean, was it worthy of Valhalla?"

Erich alternated his gaze between the fallen Harald and the man before him, and answered,

"He could go twice, if he wanted."

"... I thought so."

The man gave a bitter smile and fell into silence, then finally spoke as if reaching a decision.

"Go. We won't follow."

"You're just letting us go?"

Milon asked, astonished. The man replied, roughly scratching the back of his head.

"How could we win against those who killed Harald? If anything, you're the ones letting us go."

The guards surrounding Erich and Milon numbered at least a dozen. But, following the man's word, the guards slowly stepped aside to open a path.

'There's no reason to refuse.'

Erich started down the path cleared by the guards, Milon following behind. Just as the man said, the guards did not pursue Erich and Milon as they climbed the hill.

They got further and further away from the Knut merchant group, and when the camp's lights finally vanished, Erich was certain the man's words were true.

Once Erich and Milon had moved far enough that the guards could hardly follow their trail, Milon stopped.

"... Damn it."

He looked distraught. Though Erich could only guess at the pain he felt.

― Tsk.

Erich's sword slid into its scabbard. He spoke to the suffering Milon.

"So, what are you going to do now?"

"... I have to dig further. Knowing what happened, I can't just sit still, can I?"

"Are you thinking of revenge? You know that isn't realistic."

Undoubtedly, the grand duchess had committed deeds deserving retribution.

Nevertheless, Milon Roland, whatever his ruined state, was still the head of a knightly house.

No matter how unforgivable the grand duchess—the wife of his lord—her crimes, revenge would be something he could only swallow.

Otherwise, the handful of retainers the resurgent Roland family had gathered would be utterly slaughtered.

Maybe that's why Milon managed a complicated, bitter smile.

"Revenge... First I need to know the reason, don't you think? What did my father do to anger the grand duchess? Why was that reason enough to kill?"

"Even if you don't like it, don't do anything rash. No one wants to keep a dog that bites its master. Surely, as a knight, you know that?"

"You think I don't know? Worry about yourself. You never know when you'll be poisoned."

"I could almost cry from your concern. Are you saying you'll still fight me?"

"This and that are separate. I haven't given up on crushing you in a duel."

Erich curled his lips into a grin in answer. Then the two of them slowly set out in the direction they needed to go.

Erich and Milon—each obtained what they sought here. Erich had uncovered the grand duchess's scheme, and Milon had found a clue to the truth.

The reason for Efron's murder remained unanswered, but that was Milon's task—and no concern of Erich's.

'So now, all that's left is avoiding the poison.'

News of Harald's death at the Knut merchant group would surely reach the grand duchess. If she had any intelligence, she'd be making preparations.

Yet the corners of Erich's mouth curled up. Her grand scheme, after all, was mere poison. The grand duchess clearly didn't understand Erich at all.

***

― Tsk. Tsk.

Late at night, the sharp sound of heels echoed through the wide Krupp estate.

Dressed in a splendid gown, the one walking alone was none other than the grand duchess of Krupp, Katrin.

― Tsk.

At last, her footsteps halted. She sensed someone's presence. A rattling sound followed, and then appeared the imperial knights clad in golden armor.

"Your grace, the grand duchess."

They knelt before Katrin. She looked down at them with a cold gaze.

"... What is it?"

"In the night, the Knut merchant group was attacked. Harald is dead, and the intruders got away."

"Hmm. I see."

Katrin seemed unfazed. On the contrary, she even appeared to smile. From inside the thick faceplate of the imperial knights, their voices sounded.

"Your grace. We don't know what Harald revealed before his death. And only one person could have attacked the camp."

"It was two."

"Excuse me?"

"I said two. One is that cunning bastard of a bastard. The other is the knight, struggling to uncover the past in his own way."

The imperial knight's helmet creaked. He pondered, seeking to identify those the grand duchess hinted at. One would be Erich; the other, Milon, whom she was using as a tool. The knights nodded gently.

"... Then what about dealing with Milon?"

"No need. Even if he learns the truth, he can't act rashly. That's his reality."

"So there are no changes to the plan."

"That's right. Whatever they learn, nothing changes."

Katrin smiled as she looked at her knights. Her chilly smile was downright sinister.

"Besides, he's already been poisoned."

The grand duchess's plan was proceeding step by step. Assured of this, the imperial knights rose to their feet. Their golden armor creaked.

― Clank.

Katrin, leading her knights, set off again. The click of her heels echoed ominously through the house.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】