Chapter 47
Marquis Nokbel couldn’t recover from the shock.
Left alone in the empty room, he collapsed onto the sofa.
“To Pechenik…”
Now he finally understood why the Saintess had been avoiding giving an answer all this time.
The one meant to use Magreta’s Holy Grail was none other than Pechenik.
“What in the world happened…?”
A Swordmaster possessed a body so strong they rarely fell ill in their lifetime.
If he was suffering to that degree, it couldn’t be anything short of a terrible curse.
The sight of him vomiting up dark red blood and clutching his chest was still vividly seared into Nokbel’s mind.
Just looking at the blood he coughed up was enough to tell how unbearable the pain must have been.
Even now, he could still hear the strangled, choking breaths echoing in his ears.
This wasn’t the first time—Highellia had rushed in without hesitation, pouring out divine power, while the attendants quietly carried him away.
It was all such a sorrowful, yet strangely practiced scene that Marquis Nokbel could do nothing but stand there, stunned.
In the empty room, he stared blankly at the splatters of blood on the floor.
“……”
His heart felt heavy.
Even though it had been ten years since they last met, it still felt like seeing an old friend from yesterday.
Back then as now, Nokbel had always cherished everything about Pechenik.
A free and innocent man, one who always dreamed of living like the wind.
Feeling sorry for his solitary life, Nokbel had even tried to set him up with remarriages several times—
All of which had been soundly rejected.
“Is there nothing I can do to help…?”
—Bang!
The door swung wide open, and Erika rushed in.
“Master! Master!”
“…?”
Her eyes swept through the room, only to realize Pechenik was not there.
“My apologies.”
She bowed politely toward Marquis Nokbel and was about to retreat when—
“Wait a moment.”
His urgent voice stopped her in her tracks.
“May I have a word?”
“…Yes?”
“Was something… wrong with Pechenik? May I ask?”
“You may not.”
Her answer was bold.
Marquis Nokbel was a man who held immense power.
Even the loftiest central nobles usually took a step back before him.
It had been a long time since anyone had answered him so flatly.
“I only ask in case there’s anything I can do to help.”
“The Saintess will handle it. You needn’t concern yourself.”
Her steady gaze met his own.
And as he looked, someone came to mind.
“…So similar.”
Those eyes—firm, strong, unflinching.
She bore no resemblance outwardly, yet her gaze was identical.
The free, honest air about her, even the kindness lingering in her eyes—
“So it’s because she’s his disciple…”
Though not his real daughter, she had been raised with such care that she carried the same look in her eyes.
“Your reason for volunteering for Teneuarha…”
Where had Pechenik found such a disciple?
“It was for your master, wasn’t it?”
She was the girl who had declared without hesitation that she would join the knight order, devoting her life solely to obtain Magreta’s Holy Grail.
“That’s not true. Please don’t say such things in front of Master.”
“…Not true?”
“Becoming a Teneuarha was my dream to begin with.”
“And since when was that?”
“Since the day before yesterday.”
“…The day before yesterday, huh.”
The Marquis silently studied her for a while.
Inwardly, he thought of Pechenik.
Back in the order, Pechenik had been his most cherished junior.
Now, seeing his condition, so serious that even Nokbel couldn’t gauge it, he couldn’t help but recall their recent conversation.
It had sounded half like bragging about his disciple, half like an overzealous parent at a school consultation.
It was clear to Nokbel what mattered most to Pechenik.
After all, she was standing right before his eyes.
“…May I speak more casually?”
“How casually?”
“I’ll call you by name.”
“Go ahead. I’m originally a commoner, so I only have a name.”
“I see.”
“Marquis, if it isn’t something urgent, may we continue this another time? I want to see Master.”
“…Very well.”
Just as she turned to leave, he called again.
“Erika.”
She looked back.
An idea struck Marquis Nokbel—something he could do for Pechenik.
“If you face difficulties in the capital, come to me.”
He resolved to look after Erika.
From what he’d heard, she had no parents, and her one pillar of support, her master, was gravely ill.
Adjusting to knighthood life in the capital would be no easy matter alone.
For Pechenik’s sake, there was no reason he couldn’t take care of his precious disciple.
“I’ll help with anything.”
Marquis Nokbel, the most powerful figure among Siad’s central nobility.
“Don’t hesitate.”
At that moment, he unofficially declared himself Erika’s guardian.
* * *
Late at night.
The crescent moon hung in the sky, and the night was unusually dark.
Creak…
Erika slipped quietly into Pechenik’s room.
“….”
Carefully, she approached the bedside.
Pechenik was fast asleep, the Holy Grail resting by his pillow.
“…So bright, it had to be covered.”
Magreta’s Grail was draped with a white cloth.
Even in the pitch-dark room, it glowed faintly, like starlight gathered into one.
“He must have only just fallen asleep… I shouldn’t wake him.”
It felt like reliving the same nightmare again and again.
With a dark expression, Erika gently sat down on the floor, leaning her head sideways against the bed while gazing at her master.
Not long ago, his face, clothes, everything had been splattered with dark red blood. Now, all of it had been cleaned away.
With Highellia’s divine power lulling him into sleep, he looked utterly at peace.
She couldn’t tell yet how effective the Grail would be.
How much time would need to pass?
“…Master.”
She whispered.
“Please recover soon.”
The words were so soft, she feared even they might wake him.
She hadn’t spoken them expecting a reply.
“…Of course.”
But a response came, and Erika’s eyes flew wide open.
“…?”
Pechenik had opened his eyes, watching her.
Those familiar golden eyes.
In the dark, they reminded her of moonlight.
“…I feel so ashamed, showing you this state…”
He let out a deep sigh and pushed himself up to sit.
“I must hurry and recover somehow.”
Leaning back against the headboard, he looked down at Erika, who sat by the bed.
For a long while, their eyes held.
Then Pechenik smiled.
“Don’t worry.”
A master had a duty to reassure his disciple.
“No matter how long it takes, I will recover.”
“….”
Erika believed him.
He was a man who had never once broken a promise.
“Yes.”
With her answer, she steeled her heart.
She took a quiet breath.
Don’t show your worry. Don’t even let it show in your eyes. Don’t make Master uneasy any longer.
She repeated it to herself again and again.
Resting her chin lightly on the bed, she stared at his face.
They would have to leave as early as tomorrow, but she had no idea what words to say.
“…Did your talk with Marquis Nokbel go well?”
She brought up something trivial.
“You didn’t argue with him, did you?”
“Argue? Hardly. He’s always had quite a fondness for me. It made the conversation easy.”
Pechenik smiled faintly.
He told her some of what he and the Marquis had discussed.
To Erika, it sounded almost exactly like an overbearing parent at an entrance consultation—except instead of a school, it was about joining Teneuarha.
The problem was that Pechenik himself didn’t seem to realize it.
“…And shouldn’t you visit Dangters?”
“I wanted to…”
“I’ve requested a two-month deferment.”
“…What?”
Erika clapped a hand over her mouth.
“He agreed? But… the Teneuarha Commander said it was impossible.”
“Count Hereis? Nonsense. Lord Nokbel outranks him easily.”
“Wow…”
“Remember to stand in the right line, when the time comes.”
Erika giggled and nodded.
Two whole months.
Even accounting for travel time, she would have at least half a month in Dangters.
Plenty of time to say her goodbyes to the mercenary company.
