Chapter 33: What’s Deception?

　Two days earlier in the royal capital, Elliot and Lloyd had returned to the palace, bitterly disappointed by their failure to reach the Hidden Village.

“Elliot, I have a suggestion. This is beyond what we can handle alone. Before returning to Master Goliath, why don’t we confide in your patron, Count Agreas, and ask his advice?”

　Lloyd tried to make the suggestion calmly out of consideration for the despondent Elliot.

　The man Lloyd named was a powerful noble who would sponsor Elliot, a commoner soon to be made a count. He also served as guardian to Emily, the future countess, while his wife taught her aristocratic etiquette.

　Elliot remained bowed for some time, biting his lip as he thought. Yet he couldn’t conceal the situation forever.

“I understand why you hesitate, but tell him honestly and ask for guidance.”

“…Yes. You’re right.”

　At Lloyd’s renewed urging, Elliot finally nodded and rose.

　In a chamber of a mansion luxurious enough to rival the royal castle, Elliot and Lloyd sat before a handsome aristocratic man of about thirty.

“This must have been deeply distressing. I’m glad you confided in me.”

　His gracious, sympathetic tone comforted both knights.

　The man was Dylan Agreas Ziemeld, heir to the ducal House of Ziemeld, whose vast territory covered seventy percent of the kingdom’s north. Because the present duke still lived, Dylan used Count Agreas as a courtesy title.

“In truth, I had already anticipated that the sword might lose its power after fulfilling its purpose.”

“Fulfilling its purpose…?”

“The northern campaign is over. It’s entirely possible.”

　A slow smile formed on Count Agreas’s face.

“Holy swords have appeared in legends and folklore since ancient times, and more recent manifestations are recorded as historical fact. Yet did you know that no account explains what became of a holy sword after its legendary deeds?”

“…That’s true. I remember many tales of their exploits, but none of what followed. You believe those holy swords simply vanished?”

　At Lloyd’s question, Count Agreas nodded.

“Might a holy sword not simply return to its original form after completing its role?”

　Elliot considered, then looked up hesitantly.

“But an undead beast appeared near the capital only the other day, even if it was merely an incomplete transformation.”

“I know. However, isolated undead beasts occasionally appeared even before the northern mass outbreak.”

　Count Agreas smiled again.

“In that case, its appearance is hardly extraordinary. This is conjecture, of course, but I consider it highly likely.”

　A shadow crossed Elliot’s face. If Count Agreas was right, one source of Elliot’s present torment would disappear. But would the people around him accept the explanation?

　Could Elliot himself endure the reality that the holy sword was gone?

　As Elliot remained silent, Count Agreas offered encouragement.

“Your efforts greatly aided our territory. Without the holy sword, neither you nor I would have returned to the royal capital for at least three more years, and many more lives would have been lost.”

　It was true. The Duchy of Ziemeld had suffered more than any other territory from the outbreak, which was why its leaders had supported Elliot so actively.

　Ziemeld had been a small kingdom until annexed by this country about a century earlier. Thus, although its lands occupied the barren north, its capital remained prosperous.

　That history likely explained why the former royal House of Ziemeld and its supporters praised Elliot so fervently as the hero who restored peace to their people.

“We don’t yet know why the holy sword lost its power. But we won’t abandon the man to whom we owe so much. I can also offer some immediate help.”

　Elliot raised his head desperately.

“What do you mean by that?”

　Count Agreas smiled at Elliot, then signaled his chamberlain.

　The chamberlain carried in a long, shallow box covered with fine velvet.

　Beneath the cloth lay a sword beside its sheath, a familiar ivy relief carved into the blade.

“This is ……!”

“A replica of the holy sword, as you can see.”

　A close inspection revealed small discrepancies, but from a distance the difference was imperceptible.

“Why did you make something like this?”

　A question formed in Elliot’s mind: how had the count prepared such an object so conveniently?

“My father commissioned it. He collects weapons, a hobby hardly unusual among nobles.”

　Count Agreas laughed.

“He purchases magnificent swords merely to display them, although he never wields one. Naturally he couldn’t possess the actual holy sword, so he commissioned a replica early on. A foolish hobby, but it has unexpectedly proved useful.”

　Elliot hesitated, then reached for the proffered sword. His hand trembled slightly as he lifted it by the hilt.

“For the time being, His Majesty will wish to parade the Holy Knight before neighboring countries at every opportunity. Foolish though that may be, your very presence symbolizes royal authority, so it can’t be avoided.”

　Perhaps because they were inside his private home, Count Agreas made no effort to conceal the disrespect in his cold sneer.

“When keeping company with fools, a replica should suffice.”

　At least it would buy time. Accepting that logic, Elliot sheathed the imitation holy sword with a hand that still trembled and placed it at his side.

　—Suppose this does buy time.

　Elliot questioned himself. If the holy sword truly had completed its role, he would have to continue lying indefinitely. But what if another cause existed?

　He could think only of the chipped sword left in his room. Even if the truth lay beyond it, could he truly recover what he had lost? A chill crossed his spine, and he refused to consider further.

　A light knock sounded in the silent room.

　Count Agreas’s wife Marianne entered with Emily.

“Marianne, Emily. You came all this way.”

“Yes. Lady Emily wished to greet everyone.”

　Emily entered and attempted a ladylike curtsy.

“Emily, you’re doing quite well.”

“Hehe! Thank you, Mister Dylan!”

“Lady Emily, please address Lord Dylan as Count Agreas.”

“Yes, Marianne! Oh! Elliot, Lloyd, welcome back!”

　Marianne sighed softly at Emily’s behavior, although she continued smiling.

“Lady Emily, I’ll be lenient because this is an informal occasion. But we must work a little harder before the wedding.”

　At the gentle admonition, Emily’s smile became faintly sad.

　—That’s right. I was so preoccupied with the holy sword these past few days that I forgot completely, although Emily is working so hard.

　Elliot watched Emily attempt another curtsy and took a deep breath to calm himself.

　—For now, I must protect the glory and position we built together.

　He told himself that, but scattered shadows of unease refused to disappear. His hand continued trembling around the unfamiliar sword’s hilt.

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