Two days ago in the Royal Capital, Elliott and Lloyd returned to the palace, burdened by the disappointment of not reaching the hidden village.
“…Elliott, I have a suggestion. We can no longer handle this situation alone. Before we visit Lord Goliath again, why don’t we confide in our supporter, Lord Agreas, and seek his counsel?”
Lloyd spoke in a calm tone, concerned for Elliott, who seemed despondent. The person he mentioned was a powerful noble who had become Elliott’s backing after rising from commoner to count. He also served as the guardian for Emily, who was to become a countess, providing her with the education befitting a lady.
Elliott bit his lip and pondered for a moment, looking down. However, it was clear that they could not keep the current situation hidden forever.
“I understand your reluctance to reveal the truth. But we should be honest and ask for advice,” Lloyd urged once more.
“…You’re right,” Elliott finally nodded, standing up.
In a room of a mansion that rivaled the opulence of the Royal Castle, Elliott and Lloyd found themselves before a strikingly handsome nobleman in his thirties.
“It must have been quite difficult to bear that situation. Thank you for confiding in me,” he said, his voice warm and filled with sympathy.
The man’s name was Dylan Agreas Jiemeld, the heir to the Duke Ziemeld Household, which governed a vast territory in the northern part of the kingdom, accounting for nearly seventy percent of it. He held the ceremonial title of Count Agreas, as the current duke was still alive.
“However, I had anticipated that the Holy Sword would lose its power after fulfilling its role,” he continued.
“Lose its role…?” Elliott echoed, confused.
“The suppression of the northern region has concluded. It is entirely possible,” Lord Agreas explained, a gentle smile gracing his lips.
“Historically, the manifestation of the Holy Sword has been recorded in legends and folklore, and even in recent history. However, do you know that there are no records of what happened to the Holy Sword after its great deeds?”
“…That’s true. I can’t recall hearing anything about it. There are countless tales of its great exploits, yet nothing about what came after… So, are you suggesting that those Holy Swords simply vanished?”
When Lloyd asked, Lord Agreas nodded.
“Is it not possible that the Holy Sword, having fulfilled its purpose, merely returned to being an ordinary sword?”
Elliott pondered this for a moment before hesitantly lifting his gaze.
“However, just the other day, an Undead Beast appeared near the Royal Capital, albeit a failed one.”
“I am aware of that. However, the appearance of a single Undead Beast has been rare even before the mass outbreak in the north,” Lord Agreas replied, his smile unwavering.
“Even so, it wouldn’t be strange if that were the case. This is merely speculation, but I feel the likelihood is high,” he added.
A shadow fell over Elliott’s face. If Lord Agreas’s words were true, then the source of his current anguish could, in a sense, be alleviated. But would those around him accept this? Or could he himself endure the reality of having lost the Holy Sword?
Noticing Elliott’s silence, Lord Agreas spoke gently.
“Your efforts have greatly saved my territory. Had you not received the Holy Sword, neither I nor you would have been able to return to the Royal Capital for at least three more years, and far more would have been lost.”
That was indeed a fact. The recent mass outbreak of Undead Beasts had inflicted the greatest damage on the Duchy of Jiemeld. It was precisely for this reason that Lord Agreas had taken the initiative to support Elliott.
The Duchy of Jiemeld had once been a small nation before being annexed by this country about a hundred years ago. Thus, despite being located in the barren northern region, its capital thrived. Perhaps because of this, the people connected to the Duke Ziemeld Household, starting with Dylan Agreas Jiemeld, revered Elliott as a hero who brought peace to their land more than anyone else.
“While the truth behind the loss of the Holy Sword remains unclear… we will not abandon you, who have done us such great service. We can also offer a bit of assistance in your current situation.”
Elliott looked up, his eyes filled with hope.
“What do you mean by that?”
With a smile directed at Elliott, Lord Agreas signaled to his attendant.
The attendant entered the room carrying a long, shallow box covered in fine velvet.
As the cloth was removed, it revealed a sword with a familiar Ivy Relief engraved on its blade, displayed alongside its sheath.
“What is this…?!”
“It is a Replica of the Holy Sword. As you can see,” Lord Agreas explained.
Indeed, upon closer inspection, there were slight discrepancies in the details, but they were minor enough to be undetectable from a distance.
“Why would you prepare something like this?”
A question arose in the back of Elliott’s mind, wondering if this was too well-prepared.
“This was made at my father’s request. He was a collector of weapons, which is not uncommon among nobles,” Lord Agreas said with a wry smile.
“Buying renowned swords just to display them without using them. While I couldn’t keep the real Holy Sword, I had replicas made early on. It’s a foolish hobby, but it seems it has unexpectedly become useful.”
Elliott hesitated but reached out toward the sword before him. His hand trembled slightly as he grasped the hilt.
“The King will likely want to flaunt the presence of Holy Knights to neighboring countries for a while. While that is foolish, it cannot be helped, as merely having it signifies authority,” Lord Agreas remarked with a cold smile, unbothered by the impropriety of the private setting.
“If we must indulge in such foolishness, then this Replica should suffice.”
At the very least, it would buy them some time. Understanding this implicitly, Elliott sheathed the Replica—the false Holy Sword—and placed it beside him, his hand still trembling.
—If, perhaps, I manage to buy time…
Elliott suddenly questioned himself. If the words about the sword having fulfilled its purpose were true, then he would have to continue living a lie. On the other hand, if there were other reasons…
His mind drifted to the broken blade he had left in the room. If there was truth to be found there, would it be something he could reclaim? A chill ran down his spine, and he instinctively rejected further thought.
A light knock echoed through the silent room, breaking the tension.
It was Lady Marianne, Lord Agreas’s wife, along with Emily.
“Marianne, Lady Emily. You’ve come all this way,” Lord Agreas greeted them.
“Yes, everyone wanted to greet Lady Emily,” Marianne replied.
As Emily stepped into the room, she performed a curtsy befitting a lady.
“Lady Emily, you’re looking quite refined,” Lord Dylan complimented.
“Ehehe! Thank you, Lord Dylan!” Emily beamed, her cheeks flushed with happiness.
“Lady Emily, please refer to Lord Dylan as Count Agreas,” Marianne reminded gently.
“Okay, Lady Marianne! …Oh! Elliott, Lloyd, welcome back!” Emily exclaimed, her cheerful demeanor lighting up the room.
Marianne smiled softly, letting out a small sigh at Emily’s behavior.
“Lady Emily, since this is an unofficial gathering, I will overlook it for now. But let’s work a bit harder before the wedding, shall we?”
With a gentle admonition, Emily smiled sadly.
—That’s right… I’ve been so preoccupied with thoughts of the Holy Sword these past few days that I completely forgot. Emily is working hard too.
Elliott took a deep breath to calm himself as he watched Emily perform her curtsy once more.
—At the very least, I must protect the glory and position we have built together.
He reminded himself of this in his heart, but the shadows of anxiety lingered, refusing to dissipate. The trembling in his hand, gripping the unfamiliar hilt of the sword, showed no signs of settling.