Chapter 46: The Revered and Beautiful Goddess Silverna

 

“Then…I’ll be going now.”

 

Just moments ago, it had been a deeply emotional time.

 

Yet, after only a few minutes, it felt awkward and embarrassing.

 

When Rihanna, carefully gauging the mood, took a step back, Isaac lay back down on the bed as well.

 

“B-be careful on your way out.”

 

He wondered why he was even telling her to be careful when she was only heading back to her own room.

 

He didn’t really know himself; it was just something that slipped out.

 

Rihanna placed her hand on the doorknob. She was about to step outside when she hesitated for a moment and then turned her head, ever so cautiously.

 

A soft blush colored her cheeks, and her small voice was as clear as the sound of tapping on a stone bridge.

 

“Um, Isaac….”

 

“Yeah?”

 

He thought she might have something more to say, but in the end, Rihanna just stared at him intently and didn’t continue.

 

“Why?”

 

“…….”

 

“Rihanna?”

 

Only when he called her name did Rihanna flinch. Lowering her head as though regretful, she mumbled softly:

 

“You’re back.”

 

“…….”

 

“I-I’ll be going now.”

 

With that, Rihanna fled as though running away.

 

Watching her go, Isaac let out a sigh, releasing the tension in his body.

 

‘Riha.’

 

That was the pet name he used back when they were dating.

 

He felt both embarrassed and baffled that he had unconsciously let it slip out.

 

‘Get it together, Isaac. Don’t let your mind wander.’

 

He had to admit Rihanna looked mesmerizing.

 

She was one of the famed beauties of the kingdom; what man wouldn’t feel a stir at the sight of her welling tears?

 

But he had crossed that line once before.

 

‘Absolutely not.’

 

Taking a deep breath, Isaac firmly pulled his feelings into check.

 

‘As a fellow swordsman, I’m just happy for her—nothing more. After all, I did admire her skills.’

 

“Ugh.”

 

Muttering a small complaint, he kept telling himself to snap out of it.

 

Clunk.

 

Just then, the door opened again, and the head of the infirmary, Vivian, walked in.

 

“I heard you’ve awakened.”

 

“Did Rihanna tell you?”

 

“Pardon? Oh, no—Lady Silverna mentioned it.”

 

Silverna?

 

Slightly taken aback, Isaac offered his right arm so Vivian could examine it.

 

“You must still be feeling pain?”

 

“Yes, it hurts even now.”

 

“To put it simply, you used an egg to crack a boulder.”

 

“…….”

 

“Your right arm is the egg. It couldn’t handle the enormous impact and shattered. Once my mana is restored, I’ll use healing magic on you—but there may be lingering aftereffects.”

 

Fear struck him.

 

He still remembered all too clearly giving up everything because of an injury in the past.

 

Noticing the shadow that fell over Isaac’s face, Vivian added more explanation:

 

“It couldn’t be helped. Strictly speaking, you handled something you weren’t permitted to.”

 

“Is this about talent again?”

 

Vivian was practically a worshipper of innate talent.

 

Being a mage, he held a certain superiority complex about those with strong natural gifts. Isaac, who had extremely low mana, producing such a sword strike must have rattled him.

 

“Yes, exactly. It’s about talent.”

 

“You saw it with your own eyes.”

 

“That’s precisely…”

 

Vivian pressed a hand to his forehead and spoke with a mix of sighs and discomfort.

 

“That’s precisely why I’m so unsettled. What you showed me looked less like pure talent and more like…effort.”

 

“…….”

 

“Mages usually don’t back down from our convictions. Because we think more than others—agonize more than others—to arrive at our answers!”

 

He abruptly turned away to sort some medicine, as if trying to hide his embarrassment.

 

“So just keep this in mind! It’s a big deal for a mage to concede a point. I—I’m not someone who just changes opinions on a whim, you know!”

 

Then, using scissors, Vivian cut away the old bandages and splint on Isaac’s right arm, before carefully wrapping it with fresh bandages.

 

“Continue to come for treatment. Only then can we see how far that ‘effort’ of yours will take you…and whether I really got it wrong.”

 

Perhaps he’d collected his thoughts by the time he finished bandaging.

 

When Vivian stepped back, the look in his eyes as he regarded Isaac was earnest.

 

“Your figure, climbing that rampart…”

 

That powerless gait, challenging the impossible—

 

“…left a strong impression on me for many reasons.”

 

As Vivian turned to return to his duties, Isaac called out to him.

 

“Hey—”

 

“Yes?”

 

“No matter how bad things have gotten between Husband and wife, is it odd for him to still call her by a pet name?”

 

“…….”

 

Vivian turned halfway around, gave Isaac a somewhat baffled look, sniffed once, and nodded.

 

“You really didn’t listen to a word I said, did you.”

 

Apologetically, Isaac had to admit he couldn’t quite focus on anything else at the moment.

 

****

 

The great den crisis was resolved.

 

In celebration, the royal family sent supplies to both congratulate and offer their condolences.

 

As a result, Malidan Barrier was immersed in a festive atmosphere for several days under the guise of a banquet.

 

They lit a massive bonfire in the center of the training grounds and decided everyone could rest until it burned out—except for the minimum number of soldiers needed on duty.

 

But this bonfire had logs and even fossil fuels added to it so it wouldn’t die down. It kept burning nonstop for three whole days.

 

It reached a point where Uldiran even started posting sentries in the early morning, suspecting someone might be adding extra fuel just to extend the break.

 

Anyway.

 

Though Malidan Barrier—hard-won through everyone’s efforts—was enjoying calmer days, the inevitable farewells approached once the great den threat had disappeared.

 

All members of Reconnaissance Team 5 were gathered.

 

Noble delegates sent from various regions were already returning home, and it was time for Melodic Drakemoor to depart as well.

 

Summoned back suddenly by the Drakemore family, he had to leave before they’d even had the chance to share more than a few rounds of drinks together.

 

“Now that I’m actually leaving…I feel both relieved and a bit sad.”

 

He had come north to gain real combat experience as a promising member of House Drakemore.

 

He certainly gained a wealth of practical skills beyond what was typical for his age—and it had been a time of countless new realizations in many areas.

 

“You worked hard, Melodic.”

 

“You too, Captain. Feels like just yesterday that I rushed at you on the very first day.”

 

“Lucky for you, you started listening after I gave you a good beating.”

 

Grinning, Melodic shook hands with Silverna.

 

He then shook hands with each member in turn, but when he got to Isaac, he clasped his hands around Isaac’s firmly, unlike with the others.

 

“Thanks to you, I learned so much—beyond just Drakemore’s sword style, I discovered what Melodic’s sword really is. I feel like my eyes have finally opened.”

 

His gratitude rang with sincerity, having received countless advice and lessons.

 

Isaac responded with a smile:

 

“Don’t confuse learning with imitation. When you swing your sword, only you exist in that moment.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“It’s something someone once told me. It resonated with me, so I remembered it.”

 

“…….”

 

“Keep in mind that you are a Drakemore. Don’t force yourself to fit some mold—wherever you go, that will become Drakemore’s path.”

 

Sniff.

 

“Ah, it’s just the wind.”

 

He pretended the wind had blown dust into his eyes, trying to hide his surge of emotion.

 

And so,

 

Melodic Drakemoor departed.

 

Many of the dispatched nobles, sick of the north, had already left early. But this was the first time someone from Reconnaissance Team 5 was leaving.

 

Though they had spent just over a month together, his departure unexpectedly left a void in their hearts.

 

“That line…you said something like it to me before, didn’t you?”

 

On the way back after seeing Melodic off,

 

Silverna sidled up and asked,

 

“You told me not to forget that I am Caldias.”

 

That bit of advice—don’t force yourself to match Caldias’ spear style; become Caldias yourself—still lingered deep in her heart, fueling her pride and motivating her further practice.

 

“Who said that to you?”

 

“It was written in a book.”

 

“A book? Which one?”

 

“Please recommend it to me. I really want to see the Lady reading a book,” Anna chimed in from the side.

 

At that, Silverna pouted slightly. But Isaac let out a hollow laugh and replied,

 

“You can’t read it. That book doesn’t exist anymore.”

 

To elaborate further,

 

it was an autobiography—

 

and also a last will and testament.

 

“Hmm?”

 

Silverna didn’t press the issue.

 

She figured even if she got her hands on it, she probably wouldn’t end up reading much of it anyway.

 

“More importantly, Father is calling for you.”

 

“The Margrave?”

 

“He’s been asking constantly about your condition.”

 

Still sporting a splint and bandages on his right arm, Isaac continued receiving treatment whenever possible, though he hadn’t yet received any healing magic.

 

Since that particular spell consumed a lot of mana, it would take several days for the caster’s mana to fully recover. For now, he could only undergo basic medical care.

 

“Did I worry him?”

 

“No, it’s more like he said he can’t wait to give you a beating.”

 

“…Because of this?”

 

Isaac gestured to the silver blade at his waist—its icy sheen resembling a crystal of frozen light.

 

Arms crossed, Silverna gave a quick nod, a pout on her face.

 

“Right?”

 

“Ahem, Silverna, about this…”

 

“‘This’? Did you just say ‘this’? Doesn’t it have a name I gave it?”

 

“….”

 

“If you don’t like it, then hand it over. I’ll have Antonio melt it down immediately—!”

 

“Alright! Alright, I get it!”

 

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Isaac glanced around.

 

Anna was watching with an amused grin, and Sharen and Jonathan shot quick looks in their direction.

 

Rihanna had already slipped away at some point, as if fleeing.

 

“So…you mean because of this… ‘Revered and Beautiful Goddess Silverine’ he’s summoning me?”

 

“Yeah, that’s right. ‘Revered and Beautiful Goddess Silverine’ is basically an offshoot of Frostsilver.”

 

“Uh, Silverna… I really appreciate it, but how about we rename it?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Wearing a displeased expression, Silverna strode off past Isaac.

 

“H-hey, Silverna! Wait—!”

 

Watching Isaac hastily follow after the seemingly sulking Silverna,

 

Anna gave an inward nod of admiration.

 

‘She’s certainly got him by the weak spot.’

 

****

 

In the quiet glow of twilight, at the Helmut estate,

 

a letter filled with every sort of flattering language about the North’s victory lay on Arandel’s desk.

 

With the Great Den crisis resolved, the Sword Festival would proceed without a hitch.

 

Though slightly delayed, considering the unique circumstances of the Great Den threat, it was almost a relief.

 

“You called for me, Father.”

 

Entering the room was Lohengrin Helmut, the eldest son.

 

He wore a confident smile, his steps buoyant with good news—clearly, he’d also heard the north had dealt with the Great Den.

 

“This is such wonderful news, wouldn’t you say? I’d been worried the Sword Festival might be postponed, but now—”

 

“You—”

 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Arandel cut off his son’s idle chatter, as if he couldn’t even hear him.

 

“What are you wielding?”

 

Straightening his shoulders and standing tall, Lohengrin answered with a bright, confident grin:

 

“I’m wielding the sword of Helmut.”

 

“….”

 

Something about that reply seemed off.

 

Under Arandel’s heavy gaze, Lohengrin swallowed nervously and added,

 

“O-of course, when compared to your sword, Father, I’m still lacking, but—!”

 

“Hmph.”

 

With a short sigh,

 

Arandel closed his eyes briefly, then spoke in a low voice:

 

“Do not become a mere imitator.”

 

“…Pardon?”

 

That was all.

 

Signaling he had nothing more to say, Arandel returned his attention to the letter on his desk.

 

Left standing in confusion, Lohengrin managed a bow and exited.

 

“What was that supposed to mean…?”

 

Clenching his fist so tightly it seemed his bones might crack, Lohengrin muttered through a twisted expression:

 

“Helmut is my father…”

 

Stifling his frustration, Lohengrin headed outside once more for training.

 

Tomorrow, his mother would return.

 

Once she did, he intended to ask her to sound out his father’s inscrutable thoughts.

 

‘Mother wants me to become the head of this family, after all.’

– – – The End of The Chapter – – –

 

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