Hwoong, hwoong.

The sound of the wooden sword slicing through the air had improved dramatically compared to just a few months ago. Watching the blade carve a sharp line, Maxime let out a soft murmur of admiration. The First Prince often lamented his lack of talent in martial arts, yet to Maxime, it didn’t seem quite so hopeless.

“Impressive, Your Highness. Your swordsmanship is precise and unwavering.”

Louis planted the sword into the ground, letting out a hearty laugh, sweat dripping down his forehead. It was hard to believe he was training in the middle of winter. If he were an academy knight candidate, he would have likely received high praise from his instructor. Maxime allowed himself a small smile.

“Thank you. You’ve been so full of praise today that I almost wonder if you’re lying. It’s unsettling.”

“How could I ever dare to lie to Your Highness? I believe we can proceed to the next sword form.”

“Is that so? Then, let’s move on to the next form right now…”

Just as Louis, brightening up, picked up the sword he had set down, a servant who had been observing their training approached cautiously.

“Your Highness, the wind is cold. I worry that the sweat on your body may cause you to catch a chill.”

Louis, though annoyed, raised an eyebrow at the servant’s suggestion to stop training for the day. After a moment, he nodded. He had been increasing his training sessions lately and could afford to pace himself.

The First Prince, showing his consent, accepted the towel the servant offered as they took away his wooden sword. Exhaling hot breath into the chilly air, Louis wiped his sweat-drenched face. After a moment, he lifted his head abruptly and looked at Maxime.

“So, why haven’t you returned yet?”

“If you’re referring to returning to the First Guard, Your Highness…”

“Yes. Lately, you seem to spend most of your time with the Second Guard. I hear you’ve even taken on training my knights on occasion.”

Indeed, the command to recall Maxime to the First Guard had not come, even after he’d won the martial tournament. Instead, he had only received orders to continue collaborating with the Adventurers’ Guild when time allowed. No one knew why the king insisted on keeping Maxime with the Second Guard.

“Perhaps His Majesty wishes to keep you under my command, or perhaps he has some other intention.”

Louis wore a worried expression. Trying to reassure him, Maxime spoke calmly.

“Though His Majesty’s intentions are unclear, as long as I’m with the Second Guard, I am Your Highness’s man. There’s no need to be overly concerned.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Louis forced a faint smile. Despite the cold wind the servant had warned about, the First Prince seemed in no hurry to return indoors. Louis looked up at the sky. Shadows did not approach him. From the start, they crouched in wait, lurking in the depths behind the light.

“Do you remember the question you asked me the first time you came to this First Prince’s palace to teach me swordsmanship?”

Maxime nodded.

“You mean when I asked what the sword meant to Your Highness?”

“Yes, I see you remember well.”

Louis’s smile remained bitter as he folded his arms, the towel draped over his shoulder fluttering in the wind.

“To me, the sword is admiration.”

Louis spoke with a firm voice, almost like a knight declaring before battle.

“It’s something I lack. Something I pretended not to want but ultimately can’t help but desire. Something I endlessly long for but cannot possess. It’s very much like my own nature.”

With that, the First Prince’s gaze met Maxime’s.

“That’s why I might crave it all the more. I tell myself I understand my reality…but there is an impractical desire lurking in one corner of my heart that I can’t erase.”

Louis’s words seemed like both a lament and a self-deprecation.

“Your Highness, it’s because we have dreams, because we chase them, that we are truly human. Why look upon such dreams with pessimism, even if they are impractical?”

The bitterness in Louis’s smile faded slightly.

“You have every right to scold me like this, Maxime. After all, you seem to be getting closer to the sword you seek.”

Maxime raised his eyebrows. The First Prince laughed, as though pleased by Maxime’s reaction.

“You once said you wanted to be a sword that walks alongside someone, rather than chasing after them.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Though I took a long, winding path, I believe I am finally getting closer. However, achieving one’s dream isn’t always about wielding a sword, is it?”

“What I seek with my sword feels so humble compared to yours—it’s almost laughable.”

For Maxime, the sword was almost everything. It exposed his ambition, laid bare his dream. Knights are such beings—those who reveal their everything through their sword.

“Your Highness, your sword is by no means humble. A knight embodies their all through a single sword and achieves their dreams with it. There is no need to be discouraged if your sword cannot follow that path.”

Louis closed his eyes. Maxime watched him in silence, his expression betraying his inner turmoil.

“Yes, you’re right. Lately, my heart feels stifled.”

Louis opened his eyes and sighed. Standing there, talking with Maxime, the heat that had flushed his face had cooled, leaving it pale.

“Watching you accomplish things one by one, I might have felt anxious without realizing it. Maybe that’s why I kept clinging to the sword, thinking of it as a place to escape.”

Louis glanced down at the ground. There, in the winter soil, was the dent left by his wooden sword. If left alone, he would surely succumb to his inner demons. Before Maxime could speak, Louis seemed to reach a decision.

“I’m going to take a break from swordsmanship training, Maxime. I’m not qualified to focus on it in my current state. The sword feels too lofty for me to hold right now.”

Maxime looked at Louis’s face and nodded. Rather than forcing himself to wield the sword and face disappointment, it would be better for him to take a moment to breathe and steady his heart. Maxime was glad to hear Louis wasn’t intent on throwing himself further into swordsmanship.

“If that’s what Your Highness desires, I couldn’t possibly object. Sometimes, setting down the sword to catch your breath is a quality that a swordsman must possess.”

“I’m sorry. I know you’ve always given your all to help me.”

Maxime shook his head.

“Not at all. If there is any way I can assist, please grant me the privilege.”

Louis gripped the towel on his shoulder. It seemed he was finally ready to return to the First Prince’s palace.

“Just talk with me like this from time to time. I think it would be a great help.”

As Maxime watched the First Prince begin his return, he noticed how Louis’s upright figure seemed weighed down by a shadow, as though someone had placed a burden upon his shoulders.

Touching another’s inner turmoil too recklessly could make it deepen beyond reach. It was a struggle one had to overcome alone. Maxime sighed, knowing he was due to receive the results of a murder investigation from the Adventurers’ Guild today.

“…You have to overcome this.”

Maxime murmured toward Louis’s retreating figure and picked up his wooden sword.

 

It was shortly after the New Year when Maxime arrived at the Royal Capital’s Adventurers’ Guild. Snow continued to pile up on the streets, despite the citizens’ efforts to keep the walkways clear. White snow still blanketed the streets more than the dark cobblestones beneath.

This time, Maxime stepped through the main entrance, his presence commanding attention as he entered the guild with his light brown hair. Adventurers murmured among themselves as they saw him.

“Sir Maxime, welcome.”

The head of the guild greeted Maxime warmly. Compared to Arsen Bern’s intense demeanor, Maxime’s gentler impression seemed to make conversation easier.

“Yes, I hope you’ve been well?”

“Busy, I’d say. It’s probably the busiest period since the restrictions began.”

The guild head chuckled heartily.

“Are you here to get an update on the investigation’s progress?”

“Yes. Since Sir Adeline is due to return, I thought I’d hear the situation directly from her.”

At the guild head’s suggestion, Maxime nodded. Just then, the guild’s main doors swung open as adventurers walked in. At the front was a rugged-looking female adventurer with an axe slung over her shoulder, followed by others with intimidating faces who escorted a woman standing next to her like a guard.

“I’m back, Guild Master. Today’s…”

Adeline, brushing back her dark blue hair, was about to speak when she noticed a stranger talking to the guild head. She approached quickly, leaving her companions behind, and closed her eyes as she neared Maxime.

“Oh, Sir Adeline, this is…”

Before the guild head could explain, Adeline tilted her head in curiosity as she looked at the unfamiliar man.

“Arsen…?”

Maxime let out a quiet laugh and nodded at the sound of that name after so long, and Adeline’s expression shifted to something indescribably complex.

It was the first time they’d met since she regained her sight. Understanding the situation, the guild head gestured to an empty table.

Taking the still-bewildered Adeline with him, Maxime sat at the empty table. Adeline, staring silently, listened as Maxime took a deep breath and explained what had happened.

“…So, I won the tournament and became the champion of the martial competition. There’s no longer a need for me to operate under the name Arsen Bern.”

“Is that how things turned out?”

Adeline lowered her eyebrows as she listened.

“To summarize, you won the tournament and enjoyed all the glory a royal knight could, then had your fun at the New Year’s ball?”

Her navy blue hair fell around her face as she rested her chin in her hand, her expression radiating dissatisfaction. Maxime, flustered by her words that sounded almost accusatory, waved his hands.

“The way you’re putting it, it sounds like I’ve been slacking off. I’ve worked hard, too!”

“Who said you didn’t work hard? I was just summarizing.”

“Don’t you think that summary is a bit unfair?”

“No harm intended. It just turned out that way in summary.”

Grumbling, Adeline looked at Maxime directly. Her once clouded, cursed eyes had returned to their natural, beautiful black. Though the curse’s brand still marked her irises, it was now a mere trace that didn’t interfere with her sight.

“I’ve been busy tracking down the one who’s been killing knights. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to cheer for you in the finals.”

Adeline’s words still held a prickly edge. Maxime, unsure of why he was so rattled, found himself mechanically responding.

“…You’ve worked hard. I should have been there to help with the investigation.”

“Thanks, even if it’s just empty words.”

Adeline’s smile seemed more genuine than before, her expression almost human. Maybe it was because she no longer hid her eyes, but Maxime found himself smiling as well. Christine’s continued treatment had lessened the curse’s effects. Though he didn’t mention it, working with the adventurers had begun to influence her speech.

“Any progress on the investigation?”

Maxime asked, swirling the cup in front of him. Adeline sighed, seeming to agree with his suggestion to change the topic. She might have wanted to chat more casually, but that wasn’t why they were here.

“Progress… if you can call it that.”

Adeline hesitated, her mind flashing back to the gruesome scene. Severed limbs and bloodstained snow—a sight all too familiar to her, yet the recent scene was somehow even more horrific.

“Maybe we’ve identified the culprit.”

Adeline murmured as if lost in thought. Maxime raised an eyebrow, prompting her to explain further with a sigh.

“To be honest, I had an idea of the culprit the moment I arrived in that forest.”

Violence. The site resembled the chaotic aftermath of a natural disaster. In a path left by the sword, there was no room for survival. Adeline knew only one person who wielded a sword in such a manner.

“…The culprit?”

Adeline nodded, her reluctance to recall her memories evident but quickly replaced by composure.

“Do you remember the group I was once part of?”

As if he could forget. Maxime nodded. Leon Bening’s “puppets.” Forgotten knights, once famous but discarded, and those with exceptional talent who never saw the light. Warriors who had forsaken their pasts to wield their swords solely for Leon Bening.

“When I was still one of the Count’s ‘puppets,’ we rarely acted as a single group. At most, we moved east to seize control of the vacant royal court by force.”

Adeline spoke of her past with surprising calm.

“Because of that, there was no leader among the ‘puppets.’ However, in hindsight, there was one person who could be called the leader of all ‘puppets.’”

Even as she mentioned him, Adeline shuddered with unease.

“Bernardo Renan.”

Maxime did not recognize the name that Adeline uttered. For puppets, their real names had been erased, leaving only the aliases assigned by the Count.

“He possessed an incredible skill, one whose limits were impossible to gauge. His sword was rough and fierce, like a northern blizzard, and his aura was brutally intense.”

Just like the devastation left behind in this case.

Maxime furrowed his brows, and Adeline, understanding his reaction, nodded.

“…What kind of person was he?”

Adeline thought for a moment before responding.

“To the Count, every ‘puppet’ was a tool. Not the kind you discard after one use, but still never treated as a person or a knight.”

She raised a finger.

“With one exception—Bernardo Renan.”