WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Sword Master of the Fallen Kingdom

Chapter 17

──────

Rumors of a Windfall (2)

Every time I dredge up old memories, the same thoughts follow.

What if things had been different back then. They shouldn't have gone the way they did.

Why did I do what I did.

Pointless. The past cannot be changed. Even in a world where the mystery of mana exists, time flows in only one direction. Bend space, raise the dead from their graves, and still you cannot turn back what has already passed.

That was why I lived the way I did, like someone who had already given up. I'd lost everything, so there was no reason to push forward anymore. No goals. Death didn't frighten me the way it frightened other people. I existed only because I hadn't died yet, and if I dropped dead in some back alley one day without warning, I thought I could accept it quietly.

There was nothing left to protect. I was already a failure who had lost once. A ghost, chasing blindly after a past that had vanished before I could see what lay ahead.

If I could see them again, just once, what would I even say.

Would I apologize. Would I beg for forgiveness.

Every night I fell asleep imagining possibilities that didn't exist. I wanted to see the people I had loved, even if only in a dream. Even if all that remained was a deep, heavy regret, that would have been enough.

And yet....

"Where'd you wander off to? Figured I'd find you here."

A man came climbing up from below the hill. Like me, he was dressed for easy movement, a single sword buckled at his hip.

His hair was the color of ash, closer to grey than anything else, and it swayed as he moved. The curls were pulled back in a loose tail behind his shoulders. Tall, with lean muscle sitting close to the bone from head to toe, not one wasted ounce anywhere on him.

Even his easy stride carried the sharp, restrained bearing of a knight.

I stared at him blankly. There was so much I wanted to say, but now that he was right in front of me none of it would come out. Like a stone had wedged itself tight in the back of my throat. My body felt the same way.

"...Commander Rowen."

My mouth opened on its own, fortunately, without any say from me. The voice was clearly mine, but it didn't feel like mine. As though I was standing to the side and listening to someone else speak.

"I was wondering what you were up to, skipping training like that. Having a nice nap in the sun?"

Rowen reached the top with a teasing smile at the corner of his mouth.

My mouth moved again, without asking my permission.

"Who's napping? I was meditating. For a few minutes."

"You've grown bold, haven't you, Kyle. Telling outright lies straight to my face."

"No, it's the truth. I just came up to clear my head. And people need rest, you know? How is anyone supposed to train every single day? Rest is part of the work, too. Just what I'd expect from a rough northerner."

"So that's why you and the prince snuck off to play yesterday?"

My body flinched. Like a kid caught causing trouble behind his parents' backs.

"That was... that wasn't my idea. Yurian was the one who talked me into it...."

Ah. Right.

It's old history now, but back then I had people I could call friends my own age. One was a mercenary of unknown origin and the other was a prince of the realm, but petty things like status didn't matter to any of us.

We got along that well. Rivals too, in our own way. Whenever a free moment opened up we'd slip down into the city and wander around eating whatever looked good. The palace attendants and handmaids ran out of sighs daily.

Everyone said I was the one corrupting Yurian. The truth was I mostly just got dragged along.

"Talked you into it? Who?"

"Yurian...."

"Hey. Even if the prince talked you into it, you should've said no on the spot. You have no spine at all?"

"Fine, fine. Enough lecturing. I was wrong about everything, alright?"

"You little..."

Rowen's expression soured and he rapped me on the head, light and sharp. I let out a small yelp. He probably thought he was holding back, but from where I was sitting it really hurt.

"Ow, come on!"

"'Come on'?"

"...I meant go easier. Obviously. This is the fist of the great Commander of the Ash Knights. I should be honored just to take the hit."

Rowen snorted and sat down beside me. The shade beneath the tree was cool and pleasant, just right.

Whoooosh.

The wind came through again. The tree's shadow stretched all the way down to the sunlit slope below. The fields swayed with the sound of grass whispering against itself. Butterflies drifted above the wildflowers scattered here and there.

We watched it all in silence. No worries. No anxieties. Our minds went quiet. We dissolved into the scene.

"How's it going? Things livable these days?"

After a while, Rowen was the one to break the silence.

"Out of nowhere?"

I looked over at him. He still had his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the fields.

"Just thinking about how long it's been since you showed up. You looked like you could die at any moment back then."

"You're right. It's already been over half a year."

More than a year spent alone after falling into this world from Earth. Then fleeing the Empire and crossing the border, arriving in the north on a cold winter's day. That was already eight months past.

"You talk back whenever you get the chance. At least you seem better. Running off with the prince every other day."

"I keep telling you, Yurian was the one who asked me to go. And life lately is... well, it's a lot better than before. I always thought the north was cold all year round, but then there are days like this."

A yellow butterfly fluttered in front of me. I raised my hand. It landed on my index finger for a moment, then lifted off to find a flower.

"It's always cold further up."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Up by the Caldra Mountains the snow never melts, not even in summer. That's where star iron comes from too. Compared to that, the capital here is practically paradise. Short, but at least it has a summer."

The Velia continent got colder as you went north and warmer as you went south. The southern kingdoms sat in mild climates and grew wealthy without trying, but Hailen Kingdom in the north was the opposite.

Harsh land meant conflict came naturally. It was fortunate that rare resources like stellarium and magic stones were plentiful in the ground. Without those, the Empire or the Federation would have crushed Hailen long ago. At the very least, the Ash Knights had earned a name as the finest order on the continent.

"If I could get a star iron sword of my own, I'd have nothing left to wish for."

"I'll give you one when you're knighted. So put in the work."

"Knighted? That's ten years off at least. I'll just slack off until then."

I flopped down lazily in the shade. Rowen clicked his tongue.

"Is training hard?"

"It's whatever. I just do it."

"Remember this. A solid foundation is the root of any knight. In your most critical moment, that foundation is what saves your life."

"......."

"You have the talent. You'll climb fast."

"Last week you were tearing into me for having no fundamentals."

"Kid. What do you want me to do, lie? You genuinely have no fundamentals. Was I wrong?"

Nothing came to me. Rowen wasn't wrong about a single thing. The swordsmanship I'd picked up was nothing but a rough, rootless mess, learned by killing in back alleys just to stay alive. Even my grasp of mana had come through instinct alone.

"That's exactly why I train until my bones are ready to give out."

"Not give out. Break. Train until they break. What you're doing isn't enough."

Tired of listening, I turned my head away, still lying on the ground.

"Actually, now that I think about it, I'm offended. Am I really talented? It doesn't feel like I'm improving at all."

"You're questioning me now?"

Rowen looked down at me like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Your rotten attitude is the problem, not your talent. The talent itself is flawless. You can't beat me because you don't work hard enough. That's it."

"But I've never won even once. I'm lucky if our clothes brush."

"Obviously. What sense does it make for a twenty-two-year-old to beat me? There isn't a single knight in this order who wasn't called a prodigy in their youth. If anything, you're the strange one. A kid who's held a sword for less than two years."

"Even so...."

I trailed off. Rowen spoke plainly, but something in me kept getting impatient regardless.

"Work hard. Like your life depends on it. One day you'll beat me. You might even take my place someday. You have that potential."

I turned my head and looked up at him. I'd expected a joke, like usual. His expression was nothing like that.

Dead serious. The same as when he'd saved me back when I was dying. Warmth hidden inside indifference. A father giving advice to his child.

"...Do you really think that day will come? The day I beat you?"

The question came out on its own. Rowen was the strongest knight I knew. Imperial knights, Federation knights, the Holy Knights of the Church. None of them felt like they could beat him. Neither could I.

"Yes."

"How can you be so sure? That I'm capable of that?"

"Because you are my one and only squire."

Rowen met my eyes and answered with total certainty. He looked at me and smiled, softly.

"That day will come. Without a doubt."

***

Kyle woke up and lurched upright like he'd been seized by a convulsion. His heart was pounding wildly. His hands and feet kept shaking.

"Hah... hah...."

His breath came out ragged and heavy. He sat there a while, letting his racing heart settle and his breathing slow, then looked around. The inn room he'd checked into the night before. A quick glance at the window told him dawn was still a little way off.

"A dream... was it...."

Kyle clenched his stiff hands into fists. His whole body was damp with cold sweat.

Something was running down his cheek. He reached up without thinking. When he realized, a beat too late, that it was tears, a short dry laugh escaped him. There was nothing else to do.

The people most precious to him.

To think that dreaming of them could hurt this much.

Don't expect anything and you'll never be betrayed. Those who give up and resign themselves don't know happiness, but they don't know pain either. That was exactly why dreams of the past were so devastating to Kyle. The wish he had longed for so desperately had finally been granted, and all that was left was regret. He wanted to see them, and he didn't. He would rather forget. For Kyle, who lived each day only because he hadn't died yet, memories like these were nothing but torture, planting useless hope where it had no right to grow.

Nothing is as empty as a dream that can never come true. Hope is a poison that slowly dulls you.

"Damn it...."

He let it out quietly and slowly got to his feet. He tilted the water pitcher and drank the cold water in one long pull, and that was enough to bring him back. Looking at the window again, the world outside was still that pre-dawn blue, just on the edge of morning.

Go out, Kyle thought. There's nothing to do here except get swallowed up by useless memories.

He dressed quickly. The lightweight, quality leather armor he always wore. The long black cloak with a hood that fell to his feet. The one star iron sword that had become as much a part of him as his own body. Getting ready didn't take long. Everything else was already stowed in his spatial pouch, so Kyle walked straight out of the room.

The second-floor hallway of the inn was silent. Not just the hallway, the whole building sat without a sound. He made his way down the stairs without noise and slipped out to the open lot behind the inn. At this hour, still deep in the early morning, there was no one else around.

Kyle drew in a deep lungful of cold air. Over by one side of the inn's backyard stood a well and a bucket.

He glanced at it once, then walked out to the center of the yard. He tossed the cloak from his shoulders onto the bucket handle without ceremony. The haze left by the dream had mostly cleared from his mind. All that was left was to shake off the last of it.

Exhale.

A long slow breath out, and his hand found the hilt.

Shing.

A silver blade, clear as water, came free of the scabbard. Moving in a smooth arc with his hand, the sword caught the dark blue dimness of the yard and flared pale.

The blade went forward.

His body moved on instinct. Habit carved into muscle and bone guided his hands and feet without any thought required. Slash, thrust, parry. All of it flowed as naturally as water. Every breath was within his calculation. In the early hours before dawn. Under the first faint blush of light beginning to spread at the edges of the sky. Kyle danced with the sword in his hand as his only companion, swinging the most precious gift he had ever been given faster and faster.

-Kyle, what is it you want?

Rowen's voice surfaced in his mind without warning.

-Goals matter. The same goes for the sword. Your will gives it meaning. Nothing is more hollow than empty swordsmanship. It has no destination.

I know. You taught me that yourself. You gave a second life to someone who was drifting and dying alone.

-Variation comes from controlled discipline. The sharpest move too. A fight between knights is at its heart something close to a battle of wits pushed to the limit. Never stop thinking. Always look for a way to win.

You looked after me without ever making it obvious. Kinder than anyone I'd known, stronger than anyone I'd known, quicker to laugh than anyone I'd known, and drank more than anyone I'd known.

-Live, Kyle. In my place. In all of their places. And above all else, for yourself.

Why did you say that to me. Why were you smiling right until the end.

Why do I still....

Crack!

A sharp tearing sound ripped through the air and broke his thoughts. He looked up.

The dim sky was bleeding faint red at the edges. Kyle slowly reined in the breath that had climbed all the way to his chin. Every inch of him was soaked in sweat. Heat radiated from his flushed body, impossible to suppress.

"If you have something to say, come out. Stop hiding."

Kyle had been about to wash up at the well. He turned his head toward one particular spot in the dark. There was nothing there.

Still, he kept his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond. A moment passed. Then someone shuffled forward, hesitant. The pale predawn light revealed a slight girl in a blue robe.

"I heard you're going into a dungeon."

A trembling voice came from beneath the hood.

"The silver-rank mercenary, Kyle... right?"

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried