Chapter 42: Chapter 42

As was always the case, Shan pulling out A Thousand Shapes in front of the princess was not an act based on some immensely complex and meticulous calculation.

Even though his first impression of her had been somewhat poor, Shan held a considerable amount of goodwill toward Princess Cheryn.

Because ever since they met, she had consistently shown goodwill toward them, or more precisely, toward Shan.

From knighting him without even an oath of allegiance, to using her connections so he could receive enchantment magic when needed, and providing a powerful magical instrument.

Of course, the same went for Callion, but the slightly different part was that Cheryn had exposed several of her hidden secrets for this purpose.

From ambitions that would have seen her brought to a religious tribunal and burned at the stake the moment they were revealed, to even personal matters related to her family.

The deciding factor was how she had been considerate even after finding out they possessed a large amount of True Silver.

He had not calculated all these points one by one, but Shan vaguely felt that he ought to repay such trust in some way.

And thinking that since the princess was also a mage, she would be delighted to see A Thousand Shapes just as Zerpo had been in the past, he had simply pulled it out and presented it to her.

“What is this?”

A cool blue-silver blade that even felt chilly, and the ancient Altoan magic runes engraved upon it.

As she took off her amethyst spectacles to look closely, her usually languid reddish-brown eyes could be seen widening as if they might pop out.

“Kageto, Ravana, Abiyur… Ah, like this? Really?”

Filled with shock and excitement, her gaze scanned the blade as if licking it clean.

Her crimson lips, gently nibbled due to intense concentration, felt sensuous to a degree unsuited to her age.

Perhaps because Shan, holding the sword before her, was gazing at her nonchalantly with an expressionless face, it felt all the more so, causing Roden to involuntarily avert his gaze.

Even after that, Cheryn, who had been absentmindedly scanning the blade for nearly several minutes, let out a soft scream.

Having accidentally touched it, red blood dripped down from a deep cut on her finger.

“Ah!”

Seeing this, Shan quickly pulled the sword away and produced a handkerchief to wrap around the princess’s cut finger.

As she waved her hand off and applied a thick ointment pulled from her hood pocket, the bleeding stopped in an instant.

“That will do. More importantly, just what on earth is that…?”

“It is an artifact excavated from an Altoan city when we explored the Demonic Realm a while ago.”

“I thought you would like it if you saw it,” Shan muttered softly.

Since most of the magical runes were drawn on the blade side, he had presented that side, but thinking back, if he wanted to show it safely, it would have been right to hold the blade and hand over the hilt.

Upon hearing this, Cheryn burst into a hysterical laugh and spoke.

“No, that is not what is important! You brought out such a treasure simply because you thought I would like to see it? Don’t tell me you don’t know how incredible of an item this is?”

“I heard it is a treasure comparable to an entire kingdom.”

She had wondered if that was the case, but to think he had not shown it without knowing its value either…

Cheryn thought to herself.

If she were to covet this, what had he intended to do?

Had he calculated that since she was a princess who only knew how to scheme behind the scenes without any useful martial power, it would be fine to show it to her?

He had already obtained the knighthood he wanted, so what was he planning to demand in return for showing such a precious item?

Her inner thoughts lasted only a moment before she was instantly overwhelmed by Shan’s green eyes looking at her.

In those eyes, which seemed gentle yet harbored a firmness and stubbornness that would never break, no such calculation could be found.

Just as he had said a moment ago, this Altoan boy had truly shown it to her simply because he thought Cheryn would want to see it.

“…Who else knows about the existence of that weapon?”

“Roden and I know, as well as the mage and priest who explored with us.”

“And how did you silence those two?”

“I did not silence them separately.”

He had simply distributed most of the initial profits from exploring the ruins to the two of them.

An amount of money that was nothing compared to the worth of A Thousand Shapes.

While Shan thought to himself that he should go back and retrieve the remaining artifacts buried near Shedil City someday, Cheryn, having listened to his story, let out a deep sigh and spoke.

Revealing her genuine, unvarnished inner feelings without realizing it.

“If it were me, I would have killed those two there, without exception.”

“That is…”

“Perhaps I might have killed Roden as well to conceal everyone who knew of its existence. Because simply poisoning the food on the way back would allow one to kill you and monopolize the most powerful weapon in the world. It is downright astounding that none of the four of you even thought of that.”

In truth, Zerpo had indeed harbored such a dilemma when he first saw the weapon.

Although he had brushed it off after Shan’s idea to divide the True Silver into four, calling his own thoughts stupid.

Hearing that story, Cheryn appeared to grow terribly foul-tempered for some reason.

The image of her lost in intellectual ecstasy upon seeing the magic contained within A Thousand Shapes until just a moment ago had vanished without a trace.

“How can you be like that?”

“Pardon?”

“Are you not afraid? Of trusting someone so defencelessly and being betrayed?”

In truth, Shan had never experienced betrayal in his entire life.

The people he met while living in Willow Village were only of two kinds: those who hated and looked down on him, or those who pitied and felt sorry for him.

It was the same even after he ventured into the world, met Roden, and set out on adventures.

Truly fortunately, he had always been able to part ways with a smile from those who showed him goodwill until now.

Strictly speaking, there were the mercenaries who died trying to steal Arwin, but honestly he could not even remember their faces well, so they were an exception.

“I thought Your Highness would not do that.”

“I…”

“Above all, Your Highness has already trusted us.”

Cheryn opening up her secrets unreservedly to Shan or showing her weak side were all actions carried out through thorough analysis and calculation.

She had even prepared several schemes in case something went wrong.

Had they betrayed her, Shan and Roden would have paid a price far harsher than anything they could imagine.

Unlike Cheryn, the Altoan boy before her revealed it solely out of a desire to repay the trust he had received.

Neither out of a boy’s childish eagerness to draw the opposite sex’s attention, nor out of vanity to boast of his possession.

After a moment of silence, Cheryn, her face turned pale, dismissed the two.

“I am sorry, but please return for today. I wish to have… some time to think. I will contact you later from my side.”

After the two left, Cheryn softly chanted a spell, extinguishing all the lights lit in Maya’s workshop.

As pitch-black darkness cozily wrapped around her body, the suffocating pressure that felt as if it would choke her immediately vanished.

Though Maya would return in a little while, she wanted to regain her composure at least until then.

‘Trust…’

She knew it with her head.

That Shan had such a disposition, and that if she consistently showed goodwill, he would naturally respond to that goodwill.

Receiving trust that was even so unreserved was an expected result, and in a sense, even an achievement beyond that.

Therefore, as far as she was concerned, she should simply be pleased.

Was not a hunting dog that would bite anyone upon command being trained splendidly?

Yet actually witnessing it with her eyes and experiencing it with her body made it utterly difficult to think that way.

Just as someone who learned of war only through words and pictures vomited upon being unable to endure the smell of blood and burst intestines, reality always overwhelmed meager imagination.

Cheryn realized for the first time in her life that she had no immunity to this kind of emotion.

*

“She didn’t seem to like it as much as I expected. I thought she’d like it a bit more than Mr. Zerpo did.”

“Seriously, I thought my heart was going to burst, you idiot…”

On the way back, Shan wore a somber expression at Cheryn’s lukewarm reaction.

Roden, beside him, let out a deep sigh and spoke.

“It is not my place to tell you what to do or not to do, but please, at least tell me beforehand. Okay?”

The moment Shan pushed the sword forward, thousands of thoughts really flashed through Roden’s mind.

In fact, his head was just as complicated even now.

Would that ambitious princess truly harbor no greed for the powerful magical instrument they possessed?

It was a treasure that, if given to the king of another country in exchange for sending an army, could conquer Pendia and seat her on the throne.

Of course, he felt she was not the type of person to make such a foolish choice, but wise people often became fools in the face of greed.

Unlike Shan, Roden did not yet trust the princess to that extent.

“Sorry.”

It was true that he had acted thoughtlessly, so when Shan apologized, Roden, finding it hard to scold him further, ended it with a groan.

Though the princess’s reaction was a bit lukewarm, she did not look like she was about to cause trouble right away.

At any rate, since she said she would contact them next time, they just needed to tend to their tasks until then.

Coincidentally, there were quite a few things to do right now.

Representative among them was welcoming guests, as Callion had mentioned before.

The next afternoon, five or six knights invited through Callion stepped into Weaver Mansion.

Even after filtering out foreign-race haters and Old Faith adherents, there were quite a few promising knights who wished to form ties with Shan.

Callion, hosting these knights sponsored by other merchant firms connected to his own, enjoyed quite a large profit through Shan’s fame.

Of course, in return, there was the issue of some accounts on the Old Faith side being cut off, but since most of the mana stones came from the east anyway, it was tolerable.

Those who consumed jewels as ornaments did not particularly care about such things either.

After admiring the cockatrice head in the entrance hallway, which had now become a famous feature of Weaver Mansion, the knights sat on plush chairs and conversed leisurely in the reception room.

“Pleased to meet you, Sir Shan. I am Acel of the Dormin family.”

“I am Orindra of the Catan family. We faced each other once at the tournament before.”

“I am Garsa of the Alten family.”

“If it is the Alten family, by any chance is it the same family as Sir Feonil?”

When Shan asked back, the young knight who introduced himself as Garsa replied joyfully.

“You know of him! I am a distant relative of Sir Feonil of Libert. That side is the head family, and our branch moved over to Pendia during my grandfather’s generation.”

“Oh… Then by any chance do you follow the Old Faith?”

“We converted to the New Faith in my father’s generation.”

“I see.”

Indeed, if they were Old Faith believers, they would not have come all the way to meet Shan, an Altoan.

Nor would Callion have accepted the invitation either.

“Come to think of it, I heard Sir Shan is also from Libert. Have you met him by any chance?”

“As it happened, we crossed lances once.”

At Shan’s story, all the knights showed great interest.

To think that the famous ‘Black Spear,’ the most frequent winner of Libert’s jousting tournament, and the current champion of Pendia’s most prestigious Hasra jousting tournament had faced each other?

It was a topic any knight would be dying to hear.

“How did you come to clash?”

“It was a minor dispute.”

Shan glossed over it simply, without bothering to mention the Altoan acrobat troupe.

To the extent that they engaged in a single lance charge each, suffered minor scratches, and decided not to fight further.

“Ha, it feels truly like a story out of old chivalric literature; my heart is pounding.”

“Two knights acknowledging each other’s skill and foretelling a rematch in the future…”

While engrossed in consuming Shan’s story, a knight with a somewhat gloomy impression looked at Shan and asked.

“Sir Shan was an Altoan born and raised in Libert, was he not?”

“Yes.”

Was he Sir Bolin of the Anix family?

At his words, the surrounding knights wore somewhat uncomfortable expressions.

Because refraining from explicitly mentioning Shan’s Altoan status was an implicit rule among them.

However, Sir Bolin did not care about the surrounding looked of disapproval and brought up the topic repeatedly without hesitation.

“It must have been difficult living as an Altoan in Libert.”

“Naturally so. It is an Old Faith nation after all. Compared to that, things are much better in Pendia. One can become a knight like this…”

“Is not Sir Shan the first Altoan knight even in Pendia?”

“I am always grateful to Princess Cheryn. Although due to circumstances, I did not offer my lance to her.”

“By any chance, do you intend to accept Altoans as squires in the future as well?”

“If they have talent.”

At questions that were starting to feel uncomfortable, the surrounding atmosphere chilled.

It was fortunate that Shan responded smoothly; otherwise, it was a situation where no one could complain even if he flew into a rage, stood up from his seat, or challenged him to a duel.

However, contrary to what others thought, Shan was not particularly angry.

Because it truly was hard living as an Altoan in Libert, he was grateful to Princess Cheryn, and if there was a talented Altoan, he intended to take them as a squire.

Furthermore, unless there was an overtly sarcastic tone or expression from the other party, which there was not, Shan simply perceived it as an ordinary conversation.

“I see.”

When Sir Bolin responded obediently as if giving up, after a moment a knight subtly shifted the topic.

“Come to think of it, I also heard that the direction of the civil war in Libert is gradually being decided.”

“Is that true?”

“It is something I heard from a relative living in the west a while ago, but it seems Count Balik will indeed win.”

“Indeed…”

“I heard Sir Feonil, who was mentioned earlier, also achieved great military feats and received the title of baron from his lord.”

Though brought up merely as a topic shift, the knights soon grew enthusiastic about the subject.

Because becoming a titled noble through military merit was truly like a dream for knights.

Although hundreds of knight families existed in Pendia, only a handful of skilled individuals enjoyed such glory.

In fact, to achieve such an accomplishment required not only skill but also proper opportunity.

Had not Feonil already proven his ability to overflowing, yet had nowhere to utilize it until he began taking flight by seizing the war as an opportunity?

“Hm, had His Majesty the King been hale and hearty, we might have lent a hand as well. But setting out on a separate expedition proved difficult due to a lack of money.”

“It has become difficult to intervene now. Count Balik has completely solidified his dominance so he needs no knights, and if one joins Duke of Morayen’s camp and suffers defeat, the ransom would only mount.”

It was customary for knights participating in war, as long as they did not die in battle, to be taken prisoner and have a ransom paid.

Naturally, poor knight families that possessed only a manorial estate or two were bound to fall into ruin if their leader was captured a few times like that.

It meant that a storied knightly family was possible only by enduring through several generations of such events, or by continuously producing outstanding figures, reading the trends well, and fighting on the winning side.

In the middle of their conversation, a relatively older knight glanced around discreetly and spoke.

“I say, Sir Shan. Rumor has it that you handle the sword just as well as your mounted marksmanship.”

“Oh, is that true?”

When the young knights were surprised, the older knight nodded.

“I heard it from Sir Darkal, your master.”

“Do you have a connection with my master?”

“Back when he was active, we rode together a few times. Though back then, I was a complete greenhorn.”

The older knight wore a nostalgic expression, nodded, and subtly added.

“So if it is alright, could we perhaps share some insights with each other? As a warrior, I cannot help but be curious.”

“Very well. Let us head to the garden.”

“Truly hearty, just as expected of the hero who slew the cockatrice!”

“In that case, I too shall learn a lesson.”

Shan crossed swords with the other knights right there in the garden.

Using training swords made with blunted edges and tips, which he had frequently used in the past when receiving instruction from Sir Darkal.

In the process, Shan deliberately restrained his uniquely immense quickness while engaging in the spar.

Because he intended to take this opportunity to refine further the subtle secrets of swordsmanship he had learned through Darkal in the past.

The various psychological elements needed only in confrontations with humans, unnecessary when fighting monsters, and delicate techniques requiring prediction of the distant future.

Naturally, the result of the spars was victory after victory for Shan.

Matching edges against the strikes thrust by his opponents, twisting, pressing down, parrying upward, and counterattacking.

When he did not lose even once across multiple complex psychological battles, the watching knights marveled repeatedly.

“Heh, handling it like that again?”

“Got me!”

“Wow…”

Shan did not even forget the consideration of lightly bringing his sword to rest so that the opposing knight would not be injured in the process.

This was something possible only when force and speed were restrained by several degrees while swinging the sword.

Since they were also masters who had mastered all sorts of martial arts along with learning to walk, they could feel how formidable a realm Shan’s swordsmanship had reached.

“Is he about fourteen years old now? I cannot even fathom how much more extraordinary he will become when he reaches adulthood in the future.”

“Is it merely talent? It must be possible because immense effort was added to it.”

To become a great swordsman required immense effort as well as talent.

To detect an opponent’s movements and derive the corresponding answer solely through subtle movements of the shoulder and the flow of force felt from clashing blades, the only way was to be beaten endlessly and engrave it directly into one’s body.

Of course, in reality, Shan simply perceived and reacted to his opponent’s movements through overwhelming reflexes and thought speed, but those who did not know well could only think of it that way.

“Now I see how you hunted the cockatrice alone, Sir. With swordsmanship like this, one could hardly consider you inferior to the Lord Protector.”

At the words of the older knight who had first suggested the spar, Shan looked at him and asked.

“Have you crossed swords with Marquis Abel?”

“Five years ago, we competed at the royal swordsmanship tournament. I was defeated after exchanging swords exactly three times.”

The older knight recounted the frustration he felt back then in a calm tone.

“Sir Shan is also strong, but I simply cannot imagine Marquis Abel losing to anyone. His swordsmanship was truly bestowed by the Goddess.”

“Is that not far too blasphemous of a statement?”

The knights laughed heartily and exchanged jokes.

“At any rate, if the two of you ever clash, I would love to see it. Though Marquis Abel is an Old Faith believer, so there probably will be no occasion to interact.”

If the two were to fight, it was certain that it would be a battle with their lives on the line… though no one said it aloud, everyone thought so.

*

After enjoying themselves for a long time, the knights departed harboring friendly feelings toward Shan, their arms full of gifts provided by Callion.

The network built like this would become an intangible asset for Shan himself in the future, as well as for Callion, his sponsor.

Yet for some reason, only Sir Bolin, who had thrown several uncomfortable questions earlier, did not leave immediately and dawdled.

Since telling him to get lost quickly would be rude, as Shan stared at him blankly, he glanced back at Shan and spoke.

“Ahem, Sir Shan?”

“Yes.”

“There is something I wish to discuss further in private; do you have a moment?”

Wondering what he wanted to talk about now, Shan obediently nodded.

Saying it would not be a long conversation, Bolin, instead of returning to the reception room, opened his mouth while lightly walking through the garden together.

Glancing subtly around his surroundings, he lowered his voice and spoke.

“Could you by any chance keep what I am about to say a secret?”

At the unexpected words, Shan hesitated for a moment before answering honestly.

“I am sorry, but whatever it is, if it concerns me, I must consult Roden, that is, my squire.”

“Sir Shan, I am asking honorably as knight to knight.”

“Before being my squire, Roden is my closest friend. He is far wiser and more intelligent than I, and a person to whom I can entrust my life. If it is a story that he must not know, then I have no need to know it either.”

Conflict-ridden for a long while at the firm attitude with no room for compromise, Bolin let out a sigh and nodded.

“I understand. It is not as if I have a way to silence Sir Shan’s mouth anyway. Please, make sure it stays only up to that friend.”

“Yes.”

“It is a promise.”

Bolin earnestly requested it several more times after that, then pulled out a letter from his chest.

“In truth, among the people sponsoring me, there are Altoans like Sir Shan.”

“Altoans?”

At the unexpected revelation, Shan wore a surprised expression.

Pendia was the country where the most Altoans lived in the entire world, but most of them were mere lower-class members of society.

To say nothing of nobles or knights, even middle-class positions like merchants or low-ranking officials were difficult to achieve easily due to concern over others’ gazes in reality.

Even servants ministering to them were rarely Altoans.

Thanks to that, if an Altoan succeeded well, it was at best a specialized profession like a blacksmith or weaver, and for most, doing work similar to a mercenary or day laborer was the limit.

If one could not even become that, from then on, they became something akin to a thug, pickpocket, prostitute, or beggar.

“It is not particularly a criminal group or anything like that. It is merely an organization-like group gathered for the rights and interests of Altoans. They wished to make contact with Sir Shan through me.”

Even so, asking to keep it a secret was because the very fact of receiving sponsorship from Altoans would not be looked upon favorably by others.

Handing over the letter, Bolin repeatedly requested Shan not to discuss this matter with anyone other than Roden, and then left the mansion.

A moment later, Roden, who had been interacting with the squires all along and tidying up, hardened his face at the story Shan brought up.

“An Altoan group sponsoring knights?”

“So he said.”

“I have never heard of them…”

Clicking his tongue, he noted that, like the vampires’ council mentioned last time, strange secret societies kept cropping up and getting intertwined, which felt thoroughly uneasy.

Of course, since Princess Cheryn said she would investigate that matter, results would come out soon.

The two sat facing each other in the lounge and unsealed the letter handed over by Sir Bolin.

On the fairly luxurious parchment, handwriting written by someone who was clearly well-educated was inscribed.

[To Sir Shan, who proudly reveals his identity and has risen to a position more noble than any compatriot in the world.]

[To Sir Shan, who proudly revealed his identity and rose to a position more noble than any compatriot in the world.

Representing those who have lost their homeland, the Brotherhood of the Altoan Race wishes to invite you.

We plan to discuss the future of our kin in the VIP box of the Golden Theater on the evening three days from the day you receive this letter.

If Sir Shan participates in that gathering, as a person who adores you, it will be an infinite honor and pleasure, and a ray of light for our persecuted race as well.

Hoping to see you on that day, we enclose a small gift to apologize for making an impolite request.

With boundless respect, the Leader of the Brotherhood.]