WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Order
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ I Became the Dark Knight in the Game World ◈
Chapter 60: In Search of the Lost Heirloom (3)
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[Your face looks so Abyssal that even a Demon would want to be friends with you!]
Orisin cackled. Kriel rubbed holy water over his hand for the first time in a while, grabbed Orisin’s horn, and shook it.
[Argh! My horn!]
It was a reason he truly did not want to accept, yet one he had no choice but to accept. Just as Kriel felt that familiar sense of defeat, Alberic’s cry rang out.
“No. Don’t you know first in, first out? How can a junior graduate before a senior?”
“Be quiet, young master!”
While Oife went over to Alberic’s cell to bicker with him, Kriel bowed his head to the other elf.
“There’s something I want.”
“Pardon?”
The elf had offered compensation while bowing to Kriel moments ago. The Lir Family had so thoroughly disregarded a knight’s honor that it was only right for them to fulfill his request with every resource at their disposal.
What sort of compensation would he demand?
A secret artifact preserved by a prestigious elven family? Since he had been separated from that troublemaking young master by only one wall, perhaps he had heard about the heirloom. Tension filled the low-ranking elf, who would have to convey Kriel’s request to her superiors.
“Please cook some white rice and take it to that fellow’s room. He was awfully loud about wanting to eat rice last night.”
“Rice?”
The knight silently nodded. Compared to the grave insult to his honor, it was an utterly trivial request. The elf answered blankly.
“It is not a crop our family eats often... Unless Lady Fand specifically asks for it, we do not even procure it─”
“Fand?”
It was a name Kriel had never heard before. This was his first time visiting the Lir Family, and he had no meaningful connections in noble society, so there had been no chance to hear the name of an important member of a prestigious elven family.
‘I should’ve asked Armede.’
Come to think of it, he did know someone who was not merely connected to nobility, but was a noble. Still, Armede was more of a mage than a noble in Kriel’s mind, so the thought had not occurred to him when he left the Gabi estate.
As Kriel repeated the name, Oife, who had been bickering with Alberic, approached and whispered.
“Niam.”
“Ah. I’m sorry...”
The elf called Niam repeatedly bowed her head. Kriel sensed the familiar air of someone new to the workforce. Considering she had been the first person the Lir Family sent to meet him, she seemed to hold the lowest standing among its members.
“Hey! What are you apologizing for? You just told the truth!”
Alberic shouted from inside the cell.
“It’s not some huge secret that only Mother and I like white rice in this house. Anyway, thanks for looking out for me. Let’s have a drink when I get out!”
* * *
On the way to the guest room under Niam and Oife’s guidance, Kriel received a brief explanation about Alberic and Fand.
Fand, Nawiden Lir’s wife, was not an elf of the Empire. She was a fundamentalist elf who had lived while serving the World Tree, a member of a bloodline that carried the heritage of the Ancient Elves most strongly.
[Hey, that’s strange. Do elves from over there even come outside? Did she fall in love with her husband at first sight or something?]
Tuon rebuked Orisin’s whisper to Kriel.
[You vulgar curved blade. Think about the situation. There must have been a reason Fand, one of the World Tree Elves, had to leave.]
[What reason would those World Tree caretakers have to come outside... Ah...]
The Demon King War.
Orisin fell silent. It was common knowledge that the World Tree had nearly burned during the early days of the Demon King War.
Kriel recalled the setting of Tirnanog RPG. The players called Heroes only appeared after the world had already been consumed by the flames of war. If the Demon King War were divided into its beginning, middle, and end, they were a salvation mechanism that only appeared in the very final stages of its latter half.
The time from the Heroes’ appearance to the Demon King’s defeat had been short. Yet decades had passed from the beginning of the war to the Heroes’ arrival.
‘Tirnanog RPG was never a game that kindly explained its setting.’
Still, he could roughly infer the setting from clues such as item descriptions and boss battle cutscenes. The Demon King War had lasted at least ten years, and perhaps close to a hundred.
Or perhaps both were true. The Abyssal Domains created by the Abyss distorted even time and space within them, like black holes. One second outside might become one minute inside. The Demon King War had played out across the world of Tirnanog, and Abyssal Domains had sprung up in countless places throughout it.
Since the depths of those Abyssal Domains varied, the degree of time distortion naturally varied as well.
While Kriel thought about Tirnanog, Orisin was being scolded by Tuon.
[Such a thoughtless remark, with no regard for the scars of war. And you call yourself a Spirit!]
[Wait a moment. This is a misunderstanding. I’ve been cooped up in the mountains for so long that I don’t know much about recent events!]
[You claim to be among the oldest of Spirits, yet you would use ignorance as grounds for leniency. How cowardly! Your sword body is bent, so you must have no hesitation in bending your convictions as well!]
[No, come on!]
Orisin felt wronged. If anything, that Demon Sword was a purer servant of the Abyss than Orisin was. Why was Orisin being scolded by a Demon Sword for being unable to read the room?
The two swords possessed at least a little tact. Fortunately, their quarrel was conducted through thought waves. Kriel let their bickering wash over him and spoke.
“I heard that every plant in Tirnanog grows around the World Tree. Alberic’s fondness for rice must come from that influence.”
“Yes. That brat, no, Young Master Alberic was born during the war. While Elder Nawiden was at the front, the young master lived with Lady Fand.”
The intelligence Kriel had neglected for so long while focusing only on being a noble knight stirred to life. From the mood of the two elves, he could easily infer that Lady Fand’s current condition was not good.
He recalled what Alberic had shouted in prison. His fervently filial declaration that even if the elders would not, his mother would go easy on him, and his whining about wanting a steaming bowl of white rice. Perhaps it had not been the complaints of an immature prodigal son, but a bitter longing for his mother.
‘Could part of the reason Alberic acts like a wastrel be an attempt to avoid his mother’s absence?’
By the time Kriel finished analyzing the psychology of the prodigal young lord shut away in prison, their guided tour had reached its end.
Kriel was led into a reception room of the Lir Family for the third time. The first had been the room where he waited for Niam. The second had been the trap room that led to the prison. And now, this one.
This room was clearly more luxurious than the previous two. Its luxury was elven rather than human. The door was made from intertwined branches, where nature and artifice coexisted without a single mark of an axe or other tool.
Oddly, the branches had intertwined into a particular pattern. It was likely the result of the elves’ unique affinity with nature.
Niam and Oife opened the double doors. Beyond them waited an elderly-looking male elf.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Kriel. I am Nawiden Lir, here to represent the Lir Family.”
Nawiden was an elder of considerable years and high standing. His position alone offered two fertile grounds for authority, yet there was not a trace of pressure in his voice.
There were two reasons for that.
First, as Nawiden prepared for death, he had let go of all attachment to things like authority. Among the elders who valued dignity and honor above all else, Nawiden had been the first to volunteer to offer an apology.
Second, the Lir Family had already insulted Kriel’s honor. To suspect a knight who fought against the Abyss of being connected to it was an insult beyond measure. It would not have been strange for Kriel to demand the heads of Niam, who had mistaken him, or the others who had failed to properly verify the matter.
As soon as Nawiden finished his brief introduction, he bowed deeply in apology.
“Though elves live long lives, time and wisdom do not always grow in proportion. The name of Lir has stained your honor, so I can only offer my apologies. We cannot undo what has already happened, nor can honor be replaced with wealth. Even so, a true apology must be sincere. Tell us whatever you desire. We will answer with the full strength of our family.”
‘Oh.’
Kriel was flustered. The other party was not merely an elf, but an elderly elf. An apology from someone old enough to be his grandfather, both in appearance and actual age, was devastating to a scholar-knight hybrid raised in a land of Eastern courtesy.
“Please withdraw your offer. I understand this was a misunderstanding rather than an intentional act, so I require no compensation.”
After helping Nawiden up for the sake of the elderly elf’s back, Kriel sat at the table and began to explain why he had come to the Lir Family in the first place.
“A Spirit’s corruption? Might I see the Spirit in person?”
[This one has arrived!]
Orisin sprang out of the Horn Dagger. Nawiden studied the sight carefully. The Spirit clearly possessed a history far beyond the ordinary.
“Is there anything else you require?”
“This Spirit is my friend. I came only to grant my friend’s wish, so wealth and profit are not matters to discuss.”
Nawiden nodded. Kriel was a remarkably upright knight.
In truth, his appearance alone was enough to remind Nawiden of the Abyssal commanders he had fought at the risk of his life in his youth. Yet Kriel called a Spirit his friend. Spirits saw one’s inner self rather than outward appearance, so his character was all but proven.
“Then we shall do everything possible to cleanse Elder Orisin of this filth. We must open the family vault.”
* * *
Kriel followed Nawiden downstairs. The Lir Family estate faithfully followed the architectural style of the Ancient Elves, built both within and around several enormous trees.
These estates placed living spaces high up, where sunlight reached easily, while shelters and storage areas for protection against outside attacks were built in underground levels near the trees’ roots.
The place Kriel was being led to was a vault treated with particular care even among such storage areas. Security had become especially strict after the prodigal young master’s recent incident.
Elven mages of the Lir Family stood in front of the vault.
“Elder Nawiden. What brings you here?”
“By the unanimous decision of the family council, we will release an heirloom to aid Sir Kriel and his friend. Open the door.”
The certificate Nawiden presented bore the Lir Family’s Mana seal. The guards checked it several times before stepping aside.
As they walked down the dim passage of the vault, Orisin quietly asked,
[An heirloom? Is it the one we heard about in the underground prison?]
The vault was closed off from the start, and Nawiden was an elf, so he did not miss even the faintest sound.
“Hmm. It is. Have you met Alberic?”
Orisin had ended up speaking poorly of Nawiden’s son in front of his father and stammered for a moment. Kriel tried to smooth things over.
“We were neighbors in prison. Since we were both bored, we talked quite a lot. He did not seem like the sort to casually sell the family’s belongings outside.”
“Mm. I do not believe my son stole the heirloom to sell it somewhere either. Unless he intended to fill it with alcohol and drink from it...”
“To drink alcohol from it?”
“The heirloom Alberic stole is called the Truth Cup. Water poured into that cup gains the power of purification, stripping away disguises and revealing the truth. ...It is also said that our ancestors once used it as a wine cup.”
Was playing the role of a drunken prodigal a family tradition? While Kriel reconsidered his image of this prestigious Ancient Elven family, Nawiden headed deeper into the vault without hesitation.
“It is right there. This vault lies deep underground, but the mysterious architecture of the Ancient Elves ensures that light always reaches that spot. Sunlight during the day, moonlight at night. The Truth Cup absorbs that light and reflects it into the water─”
Nawiden could not finish speaking.
A pedestal glowed with a soft, mysterious light. Resting upon it was the silver Truth Cup.
The moment it entered Kriel’s sight, he strode over and smashed it.
Footnotes:
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