THE LOVE SONG OF THE SWORD DEVIL
Fifth Stanza
1
More than a month had passed since Aihiya.
There had been no major battles in the kingdom during that time, and on the surface, all seemed quiet. But a look at the nation’s domestic politics showed that such an assessment would earn more than a roll of the eyes from those in the know.
The losses at Aihiya had cost the kingdom more than 40 percent of its fighting power; the army was undergoing a massive reorganization and was concerned about how to deal with this dramatic reduction in force.
Zergev Squadron was not immune from the effects of this. Nearly 90 percent of the long-standing members of the unit had been killed, including Vice Captain Pivot. The squadron was in tatters, and whether it was even possible to rebuild was an open question. Zergev Squadron was famous for its strength of spirit. Wilhelm and Bordeaux returned miraculously safe, but while they had not been severely injured physically, the same could not be said of their hearts.
There were wounds in that battle no armor could protect them from and that pained them even now.
“You somehow seem even more fearsome than before,” the girl said suddenly as she watched Wilhelm silently lose himself in his blade.
They were in a corner of the poor district, in the plaza next to the field of flowers. Due to the ongoing restructuring of the army, Wilhelm had no specific assigned unit. Neither was there any battle to fight. His days mounted with depression and anger. Recently, he had been coming here daily to work with his sword.
That, of course, meant more opportunities to see the girl who spent her time here. He had even become used to her periodic interjections during his practice.
“Feh.”
“Oh! You clucked at me just now!” The girl sounded put out.
Being used to her comments didn’t make them any less annoying, and Wilhelm had made no attempt to hide his noise of frustration.
“I just hate it when you make it so obvious,” the girl said. “Could you stop?”
“It’s my choice where I practice my sword and my choice where I click my tongue,” Wilhelm said. “Even if you happen to be nearby, wasting your time doing nothing.”
“Don’t say that. I’m admiring my flowers and expanding my heart… Won’t you put it that way?”
“You should be glad I said wasting your time and not wasting your life.”
It was their custom to trade barbs like this, without looking at each other. They each came here to relax, but they ended up in these childish arguments. It was silly, yet neither wanted to give in by going somewhere else. And so the two of them saw more and more of each other.
“I’d have to say it’s you who’s wasting time,” the girl said. “And it looks like soldiers have plenty of time to waste. You’re always hanging around here these days.”
“…The military is reorganizing. I won’t be going anywhere for a while. You really think this is what I want? And I’m not ‘hanging around.’”
“You think? Even though you’re having so much fun swinging your sword? …I guess you haven’t been enjoying yourself much recently, by all appearances.”
“What do you know?” Feeling she had seen through him, Wilhelm attempted to conceal how much it bothered him with a mean remark.
He didn’t swing his sword for fun, but there was no denying Wilhelm enjoyed the time he spent absorbed in his practice. Indeed, for him, those times were the very fulfillment of his life. And the girl was right that now, he found he could no longer face the sword with purity of purpose.
Libre’s words from Aihiya Swamp reverberated in his head.
Come at me, immature one. I shall teach you how a newborn first cries.
Wilhelm had been an instant from the end of his life back then. If Sphinx hadn’t intervened, he would be dead right now. But their fight had been interrupted, and his battle that day would remain forever unresolved.
“Frowning again! You’re too young to let your face get stuck that way.”
Suddenly, the girl was standing in front of the silent Wilhelm. He was startled to realize he hadn’t noticed her, and he grabbed his own face in an attempt to force the frown away.
“The way you go around scowling and glaring and looking all prickly, I bet everyone is too scared to come anywhere near you.”
“Shut up! What’s it to you? What do you mean, ‘too young,’ anyway? How old do you think I—”
“Eighteen. Same as me. Right?”
The girl was pointing at him with a wink. Wilhelm couldn’t make a sound. She was right. And he wasn’t so shameless or concerned with trivialities to try to hide that fact.
“See?” she said. “Wouldn’t it be embarrassing to get frown lines at that age? If you have to get wrinkles, why not get laugh lines from smiling at flowers?”
He looked away, but the girl seemed to take this as an answer and giggled prettily. Then she spun around in a little dance, and Wilhelm found his attention stolen by the way her beautiful red hair fluttered in the wind. And as the strands vanished from his peripheral vision, they were replaced by a field of yellow flowers.
He had seen that field over and over, every time he had met the girl. So he was used to her proud look as she showed him the plants, as well as the question that came next.
“Do you like flowers?”
What kind of answer did she want? Nothing had changed. Wilhelm shook his head and replied, “No, I hate them.”
2
“You been to the castle town again?”
Bordeaux’s towering frame blocked Wilhelm’s way back into the soldiers’ barracks. His beefy arms were crossed, and he glared down at Wilhelm.
The swordsman clicked his tongue. “What if I have? Some sort of problem with that?”
“Damn right there is. We may be in the middle of a reorganization, but you never know when or where those demi-human bastards might strike. The military has to be ready for anything at any time. I don’t care if you’re on your day off or what, you’d better—”
He stopped in the middle of this unusually logical argument, closed his eyes, and began again slowly.
“Ahem. That’s what’s expected of you and me.”
“—”
Wilhelm felt a chill pass down his spine. His commander was completely right. Normally, such careful logic would have come from Pivot, not Bordeaux. Bordeaux would have slapped Pivot on the back and shot him down.
Bordeaux Zergev had changed since the battle at Aihiya Swamp, though he had no obvious visible injuries. The difference was internal, as was amply evident in his attitude and behavior. He had begun trying to speak more properly, as he had done just now, and strove to say things befitting his position. It was as if Pivot’s departed hollow, his spirit, were whispering to him.
But the biggest difference of all would be evident to anyone who spent time with him. Of course Wilhelm, who had known Bordeaux for more than three years, would notice it.
“The kingdom can’t spare your abilities right now. Practice as much and however you like. But keep in mind to stay where you can be called to action at any time. That’s all I ask.”
Bordeaux’s face as he spoke was all darkness and doubt. There wasn’t so much as a hint of a smile or laughter, and that was the most drastic change.
“After all, I’m pretty sure I don’t have to give you a direct order to kill those barbarians.”
The old Bordeaux would never have revealed the depth of his anger and hatred so openly. These displays gave Wilhelm a strange tightness in his chest. He disliked the feeling of his own weakness and determined to avoid Bordeaux even more than before.
“There’ll be another big battle soon. That’s what Lady Mathers says. Be ready.”
Wilhelm hadn’t spoken at all and didn’t break his silence. Bordeaux clapped him on the shoulder and then opened the path to the barracks. The way Bordeaux came to speak to Wilhelm himself, rather than sending some lackey, gave Wilhelm the impression that Bordeaux had not lost all his old directness. But he quickly discarded the feeling.
After meeting the girl in town and Bordeaux in front of the barracks, Wilhelm’s emotions were in shambles. He went inside. As he headed back to his quarters, he passed the barracks captain. The man looked about to ask what had happened, but Wilhelm silenced him with a glance and walked quickly into his room.
The royal army had military dormitories in each district of the capital, and the building Wilhelm was assigned to was one for the upper staff. This was the highest treatment for a foot soldier who had not attained the rank of knight, and he appreciated life in a private room that minimized his chances of running into other people. So much so, in fact, that he was apt to get angry at uninvited visitors.
“You were up bright and early this morning.”
“Why the hell are you here?”
“When I showed him who I was, the barracks captain let me in here. Even though I told him I could wait downstairs.”
“You’re overstepping.”
He thought back to the pathetic face of the barracks captain he’d passed in the hallway and clicked his tongue, although the captain was long gone.
Carol had been waiting in Wilhelm’s room. She was in normal women’s clothes rather than her knight’s armor, and it made her a bit less intimidating. It reminded Wilhelm that she was, after all, a woman. Not that he was stupid enough to say that out loud—it would only earn him a tongue-lashing and make this encounter longer than it needed to be.
“You know,” Carol said, “I’ve known you for three years, and this might be the first time I’ve gotten to sit and have a quiet chat with you.”
“There’s not going to be anything quiet about it. Get out of here.”
“You haven’t changed. Or…maybe you changed a little and then went back to how you were. You have that look in your eyes that reminds me of a stray dog—or a mad one.”
“Did you come here just to pick a fight? I’m impressed you’d go to all the trouble on your day off. Fine, I’ll oblige you.”
Their respective warrior spirits clashed briefly before Carol frowned and sighed.
“I didn’t expect you to be happy to see me,” she said. “Once I’m done here, I’ll leave immediately.”
“Oh, so you were looking for something else besides trouble?”
“This is about Grimm, of course. What else do you and I have in common?”
Wilhelm made a disgusted grimace at the mention of Grimm’s name. Ever since his injuries, he had been shut up in a medical center. Wilhelm, naturally, had not gone to visit him once.
After all, why would he? A visit would serve no purpose, and anyway, the relationship between them wasn’t like that.
But to find Carol going out of her way to come to his room like this—
“I came to tell you that Grimm wants to see you.”
It was exactly what he’d expected her to say. It wasn’t lost on Wilhelm that Grimm and Carol shared the bond of a man and woman. Well, they could care about each other if they wanted. But they shouldn’t push it on him.
“All right, you’ve delivered your message. Congratulations. But I don’t have any intention of listening to you. Going to see him would be a waste of effort.”
“Why, you—”
“But I’m impressed you were able to bring me a message from someone who can’t talk. I didn’t know he was literate enough to write down—”
“Don’t get too pleased with yourself, Wilhelm Trias.” Carol’s intensity rose again as though to resume their contest earlier. Wilhelm narrowed his eyes. Carol’s empty hand was clenched in a fist. “Grimm may forgive all the humiliating things you say about him, but I will not stand here and allow you to demean him.”
“You’re talking about the sort of thing friends do. Don’t try to force it on me.”
The two of them stood exchanging dangerous stares.
Carol looked away first. Wilhelm scoffed.
She shook her head slowly and headed for the door, but then she said, “I brought you his message, even if it’s hopeless. Just once, try doing something decent by a friendship forged in battle.”
“Since when are he and I friends?”
“Grimm sees you as his brother in arms. I thought maybe I could, too.” Carol left the room, an intimidated-looking Wilhelm behind her. He heard the door close, then he threw himself down on his bed in frustration.
He exhausted his swordsman’s spirit glaring at the ceiling. After that, only emptiness was left in his heart.
3
The place was filled with the stench of rot and blood. Valga frowned at the stomach-turning odor as he entered the little building. But though his old face might have been frowning, he would not turn away from any of this. All the tragedies he witnessed were the result of his own decision. It would be unthinkable not to look.
“…Sphinx. How’s your progress?”
He didn’t even greet the small, hunched figure before flinging out his question. The robed girl stood up when he spoke, wiped her face with the blood-stained fabric, and turned around.
“It will require ongoing observation. One thing I have concluded, though, is that it doesn’t smell nice. It may indeed be too much for me, as the incomplete creation of my mother, to reconstruct a spell missing its most crucial element.”
“Awful lot of whining for a so-called witch… I’m sorry. I’m just angry.” He let out a long sigh and looked past the girl, Sphinx. Standing behind her was a snake-man covered in green scales—what was once Libre Fermi.
“So there’s nothing left of you. It’s a real pity, Libre.”
Once the strongest warrior among the demi-humans, the light of life was gone from Libre’s eyes. Yet he still stood and fought at the behest of the witch—the result of a spell that could cause the dead to move. But he was an undead warrior now, capable of following only simple commands. He could no longer fulfill Libre’s role.
“So many of our fellows have surfaced after our victory at Aihiya. And the blow we dealt to the humans was severe. To think, this may be our greatest opportunity since this war began, and—!”
“Isn’t it enough that you’re here? Or couldn’t this undead warrior act the part you have in mind?”
“…No. It’s not enough. I don’t have the facility to stand at the head of our allies. And no empty corpse is going to be able to muster the charisma of Libre’s leadership!”
Valga glared at the undead Libre, then put his thick palms to his face.
The strategy at Aihiya Swamp had gone exactly according to plan, a major blow against the royal army. This should have been an opportunity to decimate a broken enemy, but Libre’s death in battle was completely outside Valga’s calculations. As much as he hated to admit it, Valga knew that Libre’s influence on the Demi-human Alliance was even greater than his own.
Sphinx had at least succeeded in collecting the body and reanimating it as an undead warrior, but no spell, no matter how unholy, would truly bring Libre back.
“Though the flesh is revived, the soul does not reside within it,” Sphinx said. “Reconstructing the Sacrament of the Immortal King is difficult indeed.”
“How to continue the civil war without Libre…? We don’t have many options left.”
“But we have some…?” Sphinx narrowed her eyes.
Valga gave a deep nod. Of course, he had considered the possibility that he or Libre might not survive this war. He had hoped Libre might outlast him, but it had been the serpent who went first—such was their fate.
Now I can do what I could never have done with Libre here.
“He hated the thought of the world gone to hell. He would have stopped me, possibly by force, from sending this world somewhere even lower.”
“And what is it that you wish from me in this hell?”
“I will open the gates of the netherworld and comfort the souls of our departed comrades with the humans’ screams and death rattles. And you yourself will lead the way. All the kingdom’s warriors shall be burned to ash in the flames of my wrath!”
The anger blazed within him; it never faded and never would. Every provocation would feed it until it razed everything to the ground.
The flames would never be quenched. This, if nothing else, Valga knew to be true.
“Libre is gone and I remain. Consider it testament to my undying rage.”
Valga began a terrifying set of calculations of what would become the fuel for the flames. It was the beginning of the most crucial battle in the whole of the Demi-human War.
“…This requires observation.”
And it was the beginning of the end that would settle the doom of many, including the witch Sphinx.
4
The demi-humans continued intermittent attempts to wreak havoc in the capital.
“Wha?! Y-you’re the Sword Devil…!”
“Ruuuahhhh!”
Wilhelm threw himself at one group trying to cause trouble on the capital’s high outer walls around the city. Some of this simplistic mischief was simply the work of ruffians caught up by the idea of demi-human superiority.
The reorganization of the army was behind schedule, and Wilhelm had been assigned to a unit of military police. He had already cut up several such groups of ne’er-do-wells.
One of the men held the fatal wound on his torn belly, spitting blood and contempt. “T-to think our fight would end like this… Cur—curse you, you animal…!” But Wilhelm was accustomed to such abuse. He readied his sword to grant the man a mercifully quick death.
“Quit your yammering, you idiot,” he muttered. “If you’re so afraid to die, learn to use a sword.”
“…You think so…? Then take your…famous sword… Soon tongues of flame will lick the whole nation… Even the capital will not escape destruc—”
“—?”
These were strange words with which to greet death, but it didn’t matter. Wilhelm struck off the demi-human’s head before he was finished speaking.
Wilhelm had sent the body tumbling over the wall with a kick and then finished off the group by the time the other guardsmen arrived. They were nearly speechless at the scene before them.
“A-are you the notorious Sword Devil, Wilhelm…?” The man’s voice cracked as he said the nickname, even though they were supposedly on the same side. His friends were as scared of him as his enemies. That was something else he was used to.
The name of the Sword Devil, as well as Wilhelm’s, were now inextricably associated with blood and death.
That was why…
“I’m Theresia. All right? Call me Theresia. And you are…?”
He’d stayed silent.
“You are…?”
“—?”
“Oh, come on! I’m sure you understand. I’m asking you to tell me your name, obviously!”
She puffed out her cheeks and stamped the ground; the girl in front of him—Theresia—was clearly frustrated.
They were in the square as usual, and Wilhelm had just finished his daily practice. She had gestured him over. He hadn’t been able to refuse. As they were looking at the flowers, she had suddenly said in annoyance, “I’m not hey you or girl. Call me by my name.”
Wilhelm had replied that he didn’t know what her name was. Her eyes had gone wide. They had known each other for three months now, and it was a little late for introductions.
She had coughed, then quietly said, “Theresia…”
He thought it was a fitting name. Always smiling like the sun, sometimes annoyingly talkative and yet—charming. Her mood was dangerously prone to sudden swings, but still—Theresia. Yes. It was a better thing to call her than “Flower Girl.”
“Hey! Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you even listening to me?”
“…Yeah. That’s a pretty nice name, I guess.”
“Oh, uh… Y-you think so? Well, I do appreciate your saying so…”
“I mean, I’ve been calling you ‘Flower Girl’ all this time.”
“Whaaaat?”
He just had to go and add a little too much information. Theresia’s expression changed completely, her cheeks red at going from happiness to anger so quickly. Wilhelm dodged all her attempts to step on his foot.
“Ahh!” Theresia exclaimed. “You are the worst! Anyway, aren’t you about ready to answer me?”
“—?”
“Why are you acting like you don’t know what I want?! I’m asking you to tell me your name!”
She stamped the ground again. Wilhelm wondered what the problem was—and then questioned himself for wondering. All he had to do was tell her his name. It was only polite, and Wilhelm had no reason not to.
Not even if it would provoke her terror and disgust.
“It’s Wilhelm Trias.”
If Theresia knew that the royal army called him “the Sword Devil” and what they said about him… The girl who loved flowers would revile him. The thought brought a strange ache to his chest.
“Wilhelm. Yes. Wilhelm, Wilhelm, Wilhelm.”
“…Stop saying that.”
“Huh. That’s a pretty nice name, I guess.” Her eyes glittered mischievously. Perhaps she thought she was paying him back for earlier. “It sounds very like you, Wilhelm.”
Wilhelm was silent at this; he was feeling too many things at once to know how to respond.
“Still, it’s a little strange.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, it’s been three months since we met each other…but we’re just now getting introduced.” Theresia stuck out her tongue and smiled shyly. At the sight, Wilhelm felt the confusion of emotions in his chest evaporate. His body felt strangely light.
“Why should we have known each other’s names?” he said. “We didn’t have any interest in each other. We both just happened to show up here at the same time to do what we wanted to do.”
“Really? I had a little interest in you. And it’s not like I don’t know anything about you, Wilhelm. You hate flowers, don’t you?”
“…Yeah, that’s right. And, Theresia, you love them.”
“Yes! See? We do know something about each other. We wanted to know.”
She puffed out her chest triumphantly, and Wilhelm found the corners of his mouth turning up slightly of their own accord. It was rare for him: a smile that was neither ironic nor grim.
“By the way, Wilhelm. Do you like flowers?”
The question came at him unexpectedly, while he was trying hard to stiffen his cheeks to hide the involuntary smile. It was the same question as always—and yet, it meant something a little different today.
“No, I hate them.”
Even so, Wilhelm’s answer didn’t change. There was nothing to be gained by looking at plants. Certainly not the things that mattered to Wilhelm.
“Oh? If that’s the case—”
Normally it stopped with the question and the answer. But today it didn’t. Holding the hem of her skirt, Theresia turned away from him, so Wilhelm couldn’t see her expression.
“—Why do you wield your sword?”
“—” She had never asked this question before.
In the three months they had known each other, there had always been flowers and a sword. But until this moment, Theresia had not once broached the subject of his weapon. Now that she knew his name, she was trying to find out what was inside of Wilhelm.
If it wasn’t Theresia asking, if it had been anyone else, Wilhelm would have simply pushed them away. But he found he could answer her with an unusually calm heart.
“…Because this is all I have.”
The question was about his sword. Why he wielded it. In his heart, the answer was very simple—it was all he had. This was what Wilhelm, more than anyone else, had come to believe.
“—”
Theresia was silent, saying nothing in response to Wilhelm’s answer. Just as she said nothing to his answer to her flower question. She talked too much and flitted from topic to topic, but she always repeated this one unchanging question, as though she were trying to solidify their tenuous relationship.
Wilhelm, too, kept quiet. He was not so foolish as to offend the moment by speaking.
5
I never thought you would actually come.
Grimm, his eyes wide, scrawled the words on a piece of paper as he sat up in bed, and showed the paper to Wilhelm.
They were in Grimm’s room at the Royal Hospital, although it was actually a very large area full of injured people. One could tell how busy the hospital was from the number of beds with patients in them.
“Just on a whim. I was on my way to do something else,” Wilhelm answered tersely. He stood beside Grimm’s sickbed with his arms crossed.
It was close to a miracle that, after parting ways with Theresia, he had found his feet pointing him toward a visit to Grimm. He was telling the truth—it was nothing more than a whim. It was his first day off duty, and just going to his room to sleep would serve no purpose. That was all there was to this.
“Anyway, your woman will never leave me alone if I don’t.”
Please don’t talk about Carol that way.
“…This writing is a pain. Can’t you do anything about it?”
It took Grimm time to respond to anything Wilhelm said. Paper for holding these conversations was not an abundant resource, either. Grimm kept using one sheet until it was almost completely black with letters.
In the face of Wilhelm’s annoyance, Grimm gave a pathetic smile and pointed to his throat. A long white scar ran across it, a sign of the damage to his speech organs. He could make a scratchy sound with his breath, but he would never speak again.
I was at least lucky to escape with my life.
“…Given that we were fighting Libre, you probably were.”
Where’s Carol?
“What, you think we’re friendly enough to show up here together? Don’t make me laugh.”
He really had come here on an absolute whim. Just the thought of bringing Carol along, someone whose company he didn’t enjoy in the least, was enough to make him choke. Encountering her was something he dearly wanted to avoid.
“I’m not visiting again. You make sure she knows I was here, okay?”
I’ve got it. I’ll tell her.
That helped him relax a little, at least. Now maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about Carol coming around to harangue him. If she had left him alone, he never would have bothered coming to see Grimm.
How’s the captain doing?
“It’s like he’s possessed by the ghost of Pivot. I don’t like it. ‘Do this. Kill the demi-humans.’ That’s all you ever hear from him these days. Supposedly things have quieted down recently, but he’s only gotten louder.”
Apparently Bordeaux had come to visit once as well but had quickly left again on business. The royal army was in total chaos, and the commanders had a lot on their plates. Bordeaux was no exception.
“—”
Suddenly, Grimm stopped writing and gazed into the distance. Wilhelm recognized the expression. It was the way Grimm had looked at the royal army’s cemetery, when they had said their last farewells to their fallen comrades. Wilhelm knew that he was lost in his memories of all those in Zergev Squadron who had died at Aihiya.
Wilhelm, arms still crossed, walked over to the window and thought back to the swamp himself. He had ruminated on that battle many, many times—always so that he wouldn’t forget his rage at the unresolved conflict with Libre or at Sphinx, who had stolen that chance from him.
This time, though, was different. This time, Wilhelm thought back to a different moment in the battle…
“…Why did they protect me?”
He remembered Pivot, who had given his life taking a blow meant for Wilhelm. He remembered all the others, who had stood against Libre at Pivot’s dying command and been cut down themselves.
Grimm, too. He was among those who had faced Libre in Wilhelm’s place, and for his trouble he had received a wound he would bear forever and lost his voice.
He didn’t understand why. None of them had had a hope of winning. If the effect of the magic circle had continued, Wilhelm probably also would have met his doom there. What meaning could there have been in their actions?
“You, all of you, challenged a foe you could never beat. Pivot died, all of you died, and I—”
If it hadn’t been for Sphinx’s intervention, Wilhelm would have died, too. And if he had, all of Zergev Squadron’s sacrifices would have been for nothing. And then—
There was a quiet noise from behind him.
“—”
“Are you…laughing?”
As Wilhelm looked down at him, Grimm was reacting in an unusual way. His shoulders shook, his breath scratched from his throat, and he made a sound like he was coughing. It almost looked like laughter.
This totally unexpected answer left Wilhelm at a loss. Grimm took up his writing utensils.
I’m sorry for laughing. I never thought you’d respond that way.
“That’s my line. I never took you for the type to find matters of life and death funny.”
Me neither. I didn’t think Pivot’s death or the deaths of our comrades meant anything to you. And to think you’re even upset that no one is blaming you…
“—?!” Wilhelm reached the end of what Grimm had written, and the unbelievable sentence immediately made him angry. But Grimm shook his head.
Nobody blames you, Wilhelm. My wounds and Pivot’s death are not your fault. I’m sure the captain doesn’t hold you responsible for Pivot, either.
It was the truth. Each time they saw each other, Wilhelm could tell how different Bordeaux was. Yet he never spoke ill of Wilhelm nor blamed him for Pivot’s death. Nor did Grimm consider Wilhelm to be the reason he’d lost his voice. Knowing as much should have been a relief to him. Should have been.
Wilhelm. You’re the sword of our Zergev Squadron. If you aren’t defeated, we won’t be, either. Everyone believed that, and that’s why they put their lives on the line.
“You’re making things up. My sword is mine, and I am my own.”
That’s true. I guess that’s enough. Your intense way of living is yours alone. Well, it was—but it isn’t anymore.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Your way of living is an ideal. Describing it in words makes it sound cheap and thin, but only those who have really dedicated themselves can live like you. The rest of us couldn’t do it.
Wilhelm couldn’t quite grasp Grimm’s emotion as he poured the letters onto the page. Wilhelm had always hated when people said they couldn’t do something. Above all, he hated the look in a person’s eye when they said it. He despised the look of people who thought they were making a smart choice as they gave up and made excuses.
But nothing in Grimm’s expression as he looked at Wilhelm was anything like that. He was saying he couldn’t. He was making excuses. His face was that of a man who had given up. Yet his eyes were neither resigned nor regretful. Wilhelm found Grimm’s gaze very unsettling.
Wilhelm, I’ve always admired your strength. When we saw Tholter as an undead warrior at Castour Field, I could tell how different you and I were, and I thought you were amazing. So did everyone in the squadron. It’s hard to see from a distance what makes you special. But up close, you can tell.
“…Don’t go giving me a weird reputation.”
Sorry. But you tend to do whatever you want to, you know. Maybe us independent types just tend to run into each other. I have high hopes for how far you can go.
How far could he go? He could swing his sword, become a sword—and where would he end up? He finally understood the inexplicable emotion he saw in Grimm’s eyes. It was expectation and hope. It was envy toward someone he knew could keep going, even though Grimm himself had given up.
I would have liked to tell you, at least once, before I lost my voice. I guess it’s a little late for that.
“—”
Thank you for that time. Thanks to you, I’m here now.
Grimm spoke all this without a word, then bowed his head toward Wilhelm with a smile. It was unmistakably a smile of brotherhood.
Wilhelm could hardly bear it.
6
“Do you like flowers?”
“No, I hate them.”
“Why do you wield your sword?”
“Because this is all I have.”
After he had learned Theresia’s name, after Grimm had confessed his envy, things went on without any real change. The royal army was still moving slowly, and with the reorganization yet ongoing, he continued to wield his blade on behalf of the capital’s police force. When he wasn’t doing that, he was in the plaza having his absurd conversations with Theresia.
The questions about flowers and why he wielded his sword became an immutable touchstone for them. Wilhelm’s answers and Theresia’s reactions never changed, either.
Or rather, they weren’t supposed to. But at some point Wilhelm noticed how the exchanges made him ache. He did still feel the same way about flowers—there was no way that would ever change. But being asked about his sword hurt his heart. Each time, the question made him uneasy and irritated. His chest throbbed with the emotions Pivot had shown him at Aihiya, as had Grimm in his hospital room.
“Wilhelm…you’re staring at me. Is something wrong?”
“No…nothing.”
“Oh? You shouldn’t look too intently at a woman’s face, then. It’s rude.”
“What? Don’t you think you have a face worth looking at?”
“Wha? Wh-what does that mean…?”
“—?”
“Why do you act like you don’t know what I mean?!” she said. “Don’t you know how to have a conversation?”
He also started to notice that talking with Theresia in the square gave him the same sense of calm as swinging his sword. And finally, he saw that he was no longer able to lose himself in his sword practice the way he once had. Just swinging the sword should have been enough for him, but now, facing that blade made it hard for him to breathe.
It was almost as if he was—
“It’s as if your sword is crying.”
“—!” He had been swinging his blade out of sheer habit when Theresia said this. Instantly, Wilhelm felt a storm of emotion; he whirled on Theresia and glared at her.
“…Wh-what’s wrong?” she asked.
“You—! What do you know about my sword…?!”
His unfocused pain had found an outlet. Wilhelm regretted the words, but they couldn’t be taken back. Theresia frowned and said, “Wilhelm…you’re right. I’m not qualified to talk about swords. But I can see by looking at you that using your blade right now is hurting you.”
“Don’t act like you understand. Nothing’s hurting me. I—”
“If it’s that painful, why don’t you stop?”
“Stop…?”
He frowned; he had never so much as thought the word.
Right, Theresia nodded. “If you really hate it, there’s no point in going on. It might seem irresponsible, but why keep going if you have to destroy your own heart to do it? Or…” She paused and looked at Wilhelm, who stood bolt upright. “…Does it mean something else you, to pour yourself into your sword like that?” Something beyond the sword itself, she meant.
She asked as though it were the same question she always asked, but it wasn’t.
Wilhelm wielded his sword because the sword was all he had. But the meaning of it—what was it that drove Wilhelm Trias to do so?
“Even I don’t know the answer to that,” he said.
“In that case—”
“But putting it down would be unforgivable.”
This time it was Theresia’s turn to fall silent. He couldn’t be allowed to put down his sword. What he wanted didn’t figure into it.
“Unforgivable? So…you mean to go on using your sword forever, no matter how much it hurts you? No matter how painful it is?”
“That’s right. I don’t have to know why I’m doing it. I just have to.” Wilhelm had no way of finding any other answer than that, anything other than the sword. He grabbed hold of the hilt of his weapon as if clinging to a lifeline. Theresia exhaled when she saw it.
“I see. So there was a meaning. To keeping you alive.”
“A meaning to keeping me alive…?”
He was stunned by the words. They almost suggested that she knew about Pivot and all the people of Zergev Squadron, and how he had been saved from death. But he didn’t see it in her eyes. Two clear blue irises looked at him.
“Yes,” she said. “As much pain as it causes you, you can’t let your sword go. I…” Theresia looked down, her expression sad. Wilhelm noticed the change but was unable to give an immediate response. Her words were still ringing in his ears.
“I hope you find it,” she said. “Your reason.”
“My…reason…?”
He wondered if perhaps those words might, in truth, be the key to resolving the problem in his heart. Then again, he could have told her it wasn’t so easy and not to say such stupid things. But Wilhelm didn’t do either of these.
“Yeah,” he answered. “If I even have one.” He nodded at Theresia.
It was the meaning of letting him live, the reason Pivot and the others gave themselves up, the answer to Grimm’s envy. Or perhaps the thing that would turn Wilhelm into steel once and for all.
“Don’t worry,” Theresia said. “I’m sure you’ll find it. You of all people can do it.” She had no basis for saying so, but she smiled gently. And Wilhelm, for some reason, found himself unable to argue.
The chance to find his answer was coming, as if Theresia’s words had summoned it. It would be a great battle that Wilhelm Trias, the Sword Devil, could not avoid.
A critical moment in the Demi-human War, a bloodbath at Lugunica Castle, would soon arrive.
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