WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 101: Ludmia Valhart

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Ludmia Valhart.

The Empire's youngest princess, fourteen years old this year, had been frail since birth.

Her mother, the Emperor's Third Imperial Consort, gave birth to Ludmia before reaching full term, then died after failing to endure the labor.

Ludmia had not been born a sickly premature child because something was wrong with the Emperor's blood. It was because the Imperial Consort who bore her had been unwell. Because of that, throughout her life, Ludmia had heard countless insults about the mother she had never even spoken to.

From her father, the Emperor, and from her half-brothers.

That environment had naturally made Ludmia unlike a proper princess.

She possessed none of the arrogance expected of royalty and lacked confidence. She had never stepped outside the Imperial Palace because of her frailty, so she was deeply interested in stories of the world.

What fascinated Ludmia most of all were swords and knights.

Swords and knights could not be separated from the revival of the Grandica Empire, which had once nearly been torn apart and destroyed. And Ludmia's body could not move as freely as she wished.

For Ludmia, who had spent her life confined to a detached palace, stories of great knights facing hardship and adversity with a single sword and carving out a new age were the stuff of dreams.

Vandemion was the family that had served the Imperial Family for generations and produced commanders of the Imperial Guard. Ludmia's mother had also been the younger sister of Leonard Vandemion, the current commander of the Imperial Guard.

Through that connection, Epor Vandemion had attended Ludmia since childhood. He had yet to become an official knight of the Imperial Guard, but his family name and ties to the Imperial Family had allowed him to move about the Imperial Palace and serve Ludmia.

In truth, the fact that Epor, who was no more than an apprentice, accompanied the princess almost like her personal knight was proof of how little regard the Imperial Family had for Ludmia.

Still, the two got along well, and Ludmia followed her cousin Epor as if he were her real older brother.

To Ludmia, who dreamed of knights, Epor was the closest and dearest knight she knew. To her dark eyes, his swordsmanship had looked magnificent.

"I... I lost."

Today, the sword Ludmia admired had suffered a crushing defeat.

Epor lowered his gaze with a despondent expression. A wooden sword he had been unable to hold onto until the end lay on the ground.

They could not swing real blades before a princess, even in a spar, so they had used wooden swords. Epor swallowed the sigh rising in his throat and glanced at Ludmia.

Had she been disappointed?

That was why he looked, but there was no disappointment on Ludmia's face. Her eyes were unfocused, her lips slightly parted as she stared at Kyle as if enchanted.

'Urgh...'

He had expected to lose, but that expression hurt Epor all the more.

What could he do? The spar had been too one-sided for him to flare up and refuse to accept the result.

Epor, who had faced Kyle directly, knew that better than anyone. The rumors that the Black Sword had defeated the Fist Demon and received the Empire's Martial Star Medal at the youngest age ever were true.

It was absurd enough to be hard to believe.

As the youngest of Vandemion, Epor had trained under excellent instruction since childhood. He had never felt that his own talent was lacking.

Kyle thought so as well. For a sixteen-year-old, Epor was good enough to be praised wherever he went. With that swordsmanship, he could become an official knight in Gladiheim immediately.

His opponent had simply been unfortunate.

A sword at that level was not even enough to count as a post-meal workout for Kyle. It was not a sword worth stepping forward to spar against, so to be honest, Kyle had not wanted to duel Epor in the first place.

That was especially true because the princess took pride in Epor's swordsmanship and found satisfaction through it. Breaking the dream of a sickly girl was not something Kyle enjoyed.

'I thought she'd be disappointed.'

But Ludmia's eyes were filled not with disappointment in Epor, but admiration for Kyle.

Enough to make Kyle feel a little burdened.

"Amazing."

Ludmia finally came to her senses and began clapping.

"Amazing, amazing! Wh- what just happened?"

She had not seen it clearly, but her impression that it had been amazing was strong.

"Sir Epor's sword went whoosh, then Sir Kyle's sword knocked it away like bam, and then it moved all swish, swish..."

Ludmia tried her best to explain the spar she had just watched in terms she could understand, but the exchange had been too fast for her to describe properly.

Epor, who had been listening silently, picked up his wooden sword.

He cleared his throat and cautiously asked Kyle, "Sir Kyle. Could you reenact that exchange at a speed Her Highness can follow?"

"Of course."

It was not difficult. Kyle raised the wooden sword he had lowered.

Ludmia watched him, hesitated for a moment, then asked in a careful voice, "If you're reenacting it... do you really have to use wooden swords?"

"Your Highness, surely you are not asking us to draw real swords?"

Epor spun toward Ludmia in shock.

"Even if it is only a reenactment, we cannot draw real swords before Your Highness..."

"I, I'm fine! You would never point your swords at me, would you?"

Ludmia spoke quickly.

Epor hesitated, then slowly looked at Kyle.

"Sir Kyle. Her Highness wishes it as well..."

"All right."

Kyle nodded and drew Fenris.

When the pitch-black blade emerged, Epor let out a quiet sound of admiration. Ludmia's eyes grew even hazier.

"Fenris... the Sword Demon's sword..."

Ludmia fidgeted with her fingers.

"C- can I touch it myself?"

"No."

Epor answered with a stern expression. Even if it was a princess's request, he could not grant everything.

"If Your Highness touches a real blade and suffers even the slightest scratch, Sir Kyle and I will lose our heads."

After saying that, Epor paused and corrected himself.

"Sir Kyle, as a recipient of the Martial Star Medal, likely would not lose his head. But mine certainly would. Even if His Majesty showed mercy, my father would cut it off himself."

"A- all right."

At Epor's forceful words, Ludmia's shoulders slumped.

Then, before Ludmia's eyes, the spar was reenacted at a slow enough pace for her to see.

Every time the slowly moving swords collided, Ludmia gasped in admiration. Epor's expression only grew more complicated. During the actual spar, he had been too busy responding with his own sword, but now that they were reenacting it, he could feel even more clearly just how powerful Kyle's swordsmanship was.

The reenactment ended, but Ludmia's eyes remained unfocused. She clasped both hands together and stared intently at Fenris in Kyle's hand.

Ludmia stood there for quite some time, so Epor cleared his throat.

Only then did she come to her senses and lower her clasped hands.

"I- I have watched a splendid spar. Sir Kyle's sword truly is as remarkable as the rumors say. Especially... whenever Fenris moved, it felt as though darkness danced from Sir Kyle's hand. The epithet Black Sword suits you perfectly."

"Do you truly think so?"

"Hm... yes? Of course I do."

"That's a relief."

"A relief? Why?"

"Because I came up with the Black Sword epithet myself."

Ludmia blinked at that, while Epor wore a dumbfounded expression.

An epithet was usually given by others or formed naturally through public rumor. It was rare for someone to name themselves. Those who did were generally the embodiment of outrageous self-love.

"Sir Kyle, you are fifteen, correct?"

"Yes."

"Hmm... I suppose that is an age when one might do such a thing."

Despite being only a year older, Epor spoke as though he understood Kyle's feelings completely.

From Kyle's perspective, with the reincarnated Sword Demon inside him, it was a humiliating assessment.

"I- if Sir Kyle does not mind, I would like to hear more of your stories. Would that be all right?"

Ludmia asked carefully.

"If Your Highness wishes it, I can tell you as much as you like. There is no need for you to ask me for such a thing."

It was not only because she was royalty. She was sickly and held such dreams of swords that Kyle did not feel like refusing her.

Kyle sheathed Fenris and led Ludmia inside the detached palace.

Kyle, Ludmia, and Epor sat facing one another in an extravagant reception room. Ludmia's eyes sparkled as she showered Kyle with question after question.

When had he first held a sword? What kind of Spirit Root did he have, and what sword arts had he learned? How had he trained with the sword, and why had he founded a knight order himself?

What had he spoken about with the Sword Church Master when he came to Gladiheim? What had the battle on Beltua Island been like, and how strong had the Fist Demon been?

She was not trying to pry out information. Her questions came from pure curiosity.

Kyle answered diligently while concealing anything that should not be revealed. He vaguely said that he had awakened an unusual Spirit Root and that he had chosen his sword art from the Great Archive in Gladiheim. He brushed over his conversation with the Sword Church Master in much the same way.

What Ludmia had truly been curious about was the battle on Beltua Island.

When he spoke of his desperate battle against the Fist Demon, Ludmia listened while swallowing hard and clenching her sweaty hands.

"You are amazing, Sir Kyle."

When all the stories had ended, Ludmia's eyes were even hazier as she looked at Kyle. The dream of swords and knights she had held in her heart fit Kyle as perfectly as clothing made for him.

"If I had been healthy too, I might have held a sword like you..."

"Do you have an illness, Your Highness?"

"No... I do not have any particular illness. I have simply been weak since I was born. The continent's famed physicians, Erdera, the head of the Mage Association said to be a master of healing magic, even the clergy of the Moon Church, the Empire's state religion. None of them could heal my body."

The Empire's symbol was the sun.

During the day, the Emperor, like the sun, illuminated the Empire. At night, the moon in the sky illuminated it. The Moon Church, which worshipped the moon, was an old religion that had existed alongside the Empire throughout its thousand-year history.

'Dark magic borrows power from the outer gods, while holy arts borrow power from gods.'

That was what Akarion had said.

The gods mentioned there were sky gods.

Kyle recalled the Angel that had watched him with affectionate eyes, as well as Akarion's words. Clergy who followed holy arts did not call the outer gods gods. They called them demons.

Angels and demons.

[Is there any reason to distinguish the two? Angel and demon are only names that mortals can understand more easily.]

Kyle recalled the Fragment's cryptic words and the audience chamber that had resembled the Cultivation Floors.

He also remembered the Emperor's gaze, which had felt like the gaze from the sky he had sensed there.

The Emperor's body had looked too young for a man seventy years old, despite him having learned neither swordsmanship nor magic.

'Could the princess's frailty and the Emperor's youth be connected?'

No matter how exceptional the Alastor Family was, it was one thing to think an irreverent suspicion about the Emperor and another to say it aloud. Especially in the heart of the Imperial Palace, Kyle had to be even more careful with his words and actions.

"Will Your Highness also attend tomorrow's party?"

"Mm-hm. Father cannot attend because of state affairs, so my brothers and I will attend in his place to greet the guests."

"Will the Izelion Family be at the party tomorrow?"

Ludmia nodded with a bright expression.

"Sir Kyle is interested in Izelion too?"

"Well... they are one of the Three Great Martial Families, like Alastor. They have eastern roots, and their closed traditions do feel rather mysterious."

"That's right! Izelion is a mysterious family."

Ludmia giggled and clasped her hands together. Her eyes filled with dreams once again.

"They do not belong to any kingdom. They live beneath the Hyeonmyeong Mountain Range, near the Wall of Severance. Sir Kyle knows this too, right? They say the forest where they live is covered in mystical mist, so uninvited guests can wander through the fog forever and never reach Izelion's village."

The reason the Izelion Family, so closed off from the outside, was called one of the Three Great Martial Families lay in its coming-of-age tradition.

Everyone born into Izelion left the family in the year they turned nineteen and traveled the world to prove their martial arts.

They could earn a knight's license in Ransel, pledge themselves to a family or kingdom in another land, or become mercenaries if they disliked being tied down. The method was free, but there was one duty.

They had to prove martial arts worthy of the Izelion name to the world and leave behind martial achievements.

That was why Izelion was closed off yet still known throughout the world. The family's gates were shut, but people bearing the Izelion name had made their names known across the continent.

"The Izelion Family Head and his daughter are expected to attend tomorrow's party. Perhaps they are attending because they are interested in Sir Kyle as well?"

Whether Izelion was attending because of Kyle or for another reason was impossible to know. Either way, it was fortunate that he would have a chance to meet them.

"The Family Head's name is Mu-hyeok Izelion, and his daughter's name is Soha Izelion."

Ludmia recited their names while fidgeting with her fingers.

"Izelion names are unusual because they are eastern in style, right? They say it is their tradition."

"Your Highness knows a great deal."

"The only thing I can do in the detached palace is read."

Ludmia smiled sadly.

Epor, who had been looking at Ludmia with a pitying expression, checked the time and carefully spoke.

"Your Highness. We should return now. You have been out for too long."

"Ah... is it already that late?"

Ludmia rose with a reluctant expression, but instead of leaving immediately, she fidgeted with her fingers and hesitated.

"S- Sir Kyle. Can we speak again at tomorrow's party?"

"Of course. If Your Highness wishes it, I will gladly do so."

At that answer, Ludmia smiled brightly.

* * *

The day of the party.

The Imperial Palace's grand ballroom was already full of people. Imperial nobles, foreign envoys, and knights.

The Imperial Family and Alastor would be the last to enter the grand ballroom, where hundreds of notable figures had gathered.

Kyle stood in the waiting room connected to the ballroom, fiddling with the buttons of his formal attire.

The Martial Star Medal he had received yesterday was pinned over the Alastor crest on his left chest, and Fenris hung at his waist. Behind him stood the members of the Sword Wolf Knights, dressed in matching formal attire and wearing Crescent Moon Medals.

Naturally, Roel's Sword Spirit Knights had received no medals at all. They glanced at the medal-wearing Sword Wolf Knights with eyes full of envy.

"Today's party is for the Empire's propaganda."

Julius spoke quietly.

"Some believe Alastor's name was tarnished because I lost to the Sword Church Master. Alastor is also the Empire's sword, so the Empire needs a new story to restore its diminished prestige. Kyle, you have become that story."

"It is embarrassing. Is that why we are entering last?"

"You are the protagonist of today."

Julius smiled mischievously.

Then the waiting room door opened, and a man in a red cape strode inside.

Crown Prince Alero Valhart.

Two young men and Ludmia followed behind Alero. Four people bearing the noble blood that directly descended from the Emperor stood gathered in one place.

"There is no need for formalities."

Everyone except Julius lowered their heads, and Alero smiled as he raised his right hand.

"You are the leading figures who will make today's party shine."

"It has been a long time, Your Highness Alero."

"Grand Duke Julius. It truly has been too long!"

Being Crown Prince did not mean he could speak down to a Grand Duke. Alero approached Julius with a broad smile and gave him a small bow.

"So you are Sir Kyle, the Black Sword. I am pleased to meet the true protagonist of today's party in person."

Alero's gaze turned to Kyle.

The Emperor's eldest son and the next Emperor. He looked young like his father, but Kyle could not feel the same pressure from him.

"It is an honor, Your Highness."

Kyle bowed his head as he answered.

Alero ran his eyes over Kyle's red hair, golden eyes, and Fenris at his waist, then stroked his chin.

"I had heard of it, but seeing it in person is quite symbolic. Red hair, golden eyes, and Fenris as well... Hahaha! Does it not look as though the Sword Saint himself has returned?"

Kyle's face did not actually resemble the portrait of Ruin Alastor, the Founding Ancestor.

But red hair, golden eyes, and Fenris at his waist. Kyle possessed all three traits that symbolized the Sword Saint.

It was enough to call the hero of five hundred years ago to mind, making Kyle ideal material for Imperial propaganda.

"Today, Sir Kyle will stand at the party as a new sword who will defend the Empire's future, and as a young hero."

Alero continued stroking his chin as he looked Kyle over. His gaze traveled from Kyle's head to his toes several times, then curved into a satisfied smile.

"Ludmia. Come here."

At Alero's call, Ludmia stepped forward.

Light makeup adorned her pale face, and she wore a pure white dress. Ludmia looked delicate and beautiful.

"I heard Ludmia visited the detached palace where you were staying yesterday. When I asked about it, she could not stop talking about you."

Alero smiled and placed a hand on Ludmia's shoulder.

"It has been a long time since Ludmia spoke with such a bright and happy face. When I heard that, a wonderful thought came to me. Sir Kyle, would you enter the party holding Ludmia's hand?"

It was not only because he wished to make his sickly younger sister happy.

There was clear calculation in Alero's eyes.

He intended to use Kyle as fully as possible for the Empire's propaganda.

The protagonist of the party, a boy favored by the Alastor Family Head, would enter holding the hand of an Imperial Princess. The hundreds of notable figures gathered in the ballroom would read the bond between Alastor and the Imperial Family in that sight.

It would send a message that the connection between them, which had lasted for five hundred years, remained strong in the next generation.

Ludmia was the youngest princess, far from the line of succession, and she was frail as well. At this party and in the future, the role Ludmia could play as royalty was only that of a flower.

Whose hand that flower would be placed into would be decided by the political climate, but to the Imperial Family, Kyle was a more than suitable person to give it to.

Kyle understood Alero's intentions as well.

Perhaps this would become the beginning of a connection, followed by an attempt to arrange a political marriage with Ludmia.

Naturally, Kyle had no intention of entering a political marriage with Ludmia. Another family might see marriage to a princess as an honor, a joy, and an opportunity, but Alastor was not such a family. If Kyle refused, that would become Alastor's will.

When Kyle glanced at Ludmia, her face was flushed red. The thought of entering while holding hands with Kyle, whom she admired even more after yesterday, made the girl's heart race.

"All right."

He could not refuse the Crown Prince's proposal to his face, and holding hands was no great issue.

Kyle nodded and extended his hand to Ludmia.

"Your Highness, may I hold your hand?"

"Mm, mm-hm. O- of course you may."

Ludmia's hand, covered in a white glove, rested in Kyle's palm.

At that moment.

He felt heat from his necklace.

"...?"

The necklace he had received from the Angel.

When he took out the bead to wake Lavian, only an empty pendant remained, and it had not reacted since. The necklace, which he could not remove even though it no longer seemed necessary and had only been bothersome, was now giving off heat as soon as he touched Ludmia's hand.

Kyle did not change his expression.

Maintaining a faint smile, he held Ludmia's hand. Even through her glove, he could feel the coldness of her hand.

It was the hand of a sickly girl.

Kyle's gaze slowly rose from Ludmia's hand.

He saw something.

A pure white thread was flowing from Ludmia's chest, near her heart.

A thin, faint thread, almost too faint to see.

Kyle continued walking while holding Ludmia's hand and maintaining his smile. At the same time, he checked where that thread led.

He could not know exactly where the thread went after passing through the wall.

But in that direction stood the main palace where the Emperor resided.

Footnotes:

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