Log Horizon - Volume 10 - Chapter 3.2

2 
Time passed slowly, and spring deepened. 
Isaac was keeping pretty busy. As a matter of fact, there were all sorts of things to do, but he wasn’t hardworking enough to take them all on. 
He could leave the knights’ training to Lee Jent and Zecca Eagle. The Knights of the Black Sword had lots of overpowered jocks, and even their brains were muscle-bound. Guys like that were too dumb to know what being tired was, so all the tiring jobs should go to them. Making an excuse that wasn’t even an excuse (“Besides, I’m the guild master”), Isaac spent about three days of the week napping. He was living like a lion. 
On days when he’d napped, he had a hard time getting to sleep at night, and he often went on rambling strolls, the way he was doing now. Night walks. 
Of course there were lots of times when he went to the tavern and drank, but Isaac’s companions were loud and macho, almost without exception. Dealing with guys like that wears you out, Isaac thought, although this was the exact same thing other guilds said about him. 
Wearing the uniform tailored for him by the Round Table Council, Isaac wandered the halls. He was on the third floor of the main building of Castle Cinderella. 
It was probably about nine at night. Most People of the Earth were probably asleep. In this world, light was more valuable than it was on Earth. That was true for the common people, at any rate. When it came to the manor of the lord who led the nobles of Eastal, the League of Free Cities, Magic Lamps shone everywhere in the corridors. They probably needed them to deter crime, too. 
Lights changed the way people lived. 
When Isaac poked his head into the office, Lord Sergiad Cowen was still at work. 
“How is the training coming along?” 
“It’ll do. The knights are leveling up nicely.” 
Entering the office with a casual greeting along the lines of “S’up,” Isaac sat down on the reception set without waiting for permission. In response to a whispered inquiry from a maid, he ordered tea, then sprawled back in his seat. 
This wasn’t his first late-night visit. Recently, he’d been stopping by about once a week. 
Today in particular he’d been invited, but lately, he tended to just drop in. The maid handed him a deep-hued tea; Isaac said, “Hey, thanks,” and took a swallow. 
He liked liquor, but drinking tea this way wasn’t bad, either. 
He’d never mentioned it to Sergiad, but this office was pretty comfortable. It was magnificent, but the baptism of years had washed away any showiness. Everything about the place felt simple, quiet, and calm. It was the same sort of atmosphere that a well-tended temple would have had back home. 
Isaac liked that, and so he’d put this office on his nighttime sauntering route. It was even better when he’d kicked up a ruckus with his friends and was tired. 
Sergiad, who’d finished organizing the documents on his desk, came over to the reception set to join Isaac and sat down across from him. His face softened. 
“That’s good to hear. You never know what could happen these days, or when.” 
“Did you call me out here to make small talk?” 
“Indeed I did.” 
“Aw, man. C’mon.” 
Well, it’s not like I really care. 
Isaac shrugged. 
“I don’t have many years left, you know. Don’t take my pleasures from me.” 
“Gramps, you look like you could take a punch from a level 90 and be just fine.” 
Isaac and Sergiad both laughed. 
What with this and that, it had been more than three months since Isaac had come to Maihama. In the time since he’d first greeted Sergiad, they’d talked about all sorts of things. 
Of course, Isaac knew that the other man was a Person of the Earth and that he felt an emotion close to awe regarding Isaac’s and the other Adventurers’ combat abilities. He also knew that, as a noble lord, Sergiad was attempting to get close to the Round Table Council and hoped to gain technological and economic aid. 
However, Isaac did feel that that wasn’t all. 
He thought this old man, Sergiad Cowen, was a pretty magnanimous guy. He interacted sociably with Isaac, who was less than half his age. There were probably factors like status and interests in play as well, but above and beyond that, he met Isaac halfway, on a personal level. Isaac didn’t know much about manners, and he thought the man had come down closer to him to keep him from embarrassing himself. 
He was a big-boned old man with good posture. 
He must have trained a lot when he was young. He had a sturdy build, and even now, when he walked through the halls, he didn’t seem the least bit unsteady. He was dignified even when he sat on a sofa. 
For all that, he was also mischievous and brimming with curiosity. Isaac had heard that the man liked dorayaki and had them delivered, and the man had shown Isaac a pair of spectacles he’d had made to order. “I heard that, if you wear glasses specially made by the Adventurers, ingenuity wells up like a fountain,” he’d said, disappointed. That had been a fun story. Since Isaac had been asked not to, he wouldn’t tell a soul about it. 
“Well, I asked you here today about Iselus.” Sergiad broached the subject nonchalantly after they’d laughed for a while. 
Isaac knew he’d been invited for a reason, so he responded, “Yeah. You got it. Just speak your piece.” 
Sergiad was a wise ruler whose subjects respected him enormously. However, Isaac suspected that, as an individual, Sergiad might be a funny old guy with a great sense of humor. He fooled everybody with that dignity, but quite a lot of stuff entertained the guy. Lately, he seemed to have been experimenting on Isaac to see whether Adventurers understood jokes. As a result, Isaac was able to speak to him quite casually, too. 
“His birthday is coming up soon, and we’ll be holding a grand festival in celebration. Do you think that will seem incredibly absurd to the Adventurers?” 
“Hey, we throw parties, too. When our birthdays come around, we drink liquor and run on at the mouth a lot, at least.” 
“Hmm. I thought you might reproach aristocratic politics for being trivial.” 
“I dunno about politics, but this is Iselus’s birthday, right? We’re not so lame that we’d nitpick your party,” Isaac said dismissively. 
In all honesty, since it was a festival-level occasion, well, parts of it would probably be a pain. He thought it was bound to be a lot of work for their side, too. Iselus was still just a kid, so he couldn’t plan his own. 
However, just as Isaac was thinking this, Sergiad’s words reverberated in his ears: “I intend to take that opportunity to name Iselus the heir to the House of Cowen.” 
“The heir? C’mon, guy, the kid’s only eight.” 
Isaac couldn’t believe it, and he’d hit him with a retort, but Sergiad didn’t respond. He just took a sip of tea. 
“And anyway, Gramps. You’ve got a son, right? A serious type.” 
At Isaac’s follow-up question, Sergiad stroked his beard; he seemed to be putting his thoughts in order. The gesture suited the man, and Isaac was used to seeing it. 
“Phenel married into the family, you see. He’s a very good man. He was originally a civil servant, but he hasn’t forgotten the warrior’s spirit, either. He suppressed Maihama’s rivers well. I value him highly, but the people wouldn’t settle for that. They want the heir to be a Cowen by blood.” 

“Hmm.” 
Isaac had heard about that already. 
He wasn’t particularly interested in other people’s family situations, but when it came to the structure of the ducal house he was supposed to be guarding, he couldn’t stay disinterested. In addition, entertainment was limited in this world, and the family circumstances of statesmen were the perfect fuel for gossip. 
After living here for three months, knowledge about the matter had been imprinted on him—both at the tavern and at the market—as the foundation for idle gossip. 
“My daughter Saraliya and her husband, Phenel, have three children. The oldest girl is Risselthea. Their second daughter is Raynesia. Iselus is their youngest.” 
He knew that as well. 
Sergiad hadn’t had a son. His children had both been girls. Saraliya was the oldest, and her sister was Langrissa. Both were in their thirties by now, elegant beauties and very popular to boot. Saraliya, the older sister, had taken a husband. This was Phenel, who’d come up earlier in the conversation. At this point, while Sergiad governed the territory of Maihama as its lord, Phenel handled trade and internal affairs as his right-hand man. 
Phenel’s children were the three already mentioned. 
“Risselthea gave up her succession rights. She married a knight. Once the girl’s said something, she won’t listen to anyone. She said if she couldn’t marry the man she loved, she’d stab herself in the throat and die. It’s deplorable; I don’t know who she took after.” 
Probably her granddad, Isaac muttered silently to himself. The knight she’d married was a man called Jaris. He was the most able of the Maihama Glass Greaves’ young knights. He wasn’t old enough to serve as the order’s captain, but in terms of grit and skill with a sword, he was probably one of its top three heroes already. 
“That leaves Raynesia and Iselus,” the old man said lowly. 
“Well, you’ve got the princess, right? If your daughter took a husband, so could she.” 
Although, he already suspected what the answer would be. 
“I believe that girl’s suited to different work.” 
“A different job, huh?” 
With a faintly bitter smile, Sergiad glanced out the window at the moon. Isaac looked that way, too, keeping him company. 
“In ancient times, Yamato was ruled by a nation known as the Westlande Imperial Dynasty. Do you know of it? This was in the distant past. Later, there was a war. It was an immense conflict, fought in all parts of the world between the alv race and the other human races. During the Ruquinjés’ war, the Westlande Imperial Dynasty fell, and Yamato subsequently split into two halves. One of them was our Eastal, the League of Free Cities, and the other was the Holy Empire of Westlande, which governs the West. The Cowen duchy’s rank was granted to us by the old Westlande Imperial Dynasty. Both Eastal and the Holy Empire of Westlande are descendants of that ancient dynasty.” 
Sergiad had begun to relate Yamato’s history. “The Holy Empire of Westlande calls itself the rightful heir to the ancient Westlande Imperial Dynasty.” 
“Huhn…?” 
“They have told Eastal to submit to their rule.” 
“Pain in the butt.” 
“As you say. It is a ‘pain in the butt.’ It’s also dangerous. To us, Yamato appears to be approaching a great turning point in its history. This is an uncommon age. We People of the Earth and Adventurers have begun to talk. Many wonderful things will happen, but many terrible things are bound to occur as well.” 
Isaac didn’t understand complicated stuff. People could talk about “rightful” and “heirs” at him, but he couldn’t tell which of them, or even what, was correct in the end. Still, it didn’t look as if anything was inconvenient for either Maihama or the Kansai region at the moment, so he thought they could probably just let things stay the way they were. There was no reason to start trouble on purpose. 
Talking to Isaac about this sort of thing was a mistake in the first place. It was the sort of thing he should be discussing with Machiavelli-with-Glasses. 
“So, long story short, what’s that mean?” 
Isaac scratched his head as he asked the question. Sergiad cackled, then slowly began his story again. 
“Becoming a lord in an age like that will be harsh— I misjudged Raynesia. I thought that she was a reasonable girl but that she had no spirit. When I saw her step into the great conference hall at the Court of Ice and snap at the nobles, I realized how foolish I’d been. ‘We should afford them courtesy; take a good look at the Adventurers,’ she said. She was right. I looked back and realized that what she said was right.” 
Sergiad laughed a little, then spoke of his mistake as if he were proud of it. 
“This old man didn’t even understand his own granddaughter, so how could I understand the Adventurers? It showed me that, at the very least, if I didn’t face the Adventurers squarely and listen to everything, I would be a genuine fool and a complete simpleton. Raynesia, that idle girl, might as well have struck me with a maul. When I saw her fly away on that griffin, I felt as if I’d been sent back to my roots, at my age. Imagine.” 
Isaac didn’t interrupt. In this hushed, nocturnal office, those words sounded like a confession. 
“She’s a very intelligent girl. She’s indolent, but she understands duty. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to give her the position or find her a husband and leave Maihama to them.” 
“There, see? You could just use the princess.” 
“But would that be the correct thing to do?” 
Sergiad was still hesitant; he seemed to be searching empty space for an answer he couldn’t fully see. 
“There may be an even bigger job for that girl. I don’t know, but in this grave situation, I think there might be a greater destiny waiting for her… Besides, I do think that ‘lord’ is a man’s job. Iselus understands that, too—at his age. He’s clever. And more than that, he loves deeply. He loves this territory. That is one of the vital qualities of a lord.” 
Isaac’s answer was to shrug. 
This was Maihama, and Sergiad was its lord. If Sergiad said he was going to make Iselus his heir, Isaac was an outsider, and there was nothing he could say. In fact, even he didn’t think Iselus was unsuited to be a lord. In terms of common sense on Earth, eight seemed too young, but you couldn’t choose the family you were born into, either here or there. 
Stuff like this probably goes on over there, too. 
“The League of Free Cities is most likely headed into a turbulent era. Or rather, it isn’t just Eastal. When Yamato and the world welcomed the Adventurers, they ushered in a new age. Your people and ours may be similar beings, but even if that’s the case, now that we’ve met, new possibilities are being created one after another. I can hear their first cries in the town, from up here in the castle.” 
“Yeah, wow, you’ve got great ears, Gramps.” 
“In Yamato, in the future, it won’t be possible to lead the people unless we foster mutual understanding with the Adventurers. As you know, Isaac, that boy is still young. While you’re in Maihama, would you teach him the things we are unable to?” 
“Uh. Are you sure you want me doing that? Not that I’m proud of it, but I’m dumb.” 
“I don’t think so. I think what that young boy needs is a light like yourself.” 
Since Sergiad had made this decision, all Isaac—an outsider—could do was obey his request and train the knight brigade. That, and protect the lord’s family. Since the little kid was part of the lord’s family, naturally, he’d have to protect him as well. 
Everything else was incidental. 
Fortunately, Adventurers were strong. Isaac and the Black Sword of Pain had enough power to smash most dangers. The city of Maihama wasn’t a bad place. The Cowen family weren’t bad people. Of course, there were things like organizational relationships and various interests in play. However, it was a fact that they’d entertained a group of reprobates like the Knights of the Black Sword. 
Isaac remembered the much-used phrase “houseguest’s obligation.” The corners of his lips rose in an enigmatic smile. 
“Yeah… Yeah, sure. I’ll do what I can anyway.” 
“Please do, Sir Isaac.” 
The two spent more time together that night, conversation rambling onward.