WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reincarnation of the Sword Demon

Chapter 11

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Sword Tower

"Fath..."

He had just been reprimanded, so he'd thought to try calling him father once, but it was a word he hadn't used since childhood, and it caught in his throat and came out barely at all.

"...Family Head. Are you truly planning to give away Fenris?"

Karthan asked carefully.

"Of course. I already said I would. Why would I go back on my word?"

Julius's face was flat and indifferent. Karthan swallowed a sigh.

"You know better than anyone what Fenris means, Family Head. That mad elf from the Sword Church alone sends envoys every year demanding it back. And that's not the half of it. The Crows to the west..."
"Between those two, the Crows are the lesser problem. At least they offer to buy it."

Five hundred years ago, the Sword Demon had never married. He had left no children.

And yet, in a sense, the Sword Church and the Crows were the closest things to children he had ever left behind in this world. The Crows would bristle at that framing, they only revered him, they would say, but the Sword Church was another matter entirely. Calling them the Sword Demon's children was barely an exaggeration. The Grand Master who led them had been a living devotee of the Sword Demon for five centuries.

"Imagine her finding out that the sword she has spent centuries screaming to get back was just handed to a five-year-old grandson. The five-hundred-year-old Grand Master of the Sword Church might actually choke to death on her own fury."
"Are... are you serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Family Head...!"
"Son."

Julius's eyes went cold and flat. A gleam like sword-light flashed through his gaze and landed on Karthan. Karthan sucked in a sharp breath and stepped back.

"Pure-blooded Alastor, firstborn of the family head. What are you so afraid of? Don't tell me you're actually frightened of the Sword Church."
"..."
"Fenris was taken by the founding ancestor after he defeated the Sword Demon. That is how it became Alastor's. The Grand Master may be unhinged, but she hasn't lost enough of her mind to stop respecting that."

Julius's voice stayed cold. His gaze drifted to Fenris where it stood planted in the floor of the Sword Peak Hall.

"Five hundred years ago, before the Sword Demon's followers had a name and before the Grand Master was what she is now, that mad elf challenged the founding ancestor to reclaim Fenris. She lost and withdrew. Since then, she has never once come to Gladiheim to take it back herself."
"That's because..."
"Not even after the founding ancestor ascended. The Grand Master has lived five hundred years, and in that time Alastor has had more than ten different family heads. Some of them were surely weaker than her. And still she never came. Why do you think that is?"
"I... don't know."
"Respect."

Julius clicked his tongue at his eldest son's dullness and gave him the answer.

"Mad as she is, the Grand Master is a martial artist. She understands why the founding ancestor took Fenris and chose not to return it. She respects that decision, even though I never asked her directly. She will not come for Fenris herself until she believes she has earned the right."
"Earned the right...?"
"Reaching the founding ancestor's sword, the one that defeated both her and the Sword Demon five hundred years ago. Or reaching the level of the Sword Demon's sword. One of those two is her standard."
"Then, isn't that all the more reason to keep Fenris safe?"
"Karthan. Karthan Alastor."

Julius exhaled slowly. Surge. A massive wave of killing intent erupted from him and crashed over Karthan like a collapsing wall. Karthan's legs buckled, one knee dropping to the floor before he could stop himself.

"Safe? Did you just say safe? It is not the Grand Master who has lost her mind. It is you."
"Gh...!"
"If the Grand Master came to take Fenris back, would you hand it over to her yourself?"
"I... would not...!"
"Good. That is the only acceptable answer. If she comes while I am still family head, I will face her myself. If you are family head when she arrives, you face her."
"..."
"Today I gave Fenris to my young grandson, but that changes nothing about what the family head must do. If anything, the fact that I gave it makes it clearer. Karthan Alastor. What is the name of my grandson, your nephew?"
"Kyle... Alastor."
"That's right. Alastor, same as us. If the Grand Master ever tries to harm that child over Fenris, what do we do?"
"The Family Head's decision has been challenged by an outsider seeking to insult Alastor. We fight the Sword Church."
"Now that is something worth hearing."

Julius let the killing intent recede.

"Of course, nothing that drastic will actually happen. The Grand Master isn't that sort of mad. But she may well come out of curiosity."
"Curiosity?"
"Wouldn't you be? Fenris sat as decoration for five hundred years, and now the youngest grandson of the house receives it. And a spirit on top of that. She'll find it intriguing. Even I do."

Julius watched quietly as Karthan struggled to catch his breath.

Karthan Alastor. Eldest of nine siblings.

Gifted, but too soft. Generous in a kind light. Gutless in a harsh one. Still, it was hard to fault him entirely, because the reason all nine of them had managed to get along without tearing each other apart was largely down to Karthan. He had never used his position as eldest to crush his younger siblings. He looked out for them, kept peace where it might have frayed, and handled small matters and large with a steady enough hand.

He did let the fear of things beyond his reach get the better of him, as just now. But that was forgivable. Karthan was necessary to the calm of the Sword Tower. And despite being the eldest, he had long accepted that birth order alone didn't make someone family head.

That was why Julius had brought him to witness Kyle's talent.

"Arian."
"Yes, Father."

Karthan always addressed him as Family Head, but Arian still called Julius father. She was the only one of his children who did.

"How do you think your son should be raised?"
"You're asking... my opinion?"
"He's your son too."
"..."

Arian hadn't expected the question. She hesitated.

"I'll be honest. I assumed you'd raise him however you wanted to."
"Did I raise you the way I wanted to?"
"..."
"I show the path. I don't shove anyone down it. That's why I said nothing when you set the sword aside."
"Because my gift for spirit arts was stronger, wasn't it?"
"That's part of it. If you had set the sword aside without that gift to show for it, you wouldn't have been allowed to stay in the Sword Tower. That is simply how it is."

His words were cold, but Arian was older now. She no longer heard them the way she had as a child.

Julius was her father. He was also the Alastor family head.

"Kyle is drawn to the sword. Even before we came to Gladiheim, he kept asking me to get him one. Did you know, when he was one year old, the first word he ever said to me was 'sword'?"
"Born to it. The memory may be etched into the blood after five hundred years."
"I think so too. But Kyle has talent for spirit arts as well. Forming a bond with a spirit dwelling inside an object, that's something even I can't do. Even among elves, it would be rare."
"So you want to raise Kyle as a spirit artist."
"I already told you he's drawn to the sword."

Arian shook her head with a wry smile.

"If Kyle wants to hold a sword, let him hold one. But if he ever wants to learn spirit arts too, I want to help him."

The way of the dokkaebi was beyond even her, but standard spirit arts she could teach. If Kyle ever showed interest, Arian would give him everything she had.

"Doing even one thing well is hard enough for most people."
"Kyle isn't an ordinary child. You saw it yourself today."
"Far beyond what I was at his age, I'll give him that. Which makes me want more from him. I keep wondering how far he'd go if he devoted himself to the sword alone."
"So... you're going to raise Kyle your own way?"
"I won't force anything. But I can ask. Your son has been walking up to me and calling me grandfather, after all."
"And if Kyle says he wants to learn spirit arts?"
"A little persuasion is fair, isn't it?"

The corner of Julius's mouth curved. That expression settled something in Arian's chest.

She had worried that today's display might make Julius inflexible and single-minded, that Kyle's other gifts would be crushed before they ever had a chance to surface. But Julius had no intention of raising his grandson that harshly. He was willing to respect Kyle's talent. All of it.

"Then... will you be the one to train Kyle directly, Family Head?"

Karthan had barely steadied himself and rose unsteadily to his feet.

"I can spend time with him. Calling it training is a bit early yet."
"Should I select a sword instructor from among the retainers, then?"
"Mm..."

Julius considered that for a moment.

"Let me think on it. While I spend some time with my grandson."

His eyes curved into a quiet arc and drifted briefly toward the closed doors of the Sword Peak Hall. Karthan didn't know what to make of the look.

Absurd as the thought was, Julius in that moment looked nothing so much like an ordinary grandfather waiting for his grandchild to come and play.

He's never made that face for any of us...

But Karthan could not hold that against him. From the time he was small, he had always thought of Julius as family head first and father second. His own children felt the same, and so did every other niece and nephew in the family.

"Haah..."

Part longing, part guilt. Something he couldn't quite name. Holding it close, Karthan lowered his head.

Thud.

Following Lucia out through the doors of the Sword Peak Hall, Kyle found the corridor beyond lined with relatives.

"What. Why are only the two of you coming out?"

The biggest of the uncles. Barkas, arms crossed, asked in that overbearing way of his. The petty bastard who'd been jealous of Arian's red hair and gold eyes since she was a girl.

"Grandfather said to show me around the castle."

Kyle said "grandfather" loud and clear, and Barkas's mouth fell open. A big man with a big head, jaw hanging like that, his face looked even larger.

"G... grandfath... Family Head? You called the Family Head that?"
"Yes."
"A little brat, showing no manners at all, how dare you address the Family Head that way..."
"Is it wrong to call your grandfather grandfather?"

Kyle blinked up at him with wide, earnest eyes. Barkas opened and closed his mouth, not a single word coming back.

"The Family Head has given Kyle-nim the order to be shown around the Sword Tower."

Lucia, who had wiped her eyes dry before leaving the Sword Peak Hall, spoke in a composed voice.

"Lucia."

The bulk blocking the corridor shifted sideways.

Katarina. She looked at the two wooden swords Lucia was carrying and asked,

"Who won?"
"...Kyle-nim won."

The steady voice went small. At those quiet words, Katarina's eyes went wide. The relatives around her did the same.

"Lucia lost?"
"That can't be right..."

Relatives who looked to be around Kyle's age murmured to each other. Standing in the middle of all that attention, Kyle puffed out his chest with open pride. His opponent had been an eight-year-old girl, but a win was a win, nothing to hide, nothing to be embarrassed about. Kyle was five right now, after all.

"I have many questions, but..."

Katarina recovered from her surprise first. She cast one last glance at the closed doors of the Sword Peak Hall and stepped aside.

"Following the Family Head's orders comes first. Go ahead."
"Thank you, Katarina-nim."
"Thank you, Aunt Katarina."

Kyle's wide smile made Katarina's expression shift again, something flickering in her eyes. And then Kyle, with every gaze in the hallway still on him, followed Lucia through the first-floor corridor of the Sword Tower.

Why does everyone in this house react like that every time I use a normal word?

Calling grandfather "grandfather" shocked them. Calling the uncle "uncle" shocked them. Now calling the aunt "aunt" did the same.

What a cold bunch.

That noble houses and great clans were stiff and hollow, he had known since his last life. But this was the family of the man who ended the Dark Age, and even they were like this.

Lucky there's no fratricide, at least.

Come to think of it, the reason Ruin Alastor had come down from the mountains had been the fratricidal imperial succession war. It made sense that Alastor would have made killing one's own blood into a taboo.

Still... as long as nobody's dying or genuinely hating each other, a bit of fighting is fine.

Among the relatives he had just passed, there were already plenty he would want to test himself against someday.

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