< 85. Proof of Existence >
*
Blue meadows, red sunset. Like a watercolor, no, like a pastel fairy tale, the meadow of that time was beautiful. Fernandez tilted his head as he looked down at his gauntlet, covered in scars.
That time. That time… It’s a strange word.
A strange word. A strange feeling. Fernandez suddenly looked at the sword he was holding. A dark greatsword, with his name inscribed on the blade. Dain.
Dain, meaning compassion in the dragon tongue. The polished blade reflected his face like a mirror. The face of a middle-aged man wearing a crown. A strong jawline and steadfast emerald eyes. King Dain.
‘This is a dream.’
He had entered King Dain’s memory. Fernandez quickly assessed his situation. He could even smell the dampness of the grass at sunset. He could feel the blood pulsing in his veins.
But this is a dream. I’m not the king. I must not forget myself. I must not.
Ever since the day their souls merged, his soul had been gradually changing. It was unwanted. He clicked his tongue.
“Your Majesty, the prince has arrived.”
“Oh, yes. Yes.”
A strange voice came from his mouth. Fernandez decided to observe the situation for a while, as it flowed without his will.
-Clop, clop.
Soon, the sound of a horse approaching was heard. Prince Elias stood against the sunset, looking down at him. His green eyes sparkled in the shadows. King Dain smiled brightly at the sight, as if he had been drawn just like his childhood self.
“My son.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
-Thud.
The prince dismounted. His armor still had bloodstains like rust. He came to see me right after returning from the battlefield. Such filial piety. King Dain nodded inwardly with satisfaction.
“Did you come to deliver the news of victory? You could have rested a bit more. I could have visited your quarters.”
“No, Your Majesty. How could I?”
“Your heart is willing, but it’s a pity. Is there not even time for a drink between father and son?”
At his words, Elias laughed and pulled out a flask from his saddle. With a clear *pop* sound, the prince opened the lid and tossed it to the king.
A rude gesture, but both the king and the prince laughed heartily.
“Father, wouldn’t it be charming to drink here with the sunset as our companion?”
The king caught the flask and sniffed it. The distinct smell of barley liquor wafted out. He chuckled and took a sip. The strong liquor burned as it went down his throat.
“You rascal. Filling your flask with liquor?”
“Haha, Father. How could I go to battle without a bit of courage?”
“The mages would scold you if they knew.”
“The Knights of the Round Table would beg to share it.”
“Haha!”
Mages and Knights of the Round Table. Unlike King Dain, who had ruled perfectly between them, his son was more of a knight. The king felt uneasy about that. While it was possible to build a nation with the power of knights, it was impossible to maintain it with swords and spears.
Without the wisdom, advice, and administrative abilities of the mages, it would be very difficult to maintain the nation’s structure. The king gazed at the flask with a somber expression, then handed it back to the prince.
“Marry a mage.”
“…Huh?”
The prince choked on his drink and spilled it.
“How could the bloodline of a lion continue among those dusty, moldy scholars?”
“Those scholars are the pillars of the nation, my son. What you lack is not strength, but wisdom.”
“Didn’t you declare you wouldn’t meddle in my marriage?”
“That was when those Phaeirn scoundrels dared to think of taking you as their son-in-law…”
The king thought bitterly. There were no more external enemies to fight with strength. The era of blood and flames would end in his reign. What the nation needed now was not a warlord, but a wise and virtuous king.
The prince was born and raised in an era of war. The young knights of his age enthusiastically supported this humble prince, but he lacked the virtues needed for a king in this era.
This was no longer a time for lions to run wild. Guarding the flock should be left to the sheepdogs. Now was the time to reign like an eagle.
“I’ve had my eye on a girl for a while. The daughter of High Mage Merlin. You’ll like her too. How long do you plan to keep picking flowers by the roadside? When I was your age…”
“Ah, ah! Father! You sound just like the old councilors now!”
“You… you brat. How dare you speak to your father like that…”
Did I spoil him too much? King Dain looked at his son, who was sulking in frustration. It was excessively rude, whether directed at the king or his father.
That youthful, energetic, and passionate demeanor had won him great support from the young knights… but he had been like that too, once.
The king frowned and gripped his sword.
“Draw your sword.”
“…Huh?”
“It’s time for a lesson.”
“…Suddenly? Uh, Father. Are you sure? I won’t hold back anymore, you know?”
“You rascal.”
-Swish.
The smell of grass filled the air. The unique scent of the last moments of the sunset. Under the setting sun, the fading knight’s sword gleamed.
My son, you will be the new sun. There’s still so much I want to teach you, so much I want to show you.
How sad. Our lives are so short.
The two knights’ swords clashed in the air, releasing the thick scent of steel.
*
“Bring more liquor.”
“Father, a king shouldn’t talk like that…”
“Don’t talk like the mages, my son. I am the king.”
“You’re such a child.”
The two knights, drenched in sweat, sat down on the meadow and gazed at the moon.
As he freed one wrist, King Dane grabbed the flask his son handed him and gulped down the drink. A drop of liquor dripped from the tip of his beard.
“Huh, it’s strong.”
“Haha, Father. So, does this mean you’ve decided not to interfere in my life anymore?”
“…I’m letting it slide.”
“You cut through space, and now you’re saying something so disappointing?”
“Would I kill my only heir? Of course, I only cut to a level you could handle.”
“…Sure, Father. Let’s go with that. So, will you only interfere in my marriage to a level I can handle too?”
The king sighed and took another sip. The dizzying alcohol buzz shook his head. His blood boiled, and his body, cooled by sweat, felt oddly pleasant.
In his younger days, he used to have after-parties like this with his vassals after charging through battlefields. A happy memory.
“Do you have a woman in mind?”
“…Renata. I’ve been meeting her at the fortress.”
“Whose daughter is she?”
“She’s the maid who cleans my chambers.”
“…Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
It felt like his insides were burning. If a child were to be born, the Magus would foam at the mouth and have a fit. If he were to die early, they might even try to assassinate her.
His son wasn’t very popular among the Magus and the Council of Elders. If he weren’t his blood, and if his power weren’t yet solid, the entire dynasty would have been shaken.
Child, child… Sadness clouded the old king’s eyes. He was still too naive.
“Go on an expedition.”
“Where to?”
The prince answered energetically at the mention of an expedition. He’d rather eat sword-rice than engage in political fights in the stale, old palace. The king felt a headache coming on and fiddled with the flask.
Perhaps it would be better for him to earn merit, build a support base with the vassals on the expedition, and return. If only he could hold on until then.
Shield, bless us. Mother, bless the royal family.
“Anywhere. Go where you can make your name known. Gather knights who will submit under your name and leave.”
“Oh, yes! I’ll form a retinue.”
The prince laughed brightly. The old king smiled bitterly, looking at those clear, innocent eyes. He wished for this child to always live brightly, always happily, seeing only the bright parts of this world.
Yes, it’s not my place to interfere. He looked at the white-burning star. The alcohol made the stars sway.
He watched his son stroking the horse’s neck. Young and naive. The child born during the war grew up so radiantly, likely due to his mother’s influence. I had little part in raising him.
So, my son. This is all I can do for you. Don’t abandon your life, go wherever you want. Wherever you are, I’ll prepare a place for you to return.
The moon rose, and the grass lay flat under the cold wind. The king stood up, leaning on his sword.
*
“Huh…”
Fernandez woke up sweating. He hastily put his hands to his face. Smooth, wrinkle-free skin, the Divine Essence of the Saint pulsing through his veins, and the twitching muscles of Diemonica.
I’m not the king. I’m Fernandez. I’m Fernandez.
The one who vaguely watched the prince wasn’t me. Though I’ve occasionally read King Dane’s memories since our souls merged, his experiences have never seeped in this deeply.
A sword, a sword. I need a sword.
He fumbled around the bedside. During his days as a dark mage, he always kept a dagger under it. Nothing was within reach. This won’t do.
I need proof I’m not going mad. I need to recognize that I’m me.
He roughly swung his hand, groping around. His vision, just awakened from a long sleep, hadn’t recovered yet. Everything looked blurry and hazy. He was anxious.
-Thud.
Then, slender yet firm fingers clasped his hand. A warm hand. As Fernandez stopped, the fingers gently stroked his hand.
“Your Excellency. It’s alright. Your Excellency.”
“…Kirhas?”
“I’m here. Your Excellency.”
Only then did Fernandez feel his heart gradually calming down. At least I’m not alone in enemy territory. It doesn’t feel like I’m imprisoned. He shook his foggy head and turned his gaze toward the direction of the voice.
Kirhas’s turquoise eyes, filled with concern, were looking at him. Her eyes shone brightly in the dark.
“…Where are we?”
“One of Shaksisi’s hideouts.”
“How long has it been? What happened?”
“…Your Excellency needs more rest. It’s already been a month since you lost consciousness.”
“A month?”
The last scene he remembered was wielding magic from his prime. Magic fueled by burning life, the intoxicating sense of omnipotence even as he rapidly aged.
“Give me a mirror.”
“…Huh?”
“A mirror. Anything.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
Kirhas soon brought an old bronze mirror. He took a deep breath and looked at his reflection.
He wasn’t the old Knight King or the aged dark mage. He finally exhaled. In the mirror was a man in his early twenties with shimmering blue eyes.
At least the blessing of immortality activates even at the moment of dying of old age. Does that mean the blessing itself guarantees eternal life?
Except for death by injury, even natural aging close to death can be reversed. Fernandez frowned as he noticed something strange in the mirror.
White hair was growing. A sizable clump, from the left temple.
‘Faijashi.’
-Yeah. Coming to your senses?
‘Is this a limitation?’
-Probably.
The blessing of immortality doesn’t guarantee infinite life. No blessing can be permanent, and the more powerful the blessing, like immortality, the more volatile it is. Vaitas’s blessing was fading.
So, my black hair must be the remaining amount of my consumed immortality. This white hair is the residue.
Fernandez put down the mirror and looked at Kirhas. Her eyes were straight and strong, but weighed down by deep fatigue.
He still felt Kirhas’s rough fingers gripping his hand.
“How’s the situation? Explain what’s happened since I collapsed.”
“…The situation has taken a strange turn, Your Excellency.”
Kirhas struggled to part her lips.
*
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