Chapter 68

Whenever something neared its end, people naturally looked back and reflected upon each step of the path they had traveled.

In doing so, they sometimes discovered new meaning in things they had failed to understand at the time. They might feel embarrassed by their shortcomings or smile at memories that filled them with pride.

Arno, Sandy, Boribori and the others, the enemies he had encountered in Griffinswald, the senior adventurers, members of other clans, the Nameless Man, the Five of Ernberg, and the war.

Countless days and nights had passed. He had bid farewell to spring, summer, autumn, and a bitterly harsh winter. Snow, rain, sorrow, and joy had swept past like the wind.

Yet they had not simply passed without leaving a trace. Those moments would never return, but they had undoubtedly left something behind in his heart.

If there had once been a hole somewhere inside him, those experiences seemed to have filled it little by little.

To Rickart, the Academy was both a precious place and a cherished memory.

Before long, the wind carried autumn with it. The weather was neither hot nor cold, leaves began to fall one by one, and the grass covering the fields ripened to yellow.

Rickart finished writing The Fundamentals of Swordsmanship. He felt there was now nothing left to remove and nothing more to add.

But when he looked at Boribori’s book beside him, it was completely different from his own. The most striking difference was their length.

Boribori’s book was astonishingly thick, and its translated version consisted of three volumes, each even thicker than the original.

By contrast, Rickart’s book was extremely thin, only around forty pages long. The translated version was reasonably substantial, but it still could not compare to Boribori’s work.

Rickart stared at the heavy stack of books before speaking.

“Does writing that much really help? The longer language becomes, the farther it strays from its essence.”

“You’re saying that again? We agreed to respect each other’s methods. I just want readers to find it easy to understand. Besides, I still have plenty to learn, so I plan to revise it little by little whenever I get the chance.”

The title of Boribori’s book had changed from Bori Swordsmanship to The Standard Principles of Swordsmanship.

It excluded his unique personal techniques and explained the true fundamentals in great detail. From there, it led readers gradually through each stage toward progressively more advanced techniques.

Rickart found the sight strangely uncomfortable, mainly because Boribori’s method seemed to be the correct one.

But writing that much would be a nuisance, and Rickart did not believe his own approach was wrong either.

That was why it bothered him.

It was not as though the book’s short length meant he had failed to think deeply about it, nor had he spent little time working on it.

“By the way, is Marie not coming today either?”

Boribori ignored Rickart’s occasional grumbling and continued writing as he asked the question.

“I heard she went into the city early this morning.”

Rickart rested his chin on one hand and looked out the window. The fields turning yellow with autumn somehow appeared lonely.

“Maybe she’s upset because we’re leaving.”

Boribori had noticed that Marie had recently begun consciously avoiding Rickart. He and Rickart would soon graduate, but Marie still had another year remaining. He could not imagine precisely how she felt, but her emotions must have been in turmoil.

“I don’t think that’s the only reason.”

“What else is there?”

“I don’t want to force her to talk about something she wants to hide. In the end, I don’t know what it is either.”

“Hmm... And your feelings haven’t changed, Ricky? Marie is incredibly beautiful.”

“Her being beautiful has nothing to do with it.”

“With what?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if we don’t even see her again before graduation? I’d at least like to say goodbye. It would be a shame not to.”

Boribori merely wanted everyone in the clan to get along, just as he had once mediated between Rickart and Marie when their relationship had become awkward.

But as Boribori grew older and matured, he began to realize just how complicated and difficult the human heart could be.

Even Rickart and Boribori’s conversations were no longer as completely childish as they once had been.

Perhaps trying to change the subject, Rickart suddenly said,

“I think I should hide the original manuscript.”

“Huh? Why? After you went through all that trouble to write it?”

“It’s written in the ancient script, so no one would be able to read it anyway. I’ll just make it a sort of treasure hunt.”

“You’re embarrassed, aren’t you?”

Rickart did not answer. Apparently, even someone whom every student idolized and admired had things he did not wish to discuss.

Perhaps Rickart himself carried deeper wounds than anyone else. He simply lived while bearing them.

Rickart smiled and pretended to cuff Boribori over the head. Boribori grinned and hunched his shoulders defensively.

They had spent so much time together that Boribori could quickly recognize when Rickart wanted to hide his feelings.

In any case, Rickart concealed the completed original manuscript of The Fundamentals of Swordsmanship somewhere inside a defensive tower. He scraped the mortar from between the bricks with a dagger, removed one of them, placed the manuscript behind it, and then sealed the brick back into place.

He wondered what the point was of hiding something after going through all the trouble of writing it. Still, he convinced himself that he had only begun the project to pass the time anyway.

He laid the translated version horizontally on a shelf at the rear of the second-floor writing classroom. It had originally been less of a bookshelf and more a place for stacking scrolls. After all, the Academy had once been a fortress.

Because printing technology had yet to develop, every book had to be copied by hand. Rickart’s book became the first actual book to occupy the shelf.

Once he placed it there and stared at it, the realization that he had finished everything he needed to do at the Academy finally sank in.

He felt both relieved and wistful. It was a mixture of anticipation for the future and reluctance to leave the past behind.

Rickart and Boribori packed their belongings and remained at the Academy, waiting for the day of their departure.

In the meantime, they passed the time by joking around with the other students or helping them with their swordsmanship.

Then, one day—

“Rock, paper, scissors! Next!”

“Yes!”

Rickart shouted. Scissors against paper—Rickart had won. Smiling as though the outcome were only natural, he called for his next opponent.

This did not appear to be an ordinary game of rock-paper-scissors. A crowd of students had gathered around him because Rickart was currently on his fifty-sixth consecutive victory.

“He won again!”

“How is that even possible?”

The students were amazed and thoroughly entertained.

Then Boribori, who had been quietly watching from the upper bunk, spoke.

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“What is?”

“You’re watching their hands. I think you should have to close your eyes.”

Boribori knew that Rickart was detecting the slightest movements of his opponents’ hands and choosing whichever sign would beat them.

“I don’t think that technically counts as cheating.”

“Wouldn’t it be fairer if you closed your eyes?”

“What? Ricky, you were watching us the whole time?”

“Oh, that ruins it. What a cheat.”

After Boribori’s intervention, many of the students wandered away, their excitement deflated.

Even if Rickart had been watching their hands, possessing the ability to do so was still remarkable. The students, however, were not particularly interested in that. They already knew how extraordinary Rickart’s abilities were, so his winning streak had lost all meaning.

Rickart had suddenly been branded a fraud and felt unfairly accused, but he merely laughed it off.

Still, he must have been desperately bored to amuse himself with something like that.

Rickart climbed onto the bed and lay down beside Boribori, who was reading an ancient book he had somehow acquired.

“What are you reading?”

“The Epic of Iliya the Dragonslayer.”

“Don’t you already know the whole story?”

Iliya the Dragonslayer was the subject of a heroic tale that had circulated throughout the world since ancient times, long before the empire existed. It was the sort of legend whose protagonist might never have actually existed.

“It’s different when you read it in a book. There are parts I didn’t know.”

“What didn’t you know?”

“Iliya was born into a poor farming family, and apparently he was unable to walk from birth until the age of thirty. Then one day, his family offered hospitality to a pilgrim, who left them some oil. When Iliya drank it, he sprang to his feet and gained incredible strength. After that, he vowed to become a warrior of God and set out on an adventure. You probably know the rest, Ricky. He defeated a giant, killed a witch, and slew a dragon.”

“So it was a typical religious parable meant to win converts. I never knew the story had an opening like that.”

“Maybe. But who knows? This book even says where Iliya was born and where he died. If we ever get the chance, we could visit those places. We might absorb some of his spirit.”

Rickart chuckled. Boribori still had an innocent side to him.

He was still a child after all.

In any case, Rickart interrupted Boribori’s reading, played around with him, and exchanged pointless jokes.

After they had been doing that for some time, a student called from outside.

“Ricky.”

“An adventurer is here looking for you and Bori. They said to pack your things and come out.”

Rickart and Boribori both had the same thought.

The time had finally come.

They neatly folded their uniforms and left them on their beds to be passed down to other students. Then they gathered their equipment and belongings and headed outside.

To their surprise, the adventurer who had come for them was none other than Delphy.

“Huh?”

“Surprised?”

“What about the branch?”

“I’ve hired more clerks now. The building is fairly easy to manage.”

That was a relief. Rickart and Boribori could not help but smile. The mere fact that their friend had traveled all this way to meet them made them happy.

The sadness within their bittersweet feelings seemed to fade considerably.

They were walking lightheartedly across the courtyard when Karlich came running after them, calling urgently from behind.

“Ricky! Ricky!”

Wondering what the matter was, Rickart turned around and saw a document in Karlich’s hand.

“Ricky, take this with you.”

“What is it?”

“A diploma. I made it. From now on, everyone who graduates after you will receive one. It gives graduation meaning. It’s meant to remind people to take pride in having come from Beringen.”

Rickart examined the document. There was not much written on it. It merely stated that he had graduated from Beringen Academy.

Karlich had attempted to decorate it with gold leaf, but the result was rather crude.

“Don’t I get one?”

Boribori asked.

“Unfortunately, Ricky is the first.”

“If I’m the second, I should get one too.”

“Let’s just say you graduated before him.”

“...?”

It was absurd, but it was not particularly important. The document possessed no official authority.

At least, not yet.

Rickart smiled faintly and rolled up the diploma. After tying it with a cord and placing it in his bag, he said,

“Take care of yourselves.”

“Don’t forget us either, Ricky.”

“I couldn’t forget you even if I died. I’m leaving.”

Rickart smiled as he said goodbye. Karlich did not follow them. He merely stood there and watched.

The other students also watched Rickart’s departure from the windows or from a distance.

Delphy, however, headed toward the girls’ dormitory and questioned a female student passing nearby. It seemed she wanted to say goodbye to Marie before they left.

“Is Marie inside?”

“Pardon? Oh, no. She went into the city this morning and hasn’t returned yet.”

“Is that so? All right.”

Watching from behind, Rickart felt conflicted in many ways.

They belonged to the same clan, so surely they would meet again someday.

Wouldn’t they?

He did not know.

Depending on how Marie decided to deal with her feelings, they might never meet again.

That was how romantic feelings could be.

His regret over leaving the Academy had begun to fade, but now it returned more intensely than before.

They passed through the castle gate and descended the stairs along the cliff. Railings had since been installed, so even if someone lost their footing, they would no longer fall over the edge.

Once they reached the bottom, autumn fields turning yellow stretched before them. An unusual number of purple gentian flowers blossomed along the roadside.

The breeze was cool and occasionally felt chilly.

The three of them followed the road.

Then they spotted a girl standing with her back to them. She held a sword in one hand.

It was Marie.

Her bright blond hair streamed in the lonely autumn wind.

“Marie.”

Delphy called to her.

Marie did not seem surprised. She slowly turned around and said,

“Could you let me speak with Ricky alone for a moment?”

Delphy and Boribori understood the relationship between the two, so they did not ask why. They walked past Marie and continued down the road, watching the pair from a distance.

With his sword resting on one shoulder, Rickart stood facing her from several paces away.

“We’ll see each other again, Marie. Don’t take this too hard.”

“No. That isn’t it. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“...”

“My name is Martelia. I am the thirty-second daughter of His Majesty Emperor Claudis.”

“...I see. I’m Rickart, the third son of House Kaldevern of Stormherz. I wasn’t trying to deceive you.”

“Neither was I.”

“Was that what was troubling you? The difference in our social standing?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I can only obtain true freedom if I defeat you or seduce you into marrying me. Otherwise, I’ll remain a puppet of the imperial family until the day I die. But I love you. What am I supposed to do?”

Marie had never wanted anyone in the world to learn her secret.

Above all, she had never wanted Rickart to know.

And yet he was the only person she had told.

For Marie, this was effectively a declaration of surrender. She had rendered herself completely defenseless and vulnerable.

Her heart trembled.

Her life might as well have depended upon Rickart’s next words.

But his answer was despair itself.

“...I’m sorry.”

Marie’s heart plummeted.

Yet it was not as though she had never imagined this outcome. So she did what she had already resolved to do next.

Marie drew the famed sword Ricky.

“I’m sorry too. I know I’m being selfish. Draw your sword, Ricky.”

Rickart quietly gazed into Marie’s blue eyes before speaking.

“You’ll regret this.”

“Even if I do, I have no other choice.”

“All right...”

Rickart set down his bag and drew the sword resting on his shoulder. He adopted a stance and faced her.

Delphy and Boribori did not intervene. They merely watched from a distance.

Yet Boribori somehow felt that one of them might die.

What was he supposed to do?

He closed his eyes, leaving Delphy alone to watch calmly.

The autumn wind blew.

It swept through the grass with a sound like rushing water.

Then, without warning, killing intent appeared in Rickart’s eyes.

Marie sprang forward reflexively.

It looked as though she were charging toward her death.

But Rickart did not swing his sword. He merely stood motionless with his eyes open.

Marie’s blade stopped against his arm.

In the end, she could not cut him.

The tip of her sword trembled violently.

But Rickart was not finished. He suddenly seized Marie’s blade with his bare hand and drew its tip toward his own heart.

“Not there. Here.”

Then he applied force, trying to drive it into his heart.

Startled, Marie tried to pull her sword away, but Rickart clutched the blade tightly and refused to release it. Blood flowed from his hand.

Meanwhile, the tip pierced his coat and crept closer to his heart.

Marie’s composure completely shattered, leaving her with no idea what to do. If she used mana to wrench the sword free, she might sever Rickart’s fingers. But if she allowed him to keep pulling, he might genuinely stab himself through the heart.

Even then, Rickart’s hazel eyes remained perfectly steady.

He was almost cruelly calm.

On the verge of tears, Marie looked back and forth between her sword and Rickart.

The boy had once told her that he could die for her.

He had not been lying.

In the end, Marie begged him.

“S-Stop. Please stop. I’m begging you.”

Only then did Rickart release the blade.

Blood dripped steadily from his hand.

All strength left Marie’s body, and she collapsed to the ground. She stared down in utter devastation.

Rickart spoke as gently as though he were placing a flower upon her head.

“I told you that you’d regret it...”

He sheathed his sword, gathered his belongings, and walked past her.

It might have seemed coldhearted, but it was the best thing he could do.

Boribori hurried over, took Rickart’s hand, and administered first aid. The wound was not severe.

At that moment, Marie was far more concerning than Rickart’s injury.

Yet they could not approach her.

Marie remained seated like a stone statue waiting eternally for someone who would never return.

Rickart’s heart was breaking as well, but it was time for him to leave.

So he walked onward without looking back.

The lonely autumn wind sweeping across the field sounded like ocean waves.

Chapter 13: Graduation — End