Episode 106
“Dale of Sachsen, reporting to Your Grace, the Duke.”
When Dale returned from Guild City and presented what he had acquired, even the formidable Black Duke couldn’t hide his shock.
”…!”
He had thought he was accustomed to his son Dale’s boundless talent and resourcefulness. Yet, Dale always managed to bring back things that lay beyond even his wildest imagination.
The Shadow Church, the City Master’s ledger.
“So the rumors were true.”
The Black Duke muttered calmly, his eyes fixed on the obsidian box on the table. Inside, a human heart was still beating.
”…How is this possible?”
Dale asked the continent’s greatest dark sorcerer.
“It’s a Life Vessel.”
“Are you saying the Drowned One has become a lich?”
Dale asked, incredulous. A lich, a dark sorcerer who achieves immortality through forbidden magic.
“The principle is similar, but it’s a bit different.”
The Black Duke replied, echoing Dale’s own thoughts.
“They say he made a pact with a sea demon to gain immortality.”
Dale’s words were met with the Duke’s silent contemplation. As the continent’s foremost dark sorcerer, he had some inkling of what might be involved.
“For now, let’s focus on fulfilling the contract you made with him.”
“Understood, Father.”
The Black Duke deftly changed the subject, and Dale nodded without further questions.
“I’m truly glad you returned safely.”
With that, the Black Duke finally allowed himself a father’s smile.
Not long after, Dale’s thirteenth birthday arrived.
“Congratulations on your thirteenth birthday, Lord Dale!”
In the Great Hall of Sachsen Castle, Sir Helmut Blackbear knelt in celebration of Dale’s birthday.
“Congratulations!”
In unison, the Night Raven Knights knelt and lowered their swords vertically.
“Please, rise.”
Dale smiled awkwardly.
“It is thanks to your loyalty that I am who I am today.”
“Lord Dale…!”
Sir Helmut, Sir Baskerville, and the Night Raven Knights couldn’t suppress their swelling loyalty.
“This gathering is not to celebrate my birth into this world.”
Dale continued calmly.
“But to remember and express gratitude for the dedication that has made me who I am.”
With the dignity befitting the heir of the Sachsen Duchy.
His mother, Elena, smiled proudly at her son, and the Duke of Sachsen couldn’t hide his fatherly pride.
“Happy birthday, brother!”
“Thank you, Lise.”
Finally, a young lady, having left her mother’s embrace, smiled at Dale.
Surrounded by the people of the Sachsen Duchy who had shaped him, Dale felt the warmth of family and smiled.
Leaving behind the cold and darkness of the winter night.
Dale’s thirteenth birthday was celebrated more grandly than ever.
Yet, unlike the grand dukes of the Empire, no influential figures from across the continent were invited, nor was it a social event filled with the pomp and ceremony typical of nobility.
The festival in the Sachsen Duchy was entirely for the people of the Duchy, for everyone within its borders.
The entire city of Sachsen was alive with festive spirit. Even the serfs in the Duchy’s lands were given a reprieve from taxes, such as eggs or harvests from the frozen lands of Sachsen, and enjoyed a generous number of rest days, all in the name of “Lord Dale’s birthday.”
Throughout the Duchy, modest celebrations were held in their own ways, all in honor of Dale, the Duke’s eldest son.
In a sense, it was a display both uncharacteristic of nobility and yet perfectly befitting of it.
In the early hours of that day.
Even as the night deepened, the festival lights enveloping the city did not dim. Yet, within the shadowed halls of Sachsen Castle, a young girl was diligently training late into the night.
“Charlotte.”
“Dale!”
Startled by his unexpected presence, Charlotte caught her breath.
“Practicing with your sword late into the night again?”
“Yes.”
Under the breaking moonlight, Charlotte nodded.
“I need to become stronger.”
Strength. As she spoke, Charlotte tightened her grip on her sword. Observing her, Dale spoke up.
With a swift motion, he picked up a knight’s sword from the armory and drew it from its sheath.
“Shall I test how strong you’ve become?”
“Alright.”
Charlotte nodded with a smile, assuming her stance without hesitation.
With a swift charge, Charlotte closed in on Dale, her heavy sword swinging. She was fast—so fast that even Dale couldn’t react in time. He had intended to lightly test her growth, but her unexpected strike caught him off guard. Dale hastily accelerated his four circles.
By the time he realized, it was already too late.
“Heh.”
Charlotte grinned triumphantly, pointing her sword at him.
“You’ve gotten stronger since I last saw you.”
Dale smiled back at her. For a moment, Charlotte’s expression wavered.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, really.”
“I’ve never seen someone say ‘nothing’ and actually mean it.”
At Dale’s words, Charlotte puffed her cheeks and turned her head. Silence fell between them.
“It’s just…”
After a pause, Charlotte hesitated before continuing.
“Lately, it feels like you’re drifting away.”
“Me?”
”…I don’t know, you idiot!”
She tried to suppress her embarrassment, pretending it was nothing.
It wasn’t entirely untrue. While Dale was making a name for himself as the Duke’s heir, Charlotte was left behind, practicing her sword alone… It was nothing like the days when they would spar all day within the castle.
“So… I want to become stronger.”
Charlotte said.
“So I can stay by the side of the ‘Black Prince’ who’s making waves across the continent.”
Just to stay by Dale’s side. Her words made Dale catch his breath.
He suddenly recalled the image of Charlotte’s father, Sir Bardel, who had fallen to the hero’s sword. And now, his daughter was pledging her knightly loyalty to the one who had pierced her father’s heart.
How would Sir Bardel feel, seeing his beloved daughter reduced to a puppet dancing on the strings of his adversary?
“Charlotte.”
An inexplicable sense of betrayal tightened around Dale’s heart, and he spoke.
“Yes?”
”…It’s nothing.”
“What? Suddenly?”
Dale trailed off, smiling.
“Come to think of it, your birthday hasn’t come yet, has it?”
“No, not yet. Why?”
Dale, now thirteen, spoke to twelve-year-old Charlotte.
“Then until then, you’ll have to call me ‘brother.’”
Dale murmured as if it were someone else’s business, and Charlotte blushed, driving her sword into the ground. It hurt a little.
A few days later, as the festival’s fervor still burned bright, a thousand-strong mercenary company returned to Sachsen Castle. Yet, there was no trace of the typical mercenary crudeness; they were disciplined and orderly, like a well-oiled machine.
A heavily armored infantry unit, each soldier clad in expensive black armor.
“Jonas of Kennet, reporting the Black Armor Company’s achievements to the commander!”
“Well, how did it go?”
This was the Black Armor Company, the continent’s most elite mercenary group, led by none other than Dale.
“We successfully reported victory in the Wilhelm Count’s territorial war! Furthermore, our mercenary casualties were…”
After receiving the battle report from Sir Jonas, Dale nodded.
The company had reached a point where it could operate independently under the leadership of Vice-Captain Sir Jonas. Despite being outnumbered nearly two to one, they had secured victory.
“You used your head well.”
It was a flawless strategy, and as a mentor, Dale couldn’t help but feel proud.
“Well done, Sir Jonas.”
“It was all thanks to your teachings, my lord!”
Sir Jonas, Dale’s protégé, had been taught everything from troop command to strategy and tactics. He was someone Dale trusted implicitly with the Black Armor Company he had nurtured.
No matter how skilled the soldiers, if the commander’s head was empty, the entire unit could be doomed.
“There’s still a mountain of things to teach you.”
In that regard, Sir Jonas was a man who relished learning and possessed the wisdom to match. He constantly asked questions, eager to absorb every bit of strategy and tactics Dale imparted.
“But it’s not the right time yet.”
After saying that, Dale shook his head.
“There’s a festival for my birthday going on, and I’ve saved some drinks and meat for you all.”
“Lord Dale!”
“Enjoy yourselves, and we’ll talk later.”
Dale said, and Sir Jonas knelt, planting his sword in the ground, his loyalty beyond question.
“Haha, damn! That golden spoon of yours sure shines bright!”
Master Baro laughed heartily, taking a swig of the Saxon family’s beer.
“Happy birthday, Apostle of the Black,” the Shadow Saintess, her eyes covered with black bandages, smiled gently beside him.
The Grand Courtroom was no longer a neutral zone within the Guild City territory. While the “Shadow Court” still administered justice in Guild City, it had also become the continent’s foremost assassin organization. To oversee every move, the leadership needed to be close to Dale.
The Grand Courtroom’s leadership, led by Master Baro and the Shadow Saintess, had established a new base in Saxon’s frozen lands, under the protection of the Black.
The Black Armor Company, the Shadow Court—these were just a few of the countless forces Dale had built.
“Master Baro, I have a favor to ask.”
“What is it? Need me to fetch a head for you?” Master Baro asked, sipping his beer. Dale shook his head.
“I have someone who needs training.”
“Ah, just say the word, and I’ll work them to the bone.”
As Master Baro replied, a silhouette emerged from the shadows at Dale’s side—a silent blade always by his side, guarding him from the darkness.
“The continent’s greatest assassin…”
Saintess Aurelia.
“I want you to strip the ‘chivalry’ from Aurelia’s sword and transform it into the blade of a true assassin.”
“Well, damn. What do we do about this?” Master Baro muttered, feigning surprise at the sight of Aurelia.
“There’s nothing left to lose.”
Not long after, on Dale’s thirteenth birthday, he was granted a fief in the name of his father, the Duke of Saxon.