16
“You know, I learned something from the Sword Saint.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I sacrificed everything in my headlong rush to become the strongest, until I discovered I was all by myself at the very height of power… But it turns out I wasn’t alone.” Cecils tapped the hilts of his swords, smiling brightly despite the wounds all over his face. “Being strong is a lonely business. There’s no one around you. Yet no matter where you go, you’re never truly alone. Our dear Sword Saint taught me that back in the empire.”
The Blue Lightning had been defeated in that fight in the woods, yes, but far from being a sore loser, Cecils found meaning in it. And once he had discovered it, he went to Reinhard, who occupied a peak very different from his own.
“After that, I felt I had to teach the Sword Saint something myself. I had to show him that he wasn’t alone, either. That I was there. And there might even be others who stand with us. That’s what I wanted him to understand.”
There had been no time for a relaxed chat between Reinhard and Cecils. Thus, the Volakian general could not hope he had communicated as clearly as he might have with words. However, he was also confident that he had most certainly gotten his feelings across, at least in some measure—for Reinhard, Dragon Sword drawn, seemed to be enjoying himself as he battled the man in the blue kimono.
After their heartfelt match, Cecils and Chisha had promptly returned to the empire. Of what came of the duel between Reinhard and Cecils, the strongest fighters of two nations engaged in a clash of silver, little more shall be said; to do otherwise would blemish the dignity of that battle. However, the fight had left an unforgettable impression on one person who had been involved in this chain of events ever since one of the generals of the Volakian Empire had arrived: Julius Juukulius.
“You walked a tightrope there… Satisfied now?”
The question came from Ferris, who was visiting the Juukulius mansion now that everything was over. They were in Julius’s room, sharing a drink. Julius considered the question. Satisfied? Well, what had he even wanted on this occasion? Yes, he had been on thin ice; he had involved one of his dearest friends in subterfuge and arranged for another to cross swords with a deadly enemy—and for what?
“In the end, perhaps it was…jealousy.”
“Jealousy…?” Ferris echoed, and the purple-haired knight nodded slowly.
Yes, that was it. The prickling Julius felt inside himself sprang from a helpless envy of Ferris and Reinhard, who had already decided the paths they would travel in life. It chilled him to realize how long ago it had begun…
“The very first time I saw Reinhard… I believe then and there was when I gave up the idea of ever standing on equal ground with him. I might speak only too eagerly of how I wish to be friends, how I wish to be equal to him, yet I had already all but given up the notion that I could ever attain the heights he has reached and ever see what he sees from there.”
Then he had averted his eyes from this weakness, playing the part of a fine and knowing friend. His own insistence that he could never stand shoulder to shoulder with Reinhard had blinded him to his burgeoning jealousy.
“At first, it was incomprehensible to me why Master Cecils should want to face Reinhard, knowing he would never prevail. In fact, I think I deliberately chose to not understand. But now I see.”
“Hmm?”
“Talk of ‘equality’ was simply an excuse, a front I used to try to distance myself from both of you. And yet at the same time, I had the gall to wallow in my loneliness when that distance opened up. It was the height of foolishness.”
“So now that you’ve realized that…what does Julius Juukulius do next?”
“Outwardly, I believe he doesn’t change much. I do mean to be friends with you two, on equal terms. But now I’ve finally comprehended what that really means.”
It seemed to Ferris that Julius had taken an awfully roundabout route to get to what struck him as an incredibly simple conclusion. The cat-boy simply put his cup to his lips and gave Julius an exasperated squint. “Well, if that’s what works for mew, Julius, then I guess that’s all right. Plus, you’ve finally stopped going around looking all sad and serious, like you’ve been doing ever since we got back from the empire.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“Uh-huh. I almost thought mew were eager to see Reinhard fight that guy just so you could feel better. Like a baby, that’s what I thought!”
“I must say, even I’m not quite that uncouth.” Julius rested against the back of his chair as if shoved back by his friend’s particular interpretation of his behavior. There he stayed, soaking in the breeze that blew through the window, and the two of them passed a few minutes in silence.
Then Julius had a thought. “I suppose I do feel better, after a fashion. My doubts have been dispelled, and I’ve worked out how to express my feelings.”
“I don’t think you really have to do anything different—you’re already more than equal with Reinhard and me, Julius.”
“I’m touched by that, Ferris, truly. But it’s a matter of coming to accept it myself.” The spirit mage shook his head, gently rebuffing the word of consolation, then peered at the bottom of his empty glass. “I ask myself whether I would be able to appear your equal were we to step onto the same stage.”
“…! Does that mean you’ll help out Ferri and Crusch?”
“I’m thinking it might be more interesting to throw my proverbial hat into the ring as a candidate myself.”
“Pfft, that wouldn’t be meowy interesting at all!”
“I’m only joking.” Julius smiled. Perhaps the drink was going to his head; he didn’t normally make jokes. Ferris likewise turned red when he saw him smile so, and they clinked their empty glasses.
The words spoken that night in jest would in fact come to pass. Julius Juukulius would join the royal selection as a knight, but not in the camp of Felix Argyle. Reinhard van Astrea would likewise play his part. The three of them, all friends, served their country as royal knights. Perhaps it was fate that decreed, from the moment one of them wished to be equal to the others, that their paths were destined to diverge even as they briefly overlapped.
The Silver Flower Dance of Pictat, which took place during the struggle between the kingdom and the empire, had become legend—and the second such battle, many years later and witnessed only by a select few, would bring more changes still.
But on this night, still unaware of the future, they were just friends sharing a drink.
The red-haired young man would join the two before long, and the three of them would talk and laugh into the wee hours. Thus, this is the perfect place for this story to end—for now.
<END>
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