Chapter 218. The Goblet (2)
The Marquis of Esperanza had three children under his roof.
Among them, Calia was the youngest and the only daughter, and above her existed two brothers. Following the family's bloodline, she bore hair and eyes tinged with red.
"Right now, except for me, all of them are studying abroad, so they reside overseas. Counting from today, it has already been well over two years."
It was unusual for a high-ranking noble house.
If they were the eldest son and second son of a marquisate, especially at their age, it was typical for them to be consolidating their positions within the house, not pursuing studies.
There were roughly two possibilities that allowed for such a situation.
'Either the successor of the marquisate has already been decided, or there is no competition for succession at all.'
At that thought, Verden nodded.
"To be exact, we fall into both categories. In this kingdom, succession generally follows the rule of primogeniture, and unlike my eldest brother, neither I nor my second brother have much interest in the title of marquis."
Even a baron would shed blood to inherit land and title.
No matter how low the rank, nobility was nobility. Those interests were fruits too difficult to abandon.
And the House of Esperanza was among the kingdom's highest.
That there was no struggle for power in such a house was, for a marquis, an unparalleled blessing. As a parent, one would never wish for strife to be exposed among siblings.
"Still, it is unexpected that even the heir, the eldest son, has gone abroad. No matter what the marquisate itself may be, winning the loyalty of the nobles under its command is not a simple matter."
"That is entirely the fault of the Kingdom of Estiria. Asher, you must know it well. What kind of men the rulers and power-brokers of this kingdom are."
Nobles steeped in corruption.
There even existed an underground city called Roafra, brazenly thriving. Its power was such that even a marquisate had to sign a non-aggression pact with it.
As for the royal family, it was a waste of breath to even mention them.
"My eldest brother's theory was that there was nothing to be learned in such a kingdom, and Father, after much thought, respected his opinion. The result was his studying abroad. And since my second brother, as a mage, also had an interest in that field, he went along as well."
The first, for the management of the house, went to the Arnak Empire in the western continent.
The second, for the development of both the house and himself, went to the magic city of Virente in the west.
"Both of them have proven their abilities beyond doubt and are being treated as honored guests. I may be the one saying it, but... it is true that they possess remarkable talent combined with tireless effort."
"..."
"My eldest brother was a born leader, and in swordsmanship, he was more than capable of succeeding Father. And my second brother inherited our mother's mage's blood strongly, to the point that people say he will one day rise to Grandfather Edmon's position."
As pillars to support the marquisate.
"Compared to them, I... am neither this nor that."
Calia brushed back her hair.
Pushing aside the chicken, she set down her utensils.
"Asher, be honest. In your eyes, am I more like a noble or more like a knight?"
"That is..."
He recalled Calia's past actions.
The image of her wielding a sword as a knight naturally surfaced.
"Anyone you asked would answer the latter. Few nobles, in the name of fulfilling their duty, would lead a knight order and take to the frontlines as I do. My brothers, on the other hand, are people more suited to nobility. They prioritize practicality but do not lose sight of other things."
For instance, suppose a noble committed a major crime. Calia would secure clear evidence and immediately arrest them. She always had.
But her brothers were different.
They would use the evidence to pressure the noble and extract profit. In the noble society built on politics, that was natural, expected.
Depending on the use, the results gained could be far superior to merely punishing the criminal. And if it were Calia's brothers, certainly so.
For someone more fitting to a knight than a noble, it was a gap she could not bridge.
"It is difficult for me. To seize upon someone's weakness and wield them at will, or to leave a corrupt noble untouched."
Calia turned her head.
Beneath the railing were the tavern's patrons. The sounds of laughter and chatter lingered in her ears.
"Do you remember the conversation we had on the airship? That, I wished the world would become a little cleaner..."
"I remember."
That was when they went to subjugate the Glory of the Dead.
"I said that was the righteous path I had chosen. That no matter how distant the destination, the results of my actions would not be meaningless. I said it with confidence, but... fuu, this is the first time I confess it to anyone, it was not all that noble. Truthfully, it was more petty."
Calia lowered her gaze.
"Compared to my brothers, I lacked noble qualities. That was obvious. The only thing acceptable about me as a noble was the fact that I was the marquis' sole daughter."
Her appearance was not lacking, so she was well-suited for a political marriage. Knowing this, Calia had steeled herself from childhood.
But she had been born into the House of Esperanza.
A lofty position where forcing marriage was unnecessary.
The vassal houses were already bound by unbreakable loyalty forged through wealth and power.
Moreover, the Marquis of Esperanza and his wife cherished their children dearly.
Such parents would never send Calia into marriage with corrupt nobles. And naturally, neither would the royal family.
"Nor could ties be forged with foreign nobles. The royal family is extremely wary of outside interference. They are even displeased by the Luas Church, so how could they possibly stand by as the marquis' daughter entered into a political marriage with another nation? What then was left for me?"
Verden's gaze fell on Calia's hands.
Her palms were covered with calluses.
"The sword?"
"Yes, the sword. I trained and trained the one talent I had. While pondering what I could do for my house, I concluded the answer was reputation."
The marquis' daughter personally subdues criminals.
In the kingdom, it was unprecedented, and its effect exceeded expectations. Now even the nobles were deeply wary of her.
White Steel Calia.
She was praised as righteous.
"...It was rewarding. Arresting criminals, saving innocent citizens, all of it. Seeing people smile happily, my sword felt lighter, and my heart swelled with pride."
But.
"Whenever the name of the House of Esperanza was mentioned alongside mine, it was like a thorn in my throat, deeply unsettling. In the end, the reason I trained the sword was to carve a place for myself within the house..."
To cleanse the world.
That ideal, seemingly noble, was in truth a veneer to cover her inferiority.
Purpose and benevolence.
Each value collided with the other.
Calia was wandering between them.
"And then, someone appeared who might give me an answer."
"Was that me?"
"Yes, you, Asher."
For Calia, Asher was the first of his kind.
At first, she had thought him merely a mage of great talent.
Until she witnessed his unprecedented path.
He had taken the Orb of the Undead from one of the kingdom's two great prohibitions, and single-handedly annihilated undead that she herself could not resist.
In Roafra, he had rescued enslaved siblings and faced Vintert. And this time, he even challenged a Transcendent, and was acknowledged by the tower master of DarkWarton.
An overwhelming mage.
And yet, one who did not bend to power but upheld his own will.
'...Free.'
That was how Calia felt.
Unlike herself, bound by her own chains.
That was why she created this occasion.
Because before her, this mage seemed like someone who could provide the answer she needed.
Thus she asked.
"Asher, why did you save those siblings?"
She hoped it would be the first and last question.
***
Within the tavern, filled with clamor.
Verden fixed his eyes on Calia's. Utterly earnest eyes.
'So it wasn't a trivial matter.'
It was not a question to be taken lightly. To others it might be, but from Calia's perspective, earnestly seeking an answer, it was not.
Verden recalled her question.
Why had he saved Charlotte and Aiden?
There were many reasons.
The siblings' appearance had reminded him of his own past, when he lived as an experimental subject in the magic tower. The word "experimental subject", spoken by Ruin Costa, had struck his reverse scale.
And because he had not wanted them to suffer the same abandonment he had endured, with no one to help.
It was complex in nature.
Then, purpose and benevolence.
Would Calia belong to one of those two, in which she wandered?
Soon after, Verden answered.
"It would be closer to purpose."
"...Is that so."
Calia's expression was tinged with disappointment.
But Verden had not yet finished speaking.
"And yet, benevolence is clearly there as well."
"What?"
Calia furrowed her brows slightly.
"If benevolence is accompanied by purpose... does that not make it hypocrisy?"
"Then was building your reputation for the sake of the marquisate benevolence, hypocrisy, or perhaps evil?"
"That is..."
Calia was at a loss for words.
Naturally, there was no way to distinguish it. The world was far too complex to look upon with a dichotomy of good and evil.
Verden asked.
"Have you ever truly regretted subduing criminals and saving people, Lady Calia?"
Unconsciously, Calia clenched her hand.
It was empty, yet she could clearly feel the hilt of her sword. Along with the relief of those whose lives she had saved, and her own resolve whenever she swung her blade.
"...No, never."
"Then is that not enough?"
Looking back, there was no regret.
Then there was no reason to waver. Even if she went back in time, she would act the same.
The important thing was not to regret.
Verden filled Calia's wineglass.
Wordlessly watching, she asked one last question.
"Then you... have you ever truly regretted anything?"
"Never."
Not once, after achieving Defying the Heavens.
Verden declared without hesitation.
That resolute answer resounded softly amidst the tavern's clamor.
Calia, propping her chin with her fingertips, gazed blankly at Verden.
Her crimson eyes shimmered with a strange light. Her skin looked flushed, whether from drink or from the dim glow of the lights.
Slowly, she parted her lips.
"...Calia."
"...?"
"From now on, call me Calia."
Verden blinked.
At that reaction, Calia smiled.
"There is nothing strange about it, is there? Though it was one-sided that you saved my life, we have nevertheless shared life and death. And someone who challenged a Transcendent would hardly care for noble rank. To speak without formality, I think, is only natural..."
Calia lifted her wineglass and held it out.
Though it was a sudden proposal, it made no difference. Formal speech was nothing but an empty courtesy.
Verden grasped his glass.
"Then so be it, Calia."
Clink.
Their glasses met.
The night of the capital deepened.
***
At the same time, in Estiria's royal palace.
The third prince, Evers, was drinking alone, his appearance disheveled. With not even a side dish, his stomach burned, but he did not care.
Soon, emptying the bottle, he slammed the desk.
Immediately, a servant rushed in from outside.
At the same time, a glass cup flew past his head.
"Y, Your Highness... ugh!"
Crash!
Shards grazed his skin.
Fortunately, they did not pierce his eyes. As he carefully pressed his stinging skin, the third prince shouted.
"The wine is gone, isn't it! I told you to prepare more in advance! What, do you also find my state amusing!"
"N, not at all... I shall bring it at once!"
The servant fled in haste.
Clicking his tongue, Evers clenched his fist. Without wine, reality, which he had tried to forget, surged back.
'Damn it, damn it...!'
Evers was the very one who had clasped hands with Glory of the Dead, aiding in the outbreak of the undead incident.
Only a few months ago, everything had seemed to be going smoothly. With the power of a black mage, and the Union, he had been closing the gap with the first and second princes at speed.
So it had been.
"And these vermin dared deceive me!"
Bang!
The elder of Glory of the Dead.
They had promised to grant him a contract with powerful undead, then disappeared the moment they received their goods. Driven into hiding, it seemed, by the pursuit of the House of Esperanza.
In truth, the elder was already dead, but Evers did not know.
The name Glory of the Dead was not known to any outside the direct participants. Not even the King of Estiria knew of it.
With his already meager information network, there was no chance Evers could uncover the truth.
So for him, it could only feel like betrayal.
'And to think such a thing was possible...!'
Evers recalled the tower master of DarkWarton.
Magic that revived the dead to converse with them. If the tower master personally delved into the matter, the culprit behind the undead incident would be revealed as Evers.
That would mean utter ruin.
Prince or not, he would be dragged to the public square and executed.
'But even if it remains hidden, the situation is dire.'
The throne would be decided between the first and second princes.
If he lingered idly, his head would surely roll. With the strength left to him, he had to choose one and stake everything.
"Your Highness Evers, here is the wine..."
"Leave it and get out!"
Taking the new bottle, he drank it down at once.
'Brother Lotnil's faction is strong, but... siding with Brother Valrgna has a higher chance.'
Because Vintert was behind him.
Wiping his lips, he made his decision.
With his life on the line, he had to side with the one with better odds. Exile or banishment could be dealt with later.
"Urgh..."
Had he drunk too much?
Suddenly, drowsiness overcame him. Staggering toward the bed, Evers collapsed onto the floor. His consciousness fled at once.
And a moment later, in the darkness, someone appeared.
The first princess, Silis.
Placing her hand upon Evers head, she whispered softly.
"May your nightmare become reality."
A whisper steeped in malice.
Silis appeared almost like a 'witch'.
The storm had already begun.
***
The forge of the House of Esperanza.
The furnace that glowed day and night, the ceaseless ringing of metal.
The hammering that shook the air, rousing beasts and plants from slumber, was gradually falling silent.