Star-Embracing Swordmaster (Full)

One morning, while leaving Ramund's estate and heading towards Soara, despite it being summer, the cool air of the northern plains spread a light mist across the grasslands.

"What's going on, what's happening?"

Only in the northern plains could you feel such refreshing summer air. 

But Noir stood still, gazing quietly at the hill in front of him.

"What's happening?"

Seeing Noir frozen, Vlad narrowed his eyes, looking towards the distant hill.

On a hill in the plains where a black horse and a blonde knight were staring together, a herd of wild horses—who had silently followed them—stood watching, rising like a wave of green.

"Aren't those your old friends?"

-Snort.

At Vlad's words, Noir, visibly uneasy, began pawing at the ground.

Now, he was known as the black horse, Noir, but before Vlad had named him, he was a wild horse, a son of the plains.

The surviving members of the herd, from the time of the strongest dragon, Deathworm, were now roaming the Varna plains, watching their former leader.

"Do they want you to follow them?"

Hearing Vlad's words from behind, Noir lifted his head silently. 

Except for the herd of wild horses visible in the distance, it was just the two of them in the vast green sea.

At that moment, Noir seemed to contemplate the world he had once belonged to, as if reminiscing.

Jingle, jingle.

Behind Vlad and Noir, who stood still, the sound of small bells echoed. 

Caravans laden with goods began to appear, moving through the morning mist that was slowly dissipating.

-Whoa.

-Who goes there?

The merchants, leading a long line of caravans, emerged. 

They were traders from a large trading company, carrying dozens of wagons in a single convoy.

-We are from the Kannor family. If you have no business here, kindly move aside.

In the deserted plains, it was natural to be wary of strangers. Although things had changed now, a few years ago, these merchants had suffered great losses due to the barbarians roaming the plains.

"…Kannor, huh."

However, Vlad didn't respond to the sharp question from the merchants.

He only looked silently at the familiar banner flying at the center of the caravan.

"I wonder if he's here."

Vlad murmured to himself as he pulled out a small flag he had stowed behind his saddle. 

A small banner with a white background filled with various crests.

Pointing to one of the crests, which seemed to have been carved a long time ago, Vlad smiled and spoke.

"Do you know Portly Kannor?"

"What?"

The merchants were surprised to suddenly hear the name of their employer's son. 

No, more precisely, they were startled to see the flag raised by the blonde knight.

"That guy was my companion back when I was a squire."

Among the many crests engraved densely on the banner, the Kannor family's crest was prominently placed, as if it had been one of the first to be carved.

"If he's here, tell him that Vlad from Soara is looking for him."

Now, many families would vouch for his name, but just a few years ago, he had been a scrawny boy, thrilled by any sausage offered to him. 

The boy who could barely ride a horse was now calling out for his old friend by name.

***

"Wow, I didn't expect to find you here!"

A young man poked his head out of the carriage, beaming with a wide smile.

He was well-fed, his round cheeks gleaming with fullness.

"Where have you been all this time? In Sturma? Or Varna?"

"At Lord Ramund's estate. I went to learn a bit about farming."

Portly's voice boomed loudly, echoing through the caravan. Though they were walking side by side—one riding the carriage, the other on horseback—Portly's voice, as loud as his joy, broke the stillness of the morning.

"Anyway, I've been wanting to see you, but…"

As they moved along, Portly's demeanor toward Vlad seemed somewhat reserved, despite both of them heading in the same direction.

"Come visit me. I'll be staying at the Inn of the Smiling Rose for a while."

Vlad spoke first, understanding Portly's cautious attitude. It was true that there was now a huge gap between the swordmaster known across the continent and the son of a merchant family—something that couldn't be easily compared.

However, Vlad acted as if nothing had changed from their days as squires, biting into a sausage as he responded.

"There are a lot of people wanting to see me, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it…"

"I'll tell the innkeeper to let you in. Come whenever you want."

"Can I really?"

"…It seems you haven't changed much. Is someone still bothering you?"

Though their time together hadn't been long, they had helped each other with whatever they needed. 

Perhaps Vlad's remarkable growth from his days as a squire could be credited to the provisions given by the Kannor family.

"And what's all this? Does Soara need so much meat?"

"Oh, this…"

Vlad shifted the conversation, marveling at the long line of Kannor's wagons.

The caravan stretched so far that one had to crane their neck to see the end of it. 

Though the Kannor Trading Company, which had conquered the Black Bear territory, was impressive, Soara wasn't large enough to require such an abundance of supplies.

"We're leaving half in Soara, and the other half we're shipping west by boat."

"West?"

"Yes, to the west. To be precise, to Nidavellir."

Nidavellir, once the name of the Dwarf Liberation Front, now referred to a city instead of an organization.

It had replaced the island of Lemnos, which was sunk by the mightiest dragon, and became a new home for the dwarves.

"I've heard a new dwarf city has risen near Trinova. But the dwarves sure love their alcohol and meat."

"That's true."

The dwarves had found their roots and established themselves again. 

However, it would take time before the land—still filled with sand—returned to its former state.

"But I've heard that the dwarves are requesting a drink called Captain Q. I've never heard of it before. Do you know what it is?"

"…No."

Though Vlad clearly remembered the name—a sticky, dark brown drink—he pretended ignorance as the city walls appeared in the distance.

"There it is, Soara!"

From Sturma to Soara.

At the end of the expansive northern plains, Vlad began to see his hometown.

"…What's that?"

The boy's hometown, the city he had promised to return to. 

However, though the wall of the castle was familiar, the sight of the gate below was something he had never seen before.

"Hey, don't cut in line!"

"I'm not cutting in!"

The gates of Soara were always crowded, as it was the logistics hub of the north.

"I've been waiting here for three days! When can I get in?"

"Is it true that Lord Vlad is here?"

But now, countless people were camped out, turning the gate into a bustling marketplace, with no room to pass through.

"…Why are there so many people?"

"The war just ended."

"And what does that have to do with anything?"

"What does it have to do with it?"

Portly shrugged, looking at Vlad with a puzzled expression.

"The knights, now without wars to fight, where do you think they'll go? Before heading home, they want to see the famous Sword Master at least once."

Golden coins were a reality, but the Sword Master was a legend. 

A title every knight held in their heart had finally come to life in this era, so it was only natural that knights from across the continent flocked to Soara.

"What am I supposed to do?"

But the swordmaster that everyone wanted to meet was simply overwhelmed by the horde of knights in front of him.

At a glance, there were hundreds of knights gathered at the city gates.

Not all of them had come just to shake his hand.

"So, have you become an emperor?"

A swordmaster of this era, free from all allegiances. 

Yet the freedom he sought came with a price.

***

The tall, wide church in the city of Soara.

Sood as a grand structure, with only the distant city hall comparable in size. However, instead of the usual solemnity, it was filled with the sounds of children running about.

"Don't run in the hallways."

"…Yes."

In front of the bishop, dressed in a red robe, stood several children nervously fidgeting with their fingers.

Just moments ago, they had been running as if the world were ending, but upon seeing the tall figure with cold, gray eyes, anyone would lower their head in submission.

"If you understand, go now."

"Yes!"

Despite their agreement, the children resumed running almost immediately.

As Pedro watched them, a vein throbbed helplessly on his forehead.

"Damn city…"

Pedro, the bishop of the city of Soara, was now the head of the Orthodox Church here. Yet inwardly, he was furious at the state the church had fallen into in just a few years.

Bang!

"What a shock!"

Pedro, with long strides resembling those of an angry stork, stormed into his office.

Inside, in his private space, an uninvited guest awaited him.

"…What are you doing here?"

A man with striking red hair, gleaming under the sunlight. 

However, the elegant armor beneath his uniquely colored hair clearly marked him as an Orthodox Holy Knight.

"I was waiting, Bishop."

"Waiting? More like wasting time, as always."

Frustrated by the man's words, Pedro slumped heavily into his chair, running a hand through his hair as he sighed.

"Why are there so many children in the church lately?"

"That's because you called them here, isn't it?"

"Me?"

Pedro's gaze sharpened as he caught the mocking smile on Radu's face, but the man before him wasn't easily intimidated.

"A city that birthed a swordmaster and a bishop who outlawed pedophilia—where else would the war orphans wandering about go?"

"…"

"I'd come here, too. The world is a dangerous place—terrible things happen if you sit idle."

Perhaps, as Radu had just said, the northern city of Soara might indeed be the only refuge for war orphans who had lost their parents and were now wandering aimlessly.

"Besides, Madame Marcella even opened an orphanage, so this seems to be the right thing to do."

"…Get out."

Though Radu's words were not without reason, they were all the more infuriating because of it.

Even now, knights and orphans continued to flock to Soara in droves. 

Pedro, whether he liked it or not, was the bishop of this city, responsible for managing the numerous incidents caused by these new arrivals.

"Should I leave?"

"Yes, get out."

"I can't. If I leave…"

"Why!?"

Despite the elderly bishop's outburst of rage, Radu responded only with a smile.

"If I leave, there will be dozens of knights challenging me to duels."

"…"

"If Vlad of Soara is not around, then the next in line is Radu of Dragulia. Although I've already discarded that surname. In any case, if I leave, the city's security will be in real jeopardy…"

Radu's words, spoken almost provocatively, weren't wrong from the start.

"…I told you to leave."

However, just because something is right doesn't mean it's always welcome. 

Pedro's anger finally boiled over, seeing Radu speaking only about himself during this busy time when the bishop had to deal with endless chaos.

"Take the children with you and get out too!"

"Ahhh!"

The deep, booming voice of the old bishop echoed powerfully through the halls of the church, resonating even in his old age.

***

"Hmm…"

Unlike the commotion at the city gates, there was an eerie silence in a back alley of Soara.

In a small, hidden tunnel, a man poked his head out.

"This hole is even smaller now."

It was a narrow opening in the city wall, known only to the children who roamed the alleyways. 

Standing in the shadow of the wall, Vlad straightened up, brushing the dirt off his body.

"Noir will know how to get in on his own."

He had left Noir in the care of the Kannor Company; the horse would enter the city with Portly. 

Being as intelligent as he was, Noir would find his way to the Inn of the Smiling Rose.

Clap, clap

"Huh?"

Vlad had snuck into Soara to avoid the mass of knights gathered outside. 

Taking a moment to catch his breath while looking at the familiar scenery, he suddenly heard an unfamiliar sound.

"What's that?"

Though the scenery was familiar, the atmosphere in Soara's alleyways had completely changed. 

As he walked through the streets, now filled with sunlight rather than the darkness of old, Vlad stopped when he saw a group of children gathered ahead.

"Wow! This guy really is bad at this."

"How do you expect to win playing like that?"

Children in the back alleys gathered during the day, no longer at night. 

These were the same children who used to beg and steal on the streets, but now they were laughing, their hands filled with shiny marbles.

"…Can we play one more round, please?"

Amidst the children, a beast-man stood, wearing a worried expression.

"One more round of marbles, just one more."

The man trying to convince the children while clutching his marbles was none other than Nibelun, the wizard.

Seeing him in such a ridiculous situation, Vlad couldn't help but laugh.