THE LOVE SONG OF THE SWORD DEVIL
Interlude
1
Carol Remendes had first met Theresia when she was fourteen. The House of Remendes had served the Astrea family, the house of the Sword Saints, for generations. Carol, too, had learned the blade for as long as she could remember, honing her abilities and being trained in her family’s duties.
When the Sword Saint Freibel van Astrea passed on the blessing of the Sword Saint to the next generation, and a new Sword Saint was born, the responsibility of attending her fell to Carol.
Carol could still remember her first day of duty—she had been so nervous she thought she might faint clean away. It was only natural. Many of the great swordspeople of the Remendes family were present at that moment. Carol was, of course, quite a competent sword fighter compared to other members of her own generation, but if pure strength was the only condition for being an attendant of the Sword Saint, well, there were many other qualified candidates.
And yet it was Carol, young and immature, who had been chosen. She was confused.
“Are you the one who will be with me from today onward?”
She was actually rather thrown off her rhythm by the fact that the person she found herself attending was a girl younger than she was.
“Y-yes, ma’am! I’m Carol Remendes, of House of Remendes! I’m inexperienced as a swordswoman, but for you, Lady Theresia Astrea, I will spare no—”
“You don’t have to be quite so nervous. Can I call you Carol?” Theresia smiled. Carol was somewhat calmed by this behavior, but she was also suspicious. It was hard for her to believe that this child was the Sword Saint, the one who had received the blessing spoken of in legend.
This girl is a sword fighter vastly more accomplished even than me?
Carol had spent no small amount of time diligently devoted to the art of the sword, and she had a certain conceit about her own abilities. It was unsurprising that such extensive training might cause her to doubt the true abilities of the “Sword Saint.”
In truth, neither the way Theresia carried herself nor the way she acted gave the slightest hint that she knew anything of the sword, nor of the martial arts at all. It was not easy to simply accept the claim that she was the one who had inherited the most powerful of martial blessings.
“Lady Theresia, if it’s all right with you, perhaps I could beg a lesson in swordsmanship from you?”
It was a very provocative way of speaking, but that, Carol reflected, was how she had been back then. She had believed then she was hiding her doubts, but she was sure now that Theresia had seen through her. The Sword Saint had put a finger to her lips, feigning thought, and looked back at Carol. Then she had said, “I’m sorry. It’s not, so I’m afraid I can’t entertain you with a lesson.”
Bluntly, she had refused Carol’s request.
This meeting did not give Carol a favorable impression of Theresia. Of course, that was no reason to abandon her duties. On that point, Carol was quite firm with herself, and Theresia never once complained about the way her bodyguard went about her work. It was another event that caused the distance between them to close—and changed how Carol thought about Theresia.
Theresia and Carol had been acting out the roles of a good master and a good servant for about two months. At the time, Theresia spent many of her days at home; she seemed to care little for her status as Sword Saint, and it bothered Carol tremendously. Now and again, Carol would request a lesson, but she was always turned down. This was one of the things that contributed to her annoyance as time went on.
“I’m going to find out if Lady Theresia really is qualified to be the Sword Saint.”
Looking back on it now, she could only marvel at how foolish she had been. But at the time, it had seemed an excellent idea. If Theresia was not sufficiently capable, Carol would have to train her herself. This mistaken sense of duty played no small part in pushing her to act as she did.
Thus, Carol engineered an incident that would allow her to test Theresia’s abilities with the sword. She had no intention of getting the girl hurt, but neither did she mean to be particularly gentle. Just a little test.
And as a result…
“Carol! Carol! Are you all right? You… You aren’t hurt, are you?!”
Carol lay spread-eagle on the carpet, listening to Theresia’s frantic voice. Her head was spinning too fast for her to tell what had happened. She had tried to set up an opportunity to test Theresia and snuck up behind her—and the rest was darkness.
“L-Lady…T-Theresia…?”
“Y-you’re all right?! You’re not hurt? Th-thank goodness…”
Theresia was looking down at the stunned Carol, all but choking. Her anxiousness had gone beyond words; she covered her face, and tears began to run from her eyes.
But the person who had caused the pain here, who had been in the wrong here—it was all Carol.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Carol…!”
Watching the weeping Theresia, Carol understood with terrible clarity. Thanks to her own foolishness and insensitivity, she was the one who had hurt this girl so badly.
It was only later that Carol learned about Theresia’s blessing. She was talking with Freibel, the previous Sword Saint and Theresia’s uncle. He asked Carol to take good care of Theresia, and also spoke of the power she had been born with.
“She’s had the blessing of the reaper since birth,” he said.
This was an inborn blessing, something separate from the blessing of the Sword Saint she had been granted. It meant that injuries inflicted by Theresia’s hand would never close and could not be healed, inevitably ending in death.
Carol shivered. These two abilities together showed Theresia to be truly the beloved of the battlefield. At the same time, she understood the meaning behind the tears Theresia had shed when she had hit Carol.
“—”
She stood, speechless to realize how foolish and hasty she had been, and then she was flooded with regret. Her feet were so heavy with self-recrimination that she could hardly return to Theresia’s room. She had done something unbefitting a servant, and she was sure she would be released from duty.
“I apologize for what happened. I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me, but I’m truly sorry.”
However, that certainty disappeared at the way Theresia lowered her head the moment she saw Carol. Carol knew it was she who needed to apologize, yet it was Theresia who looked defeated and apologetic. Trembling, she could hardly bring herself to look at her attendant.
Touched by the gentleness of Theresia’s heart, Carol was wracked with shame. And it began to change her.
“Lady Theresia, your bath is ready. Will you allow me to accompany you?”
“Carol…you seem so kind suddenly.”
“No, milady. Not nearly so kind as you.”
After that, Carol came to sincerely respect Theresia as her master. This new Sword Saint, she found, was a gentle and thoughtful young woman despite the awesome powers she’d been given.
That was the reason Carol Remendes changed.
Once she knew the details of Theresia’s situation, Carol became her confidante. Theresia had an extraordinary pair of blessings, which together made it seem her inevitable destiny was on the battlefield. Yet she hated to harm others and much preferred to admire flowers wherever she found them.
At the beginning, Carol had been frustrated that a Sword Saint would show no interest in using the sword. But once she had come to know Theresia, Carol realized that there was no problem with this at all. Though favored by the sword-god, she chose a life without the blade. Others might criticize her for this, but Carol was determined to take her master’s part no matter what. It was a kind of penance for her former foolishness, but also her way of serving her cherished Theresia.
Carol would be just as happy if Theresia could go on in her placid, content ways, never having to pick up a weapon. But that wish was quietly being betrayed.
The Demi-human War, the civil conflict that threatened the kingdom, would not let Theresia escape.
2
“Elder Brother! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry…!”
“Lady Theresia…”
Carol held the weeping girl close, embracing her beloved master, trying desperately to comfort her. But she couldn’t find the reassuring words she was looking for. Carol found herself pathetic; she hated herself.
Theresia’s first battle as the Sword Saint was also the royal army’s first defeat in the civil war. It was not that Theresia had not been powerful enough. The problem went deeper than that.
Theresia had been unable to fight or even pick up her sword. She had tied back her long red hair and clad herself in light armor, and taken up Reid, the Dragon Sword that only the Sword Saint could wield, along with her own blade. With the hopes of the kingdom on her shoulders, she had set out to battle.
And still she had been unable to fight. She could not bring herself to harm others. Instead her older brother, a guide for her to the last, had sacrificed himself. He had joined those fighting a desperate defense of the frozen Theresia and met his end in combat.
After Theresia’s inability to bring herself to fight had gotten her brother killed, the sword became a curse to her.
“I’m sorry, Carol.”
These had become the words with which an ashen-faced Theresia dismissed Carol each day.
Her failure to fight in her first battle had caused profound disappointment in the kingdom’s upper echelons; she had continued to be unable to join the army in anything it did, and it seemed there was no hope left for the Sword Saint.
Requests for the dispatch of the defeated Saint were now filled by Carol, who went in her place. Of course, Carol did not esteem herself so highly as to believe she was really fulfilling Theresia’s duty. But she continued to throw herself into the work in hopes of making things even a little easier on her master.
Carol knew full well that if Theresia were fighting, she would achieve ten times, a hundred times more. But Carol would also be happy if the opportunity never came. If her kindhearted young charge never had to use her sword…
Years passed, and the civil war dragged on. All the while, Theresia’s ill luck continued. Her second-eldest brother and her younger brother both died in battle one after the other, and Freibel, too, lost his life in the war. The flames of this conflict seemed as if they would pursue Theresia everywhere, burn out every corner of her heart.
More than once, Carol had heard Theresia crying miserably in her room at night, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…!”
Each time she heard the plaintive cries, Carol’s heart filled with an unreasonable but irrepressible anger. Was it not enough? Would it not end? Why did destiny see fit to corner Theresia so?
“—”
How long would the attentions of the sword-god torment her?
Somebody, save her, Carol would pray from the bottom of her heart. Anybody.
Carol could not do it alone. She didn’t have what it took. Let her be mocked as shameless; it didn’t matter. Somebody, help.
She could only pray that the right person would find Theresia. She could only beg the heavens.
3
It was pure chance that Carol noticed the quiet change in Theresia.
Five years had already passed since the beginning of the civil war, four years since Theresia’s ill-fated first battle. More and more often, Theresia spent her days outside rather than cooped up in her house. She was hardly out for pleasant walks, though. Carol had suggested to Theresia that it might be best for her not to be in the house. The reason was simple, and that made it all the more awful.
As the war worsened, various members of the House of Astrea, concerned that their status as Sword Saints would decline, were visiting on a daily basis to urge Theresia to rejoin the army. These encouragements came from people who had nothing to lose, and as the bearer of all their expectations, Theresia had to endure their “advice.” Thus, Carol suggested that perhaps Theresia should get away from it all.
“Please, think of yourself first,” she said. “You have to do what you think is right, Lady Theresia.” She frequently saw off the depressed young woman with such counsel from her heart of hearts. She wasn’t advocating simple escapism, but she felt unnecessary suffering should be avoided. Theresia might not be able to feel quite content, but she could at least find some harbor for a brief respite from the battering winds.
Theresia began to spend her time away from the house, somewhere deep in the poor quarter. It was not an especially safe place, but it certainly afforded solitude. The flower seeds she planted came into bud, and when they bloomed, it would become a place where she could relax. Or so she had hoped.
“Lady Theresia…did something happen?”
One night, Carol came to the square to meet Theresia and found that her usual distracted air had given way to something else. Theresia had a rare smile pulling at her lips as she said, “I met a very rude sword today.”
The words didn’t sound promising, yet she seemed almost pleased. Carol was puzzled. It would be quite some time before Carol learned the true import of those words.
Not until she discovered that the person Theresia had met in the square that day was Wilhelm.
She had, it was true, prayed for someone to save Theresia, no matter who it might be. So she wasn’t technically in any position to complain. Yet she very much wanted to. Why, she wanted to know, did it have to be Wilhelm Trias?
It so happened that Carol had known Wilhelm before he and Theresia had met. Carol had often seen him on the battlefield when fulfilling Theresia’s missions, and he could be a troublesome swordsman. There was no way, in Carol’s mind, that a person with Wilhelm’s particular qualities could ever mesh with Theresia’s generosity of heart.
Wilhelm was like a blood-starved wild animal who had put on a human skin and learned to use a sword. That was Carol’s opinion of the Sword Devil. He was the exact opposite of Theresia, who hated to hurt any living thing and was terrified by her own enormous power. It was inconceivable that they should see anything in each other, yet in that field of flowers, there was an unusual meeting of the minds.
Although she felt a little guilty about it, Carol had eavesdropped on their meetings more than once or twice. Each time, she had been prepared to leap out and cut Wilhelm down if there had been any trouble, but she had always been disappointed. Or, well, disappointment was not the right word. After all, she saw Theresia smile and laugh among her flowers.
It had been so long since Carol had seen a smile or heard laughter from Theresia. In the five years during which they had been master and servant, Theresia had spent only the first six months in anything like happiness. After that, the Demi-human War had erupted, Theresia had attempted her first battle, her heart had been broken, and her smile had disappeared.
But here, Carol saw the true Theresia van Astrea. And if Theresia was willing to acknowledge and trust this boy, then Carol begrudgingly admitted that she would do so, too.
It was at this time that Carol was also growing closer to Wilhelm’s comrade Grimm. He, too, thought very highly of Wilhelm, and her impression of the Sword Devil began to change.
Ultimately, Wilhelm achieved great things in battle and was even granted a promotion to knighthood. He took the place that had once been reserved for the Sword Saint, Theresia, and now it was the Sword Devil people looked to as the one who would bring an end to the Demi-human War. Carol admitted with admiration that Theresia’s judgment had been right.
After that, she saw a change in how Wilhelm thought and acted. The barely restrained, bestial intensity began to subside. He showed consideration for those around him and dedicated himself to living up to the hopes people had for him. He was attempting to be the very picture of knighthood.
The change was extraordinary. But everyone believed it, and even Carol found herself thinking more kindly of him. Though they still argued, she had no choice but to acknowledge who he was.
“Wilhelm…”
There was no need to describe the meetings between Wilhelm and Theresia. She waited for him by the field of flowers, greeted him with gentle visage and voice. Anyone in the world could have guessed what she felt for the Sword Devil. There was no question that the two of them cared for each other and that their hearts had forged a connection.
That pleased Carol, and she genuinely wished them happiness. It would be untrue to say she felt no jealousy toward Wilhelm, who had been the one who was able to tease out the true Theresia. This was part of the reason she would always continue to needle him publicly. But all the same, if Theresia was happy, that was enough for Carol.
Theresia had been hurt more than enough already. A girl who didn’t deserve to be in pain had been wounded for pointless reasons by the unfitting destiny she had been given. So it was good if she could at last be happy. Carol wanted it for her.
She wanted everyone to know that Theresia van Astrea deserved to be loved, to see the smile that Theresia used only amid those flowers, to hear the laugh Theresia uttered only for Wilhelm. Carol was certain that the day would come soon.
But the curse that was the sword had not yet relinquished its hold on Theresia.
4
When the flames of war began to lick at Wilhelm Trias’s home, he tried to contain them by himself. Grimm told Carol what was going on; she understood the gravity of the situation and couldn’t decide what to do, torn between telling Theresia and not telling her. Carol didn’t think much would come of letting Theresia know. But if she kept from her master the fact that the person she cared about had gone off to a hopeless battle, was that not itself a great betrayal?
Carol went back and forth, agonized over the choice, but in the end she told Theresia everything.
It was to be the moment when the current Sword Saint truly awakened.
“Lady Theresia…!”
Everything in the Trias lands seemed to be on fire. Amid everything, the sight of Theresia wielding her sword was terrible and beautiful. The flashes of her blade, the movement of her feet as she dodged the enemy’s blows. All of it was like a dance that spoke to the absolute achievement of her technique. As a fellow swordswoman, Carol could only watch this display in astonishment and admiration.
But as Theresia’s servant, Carol Remendes, she felt sadness and pain. Theresia stood guarding the blood-soaked Wilhelm, holding off the waves of demi-humans who attacked them. For the first time in her life, Theresia had overcome her reluctance, and on the other side of that hesitation was a sword technique like a tempest.
Carol understood how she had banished that hesitation, as well as what the result would be. There were no tears on Theresia’s cheeks as she brought her sword to bear, yet it was clear that she was crying. Here, in front of the man she loved, she gave in to the destiny she had so long resisted, the fate that had cost her a member of her family.
“Lady Theresia…”
In the end, Carol had done nothing but make Theresia cry. Nothing had changed since that first time. Keenly aware that Theresia and Wilhelm were parting ways, Carol was wracked with the sense of her own guilt.
5
Wilhelm quietly disappeared from the royal army, Theresia’s name and renown replacing his own. That first battle in which she had failed to fight was covered up, and the battle for the House of Trias was presented as the Sword Saint’s first combat. Afterward, Theresia rose to achieve all that was expected and hoped of her.
She gave the kingdom her selfless loyalty. All and sundry praised the beautiful Sword Saint and her exceptional prowess, the kingdom stirred with the second coming of a legend, and Theresia van Astrea became a hero.
And in the wings was Carol, supporting her mistress as she had always done.
“Thank you again, Carol,” Theresia said with a small smile. But it was fleeting, not her true smile. That expression, the one more beautiful than any of the flowers she surrounded herself with, was not something Carol or anyone in the kingdom could evoke. There was only one person who could do that.
And that one person—that man, the Sword Devil—was gone. No one knew where.
Eventually, an end came to the fighting, though it left a great unease behind. It was Theresia herself who put a finish to the kingdom’s long civil war. Beloved of the sword god, spending herself for the kingdom, she ended the conflict and became a hero.
Her name would go down in legend, and her fame would be eternal; she would be spoken of for generations to come. And eventually, no one would care about the life of one young girl named Theresia. Her love of flowers, the smile she revealed to one particular man, would be cut away by her life with the blade. It was a source of endless frustration to Carol to see Theresia dragged along by the path of the Sword Saint.
She had once prayed for Theresia to be saved by someone, anyone. Now she prayed for the same thing, but not at the hands of “anyone.” If Theresia was to be saved, there would be only one man who could do it. And so Carol prayed desperately for him.
But her wishing was fruitless; her prayers went unanswered.
Nothing changed. Theresia became a hero, and the day of the ceremony arrived.
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