WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Chen

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Genius Knight of a Fallen Race ◈

Chapter 42: I Believe in You Who Believe in Me

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As always, Shan had not taken out Thousand Forms before the princess because of some immensely complicated, meticulous calculation.

Though their first meeting had gone rather poorly, Shan held considerable affection for Princess Serin.

Ever since they had met, she had steadily shown goodwill toward them, or rather, toward Shan.

She had knighted him without even asking for an oath of loyalty. She had used her connections to make sure he could receive enchantment magic when needed, and she had provided him with a powerful magic device.

Kalion had done the same, of course, but Serin was different in one respect. To do so, she had exposed several of her own secrets.

She had spoken of ambitions that could see her brought before a religious tribunal and burned alive if revealed. She had even shared personal matters involving her family.

The decisive factor was how considerate she had been even after learning that they possessed a large amount of true silver.

Shan had not weighed every one of those things and calculated it all out, but he vaguely felt that he ought to repay that trust somehow.

And since the princess was also a mage, he had simply thought she would be happy to see Thousand Forms, just as Jerpo had been.

“What is this?”

The cool blue-silver blade carried an almost chilling air, and ancient Alto Era magic patterns were engraved across it.

Serin took off her amethyst glasses for a closer look. Her normally sleepy reddish-brown eyes widened as though they might pop out of their sockets.

“Kageto, Ravana, Aviur... Ah, like this? Really?”

Her gaze ran over the blade as if she were licking it, full of shock and excitement.

Her scarlet lips, gently bitten as she concentrated, looked almost seductive despite her age.

Perhaps because Shan stood before her with an impassive expression, holding out the sword as though nothing were amiss, the sight felt even more suggestive to Roden, who turned his eyes away without realizing it.

Serin continued examining the blade in a trance for several minutes before letting out a small scream.

She had accidentally touched it and deeply cut her finger. Red blood streamed down her hand.

“Ah!”

Shan quickly pulled the sword away and took out a handkerchief to wrap around the princess’s injured finger.

Serin waved him off and applied thick ointment from her hood pocket. The bleeding stopped almost immediately.

“That should do it. More importantly, what exactly is that...?”

“It is a relic excavated from an Alto city when we explored the Demon Realm not long ago.”

“I thought you might like seeing it,” Shan muttered quietly.

Most of the magical patterns were on the blade, so he had presented that end first. Thinking about it now, he should have held the blade himself and offered her the hilt if he wanted to show it safely.

Serin gave an irritated laugh.

“No, that is not the important part! You took out a treasure like this just because you thought I would like seeing it? Don’t you know how incredible this is?”

“I heard it is a treasure comparable to an entire kingdom.”

So he had not shown it because he did not understand its value after all...

Serin thought inwardly.

What would he have done if she coveted it?

Had he calculated that it was safe to show her because she was a princess capable only of scheming behind the scenes, with no useful fighting strength? He had already received the knighthood he wanted, so what could he possibly demand in return for showing such a precious item?

Yet the moment she met Shan’s green eyes, she was overwhelmed.

His eyes looked gentle, but they carried a firmness and stubbornness that would never break. There was not a trace of such calculation in them.

This Alto boy truly had shown it for the reason he had just given.

He simply thought Serin would want to see it.

“...Who else knows this weapon exists?”

“Roden and I, along with the mage and priest who explored with us.”

“How did you silence those two?”

“We didn’t.”

They had simply been given most of the initial share of profits from exploring the ruins.

It was an insignificant amount compared to the value of Thousand Forms.

As Shan thought that he should retrieve the rest of the relics they had buried near Sedil City someday, Serin heard his answer and let out a deep sigh.

Then she voiced an honest thought she had not meant to reveal.

“If it had been me, I would have killed those two there without hesitation.”

“That is...”

“I might have even killed Roden too, eliminating everyone who knew the weapon existed. On the way back, I could have simply poisoned your food and killed you, then kept the strongest weapon in the world for myself. It’s astonishing that none of the four of you thought of that.”

Jerpo had, in fact, considered such a thing when he first saw the weapon.

Still, after Shan suggested dividing the true silver between the four of them, Jerpo dismissed the thought, calling himself foolish.

For some reason, Serin looked deeply displeased after hearing that.

The expression of intellectual ecstasy she had worn moments ago while examining the magic contained in Thousand Forms had vanished.

“How can you be like that?”

“Pardon?”

“Aren’t you afraid? Of trusting people so openly, only to be betrayed?”

Shan had never been betrayed in his life.

The people he met while living in Willow Vilalge had only fallen into two groups. They either hated and looked down on him, or pitied him and felt sorry for him.

That had remained true after he ventured out into the wider world, met Roden, and began adventuring.

Fortunately, he had always parted from those who showed him goodwill with a smile.

If he had to name an exception, there were the mercenaries who died while trying to steal Awin. Honestly, though, Shan barely remembered their faces.

“I didn’t think Your Highness would do that.”

“I...”

“More than anything, Your Highness has already trusted us.”

Every time Serin had freely revealed her secrets or shown Shan her vulnerable side, it had been through thorough analysis and calculation.

She had even prepared several plans in case things went wrong.

Had Shan and Roden betrayed her, they would have paid a price harsher than anything they could imagine.

Unlike Serin, though, this Alto boy had revealed Thousand Forms for no reason beyond wanting to repay the trust he had received.

It was not the impulsive act of a boy desperate to attract a girl’s attention. Nor was it the pride of someone wanting to show off his possessions.

Silence fell for a while.

Then Serin, her face pale, asked the two to leave.

“I’m sorry, but please leave for today. I would like some... time to think. I will contact you later.”

After the two left, Serin whispered a spell and extinguished every light burning in Maya’s workshop.

The pitch-black darkness wrapped around her warmly, and the pressure that had made her feel as if she might suffocate vanished.

Maya would return soon, but Serin wanted to regain her composure before then.

‘Trust...’

Intellectually, she understood.

She knew Shan was that kind of person. She knew that if she steadily showed him goodwill, he would naturally return it.

Receiving trust so unrestrained was the result she had expected, and in a way, even more than that.

She should have simply been happy.

Wasn’t a hunting dog that would bite anyone at her command being trained wonderfully?

Yet after seeing it with her own eyes and experiencing it herself, she could not think of it that way.

It was like someone who had only learned about war from writings and paintings, then vomited because they could not endure the stench of blood and burst intestines. Reality always overwhelmed poor imagination.

For the first time in her life, Serin realized she had no resistance to this kind of emotion.

* * *

“She didn’t like it as much as I thought she would. I expected her to like it more than Jerpo did.”

“My heart nearly burst, you bastard...”

On the way back, Shan looked dejected by Serin’s lukewarm reaction.

Roden, walking beside him, let out a deep sigh.

“It’s not my place to tell you what to do, but please give me some warning first. All right?”

The instant Shan held out the sword, thousands of thoughts had run through Roden’s mind.

His head was still just as muddled now.

Would that ambitious princess truly feel no greed for the powerful magic device they possessed?

If she gave it to the king of another country in exchange for an army, it was a treasure that could let her conquer Pendia and sit on its throne.

Roden did not think Serin was foolish enough to make that choice, but even wise people often became fools before greed.

Unlike Shan, Roden did not trust the princess to that extent yet.

“Sorry.”

Shan had undeniably acted without thinking, so Roden could not say much more after his apology. He only let out a groan.

Serin’s response might have been lukewarm, but she had not looked like she was about to cause trouble.

In any case, she said she would contact them later, so they could keep busy until then.

They had plenty to do.

Most notably, they had guests to receive, just as Kalion had mentioned before.

The following afternoon, five or six knights invited through Kalion arrived at Weavers Estate.

Even after excluding racial supremacists and followers of the Old Faith, there were still quite a few promising knights who wanted to form ties with Shan.

Kalion managed such knights, who were sponsored by merchant companies connected to his own, and made considerable profit from Shan’s reputation.

Some Old Faith business partners had cut ties as a result, but most Magic stones came from the east anyway, so it was a loss worth accepting.

Those who bought gems as ornaments did not care that much about such matters either.

After admiring the cockatrice head in the entrance hallway, now a famous sight at Weavers Estate, the knights sat in soft chairs and chatted leisurely in the reception room.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Shan. I’m Asel of House Dormin.”

“I’m Orindra of House Katan. We crossed lances once at a tournament before.”

“I’m Garsa of House Aldan.”

“House Aldan? Are you perhaps from the same house as Sir Fional?”

When Shan asked, the young knight who introduced themself as Garsa answered happily.

“You know them! Sir Fional of Libert is a distant relative. Their branch is the main house, while ours moved to Pendia in my grandfather’s generation.”

“Oh... Then do you perhaps follow the Old Faith?”

“My father’s generation converted to the New Faith.”

“I see.”

If Garsa were a follower of the Old Faith, there would have been no reason to come meet Shan, an Alto.

Kalion would not have accepted the invitation either.

“Come to think of it, I heard Sir Shan is from Libert as well. Have you met Sir Fional before?”

“We happened to cross lances once.”

All the knights showed interest at Shan’s answer.

The Black Lance, famous as the most frequent winner of Libert’s jousting tournament, had crossed lances with the current champion of Pendia’s most prestigious jousting tournament in Hasra.

Any knight would be eager to hear about that.

“How did you end up crossing lances?”

“It was a minor dispute.”

Shan did not mention the Alto acrobatic troupe and gave them a brief version instead.

They had each made a single lance charge, sustained a small wound, and decided not to continue fighting.

“Hah, it sounds like a tale from old knightly literature. My heart is racing.”

“Two knights recognize each other’s skill and foretell a future match...”

As they eagerly listened to Shan’s story, a knight with a somewhat gloomy impression looked at him and asked, “Sir Shan, you are an Alto born and raised in Libert, are you not?”

“Yes.”

Was this Sir Bolin of House Anix?

The other knights looked uncomfortable at the question.

It was an unspoken rule among them not to bring up Shan’s status as an Alto unnecessarily.

Yet Sir Bolin ignored the looks they received and continued without hesitation.

“It must have been difficult living as an Alto in Libert.”

“It was. It’s an Old Faith country. Compared to that, Pendia is much better. I can even become a knight here, as I have now...”

“Aren’t you Pendia’s first Alto knight, Sir Shan?”

“I’m always grateful to Princess Serin. I could not offer her my lance because of circumstances, though.”

“Do you intend to accept Altos as squires in the future?”

“If they have talent.”

The atmosphere chilled under questions that were beginning to sound uncomfortable.

It was fortunate Shan answered calmly. No one could have blamed him if he had suddenly risen in anger or challenged Bolin to a duel.

Yet unlike the others, Shan was not angry at all.

It really had been difficult to live as an Alto in Libert. He was grateful to Princess Serin, and he was willing to accept talented Altos as squires.

Besides, Bolin’s voice and expression did not carry any obvious mockery, so Shan took it as ordinary conversation.

“I see.”

When Sir Bolin answered as though they had given up, another knight soon changed the subject.

“Come to think of it, I heard the outcome of Libert’s civil war is beginning to take shape.”

“Really?”

“I heard it from a relative living in the west not long ago. It seems Count Barlic will win after all.”

“I see...”

“And Sir Fional, whom we mentioned earlier, apparently earned great merit and received the title of baron from their lord.”

It had only been brought up to change the subject, but the knights soon became animated.

For a knight, becoming a titled noble through military merit was like a dream.

There were more than several hundred knightly houses in Pendia, but only a handful of the most capable ever gained such glory.

In truth, skill alone was not enough to accomplish that. One also needed the right opportunity.

Even Fional had proven their ability beyond doubt long ago, yet had nowhere to put it to use until war became their chance to rise.

“Hmph. If His Majesty the King were still in good health, perhaps we could have lent a hand too. We simply don’t have the money for an expedition of our own.”

“It’s difficult to join in now. Count Barlic has secured a complete advantage and no longer needs knights. If we join Duke Moraen’s camp and lose, the ransom will only become greater.”

The custom was that knights who participated in war, so long as they did not die in battle, were taken prisoner and ransomed.

Poor knightly houses that owned only one or two estates would inevitably be ruined if their head was captured several times.

An old knightly house could only survive by enduring such things over several generations, or by continually producing exceptional talents, reading the times well, and fighting on the winning side.

While they were talking, a relatively older knight glanced around and spoke.

“Sir Shan, I heard you wield a sword as well as you do a lance.”

“Is that true?”

The younger knights looked surprised, and the older knight nodded.

“I heard it from your teacher, Sir Darkal.”

“Do you know my teacher?”

“We rode together several times when he was still active. I was completely green then, of course.”

The older knight nodded with a nostalgic expression before adding, “So, if you don’t mind, could we exchange a few insights? As a warrior, I can’t help being curious.”

“Sure. Let’s go to the garden.”

“As bold as one would expect from the hero who hunted a cockatrice!”

“Then I’d like to learn a thing or two as well.”

Shan crossed swords with the other knights in the garden.

They used training swords with blunted edges and tips, the same kind he had often used while training under Sir Darkal.

During the sparring, Shan deliberately restrained his incredible explosive quickness.

He wanted to further refine the principles of swordsmanship he had learned from Darkal.

There were many psychological elements and precise techniques needed only when fighting people, not monsters, techniques that required reading far into the future.

Naturally, Shan won every match.

He met incoming blades, twisted them aside, pressed them down, raised them away, and counterattacked.

As he never lost in the complicated exchanges, the watching knights repeatedly marveled.

“Hah, so that’s how he counters it?”

“You got me!”

“Wow...”

Shan even made sure to touch his blade lightly against his opponents, so they would not be injured.

That was only possible because he restrained his strength and speed by several degrees while swinging his sword.

The others had also mastered countless martial arts from the time they could walk, so they could tell how formidable Shan’s swordsmanship had become.

“He’s about fourteen now, is he not? I can’t even imagine how much more incredible he’ll become when he’s an adult.”

“It can’t be talent alone. Such ability must come from tremendous effort as well.”

Becoming a great swordsman required immense effort as well as talent.

The only way to sense an opponent’s movements from the faint shifts of their shoulders and the flow of force through clashing blades, then instinctively find the right response, was to be struck without rest until it was carved into one’s body.

Of course, Shan actually saw through his opponents’ movements through his overwhelming reflexes and speed of thought, but those who did not know could only interpret it that way.

“Now I understand how you hunted a cockatrice alone. With swordsmanship like that, you could not possibly be inferior to the Lord Protector.”

Shan looked at the older knight, who had first suggested sparring, and asked, “Have you ever crossed swords with Marquis Abel?”

“We faced each other at the Royal Swordsmanship Tournament five years ago. We exchanged blades exactly three times before I lost.”

The older knight spoke calmly of the despair they felt at the time.

“You are strong too, Sir Shan, but I cannot imagine Marquis Abel losing to anyone. His swordsmanship was a gift bestowed by the goddess herself.”

“Isn’t that rather blasphemous?”

“Oh dear! Please don’t report me.”

The knights laughed loudly and traded jokes.

“Still, if the two of you ever crossed swords, I would dearly love to see it. Marquis Abel follows the Old Faith, though, so I doubt you’ll ever have dealings with him.”

No one said it aloud, but they all thought the same thing.

If Shan and Marquis Abel fought, it would surely be a battle to the death.

* * *

After having a fine time, the knights left with favorable feelings toward Shan and their arms full of gifts provided by Kalion.

The connections built this way would become intangible assets for both Kalion, his patron, and Shan himself.

For some reason, though, only Sir Bolin, who had repeatedly asked uncomfortable questions earlier, lingered instead of leaving immediately.

It would be rude to tell Bolin to get out, so Shan simply watched. Bolin glanced back at Shan before speaking.

“Hmm, Sir Shan?”

“Yes.”

“There is something I would like to discuss with you privately. Would you have a moment?”

Wondering what Bolin wanted to say now, Shan nodded readily.

Saying it would not take long, Bolin walked through the garden with him rather than returning to the reception room.

After looking around, Bolin lowered their voice.

“Could you keep what I’m about to say secret?”

Shan hesitated at the unexpected words, then answered honestly.

“I’m sorry, but if it concerns me in any way, I will need to discuss it with Roden, my squire.”

“Sir Shan, I’m asking for your word of honor, knight to knight.”

“Before he is my squire, Roden is my closest friend. He is far smarter and wiser than I am, and he is someone I can entrust my life to. If it is something he must not know, then I do not need to know it either.”

Bolin struggled for a long time in the face of Shan’s unwavering attitude, then sighed and nodded.

“Understood. It’s not as though I have any way to silence you. Please allow only your friend to know.”

“Yes.”

“You promise.”

After repeatedly emphasizing the matter, Bolin took a letter from their pocket.

“Among those who sponsor me, there are Altos like you, Sir Shan.”

“Altos?”

Shan looked surprised at the unexpected statement.

Pendia had more Altos than any other country in the world, but most of them were no more than members of the lower class.

Becoming a noble or knight was out of the question. Even reaching the middle class as a merchant or low-ranking official was difficult because of the attention of others.

There were hardly any cases of Altos being employed even as servants attending such people.

At best, Altos became professionals such as blacksmiths or weavers. Most could only work as mercenaries or day laborers.

Those who could not even manage that became something like thugs, pickpockets, prostitutes, or beggars.

“They are not a criminal group or anything like that. They are simply an association gathered for the rights of the Altos. They wanted to contact you through me.”

The reason Bolin asked Shan to keep it secret was because receiving sponsorship from Altos would not be viewed kindly by others.

After handing over the letter and repeatedly asking Shan not to discuss this matter with anyone other than Roden, Bolin left the estate.

A short while later, Roden had been talking with the squires and cleaning up afterward when his face hardened at Shan’s explanation.

“A group of Altos that sponsors knights?”

“That’s what Bolin said.”

“I’ve never heard of them...”

Roden clicked his tongue. The Council connected to the vampires had come up before, and now strange secret societies kept appearing and getting involved. It was deeply unsettling.

Princess Serin said she would investigate that group, at least, so they would likely have results soon.

The two sat across from each other in the lounge and opened the letter Bolin had delivered.

The high-quality parchment bore handwriting from someone who had clearly received a proper education.

[To Sir Shan, who proudly reveals his identity and has risen to a position nobler than any of our fellow people.

The Brotherhood of the Alto People, representing those who have lost their homeland, wishes to invite you.

On the evening three days after you receive this letter, we plan to discuss the future of our people in the private box of the Golden Theater.

If Sir Shan joins us there, it would be an immeasurable honor and joy for one who worships you, as well as a ray of light for our oppressed people.

We dearly hope to see you that day, and we have enclosed a small gift in apology for this presumptuous request.

With boundless respect, the leader of the Brotherhood.]

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